Official RP Thread: The Evolutionist's Stone (10)

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Setting==
Dallas

==Dramatis Personæ==

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Dallas, Texas==

Her eyes closed. Colorful sounds touched Cookie’s skin gently, and light hummed melodically in her ears. Spirits walked past her left and right, speaking obscurities, and fading into and out of the Material Realm. She grabbed her sister’s arm as her vision came.

A tall, imposing figure appeared. His skin was tan, and face was imposed upon by the shadow of a cowboy hat. His shirt was tight on him, betraying how muscular he was beneath it. His belt had a large buckle, and his jeans also betrayed his athletic physique. His boots were size thirteen, and his stance was wide. He had to have been about mid-twenties to early thirties. From his indiscernible mouth there came muffled words, with emotion and message Cookie could not make out. She felt as though he was smiling, but at something wicked or insidious…

Her vision faded, and she looked at Ginger, coming to herself again.

“You okay, Corrina?”

Cookie nodded, and smiled. They had arrived at the Longhorn Lodge Hotel. The four walked into the lobby and Ginger paid for their rooms. As they got unpacked, Cookie went to the window, and averted her gaze out the window. Every few seconds, an emotion would pass the window strong enough to illuminate the scenes below, and that would have to suffice for a view. She finally turned from the window with a pleasant sigh, and began unpacking.

There came a knock at the door, and Cosmo answered, “Hello?”

“Room Service.” The server smiled, “Compliments of the Overlord.”

The supers looked at one another with a look of pleasant surprise as the server left. Mark walked up, rubbing his hands together hungrily, but Ginger put a hand in front of him, still on her guard.

“Boy, are you slow? We came here because the Overlord is a BAD GUY. Meaning, we don’t just dive into his food; we CHECK it.” Ginger looked to her sister, “Are you gettin’ anything? Smelling or tasting poison?”

Cookie closed her eyes, holding her nose to the air, and expecting a sight, a smell, any other hint of foul play. She opened her eyes again, having found none, and indicated they could eat. They would enjoy steak, shrimp, chicken, various fruits and vegetables, a tub of ice cream and plenty of other tasty treats. Cosmo dipped into the chocolate sauce to pour on his ice cream along with the gummy bears, and Mark was about to fill his plate up a second time when her revelation finally came. Though, it would not be one she had been looking for.

She gasped sharply, startling the other three into putting their food down. They asked her what was the matter, and she couldn’t catch her breath. The clock slowed, and slowed and stopped. The air grew colder, and Mark looked around as spirits, barely perceptible, glimmered into the physical realm. They vanished again, and the lights flickered, sputtered…died.

“Dammit!” Ginger grumbled, taking Cookie by the hand as she, Cosmo and Mark made their way out into the hallway. They would discover that the lights didn’t only go out in THEIR room. The entire floor had a blown fuse. And when the lights finally came back on, yet another problem would arise. The four were about to go back to their rooms when a married couple erupted from theirs in a panic. They looked like they had gotten into a fight in their room and BOTH lost. Ginger, Mark and Cosmo approached them and asked what the matter was.

“Our room!” The husband whimpered, abandoning his husbandly protective duties to duck behind Ginger and her teammates, “It’s…it’s haunted!”

Ginger looked at the door, awaiting a sign to confirm his story. Almost as though to respond to the man’s fear, the door creaked open, roiling forth a cool mist. With an otherworldly hum, it subliminally dared the four to enter…

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Dallas==

Cookie stepped in first, and the room responded to her immediately, kicking up papers, slamming doors and such. Ginger, Mark and Cosmo reluctantly entered, and the lights began to flicker again. Though the thermostat was on 73 degrees, the room was warm, nearly 85. The mirrors fogged and defogged, like large creatures were breathing heavily on them.

When Cosmo finally moved forward all the way past the threshold, the door slammed with a great rush of air, startling everyone except Cookie. She had dealt with these kind before, and she had a good idea of what to do.

"Alright, you blusterin' blowhard!" She demanded, "Show yourself!"

Mark looked around nervously, hoping it would ignore her...

"I SAID" Cookie continued, voice growing bolder, "COME OUT, COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE! I AM A CHRISTIAN, YOU DON'T SCARE ME!"

The room grew still hotter, until it was about 90, and finally, all light in the place tinged red. The lamps and a few other small objects began ripping and breaking apart by the sheer might of his telekinetic force. And with a mighty and angry breath, the spirit spoke at last...

"THIS IS MY ROOM! IT IS WHERE I DIED, AND WHERE I SHALL REMAIN UNTIL THE END OF TIME!!!"

Cookie sighed, and put her hand on her head, "You white, ain't you? I bet you white. Lord Jesus, help me, white ghosts always make the most fuss..."

She put her hand in the face of a random specter that appeared menacingly at her side, and then took Mark by the hand. He would have to learn how to handle naughty spirits one way or the other.

"Wha--what, now???" Mark made no attempt to hide his fear, "I don't think now's the time for a lesson--"

"Look here, you!" Cookie pulled him by the collar, menacing the empty wall space just over his shoulder, "You got to learn one way or another. How you gonna learn to swim if you don't even get your feet wet?! Now sit down here next to me!"

The two sat cross legged on the ground as all the commotion went on, and closed their eyes.

"Okay, now. This guy is obviously kickin' up a fuss. Now, all we have to do is figure out his grievance, and solve it, so he has no reason to stay. So, just like I taught you, concentrate..."

The two fell silent, even in the midst of the spirit's rampage. They beckoned to the Astral Realm, and it hearkened to their mental outcries, causing the temperature to go back to normal. They sent out their most loving thoughts to the spirits, and the spirits responded, settling the objects that were tossing about. They opened their minds, to receive whatever the spirits had to tell them, and there came a sudden shock to the room.

It shook like an aftershock of an earthquake that hit only THAT room, and Mark shot up like a firecracker, his face twisted up in an anger that was familiar to the spirit that raged about.

"HENRY!" Mark's face called; the voice was not his, "HENRY TOLLIVER, YOU LEAVE THESE KIDS ALONE THIS INSTANT!"

Mrs. Tolliver. The spirit manifested at last, revealing himself for the discarnate entity he was. Not some frightening, monstrous aberration against nature, or some devilish, hateful apparition, like portrayed in the movies. It was a man's form. And not exactly the most impressive male specimen.

In fact, he was downright homely. Average height, a bald spot and a protruding gut, putting him at about 200 or so lbs. He looked at Mark in death like he looked at his wife in life.

"Martha? Martha, is that you? What are you doing here? I thought I lost--"

"You'll lose more than just me if you don't leave these kids alone!" Martha fussed, "You know they didn't have anything to do with us leaving the mortal coil!"

Cookie stood up and opened her eyes slowly with a polite smile, "And I don't suppose you would know who did?"

Mark's mouth uttered again, "Who else? It was that awful Overlord! What was his name, Henry?"

"Lynch. Overlord Buck Lynch."

"That's right", Martha spoke, "HE'S to blame. And there's no shame in crying about it now. This boy's thoughts tell me they have plans to take him down."

The spirit faltered. His connection to the mortal plane was weakening. At last, spirit Martha Tolliver left Mark's body, and the two spirits took hands. They looked back to the onlooking supers, and Henry spoke.

"Um, sorry for causin' all this fuss. I'd help clean up, but, well..." He put his hand through the wall in jest, "So, I guess that's it then. Hope there's no hard feelings."

The couple walked forward, and vanished into nothing. Ginger put her hand on Cookie's shoulder with a smile; another place ghostbusted by the great Cookie Davis. There came a thud, and Cosmo knelt down beside Mark, who had fainted. Cosmo gently slapped him back to consciousness.

"I...I...", the Davis sisters leaned in to hear his faint voice, before it grew stronger, "I NEVER WANNA DO THAT AGAIN! I feel so...VIOLATED! Oh, GROSS!"

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Dallas==

After that rather anticlimactic ghostly haunting, the four of them would rest surprisingly well. When the next day came, it would be time to search out any more problems in the city that needed correcting, and then perhaps some clues as to the most effective way to get rid of this Buck Lynch fellow.

The city of Dallas was lovely this time of day; just after noon, when the sun was warm, but the breezes were cool. The people were lovely, and vibrant, of all shapes and sizes. Some walked dogs, a few crawled up walls, and flew, and leaped, and phased and teleported. Everything seemed to be going fairly well with things here.

But, naturally Cookie and Mark noticed it first. Where were the Asians? Where were the Hispanics? Where were the blacks? Was it just them, or had they all but disappeared? To every side, there seemed nothing but smiling white faces. Of course, there was nothing wrong with that, but a bit of color would have been nice. Cookie spoke, looking to either side of her.

"Goodness. So many black faces", she began, wistfully, "So many Asians. So many Latinos. Nary a white man or woman in sight..."

Cosmo's face twisted up in confusion, "Huh? There's plenty of white people...even YOU should be able to see them all..."

Mark raised an eyebrow, "That's the point. She's talking about the spirits wandering through the town. The only black people, Hispanics and Asians we see around here are...ghosts."

Ginger looked around, "Well...I'm...I'm sure it's just a coincidence. I mean, it's gotta be, right? I mean, last night, I saw a few black and Hispanic folks."

"I'm not so sure it's only a coincidence", Cosmo replied, "Check that out."

The others looked in the direction his finger pointed; there was a restaurant with a sign that hadn't been in use for more than sixty years: "WHITES ONLY". It plainly registered in their minds, now, why the people seemed to be giving them all such funny looks. Things were different in Dallas than even in Odessa, which wasn't out of state.

A pair of men walked past them, and one spat when he laid eyes on Ginger and Cookie; the other cursed under his breath and said something hateful about each of their races, except Cosmo, who was simply a "n***er-lover".

Cosmo thought to correct him with a nice trip to the top of a really tall building, but this time, even Ginger thought it unwise. If this town had really been thrust back into the early 20th century, they didn't need any taste of what their ancestors had endured. No need to start any unnecessary trouble.

But, by the time Ginger and the others had thought it, it was too late. Trouble was already on its way, in the form of a fancy limousine, tricked out in a Wild-West theme. It cruised at a medium pace, so all the people could wave to who was inside. Only the four newcomers to Dallas failed to salute him. That and the fact that their group was three parts non-white would be cause for the limo to stop right beside them.

The door opened slowly, causing the four to step back, precaution in their eyes. A brown leather cowboy boot stepped out of the limousine, and Cookie gasped. It was the man in her vision. His imposing figure. The frightening presence. Before he even spoke, she heard his voice. It was him.

"Well, greetin's, folks..." He spoke, his voice deep and a bit gruff, "I'm guessin' y'all are new to these parts..."

It was none other than Buck Lynch, The Overlord of Dallas...

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Dallas==

Mark dug through his luggage for his special tie, and Ginger fished out her best shirt and pants. None of that girly, frilly, flowery crap like her sister.

"Um, are you guys sure you want to do this?" Cosmo called out from the bathroom, "Honestly, if we just blow it off, I'm sure the Overlord won't mind. I mean, he probably won't even notice."

Cookie responded, as Ginger inconspicuously watched Cosmo freshen up in nothing more than his briefs, "Only in a room full of fools is Lynch a king. But he IS still a king. Let us please him as humble jesters."

Cosmo turned around, noticing Ginger's spying eyes, and hurried to put on some pants; "Are you sure?...I mean, you don't think it's dangerous to go to an event headed by a group of people who still use the word 'miscegenation' and 'colored' in everyday talking?"

"Calm your nerves, Cosmo." Ginger snickered, as Cosmo sheepishly zipped his fly, "If Cookie gets a bad vibe by the time we arrive, we'll leave. And if she gets one before we arrive, we won't go."

That vaguely rash thought in mind, everyone finished up getting dressed and, when they were ready, huddled around Cosmo, who would save them 20 bucks trying to catch a cab (which they probably wouldn't get anyway, what with most of the cabs in town being 'Whites Only'). They would arrive ten minutes after the party had begun. Just in time to be fashionably late. They would have been five minutes late, but there was the entire argument about how Ginger was not gonna "take some stupid back door, just because the front door is 'Whites Only'".

Overlord Lynch's assistant would soothe the altercation over in a matter of minutes, reminding the doorman that the back door was only for 'colored' SERVANTS, not ALL 'coloreds'. And after the awkward silence as the servitor reluctantly took Cookie, Ginger and Mark's coat, they would join the festivities.

Though it would be questionable as to how much festivity would actually be enjoyed. As expected, Ginger and Cookie were mistaken for servants many times. A few times, Ginger had to be walked away by her sister, to prevent a few Caucasian people from incurring the less-nice Davis sister's wrath. Other times, when Cookie sat down to rest her feet, she was greeted by giggling party patrons, who mistook her for a palm-reading act. Even she had a hard time restraining herself. A few spirits beckoned to her to PLEASE let them work through her. They'd give the folks a GOOD wallop. But Cookie kept calm. She was here for a reason.

Mark was tempted as well. Not only had he overheard a couple people "ching-chang-chong-ing" behind him and making squinty eyes when they thought he couldn't see; a pair of scholars in "Minority Studies" at the resident college had even been so audacious as to greet him in perfect Chinese, one of them extending forth a hand as though to TEACH him how to shake hands...

Mark crossed his arms, "Sorry, chief, I'm Laotian. Do you speak Laotian?" and walked away, furious. Even though he wasn't really Laotian, that wasn't the point. The simple fact was, did the guy even know what the hell Laotian was? Had he ever heard of Laos, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Cambodia, New Siam? Hell, not every Asian person was automatically Chinese. And he didn't want to give the pompous ass the satisfaction of him being Japanese.

Even Cosmo was antagonized by the partygoers. Though, being Southern, it was an art form to them, to insult him and his friends, while maintaining the facade of still being ever-so-polite.

"I think it's simply marvelous that you brought coloreds to our little shindig", a woman said, enjoying her wine a bit too much, "Just think what the black ones would be up to if they weren't here. And the Asian one probably needed time off anyhow. Which Chinese food place does HIS father run? Or do they run a convenience store? Ya know, you're a doll for your philanthropy. Just...just keep an eye out for your valuables when you leave. You know how those people can be..."

"Um...sure." Cosmo responded. Just a little bit longer, his mind reassured, just long enough to shmooze with the Overlord and get him off the defensive. It would make their work with the Resistance that much easier if he didn't consider them a threat.

The group would have to wait before they were provided with just such an opportunity. A half-hour passed before the Overlord, with his bodyguards and more trusted servants--one black, one Puerto Rican-- in tow, stepped up to the stage, at last, to greet the partygoers.

"Alright!" He spoke, his voice amplified by one of his bodyguards, "May I have yer attention, please? Okay. Now. As o' late, I know you all are aware that my Ma and Pa went up to Oklahoma and Kansas to start a Conservative political campaign. And, in that time, they left good ol' Dallas, best damn city in all Creation, to me. And I intend to do 'em proud, dammit!"

There came an uproarious cheer from the crowd, except for the four teammates, who clapped politely, before heading off to find one another through the crowd. Lynch continued.

"That's right. Overlord Garrett and Overlord Bridges ain't quite sold on re-segregatin' their fair states, but Ma and Pa intend to change their minds real good. And if they don't change their minds, they'll be sooner changin' their drawers..."

Another outburst of uproarious applause. The four supers found each other just in time to be horrified in unison. He began to speak once again.

"But! Mind you, we ain't had it all easy here. Left and right, Negros and Mexicans and Puerto Ricans and Jews and Canadians and homosexuals and all them other weirdos still pose a problem to us good ol' fashioned White Americans. So few good ones, and ya gotta weed through all the trash first. And so. It is my great pleasure to welcome you all...to our annual Salt of the Earth Affair. Now enjoy yerselves. Stay a spell. And make sure to check your valuables before ya leave!"

The crowd chuckled at that last remark, and applauded him as he came down from the stage. He made his way through adoring fans, shaking hands, patting children's heads, kissing babies, hugging women, and all around enjoying the partygoers' attempts to stroke his ego. He stopped when he recognized four familiar faces.

"Ah...I see you all made it. Good. Good..."

"Can we talk to you, Overlord Lynch?" Mark spoke up, overhearing some remark, obscured a bit by the crowd, about chopsticks and fortune cookies, "Somewhere more private?"

Lynch looked back to his bodyguards, with a smirk, and then back to Mark, "Beg yer pardon? I don't remember sayin' nothin' about talkin' to you...you...you took mah invitation seriously?"

Scattered snickers came from the crowd.

"He's too good to talk to your kind, rice-picker!" Came a raspy country voice from across the crowd, "Lynch don't PAL AROUND with n****rs and n****r lovers and Orientals!"

"Hell kinda name is Cosmo, anyhow?" Another voice cried, "Must be a homosexual!"

"He's a homosexual?"

"Only reason I know a white man could bear standin' near coloreds s'long. Either that or he's from somewheres like that white-trash Odessa."

"He said his last name's Kosimov! I bet he's Russian!"

"About as bad! Damn Commie!"

The four looked at one another, each burning inside with a hatred they hadn't felt since, perhaps...well, ever. Then they each breathed deeply, attempting to calm themselves, looking to Cookie, who they expected would perhaps offer some wisdom to shut up the haters.

But Cookie was just as angry, if not more; all she had to offer was, "Well? What are y'all lookin' at me for?" Spirits sharpened around her, greatly pleased she had allowed them access to her form for long-awaited payback, "Only a few of 'em got powers, but I KNOW you don't expect me to kick their behinds by MYSELF."

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Dallas==

The sunlight hit Cosmo first, startling him out of his sleep. He looked down, only to realize that he was on the floor; resting peacefully on one side of him was Ginger, gently snoring, while Cookie leaned in on his chest, slumbering silently.

Cosmo nudged Ginger to wake up, and she groggily stirred, nudging Mark who slept in her lap. The teleporter nudged Cookie, and she slightly stirred. Then yawned. Then stretched. Then blinked.

Then let out a piercing shriek of pure terror.

"Oh, my God!" She was inconsolable, "What's going on?! My God, this can't be happening!"

Ginger rushed to her side, "What's wrong? What happened?"

"I...I can't see!" Cookie sobbed, "I can't even see the spirits! I can't even see the Astral Realm! My world is dark all over again! I'm...I'm actually BLIND!"

As Mark, Ginger and Cosmo tried to console her, a voice came from across the room to hush her up. That they weren't the only ones in distress. EVERYONE'S powers were negated by the hidden power-suppression apparatuses. The three sighted supers turned around to realize that they were not alone. The quarters where they found themselves was a gray, dingy, stale-smelling room. It let in the light, but only barely, and that was about the only cheer to be seen. The floor was dirt, and the ceiling seemed to be the floor of an upstairs room.

To every side, a desperate and downtrodden face, dirty and hungry and hopeless.

These had opposed the Overlord before them.

"So...we got some more offenders." A voice rasped bitterly, "Lemme guess. The black girls' crime was public blackness. The Asian kid's crime was walking while Asian. And you were an accessory to the existence of minorities."

Cosmo blinked, and then nodded, "Yeah...the name's--"

"No need to exchange pleasantries." The voice came again; Cosmo saw it was a young girl, "We won't be seeing each other for long, if Lynch has anything to say about it."

More stirred, each either shaking off sleep or sharing their begrudged agreement. And when they awoke to see new prison mates, they found themselves chuckling, or grumbling or tearing up. More taken in by that bigot's injustice. Nothing justified any of them being there, other than getting on the Overlord's nerves, or making his stomach turn with their being different from him.

The deformed and the disabled, the cultural rejects and the cultural rebels.

The girl who had addressed them was a gender-shifter. She was naturally female, but as a female, could assume the form of any male humanoid. And as a male, she could assume the form of any female humanoid. To Lynch, that meant that anyone who she was involved with was automatically a homosexual, and thus, to prevent the trouble of having to round up more than one person (her, any lover she took, and any children they had), she would simply be barred from ever seeing the light of day again.

There was a psychic accused of being a witch for her divinatory capabilities.

A autistic technopath that supposedly posed a national security threat.

A pair of psychically-linked twins thought mentally impaired because they rarely spoke.

And countless folks incarcerated for the simple crime of being Black, Hispanic, Asian, homosexual, gothic or emo, of a different religion, agnostic, atheist, or some other pest to society. It was a despicable shame they had to meet under those circumstances, but Cosmo, Ginger and Mark introduced themselves. Cookie uttered a salutation out of her sad whimpering.

"I can't wait until we take this idiot down." Ginger muttered, her anger growing at the Overlord having made her sister so miserable, "When I get outta here, I'ma hang his head over my bed like one of those stuffed moose heads, and use his balls for a dog toy."

Scattered snickers. Then a man spoke up.

"Wait...what do you mean, 'take him down'? Are you guys rebels?"

"Yeah", they answered.

"Well, a great lot of help you all are." A British animal communicator spoke up snarkily, tossing back her hair, "You've got yourselves caught up right along with us."

The captives all muttered at the rebels, but Cookie put up a hand. She finally had composed herself, and had something to say, "This. It's okay, I assure you. No need to panic, I knew this would happen."

Cosmo, Mark and Ginger looked at her quizzically, amazed that, even in her blindness, she always seemed to have the drop on them, "But I have a plan. It doesn't require superpowers, just good, ol' fashioned manual labor."

The captives all murmured begrudging disbelief, and hopeful optimism, and spite and respect and cheer and wishing. Were these folks for real? And did they really want to be in on it if it WAS for real?

"But first", Cookie spoke up a final time, "I think we need to block those cameras. A vision I had before we got here tells me they don't get audio, but we won't be able to work if they're pointed right at us. And rather than destroying them, we may need them in the future. Turn them to record the walls for a couple hours. If you all are with me, we got some work to do."

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Dallas==

Overlord Buck Lynch stirred from his sleep slowly as the clock hit noon. He climbed out of bed, and stretched with a devious smirk on his face. His parents had never told him how good it was to be the sovereign of a whole state. He could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, even if he wanted to do absolutely nothing at all. And who would be there to stop him, or tell him no? Certainly nobody who wanted to remain in the land of the living, and free.

And under him, things would be perfect. Men the kings of their castles. Women in their place. Children going about their frivolous business. Minorities in THEIR place. And HIM a shining beacon of physical and moral uprightness to rule over them all. Certainly when his parents returned from their political campaign, they'd have to help him plan to take the rest of Texas. If nothing else, it was certainly a favor to decent white people everywhere.

And the perks didn't hurt, either.

With that thought in mind, he eagerly slipped off his boxers, lay back across his bed, and buzzed the maids to come on up, and put his hands behind his head to wait. Visions of interracial naughtiness danced about in his dirty little mind.

Three maids arrived shortly, one Asian, one Hispanic, one Black, and entered politely, with his breakfast meal in tow. They turned away when at last they turned around to see him completely naked, but he called their attention back to him, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. They were servants, and their main job, in his eyes, was to service. In any way he desired...

"Yeah, you just leave that over on that table. I'ma be mighty hungry when I get finished. So...who's it gonna be today? Yellow, brown or black? Eenie...meanie...miney...you." His finger landed on the black servant. The other servants put their hands on her shoulders, looking at her in silent consolation, and saluted the Overlord politely before they were dismissed.

The Overlord gestured, when they left, for the black servant to sit down. Take a load off. Get comfortable. And he assured he'd give her a good, thorough frisking before she left to make sure she hadn't stolen anything from him.

His idea of foreplay.

He asked her name, when she finally built up the nerve to look him face to face, and told her it was pretty. He asked what her power was.

Illusion Casting, she thought to herself, before answering with a weak smile, "Pleasure Inducing."

Buck smiled wider. Perfect. Then he laid back again, putting his hands behind his head, eying the lovely black servant lustfully, "Go on and get undressed, so we can, uh, get down to business..."

And so she did. And climbed reluctantly back onto the bed. He grabbed her up in a rough embrace, and began getting entirely too forward with her, groping her like a man newly out of prison. Black women weren't good for much, but this was certainly one of their strong suits, the Overlord thought to himself. And they were certainly a lot easier to look at than their male counterparts.

He continued his sexual advance, worried purely about his own sexual pleasure. And from the table where his breakfast sat, the black servant watched with disgust, as he writhed on the bed, in a naked wrestling match with thin air. Not that he was an ugly man; he was physically attractive to look at, for sure. His body was beautiful, his smile winning, and he always kept up hygiene and fashion. But, honestly, with his attitude, he may as well have been a mutant sewer man. She shook her head slowly at his deluded state; but she would be forced to watch the entirety of his illusory eroticism to time the end of the illusion perfectly.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Dallas==

"ALL RIGHT, YOU DAMN MAGGOTS!" A large, burly man erupted through the door of the place where the supers were being held, "BACK THE HELL UP! SLOP'S ON!"

The supers retreated, gentle savagery painted across their faces. They seemed struck dumb by the presence of the large man and his associates, who hurried in after him to set down plates of inedible gruel.

And the guards gladly took advantage of the deference that their titles lent them.

When a girl retreated from their grubby advances, they would grab the girls by their hair or by their wrists, and beat them or fondle them or kiss them lustfully in front of their own friends and loved ones. The men would be kicked or punched or slapped around as the guards saw fit. And food would be tossed to the ground in the midst of children, who were expected to fight for the scanty provisions like dogs.

And, though there would be four feedings a day (once every six hours), never was there enough at any one time to feed everyone. It had come to the point that they all decided interchangeably who would be full and who would go hungry.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

For these reasons, and so many more, the supers were diligent to go back to work as SOON as they were sure the security guards had left. They turned the camera, facing it toward a pile of sleeping supers, and got busy.

It didn't take long to find the power-negation apparatus that they were looking for, but it turned out that Overlord wasn't as stupid as he looked. When the first one had been dug up and pulled out and destroyed, nobody's powers returned. Not even after they had dug for, found and destroyed a third, a fourth and a fifth. It would take them until they had found the sixth, the seventh, the eighth, the ninth...all the way up to the twentieth.

If their powers didn't return after this one, they would all certainly cry.

They waited in silence, as they had nineteen times before, for somebody to feel something. A shock, a spark, a rush of power, something to--

"AAAAAHHHH!!!" Cookie gave a shout that would have made a deaf man jump out of his skin. Ginger, Cosmo and Mark rushed up to her side, worried for her safety.

"What's wrong, sister?" Ginger took her by both shoulders, and began looking her over, "Did you hurt yourself? Are you okay?"

Cookie nonchalantly waved them all off, and sat up.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I just...you know how sometimes people try to jump out and scare you with loud noises?" Her teammates nodded, "Well, imagine that, but with ghosts and other sounds from the Astral Realms..."

Mark, Cosmo and Ginger sighed in collective relief, and turned around to discover that others were rediscovering their powers as well.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Dallas==

It had been rough for the supers to endure the guards' foolishness even another day, but it promised today to be worth it. They had ingeniously executed their plan to uncover all the hidden power sensor/negators (and recover the holes inconspicuously), and now were going about their dismal and dreary day with expert unhappiness.

Cosmo looked down at his watch and, realizing it had been broken when they were thrown into this prison, asked if anyone had the time.

"Twenty-five minutes, thirteen seconds after noon." Called out a chronopath. Cosmo thanked him.

"Okay, the time is 12:25pm. That means in about five minutes, those guards are gonna come through that door to give us slop." Cosmo looked around intently, "Everybody know their positions?"

They all nodded and voiced agreement. And now, it would only take a couple minutes.

Four minutes left, they chatted excitedly among themselves. Three minutes left, they realized they probably looked too happy on the video monitor, and so calmed down. Two minutes left, they could barely help returning to hopeful chatter. One minute left, and the silence fell on them again. Thirty seconds, fifteen seconds, the time passing felt like the better end of a lifetime. And then it happened. Almost as though all sound and air had been sucked out of the room, they watched, silent and perfectly still, as the door slowly opened.

The guards entered, business as usual, and began dispersing slop in the usual places, with the usual disdainful smirks on their faces. The skinniest, shortest of them looked around, and spoke sharply.

"The hell's wrong with you freaks?" He snapped, "You all come down with somethin'? See, this is what happens when you mix races, and throw straight trash together with gay trash. Ni**ers, fairies and kikes, oh my. I'll just bet you're all crawlin' with sickness..."

"Wouldja quit talkin' to the damn prisoners, Lee?" Another guard spoke, "I'm ready to hurry the hell on outta here. There's too much trash here, they're doin' a real number on my nose..."

The first one sniggered, finished putting down the food, and then turned to leave. On his way out, he slapped a black teen across his head, and looked back as though daring him to retaliate. The teen let out an annoyed lion snarl under his breath in response, but otherwise would not retaliate. Only a few seconds more, no need to rush into things.

He only turned back to the supers Cosmo had employed for timing; the telescopic bade him wait only a few more seconds, and the chronopath held up an open palm face-down, just out of the guards' sights. 12:32, his perceptions finally registered, and his open palm gently touched the ground.

Just as the small-framed guard was the only one at the door, with the others a fair enough distance down the hall ahead of him, the black teen leapt at him, flooring him with retractable leonine claws splayed. His feral growl reduced the big, bad guard to the quivering, quaking, cowardly white boy he was; he dared not move. And so the other prisoners hurried out of the open doorway to pursue two remaining guards (and the rest of the guards that promised to show up as their reinforcements).

In no time, the newly-released prisoners would be upon them, and even though they wouldn't have sufficient force to take down the Overlord just yet, they wouldn't make their escape without first putting a dent in his defenses.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Dallas==

Day broke at last, after a long and painful night on the run from Buck Lynch's forces. Fortunately, Overlord Lynch didn't think any of them had the good sense to get very far (what with being the disease-riddled, mentally inferior vermin that they were), but it didn't keep him from searching in even the most obscure places for his prisoners. Plenty of times his search parties came very close to discovering them in the sewers, and in the allies, and under bridges.

But on the very barely-bright side, the prisoners were able to take refuge long enough for the search to at least die down for the night. If they weren't found by nightfall, no biggie, Lynch assured, they would contact the folks in the surrounding states, and tell them keep a lookout. The coast was clear for different people at different times. Some came to the supers' designated meeting place after thirty minutes. Some after an hour or so. Some not until it was around nightfall again.

Relief came only from the final head count. Some were wounded, some tired, some hungry, but all were accounted for, and that was good enough for now. Ginger, Cosmo and Mark returned to the faint relief that had never left Cookie all along. The others looked at them now, however, with some new growing concerns.

Surely, they couldn't remain in this dank abandoned factory. They hadn't had any food since around noon when they escaped, and there was no place here to get food or drink. Not to mention, there was no place here for them to sleep, and their wounds needed immediate attention to avoid infection.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

After a brief talk with Ginger, the two agreed about what needed to be done, and Cosmo ported off to his Dyson Sphere in the depths of space. He floated around it a while until he found his, Mark's, Ginger's and Cookie's phones, which had been ported there for safekeeping, and then hurried back to the factory.

"Hello?" Adam and Anita's faces appeared on the video phone, and Adam immediately followed up with, "What the heck happened to you guys? I've been trying to get a hold of you for--"

"Not now." Cosmo replied, "There's a bigger problem to tackle first." He held the phone back toward the crowd of former prisoners to show Adam just what the problem was. Adam cursed.

He would need a much bigger room.

"Uh..." Adam wasn't quite sure how to compose what he would say, so he just let it out, "I'm gonna call Charisma. Bye."

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Dallas==

Cosmo sighed with a partial relief, as he hung the video phone up. Rescue was on its way, but it would be a little while before anything could be done, and folks needed help now.

"Mommy..." A tired, dirty little boy grew teary-eyed, "My feet hurt! And my hand...I scraped it when I fell..."

He watched the boy's mother console him. She could only manage a hug; what could she really say about such a situation, to a little child, to offer consolation? There simply were no words, and all the other parents and aunts and uncles and grandparents and friends and lovers knew it. Something had to be done, and fast. The only problem was...what?

Lynch's people wouldn't let any of them get away if they recognized them. A black or brown or red or yellow face on these streets had better have papers on their person, to signify they had a right to be out on the streets, or they would be on their way back to Lynch. They'd better not risk a group of particularly thin or clean-cut boys, lest any of them be taken for homosexual. And any girls had better have some mace or something on them; walking in a group of just girls was just begging for unwanted sexual attention.

"Your best option is the cover of night." Ginger spoke up finally, "We can't rely on luck to think we won't be spotted in daylight. It's way too dangerous."

Cosmo looked uneasy with the thought, "I...I dunno. There's got to be some other way. We shouldn't have to resort to stealing."

Cookie crossed her arms, and looked to either side of her, "Well, you know me. I'm not comfortable with the idea of stealing anything. I know that it's wrong. But, we're not being given much of a choice, here. We match way too many stereotypes, and we're miles away from anyone who would think to show us any compassion, even in our current state. Word from the spirits is that Lynch has reach in all parts of Texas; and my guess is, that means our faces are gonna be plastered all over the place as escaped fugitives. So, if we're already being construed as criminals anyhow, there's no harm in getting what we can get from here, and getting back to Chicago to recuperate. We can even have Adam leave money, if you want, but whatever you decide, decide it fast."

The teleporter turned back to the others, bemoaning their hunger, hobbling around on sore feet, taking scraps of their own clothes for bandages. He sighed, and then returned his gaze to Mark, Cookie and Ginger.

"All right. You're convinced me. We'll head out tonight. And quite honestly, I feel kind of bad it took any convincing. But after tonight, no more. This isn't gonna be a habit, right?"

Cookie, Ginger and Mark agreed simultaneously, "Right."

"...Good." Cosmo took a deep breath, and then called out for his fellow escapees to gather round. If this was to go off successfully, they would have to start plans as soon as possible.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Indianapolis==

"Hello?" came the sound over the video phone.

"Charisma?" Adam looked at the dark, fuzzy screen, "Where are you? I-I can barely see you!"

"Don't worry about seeing me. It's actually kind of the point."

"Wait, what?" Adam's eyes grew wide, "Are you...are you on the job?"

"Yeah, something like that." Charisma grunted, and there was a sound like a grunt, a metallic fumbling, "Don't worry. It won't take long."

"Who's the target?"

"Likely nobody you know." There came a click on Charisma's end, "A dignitary from Illinois, below him, a dignitary from Texas. Why?"

"What a coincidence." Adam breathed, a bit amazed, "You know how Cookie and Ginger and Cosmo and Mark were supposed to be working in Texas, right? Well, it didn't exactly turn out well."

"What?" Charisma became worried, "Are they okay? Nobody was lost, right?"

"Well...that's just the thing." Adam said, "Cosmo says that the team encountered some trouble. They were captured, and only just recently got free. They said they were on their way back here as soon as they could, but I told them I had no place for all the extra people they'd be bringing along with them, from the prison break."

"So you need room in the government facility I secured?"

"You got it. Whaddya say?"

"Just a second." Another click; a loud boom came, and then came the sounds of panic, frantic screams, wailing cries for help, "Okay, I'm back.", Charisma's face finally came into view, as she began packing up her supplies, on-handed, "And I'd be more than happy to open up the facility to a few refugees. My house is their house. As soon as they're ready, I'll be ready. There's plenty of room."

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Dallas==

Cosmo sighed deeply. If they weren't careful, they were good as dead. Though, fortunately, he had thought out at least one key component, one necessity in an equation that was otherwise all too unpredictable: everyone going would have to be easily distinguished as white, and easily discernible as male.

That meant him, his gender-shifter friend, his chronopath friend, a voice-mimicking ventriloquist and a normal. Not prime pickings power-wise, but he would make it work. Cosmo looked them over a final time, and then the group looked back to their fellow prison escapees for what they hoped would not be the last time.

"Be careful!" came the warning.

"Don't let them catch you again!"

"Only take what you must!"

"Don't be greedy!"

"Come back safe!"

The five nodded, and then exchanged glances, as though to reassure each other. Hopefully, they had had a good sampling of Dallas from their encounter with Lynch's crowd; if so, that meant their chances of success were good. And so, with their parting words said, and the plan well in mind, they headed out into the night. First stop? The nearest grocery store.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Dallas==

With the gender-shifter well buffed-up into a ruggedly-handsome, muscular, blond-haired, blue-eyed male, Cosmo's group easily walked through the nighttime streets of Dallas. No question came their way; they all simply looked like a bunch of Texas boys looking for trouble. Well, not Texas boys, per se, but a bunch of unsuspecting Anglo-Saxons, for sure. And that was all that mattered.

Now, all that remained of their plan was to find their target.

No...not there. That store was open 24 hours. And so was that one. And that one didn't close for another hour. Not that one; not there...perfect. That grocery store looked like it had been closed for a couple hours.

"Hey, look." Cosmo called everyone's attention to it, "There's our target."

The four nodded at Cosmo subtly, and then headed over to the store, casually as their intentions would allow. When they reached the front doors, Cosmo looked for a split second, as his powers required, and then called the rest of his party closer. With barely a sound to disturb the air, they were gone into the depths of space.

When they returned from the amazing view of Cosmo's Dyson Sphere in the depths of space, they were inside the store. No wait for locks to be picked, no alarms, no police on their way, and now all the food and supplies that they could want, all set up for the taking...excellent. They got diligently to work.

Snacks, fruit, vegetables, rice, soup, meats, drinks, TV dinners, they took what their arms and pockets could carry, to the fullest capacity. They set things down in the middle of the floor, and Cosmo looked them over.

"Ya know what?" He said, with a grin, "This isn't enough for everybody. You guys get busy reloading. I'll deal with what we've already got."

He disappeared off into space, with all the grocery swag in tow, and when he returned, the loot was stacked high enough for a second trip. He disappeared again, with the second pile, but by the time the third pile had been prepared for him to haul off to the Dyson Sphere again, there came a call.

"Yo." Cosmo chuckled into the phone, "Cosmo here. Go."

"Charisma said her place is ready, in Indianapolis." Adam said, "Hey...are you in a grocery store?"

"Um...yes?" Cosmo grinned, "So, Charisma's place is ready, right? Cool. We'll be there. Kay, bye." Click.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

With their stash stored up nicely in the depths of space, Cosmo's party figured they were ready to go. They huddled around Cosmo, vanished into the depths of space, and reappeared outside the store. Their operation smoothly executed, there was no reason why they couldn't walk out in public, at least until it was time to duck back into the relative safety of the abandoned factory.

Down the street they walked, trying their best to look Aryan, or at least not suspicious. Perhaps if no one got too close, the smell of fresh emancipation wouldn't be very apparent.

"Wow...I can't believe we just did that." The gender-shifter smiled weakly.

The ventriloquist chuckled, "You'll believe it if these damn rednecks catch us and turn us back over to Lynch."

"Hey!" The normal spoke up, "I'm from here in Texas, and we ain't no damn rednecks. You watch your damn mouth..."

The others looked back at him, and Cosmo chuckled, "Oh, really? They're not rednecks, huh? Then, uh...you mind tellin' us why you were down there with us in Lynch's dungeon-prison thing? What exactly was your crime against decent white society?"

[Celadon's Penultimate]

The normal fell silent, and then began to trudge ahead of them, but Cosmo put a hand on his shoulder. The normal whipped around, "Leave me alone!"

"Tell us why you're defending these people!" Cosmo retorted, "It can't be just because you're from Texas!"

The normal looked to either side of him, "I ain't defending all of 'em! Just, um...just Buck and his kin. He...Buck is my cousin."

The rest of the group stopped. The dark of night and the potential for being discovered made no difference; they gathered around him, almost upon him now like a gang, and they had each subconsciously decided that they wouldn't take silence or vagueness for an answer. If he was telling the truth, he would have a few questions to answer.

"You're Lynch's cousin?" The ventriloquist repeated, crossing his arms, with an eyebrow raised.

"I, uh...well, yeah." The normal admitted, "His daddy and my daddy are brothers. And that's all I'm gonna tell y'all. I mean, we gotta get back to the others--"

"No, actually, we're not going back to the others, just yet. And that's not all you're gonna tell us." Cosmo tensed, "Not if you don't want the rest to know your secret. My guess is, they'll believe your reasons for imprisonment are more...conspiratorial in nature. Not a one of them would believe you if we didn't stand up to vouch for you. And I'm not standin' up for you until I'm sure that you're not up to something."

The normal sighed, and looked down at his feet, in a tense silence for a few moments. Looking back up, at the rest of the group, who trained stern stares at him, he finally relented.

"Alright, fine." He said, "I was imprisoned, not 'cause I'm atheist, or gay, or nothin' like that. He had me locked up, 'cause I accidentally came cross a family secret. Somethin' that the rest of the family wasn't s'posed to know. And I ain't goin' further than that 'til I'm safe outta this town. Can't risk it."

He didn't even wait for a response before gently pushing his way through the group, and walking ahead of them, back to the factory.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Dallas==

Their fellow former prisoners considered it nothing short of a miracle that Cosmo's group made it back to their refuge safely. Surely, the stink of prison and otherness would give them away. Their clothes? Their accents? But, no. They found nearly no problem, other than the occasional attention called to them by a wave, a nod or a greeting from the citizens. And when that was over, and the coast was clear, they ducked back into the safety of the abandoned factory. Sad as it was, returning to that dark, dingy place was a huge relief.

Cosmo's group came through the door, and after everyone saw that they weren't under attack by Lynch's forces, went up to greet the returning supers. But, naturally, they were caught off guard by the group's lack of food.

"Hey, what gives?"

"Where's the food?"

"What'd you bring us?"

"Did you run into trouble?"

"What happened?"

Cosmo put up a hand, "It's fine. The food is on it's way. I'll be right back."

Cosmo looked out to the group, and then disappeared into the depths of space. He looked in a direction that looked like up to him (who could really tell, in the depths of space?) and, sure enough, the food was floating off in all directions. Cosmo sighed, and concentrated a second. Little by little, his thought became truth, his weight became relevant, and he settled onto the bottom of the Dyson Sphere, sitting down cross-legged.

He hadn't done it in a while, and so it would take a while, but he had learned that the Dyson Sphere was his to control. Its orbit, its axis and its gravity. He closed his eyes. And the food drew closer to the bottom of the Sphere, where he sat. Closer, closer, the center of gravity drifted, taking the food along with it. Finally, after a minute, it all began to reach him. When the last of it huddled closely around him, he concentrated again on the abandoned factory.

A great whoosh, and Cosmo was on the floor, in a huge pile of food. Everyone mobbed him, so happy to see Cosmo and so much glorious food (some had been in Lynch's captivity for weeks); and when they had gathered all the rations they could get a hold of, there came a ring.

Cosmo reached for his phone, "Hello?"

"Get ready, boys and girls." It was Adam, "Your portal is on it's way. And when you come through, you can lead everyone straight into the door leading to Charisma's compound. See ya in a little bit."

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Indianapolis==

The door opened, and as everyone piled in, Charisma gasped a little bit. She had expected refugees, but not so many...and certainly not looking so very downtrodden. Children clung to their family members, men and women seemed worn down by years, and everyone was in desperate need of a bath.

Not so much that they smelled (though they did), but they looked truly dejected, like they had been through harsh wilds, attacked by animals and then left without homes. And perhaps being able to take care of their hygiene might put them one step closer to regaining some sense of normalcy. But, Charisma scolded herself internally at that thought, as soon as it arose. It would take so much more than that.

Only a few (with Cookie, Ginger, Cosmo and Mark among them) seemed somewhat preserved from the trauma of Lynch's dungeon, and that was only because they hadn't been there so long. So Charisma reserved herself from speaking. After all...what could she say?

No, she would let the other supers do the speaking. And Mark spoke first.

"Um, hey Charisma..." he uttered, putting a hand behind his head, "Long time, no see. Where's the bathroom?"

"That way..." The optic assassin gestured, and when Mark departed with a few other supers who had to go, she added to Cosmo, Ginger and Cookie, "You know, this place used to hold prisoners, too. But, when I released them, a few stayed, and helped me clean this place up. Now, it's our base of operations. You all can help yourself to whatever you need. Food, shelter, a good, hot bath--it's all yours. Some of the captives even remained behind, if you need to know where anything is...I'm so sorry, everybody, I wish I had been there--"

Cookie put a hand on her shoulder, feeling immediately what emotions were building within Charisma, "Baby, it's fine. We're fine, and they're gonna be fine. All they need is a good meal, a good bath, and a good rest--and some, not in that order. But after that, we'll be ready to go back and give Lynch what he deserves."

Charisma watched the seer depart with her sister, and it brought her a strange comfort. She smiled weakly; Cookie spoke those words, as though she knew them to be true...