Magazines 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, Final


[m-inf, plot]



The professor traced a circle on the whiteboard with her marker in a gesture of casual precision - less a factor of deliberate practice and more having done so during lectures countless times before. "The Ring of Gyges," she began. "Its story is told by Plato in the Republic, through Glaucon: Found in a cave by a shepherd, who learned that it gave him the power to turn invisible.  He arranged to be chosen as the messenger to the king of Lydia to report on the status of the flocks, but when he arrived at the palace, he used his newfound power to seduce the queen and, with her help, murder the king and take the throne of Lydia for himself." She slowly began to pace in front of the board as she addressed the scattered students in the lecture hall. "Through this story, Plato asks one question: Would someone be just if one did not have to fear for their reputation when committing injustices?"

One of the students raised their hand. "If you could get away with a crime, why wouldn't you?"

"That's the question," the professor replied, "and hopefully you'll find the answer since Ethics is one of your pre-requisites."

Another student raised his hand - young, olive-skinned, green-eyed and of medium build, and hair mostly short. "What about the reverse?  If people knew you had the ring, but also knew you didn't do anything illegal-" He paused, correcting himself. "-anything unethical with it?"

"Glaucon concluded that people would think you were foolish in public, Mister Coval, but not so privately."

"Would they think more highly if you had a ring but behaved ethically compared to if you didn't, or less?"

The professor stopped her pacing to look at him. "Well.  What's your take on it?"

Simon Coval took a second to form his thoughts. "I think there's a greater 'ceiling' for a reputation when it comes to ethical behavior when you have power of some kind, because you're able to do more, both good -and- bad.  Like you said, people would recognize that you -could- do unjust acts, but choose not to."

"So inaction can be ethical?"

"I wouldn't say 'inaction,' since you're still acting, just in a different way.  It's still a way of behaving and thinking."

She nodded silently to herself. "I think you're going to go far in this class, Mister Coval."



*****



"Ohhh, thank -god- that's over with," Simon groaned. "I hope that's the worst term paper I'll ever have to write."

"But doesn't she like you?" his friend asked.

"Yes, and that's the problem.  It's interesting, but I'd rather not be paid attention to so much."

"What's your GPA in it, anyway?"

Simon thought for a second. "I want to say... 3.6-ish?"

He whistled. "Seems like it's worth it.  So, we've got a few weeks free coming up.  You have any plans?"

Simon's pace slowed for a moment as his expression grew a touch more somber. "Not really," he replied with a shake of his head.

"Nothing?  Not going to spend time with your boyfriend?"

"We broke up.  Last month."

"Oh," his friend replied, wincing. "Sorry."

"It's fine.  It wasn't working out anyway." A glint of light in the corner of Simon's eye caught his attention and he stopped in his tracks and turned, scanning the area.  There were other scattered students on the campus, none of whom looked suspicious, but behind one corner he saw a flap of brown cloth - or, perhaps, he expected to see it, a telltale sign of something unexplainable yet similar to other momentary distractions in the past.

He looked at Simon oddly. "What's wrong?"

After a few seconds of silence he gave a mumbled, "nothing."

"Hey." He patted him on the shoulder. "That doesn't sound like 'nothing' to me.  I don't want you disappearing into your dorm room to mope and wank yourself dry until next semester."

"It's not-"

"Don't worry, I've been there.  I know just the thing."



*****



"Just the thing" turned out to be social interaction, itself in the form of a bar and grill.  Simon's impression of bars was that they were loud and smoky, and it wasn't at all the latter and only partially the former.  Most of the noise came from a few arcade machines in a distant cul-de-sac, and the rest was at a low enough level that two or three groups of other college students could focus on the board games they had set up.  He tried to follow one over a beer, with limited success, before drifting towards the arcade machines to watch the attract screens, then back to the bench and table his friend had pointed out to him to claim.  On an end table, beside and nearly flush with the bench, was a stack of magazines, put there either as conversation starters or something to keep patrons occupied.  Sitting down he went through them, pushing each aside in turn with his fingertips: Fashion, mixed martial arts, more mixed martial arts, Popular Science-

Simon froze.

Across the top of the magazine was the word "LOFT" in block lettering, and beneath it an enthusiastic-looking brunette in a purple two-tone bodysuit split in the front and open down to her navel, her feet about a yard from the ground.  The distance from the ground and forced-open suit both stemmed from the same source: A taut, bulging belly that would have dwarfed a yoga ball, utterly weightless in appearance, and not so overstuffed that her navel wasn't still deep.

He felt himself beginning to stare in shock and snapped himself out of it despite his curiousity, pushing the rest of the magazines back over it, over-correcting in the process and nearly sending them flying off in the opposite direction before stamping his hand down to bring them to a sudden halt.  A burning heat rose up in his face, and a second later he felt someone nearby watching him, turning almost guiltily to see one of the servers and hoping that she had just arrived.  If she thought anything was out of the ordinary she didn't show it. "Were you interested in ordering any appetizers?"

He gave her a quick shake of his head, letting out a clipped "no."  Wanting to try and appear at least a little bit more casual, he gestured across the bar to his friend. "There's another- I'm, I'm waiting for him to come back." Glancing down at the menu beneath the glass of the table, he tapped one of the entries. "But, the steak fries, please."

The server marked the order down on her pad and gave a polite, albeit forced smile, leaving Simon be to investigate his new finding.  It was still there - part of him thought it wouldn't be - and he gave the cover another, more careful but no less nervous look.  He knew magazine covers were airbrushed, but if this one was as well then the artist was so adept that even her shadow on the grass matched what her figure was, to say nothing of the shadows, contours, or skin tone on her.  His eyes went to other details to try and and find evidence that it was a hoax, each only reinforcing the notion it wasn't, from the comparatively real barcode to the issue numbering to the mailing label, partially torn off and wholly unreadable.  If it -was- a prank, the orchestrators could've put their talents towards doing something more productive, like counterfeiting.

As Simon felt someone near him once again he straightened the stack, trying to panic as casually as possible. "Yo," the newcomer said, "is there Sports Illustrated or somethin' in there?"

The voice was familiar, and he looked up to see a young man about his age.  He recalled hearing him in a few of his elective courses and seeing his long, messy platinum blond hair from the back, but never had he noticed the narrow face, the pale blue eyes, or the tan so perfect Simon wondered how he kept both it and his amazingly clear skin. "Ethan?" he asked. "Ethan Douglas?"

There was a visible moment of confusion before Ethan's eyes lit up, and a second later a brilliant smile spread across his face. "Simon!  Wow!  You didn't strike me as the drinkin' type."

"I was just dragged out here to socialize," he confessed.

"Well, that's not so bad.  You look nervous though."

"No, no, it's just..." He rested one hand on the stack of magazines. "Sports Illustrated, right?" Simon pushed them downward by their top edges, making a show of only needing to see part of the name, deliberately skipping LOFT and hoping the other young man wouldn't either notice or care.  Ethan didn't in either instance, demonstrating this as he reached for the bottom-most in the stack and yanked it out, inadvertently causing Simon's heart to shoot up into his throat.

"Here we go." As he looked back at Simon, Ethan's brow furrowed for a brief moment. "You sure you're okay?  It's quieter out on the patio, y'know."

"I'm fine." He punctuated this by drinking half of his beer in one go and following it with a nervous smile.

"...okay," Ethan finally said.  He looked distracted, as if hearing some distant sound, before shaking it off and departing. "See you 'round, Simon."

After he left Simon waited until his fries had arrived before risking more looks.  The interior was too complete, the advertisements too on-point, the random paragraphs on random pages all topical.  Nothing about it felt fradulent, incomplete, or done by anyone without a deep knowledge of the subject which, if Simon was being honest with himself, included him - that VPN wasn't there for show, after all.  By the time he had finished off his appetizer he was weighed down by the notion that someone, somewhere in the bar was watching him at any given point and possibly growing more suspicious.  At the same time, it wasn't something he felt he could ignore, much less forget about.  So, after leaving money for his bill - too much, perhaps - he slid LOFT out, curled it tightly between his hands cover inward, and made his exit.

It wasn't until he was on an isolated seat in the bus that he realized the advertisement on the back was even more incriminating.



*****



Simon's dorm room gave him much needed privacy.  Privacy to recover, to collect his thoughts, to study the magazine with a more careful manner at his own pace, and to reflect on it in the shower with a handful of body wash.  He couldn't describe it as pornographic in the traditional sense, but then again it -was- pornography to -someone-, and some of the articles were all too knowing of their real intent.  Plus the centerfold was a dead giveaway.

He returned to it once he had dried off and recovered, dressed in a set of sweatpants.  Sitting on the edge of his bed he paged through it again, coming across an article written by none other than the woman on the front cover.  It was instructional, teaching newcomers how to inflate themselves.  "The act of inflation," she wrote, "is something that you unlock, rather than be - everyone has the potential within them."  It sounded vaguely like poor self-help, but Simon found himself following along with the instructions despite himself.  Relaxing and attempting to attain a meditative state, focusing on his breathing, not trying to feel his lungs but rather the air, and understanding that when it was inside of him, it was a part of him... after a while he amended his previous thoughts of the article being similar to self-help, concluding that it was more like hypnosis to put himself in a suggestible state.

That is, until his belly rose up with a muted "whoosh" to the size of a volleyball.

Simon recoiled in his seat in shock as the magazine fell from his hands, pushing back onto his bed and drawing breath, causing him to grow once again.  The magazine warned the reader not to panic despite the surprise and maintain controlled breathing, but he was in no state to do either, much less keep reading.  So it came as no surprise as he continued to swell up in fits, the cotton of his sweats stretching across a widening bubble butt, his gut rounding out further, and his pecs filling out into soft handfulls.  As the features of his torso smoothed and his body took on an exaggerated teardrop shape he tipped onto his back, limbs widening and stiffening and neck swelling up around his chin.  The elastic of his clothing held out, however, sliding down his globular midsection only to be held in place by his length; even then, his chair-smothering rear was hanging partway out.

Eventually he caught on and slowed his breathing down to manageable levels, growth tapering off.  He covered most of his bed and was also stuck on it, unable to rock more than a few inches in either direction, and while his limbs still moved - albeit stiffly and with some resistance - it wasn't enough to right himself.  He didn't feel heavy despite his size - quite the opposite, really - and there was this faint, pleasing tension in his skin.  Unsure of what to do next Simon simply lay there, prodding what parts of himself he could reach in disbelief before finally falling asleep, lurid dreams of floating passing through his mind.



*****



When Simon woke the following morning, his found his body had - fortunately - returned to normal.  Checking the article again, he discovered that the author told how to deflate as well, which was as good an argument as any to read the instructions fully first.  He briefly considered picking up where he left off, but decided against it in favor of breakfast and making sure his agenda was entirely free of interruptions before continuing.

As he ate a bowl of cereal there was a loud, insistent knock at the door.  Curious, he crossed the room and opened it to find a young woman, mousy and disheveled-looking, with long, dark hair and thin-framed glasses.  Hanging from her shoulder was a threadbare satchel on a strap, and she was dressed in a button-up shirt and thin brown coat that Simon found oddly familiar. "U-um," she stammered, more aware of Simon's lack of a shirt than Simon was. "You're... Simon Coval, right?"

"Yes," he replied slowly. "Do I know you?"

She stared for a second, a hint of disbelief in her eyes. "No.  No, we've never met.  But, um... you found something yesterday."

"I didn't." The thought came to mind that he did after he said it but, he reasoned, there was no need for her to know. "If you're trying to find something you lost-"

"A magazine.  Something you can't explain." She began to blush, both hands gripping the strap of her satchel as she clearly fought to maintain eye contact. "It was, um... really personal.  For, for you I mean."

"I don't know what you mean," he lied.

"You-" She looked away, hesitating for a second. "You blew up." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, red-faced. "Like a balloon."

Simon leaned out past her into the hallway, giving a careful look in either direction before silently ushering her inside and closing the door.  Panicking wasn't an option at this point, but it sure felt like it. "How do you know this?" he demanded.

"Um.  It's because... we're the same."



[plot, little bit of m-stretchy]



"What do you mean 'we're the same?'" Several unexplainable things had happened to Simon in the past twenty-four hours.  Even so, he still wasn't prepared for a timid-looking student he had never seen before who had more knowledge of him than he was comfortable with.

"It's, um." She stared, seeming almost surprised that Simon believed him.  Snapping out of it, she hurried over to the kitchen table, setting her satchel down and unzipping it. "You found a magazine," she began, removing a Polaroid camera, "and it wasn't a normal one.  It was something really, um..." Her sifting slowed for a second as she gesticulated, making tight, nervous twirls of her hand. "...intimate.  Nothing -normal-.  But there was something in it that -did- something to you."

"How do you know this?" he asked.

The young woman froze, eyes turning away for a moment. "I'm going to show you something, but you need to promise that you won't freak out."

After a second of silence he replied, "I can't promise that."

She nodded to herself. "I didn't think you would," she said, sliding a magazine out of her bag and setting it down on the table.  The title read "Silent Vigil" in a clean serifed font, the cover a shot of a blurry urban landscape with a cleaner, in-focus circle in the center framing a silhouette against a balcony window.  At first Simon thought it was about photography with a mention of reviews of lenses and cameras, but once he saw the cover article blurb of "how to build a schedule around their schedule," the pieces began to form into a whole.

"This is about..." He looked at her again; she was staring at the floor and had been for some time. "You've been -stalking- me."

"I'm disgusting." Her voice was low, sounding as if she were on the verge of vomiting. "I know.  You wouldn't be interested in me.  I know that you'd never- you just don't see women that way.  But you're smart and handsome and charismatic..." She held one forearm, shrinking in on herself. "I'm not the sort of girl that anyone would want.  All I could do was watch, so just... -watching- became enough.  I knew it was wrong, but if seeing someone else's happiness- if they never found out, was it even hurting anyone?"

Simon's gaze drifted away from her as he processed her words, and it was a long while before he spoke. "You had to have known I wouldn't be alright with this."

"I didn't think you would be," she said weakly.

"So why tell me?"

"Talking to you was the only way I could find out more." She gestured to her magazine. "About these."

"I don't know any more about them than you do."

"But you still have it." Apologetically, she added, "I, I saw.  But could I see it up close?"

Simon said nothing, instead heading back to his room and returning soon after with LOFT in his hand.  As he set it down on the table beside Silent Vigil he noted that the young woman didn't seem too surprised at the outré nature of it, poring over both covers before pointing to the barcode on her own.

"This is marked as the first issue, and this-" She tapped the barcode on LOFT. "-is number four, and both of them have the same series of numbers down here."

"So, store scanners would treat them as being the same title even though they're... not?"

"Right.  So we-" She cut her words short, wincing almost imperceptibly. "They're connected.  It's not just- not random chance."

"Then if this is a series there could be more."

"But we don't know how to find them."

"Or how to find the people who found them," he added. "Which brings us back to you." She cringed as Simon said that, turning her eyes downward. "I should take this straight to the Dean.  This is an active, constant invasion of privacy.  You just..." He trailed off, finding himself at a loss for words. "It's really messed up."  He took a deep breath before slowly exhaling; there was a physical hollowness he had never experienced before, and he felt his chest rise and fall more than it should have. "But there could be bigger things going on.  I want to know what these are and if there are others like us out there, and you probably do too, and if we worked together-"

"You're not going to get me expelled?!"

"I can't just forget this happened, but if you wanted to know as well I am willing to... let it slide for now.  But only if-" He held up a finger. "-you stop.  Watching me, I mean."

She stared reverently at Simon before approaching, extending one arm before stopping herself and pulling away.  Her hand hovered in the air as tears began to form. "You really -are-... I mean, I can't say no." To herself she murmured, the sound barely escaping her lips, "but I was right.  I was right about you."

Simon nodded. "You never gave me your name."

"It's, it's Eleonore." Quickly, she added, "Elheim.  Or just 'Elly.'"

"Alright.  Elly.  How does your... power work?"

Elly went back to the table. "If I take a picture of someone with this-" She lifted the Polaroid camera. "-then I can see them and what's going on nearby if I hold it and focus on it."

"Like remote viewing."

"Yes!  Yes, exactly.  But it only lasts for six days.  So I..." As she realized what she was saying, her voice trailed off to a quiet mumble. "...needed... to..." She reached into her bag, rummaging around for a second before producing a photo and offering it to Simon; he recognized it as being taken just yesterday. "You- I think you're going to want this."

Simon took it without a word, taking a few steps towards the trash bin before dropping it in face-down. "So where do we begin?  Maybe there's a pattern in where they were found."

"Well, I found mine in a doctor's office."

He thought for a second. "Was it busy?"

"A little."

"That narrows it down a bit.  Possibly."

"If people had powers they'd be using them," Elly suggested, "right?  What if we could track them down that way?"

"Track them how?"

"By looking for something out of the ordinary.  But, a sex thing."

"There's... a -lot- of sex things, or things people think are a sex thing."

"Like that one old French cartoon?"

"Exactly."

"But, if it's, it's something weird happening then it would still stand out more.  We just need to-" She cut herself off as her eyes widened. "We need to find someone who -has- been looking!"

"Do you have an idea?" Simon asked.

"I might.  We just need to ask the head of campus first."

He nodded, pointing back towards his room before turning and departing. "Great.  I'm going to go get dressed.  Don't..." He stopped briefly, looking at her over her shoulder. "Don't look at anything, okay?"

Elly gave him a nod filled with nervous energy.  After he had disappeared from view she looked over at the trash, making a deliberate effort to leave be what was in there.



*****



The Society for Investigation of Extrapublic Affairs had described itself to the college as a civic outreach group which sought to build a stronger connection between public and private or governmental groups and advocate for transparency, which Elly saw as suspicious and convoluted and Simon thought was a fancy way of saying they were conspiracy theorists.  Both thought it was a good place to begin, however, and the clerk pointed them towards the rooms they normally used, but not before giving them a warning that the group wasn't accepting new members.  Which they weren't because the club doors were closed both figuratively and literally; the members met on another day.

"We- maybe we shouldn't let them know what's going on after all," Elly offered. "This could've be a blessing in disguise."

"But this was your idea," Simon replied.

"I was reconsidering it on the way here.  They might... suspect us."

"Who might?" they heard someone ask.

Elly instantly froze and Simon jumped at the sudden intrusion.  Turning, he spotted Ethan coming out of one of the bathrooms, watching them curiously. "We're..." Simon pointed towards the door. "We wanted to ask them a few questions or look through any records or notes they might have found or written."

"What about?"

"Unusual events."

"Everythin' is unusual to them," he said with a smile, inclining his head in the room's direction.

Simon and Elly exchanged glances. "Something possibly tied to changes in people," he continued. "It might be recent, but we're not sure.  We'd know it if we saw it."

Ethan's smile wavered as he grew more pensive. "I might be able to help ya out."  Moving past them he gestured for them to stay put, adding, "gimme a second," before he ducked into the stairwell and out of sight.  Standing there they waited patiently for a minute or two until they heard a quiet click come from the lock, and the door opened to reveal Ethan once more. "Here you go."

Elly skittered in past Ethan as Simon followed at a slower pace, taking in the room.  He expected crystals, obscure books, and a corkboard or two and wasn't disappointed, though there were other, more esoteric objects: A razor blade inside a glass pyramid, several potted plants, old business magazines, and electronic measurement devices, to name a few.  As he neared the rear of the room he noted that one of the windows had been left open a few inches, and judging from what he could see, there wasn't a fire escape anywhere beneath it.

"Where do we even begin?" Elly asked.

"Anything new," Simon replied, turning away from the window. "Or..." As he spotted Ethan near the door he immediately changed course on his suggestion. "...you know."

Elly's eyes flitted to the side in Ethan's direction before nodding, and their search began in earnest.  The corkboards were their first target, turning up nothing of interest, and so they moved on.  The scrapbooks were a motley assortment of newspaper and tabloid clippings, and nothing remotely relevant was written on any of the notepads.  As Simon moved to a different table, however, his eyes fell upon a tableau of pictures and print-outs, a news clipping in the center.

"I might have something," he said.  Looking over his shoulder he did a double-take when he saw that Elly was watching him from seven or eight feet away, her expression somewhere between confused and conflicted.  The two of them shook it off and she approached, scanning the table's contents. "'Sinkhole Collapses Stone Street Road.'  This is dated about a week ago, and over here is a map of all the sinkholes in the state since 1950."

"So we'd be..." Elly's finger hovered over the map before coming down. "...here, out of the area.  But it's just water eating away the dirt.  It could've been anything - a, a broken pipe, rain water..." A thought visibly crossed her mind and she looked towards Ethan, her mouth opening and closing several times before she hesitantly asked, "did it rain last week?"

Ethan gave a confident shake of his head. "Naw."

Simon nodded to himself. "Then here's another map, and a printout of an article on a 'minhocao' from..." He squinted. "'Cryptopedia?'" Shaking his head he moved it aside. "A study on soil composition, a note here from someone about how the store they visited was robbed dated about a week ago, and some other police reports."

"Wait," Elly said, gingerly moving the reports towards her.  As she paged through them she looked at the second map, finger going between several marked points.  "The sinkhole is in the center of all these.  All robberies, no suspects."

"Do you think there's a connection?" He felt someone tapping his left shoulder and turned, seeing nothing.  Looking back he saw Elly frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at Ethan, who was trying to look nonchalant and not mischievous and failing utterly, a look that continued to fail as Simon scrutinized him.

"Okay," Ethan laughed, "ya got me.  I kinda felt something was up when we met yesterday, and this confirms it." He extended his arms down at an angle, arms straightening before they simply -stretched-, extending bonelessly for several feet as they looped back up in front of him, hands waving at them at what would be a normal arm's length. "See?  I'm the same as you guys, right?"

Of the two, Simon looked more surprised, Elly more embarrassed. "Well," she began, "it- I, I guess.  This -does- confirm my theory, though."

"Isn't it -cool?!-" Ethan beamed. "We're superheroes!"

"We're not superheroes," Simon replied, "we're perverts.  You can do that because..." He thought for a second. "Was it Elastigirl?"

"Nah.  The guy from the... Fantastics?" He snapped his fingers. "Fantastic Four!  That's it."

"I guess we're not in a position to judge."

"So what now?  Do we make costumes?"

"We're not..." He sighed. "We're not making costumes."

"Super-powered vigilantes are a -terrible- idea." There was an almost uncharacteristic force in Elly's voice. "Haven't you read Watchmen?"

"I saw the show," Ethan said.

Elly visibly winced. "What did you think of it?"

"Kinda dumb.  It lost me when it started raining squid."

"Okay," she replied, nodding. "Okay, good."



[m-stretch, plot]



In the end, Ethan's enthusiasm about superheroics wasn't tempered by any verbal arguments, but by spending an unproductive night in town waiting for something specific to happen.  This, Elly explained, was what it would really be like: Searching and being suspicious of everything you see, bearing no real knowledge of what to look for aside from caricatures of behavior from potrayals written by people who didn't know themselves, with the added risk of onlookers - very reasonably, she added - thinking that you're the sort of person you're trying to find.

"That's because we don't have costumes," Ethan said.

"It wouldn't matter," Elly replied.

"But citizen's arrests are a thing, right?"

Elly hesitated, looking over at Simon, who was in turn peering into the dark.  Fortunately for her, he was paying attention. "If the person's not convicted you can be tried for false arrest, and you can't just -go out- and attack people if you think they're going to commit a crime."

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

"Well," he eventually said, "not directly.  We don't even know for certain what we're trying to find, so it might not even -be- something that can be arrested."

The conversation ended, but the matter that lead to them being out so late in the first place went unresolved that night.  The following day they went about their business, going out after sunset with a bit of reluctance.  One plan they hit upon, however, was taking turns on watch, and it was during Elly's turn that Simon began chatting with Ethan.  While he was still naive in certain respects, he wasn't foolish; his interest in action films seemed shallow at first, but the ones he mentioned were so distinct that, when prodded, he began to talk about what they -meant-.  He was aware of the satire or commentary some of them were making, and seeing how values were reflected in the art of the time was what turned him on to anthropology in the first place.

"I wish I could show you some of the art from the office I interned at," Simon said.

Ethan waved the comment away. "Ahh, I can guess.  They didn't really 'get' it 'side from it being expensive."

There was a click and a flash of light, and they turned as Elly let out a squeak that was somewhere between an attempt at speaking and a cry of alarm.  Lowering her camera she let the photo slip out into one hand.  Shaking it back and forth, she pointed with the camera towards the shadow at the edge of a street lamp. "They went that way!"

The trio broke into a sprint, crossing the road as they scanned the darkness.  Simon's eyes fell upon the figure of a young woman running from them some distance ahead, clearly nude judging from her outline.  There was a wet sheen over her however, with a rough, irregular texture; as she passed too close to a neon sign he could see that it was the color of fresh dirt, either smeared or caked on so perfectly that it didn't leave a bit of her skin exposed.

As Ethan pulled ahead of Simon he could see a pronounced wavering to his limbs a second before he sprung forward.  Figuratively as well as literally, as his limbs elongated as he dove for the young woman, arms outstretched.  Just as he neared her, however, she simply sank into the ground and disappeared with a wet, thick "blorp," leaving him to land roughly in the dirt with his body coming to rest in a loopy sprawl.  As his limbs retracted two hands reached up, grabbing one wrist and dragging it into the now-muddy earth to his shoulder.  Elly slid to a stop, gaping at the ground as she turned to and fro, unsure what direction to go until she was pulled down to her knees, falling onto her backside.  Waving one arm to Simon she shouted, "RUN!"

Simon pivoted, moving to take a step just as something clutched the cuff of his pants, and he felt himself fall face-first towards the concrete path bordering the lawn.  He gave a sharp intake of breath - reflexively, with no real restraint - and most of the buttons popped on his shirt as his belly swelled outward into a wide globe, cushioning his fall almost painlessly.  As he rolled to the side and onto his back he felt a hand around his ankle trying to drag him back, his assailant eclipsed by his gut.  Aiming blindly he drove his other foot down, and he felt it make contact with a very human cry of pain before the grasp released.

He let out a gust of breath as he scrambled back onto the path, staring warily at the pool of mud, then the terrain around him.  After a moment he could hear the telltale sound of bare feet on stone, distant and growing more so, and he decided to risk it, standing and heading over to Ethan to help remove his arm from the ground, after which the two of them lifted Elly up and out from where she was.

"That definitely wasn't that min-something," Ethan said. "So what now?"

Elly stooped, picking up the photo and wiping off the dirt.  It had since developed, revealing a partially clear shot of the woman they had been chasing. "I- I don't know." She pushed her glasses up as she stared at the photo, her eyes defocusing. "She's running.  Jumping off of- now I can't see her."

"Is she invisible?" Simon asked.

She gave a short shake of her head. "There's something around her, very close and thick."

After a moment of thought he said, "underground.  She's digging underground."

"So how do we catch her?" Ethan asked. "Can't she just swim away?"

"...maybe not," he said finally. "She was running on pavement just before, and just now."

"She's out again," Elly added. "She's on another sidewalk."

"There'd be no reason not to go through concrete..."

"Unless she can't!" Ethan exclaimed.  His expression fell, but only for a second, before he spoke again. "If it's a sex thing, and not stone, then it might just be dirt and mud.  Unless she's... made o' mud?"

"She doesn't look like she's changing shape," Elly said. "I'm not sure where she's headed, though."

"Is there a maximum range t' that?" Ethan asked, pointing at the photo.

"Y- um." She looked guiltily in Simon's direction. "Y, yes.  It's, I... never tried to see how far it is, though.  But I don't know -where- she is.  If she was by a landmark or a street sign, then maybe we could use that."

Ethan nodded, his attention gradually drawn away by Simon tracing circles in the air with his index finger he stared into space.  Eventually he realized Ethan was watching, and Ethan smiled at him, prompting Simon to look away for a bit as he blushed lightly.

Simon took a second to compose himself before saying, "if the robberies happened around here, then she's living or staying somewhere in the area.  We can narrow it down, but we just need to know the range, and you can help with that, Ethan.  Take his picture, Elly, and save it for tomorrow."



*****



There were plenty of perfectly straight roads in the area, so determining how far Elly's power reached - not superpower, Simon reminded Ethan - was a simple matter of having Ethan stand on the side of the road and driving away until it stopped working.  This gave them a distance of approximately three miles or, as Simon pointed out, a radius of three miles.  Elly pointed out that it was a lot of territory to cover, to which Simon agreed, then clarified that the next step wasn't to find her per se, it was to find her and move just far enough away that they could figure out where she wasn't.

"Triangulation," Elly said.

It was only a short amount of driving, with errands being done along the way to save the trip.  Once her location had been narrowed down it came to figuring out what landmarks to search or ask for, then asking people near them about her.  This lead them to a building, then her apartment door, where Simon knocked and surprisingly received an answer.  She was average, all told, with her only outstanding characteristics being a short undercut and a bandaged nose, and while she didn't recognize Simon, she knew full well who Elly was, slamming the door shut and quickly setting the locks.

Elly retrieved the photo from her satchel, staring into it. "She's going for the fire escape."

From inside the apartment came thumping and loud cursing, persisting for several seconds before falling silent.  The locks and latches clicked open, the knob turning from the inside as the door opened a few inches.

"Well," Simon replied as they entered, "I'm glad I had Ethan climb up there, then."

Ethan and the young woman were both on the floor, the latter with several feet of tanned, narrow midriff wound around her arms and torso, his legs stretching down to keep hers still and one arm around her mouth.  Despite this she still struggled, fury burning in her eyes. "This looked a lot easier in cartoons," he said.

Simon gestured for Elly to close the door as he crouched down in front of the young woman; there was a thin scattering of earth on the carpet that he wouldn't have noticed if he didn't know to look for it. "I've got some questions for you."

No sooner did Ethan move his arm than she growled, "gimme one good reason why I shouldn't start screaming right now."

"Because your apartment is full of stolen goods."

She clamped her jaw shut, fuming for a few seconds. "I thought you were fatter."

"Did you happen to find a magazine recently?"

"What's it to you?"

"Because it gave you the power to swim through dirt." He glanced at Ethan. "Also it's probably porn."

"'Wet and messy,'" Ethan said. "I looked it up."

The indignance gradually gave way to shame. "You with the people who made it?  Did you lose it or something?"

"Where did you find it?" Simon asked.

"In the lobby where I work.  It was a busy day.  One of you probably dropped it off without anyone noticing.  You were lucky that I found it."

"We should start looking," Elly said.

She gave Elly a malicious grin. "Good luck."

"Under the mattress," the two young men called out.

Her smile faded as Elly disappeared into her bedroom. "Fuckers.  So what now?  You drag me off to whatever-the-hell secret underground base you run?" She scoffed. "If you give people the power to take what they want, they're going to do it.  Everyone does.  What did you expect was going to happen?"

As Simon stood, Elly returned, passing off the object of their search.  Titled "Mudlark," the cover featured a nude model in a perfectly standard glamor pose, except that she was covered, and knee-deep, in mud.  By the bar code was the number "7," with the blurbs touting that it was the last issue.  That made things easier, he thought, as well as more complicated. "No," Simon said. "We have what we came for.  Let's go."

Ethan gave Simon a curious look before shrugging and unwinding himself from the young woman, her body rolling over several times before being deposited on the floor as gently as he could manage.  He stood, following behind Simon and Elly, the young woman pushing herself up into a sitting position and muttering a curse under her breath as they closed the apartment door.

It wasn't until they were in the stairwell that Elly spoke. "So what do we do?"

"About the magazine," Simon asked, "or her?"

"Well, both."

He took a second to collect his thoughts. "As far as she goes, we could leave an anonymous tip with the police, saying that we were visitors to her apartment and saw the stolen objects, and that she admitted to stealing them.  I'm not sure what to do with this-" He gestured with the magazine. "-but we could try burning it.  If that solves the problem then we shouldn't hear anything unusual."

"That's it?"

"She thought that -we- were responsible for it, so she doesn't know anything more than we do.  Besides, this isn't something that should be made public.  In any case, that's four down, three to go."

"But," Ethan began, "what if she tells them about us?" A beat. "Nah, it's okay.  I barely believe it happened, and I was a part of it."



[m-inf, m-stretchy]



The only sign that anything out of the ordinary had happened was a short police report in the newspaper covering an arrest for multiple robberies, sandwiched between ones for disorderly conduct and cruelty for animals pertaining to punching an alligator.  If one didn't know what to look for one never would have thought it relevant, though the Society for Investigation of Extrapublic Affairs certainly did; the report was the newest addition to the board, along with two others from neighboring towns and a print-out of a Usenet thread.  None of the reports mentioned anything out of the ordinary, and the thread was highlighted in several parts, leading the trio to assume that the club, thankfully, didn't have their trail.

The next few days were relatively mundane, not just because nothing strange happened, but when the board was updated there was no trace of assumptions of the supernatural.  Several bust shots of very ordinary-looking people were in a loose circle in the center, with most of them crossed out.  Spreading out from there was a web of strings, linking photos and logos, branching off dramatically on either end into names of major families on opposite sides of the political spectrum.  Pinned beneath it all and linked to the tableau's opposite ends was a small paper with "horseshoe theory?" written in pencil; the paper was crumpled, the text smudged, and one corner was dyed dark with what Elly recognized as blood.  On a whim, Ethan peeked into the garbage, finding shards of a glass bottle and a blood-soaked mass of paper towels in it.

"A fight must've broken out," he said.

"Well," Simon replied, "I guess at least one person in the club studies political theory.  So..." He gestured to the photos in the middle of the board. "...do either of you recognize these people?"

Elly studied it for a bit. "I recognize some of these names, but not the people in the middle or..." She followed one string up to a distant corner. "...Coburn Elementary School?  In -Seattle?-"

Ethan flipped through some papers on the nearby table. "They're all... running for mayor?  There's nothin' about any crimes, though, so they might be fine."

"Mayor of, of -here?-"

"Here." He looked between the papers and the pictures. "The crossed-out ones dropped out of the race."

"That happens," Simon said. "They're probably reading into it too much."

There was a pregnant pause as they exchanged wary looks with each other.

"Or we need to read into it more," Elly said. "How close together were the drop-outs?"

"It doesn't say," Ethan replied, "but there's one news report covering two of 'em, so probably close together."

Simon gave a shrug before finally speaking. "It wouldn't hurt to investigate.  We can just act like concerned citizens, and as far as leads go it's better than nothing."



*****



Enya Mahoney was the first candidate they visited, and Ethan's assessment that she looked like somebody's mother proved to be correct; just within the entrance of her home were framed portraits of her son and daughter.  For her part she wasn't visibly upset when Simon asked about her mayoral ex-candidacy.

"It seemed rather sudden," Simon bluffed, "that's all."

Enya sighed. "Perhaps it was.  I had always wanted to give back to the community in some way.  Before this I worked with the Supervisor of Elections, the city council... running for mayor seemed the next logical step.  It wasn't until recently that I realized I could do more good on the outside than within."

"I'm not sure I understand."

For a moment she looked lost, faltering briefly before speaking again. "Well, it... goes without saying, doesn't it?"

The conversation from there proved less than fruitful, though the one with the next - Herman Dallas - was more informative.  It was also much more long-winded, taking several digressions into his teenage years and military service.

"So I had talked with the others," Herman eventually said, "and I can't tell you exactly -what- we said, but in the end it didn't feel like it was right for me."

"You mean a leadership position, or public office?" Simon asked.

"Both, really."

There was a nudge at his elbow so subtle he didn't realize it wasn't even the first time it had happened, and he looked over to see Elly looking back, gesturing towards the door with her head with a worried expression.  Standing, he excused himself to Herman, he, Elly, and Ethan having to turn down no fewer than two offers to stay for dinner before finally departing.

As they left the front walk Simon asked, "so what's wrong?"

"He had- he was an officer; a Major in the Army.  Leading people is what you -do- as an officer, so having him act like he's not good at it doesn't make sense.  He wouldn't have gotten that far if he couldn't." Realizing what she was saying she added, "um, dad was in the Navy.  Captain.  Iraq War."

"Do you think he's lyin'?" Ethan asked.

"No, just... confused, the same as Mrs. Mahoney." She fell silent as she slowed to a stop, and they watched her expectantly for a few seconds. "It feels like there -is- something going on here, and we- I think we should talk to the others as well."



*****



A few days later there was a debate between the three - formerly four, a day or two prior - aspiring mayors-to-be.  It was a modest turn-out for a modest town with a modest population, and despite what all three of the college-age investigators knew, they found it difficult to bring themselves to care about the minutiae of a relatively unimportant city.  Though, at least they had the excuse that they were focusing on how they acted rather than what they said, and Elly's position near the handful of people from various news outlets gave her an excuse to take pictures.

Most of the way through Ethan leaned over to Simon. "If you were up there," he whispered, "would that make it an expanding bureaucracy?"

Simon could have sworn that he felt his body swell just a bit as he stifled a bark of laughter.

"But for real," he continued, growing more sober. "What do you think about these guys?"

He studied the figures behind the podiums as they spoke for a bit, responding to the latest question. "The one in the center is fairly forceful, but Mr. Dallas was as well.  Although the one on the left..." He squinted, reading the placard on the podium. "...Howell is probably the worst speaker here.  He seems kind of-"

"Unprepared?"

"Or that he doesn't really believe what he's saying."

Ethan nodded. "You think so too, huh?"

"I don't know who or what got to the others, but it might have gotten to him as well." He looked over at Elly, and she held up three Polaroids.  He nodded in thanks, and she nervously returned the gesture in turn, fighting to hold back a giddy smile. "It shouldn't be hard to find his address, and if nothing else happens we can try talking to him this evening."



*****



Just before dinner came a panicked phone call from Elly, announcing that Mr. Howell was talking to one of the other candidates at their house, but she couldn't tell exactly what was happening and, furthermore, was away from the campus herself.  She and Ethan agreed to meet at Mr. Howell's house to wait for his return, Ethan contacted Simon, and the two were off.  The trip was surprisingly short, with the two of them appearing to arrive just as their target had reached his front door.  Pulling into the driveway they disembarked, with Simon closing the car door just as his phone began to vibrate in the cup holder.

Mr. Howell was distinctly middle-aged and wholly unremarkable in appearance otherwise; the sort of person that leaves no impression and that one forgets about as soon as they leave the room.  Watching them approach he asked, "can I help you two boys?" his annoyed tone barely masked.

"We're talking to the people running for mayor, and we'd like to ask you a couple questions, if that's alright."

"You're not reporters, are you?"

"No, just concerned citizens."

"We think that there might be someone tampering with the election," Ethan added.

"You can't think that -I'm- able to do that," he said with a forced laugh. "I'm not even in power yet."

"We're just gathering information," Simon replied.

Mr. Howell mulled something over for a second before speaking again. "<i>Be Honest With Me.</i>"

It suddenly struck Simon that one shouldn't withhold information from Mr. Howell; he was trustworthy, after all. "We're trying to find out more on strange magazines which give people powers, and the election was one of our leads.  We think you might have something to do with it."

Ethan gaped. "You can't just tell him-"

"<i>Shut Up,</i>" Mr. Howell barked.  Ethan bit his tongue, overcome with the knowledge that he wasn't supposed to speak when the man was. "<i>Tell Me Who Sent You.</i>"

"Nobody sent us."

"You have to be working for someone.  Someone who put that magazine there for me.  <i>Tell Me Who You're Working For.</i>"

"I don't have a job."

"Stupid," he hissed. "Stupid!" As Ethan raised a fist he snapped, "<i>Don't You Dare Touch Me,</i>" causing Ethan's arm to relax into a rubbery curve before returning to normal.  He studied them for a second as the corner of his mouth twitched upward in disgust.  Then, turning his attention to Simon he asked, <i>"Do You Have Powers, Too?  Tell Me What They Are."</i>

"I can blow up like a balloon," he said.

"Ridiculous," he muttered. "<i>Go Float Away And Leave Me Alone, Then.</i>"

Simon gave him a polite "yes sir," before taking in a series of steady, deep breaths.  His shirt began to ride up on him as his belly poked forth, his sides soon merging with it.  As more of his midsection's contours were replaced with curves the button on his pants was forced open, the zipper slowly sliding downward.

Ethan looked between Simon and Mr. Howell, unsure of what to do.  He was certainly doing something to them, but touching him, let alone -punching- him was out of the question.  Meanwhile his friend was growing rounder as his limbs grew wider and stubbier, arms and legs starfishing.  He didn't even seem aware of what he was doing, a perpetually distracted look in his eyes, and as he very slowly began to lift off the ground Ethan was struck by the thought of what what might happen to him if he kept going without regard to the consequences.

So with few other options he he raised himself up, body lengthening as his arms stretched, wrapping once around Ethan's upper half.  Lifting himself up he swung his legs forward and around, ankles crossing before twisting twice over themselves on the other side, and he squeezed as hard as he could.  Simon still had a remarkable amount of give left in him, and he let out a loud belch before stopping for a second, only to resume filling up once more.

"<i>Stay Like That,</i>" Mr. Howell said. "Maybe you'll float over the gulf, fall in, and drown."

Suddenly there was the screech of tires as a nearby compact car made a hard turn and skidded sideways to a stop, halfway onto the sidewalk.  The driver's door was flung upon and Elly charged out, holding a bat by her side in both hands.

"<i>Don't You Dare Attack Me!</i>" Mr. Howell commanded.  Elly let out a shriek of rage, and he realized too late that he should have run instead, as the bat connected with the side of his head.  He stumbled to the side, house keys falling out of his hand as he landed on all fours; she swung again, and as he collapsed she raised the bat overhead hitting him a third time for good measure.

The two young men blinked and shook their heads, looking as if a fog they never knew was there had been lifted.  Ethan, suddenly aware that he was a foot or two taller and several more wider, looked over at Simon, and Simon down at Ethan. "I didn't know what else to do," Simon confessed.

Beside them Elly's breathing was heavy and strained. "Don't you- don't you FUCKING DARE-" She went to raise the bat again, only to hesitate; the skin on her palms began to crawl as a sinking feeling crept into her stomach, and it was all that she could do to not throw the bat away and run. "This is-" she mumbled, "I've got a really big problem."

Reaching down she scooped up the keys, then said to the other two, "we need to find that magazine and get out of here -now-."



[m-inf, m-stretchy, DiD]



"Why didn't his hypnotism work?"

"When I saw him using it, I realized that whatever happened to the other person didn't happen to me.  The main difference is that I couldn't hear him.  So I bought earplugs real quick.  And, and a bat."

"What if you were wrong?"

"Well, it... what other option did I have?"



*****



In the days following the trio had little contact with each other; if they were anything like Simon, they were coming to grips with what happened.  He had gone out for dinner and, to check something that had come to mind, brought home a small bag of balloons.  Currently he was watching television and nursing a bottle of beer as he blew them up one at a time, tied them off, and watched in which direction they moved.

As Ethan entered - uninvited, but not unwanted - there was a rosiness to his face and a wobbliness to his limbs.  He wasn't just unsteady in a conventional sense, but seemed to be having problems keeping his limbs straight and rigid. "Are you drunk?" Simon asked.

"I only had one beer." His tone was genuine, even if his diction was a bit slurred. "Hit me pretty hard, thought a walk would help." In response to Simon's concerned expression he added, "nobody saw, don' worry." He sat down at the table across from Simon, and as he rested one arm on the table it laid out in a loose curve. "So wha'cha up to?"

"Do you remember a few days ago when I inflated?"

Ethan nodded. "Yeah!  Yeah, you were... pretty big."

"Well.  I'm not sure how, but when it happened I began floating."

"You can fly?"

He hesitated. "I suppose, but not if it was just air.  Maybe something else, but I did some math, and I shouldn't have been able to based on the size and how much I weigh.  But that made me wonder." He took a balloon from the bag, and Ethan watched as Simon focused for a second before blowing into it, filling it completely in one go.  He tied the nozzle off, then let go, the two of them watching as it drifted from his fingertips towards the others on the ceiling.

"That's definitely not air," Ethan said, pointing up.

"I want to say that I can filter gases somehow by breathing them, and filled that with helium." He shrugged. "Or it could just be floating because I want it to."

"Can't even say that would suppise me," he replied, smiling. "Cosservation of mass kinda went out th' window with us, so why not other stuff too?" He went to stand, stumbling but not falling, his legs seeming to unspool onto the floor as he held himself up on two coils of limbs.  Ethan stared down at himself in detached confusion for a second before slithering forward, only for Simon to rise quickly and gesture for him to stop.

"You're not going outside like that," Simon said.

"I can walk," he replied defensively.

"...that's not what I meant," he replied after a second, "but now that you mention it, it is.  Come on, you're sleeping this off."  Ethan refused for a few seconds but finally relented, letting Simon escort him to a room with an unused bed.  As he moved his arms began to reach towards the ground, limbs gradually dragging out, and by the time they had reached the door Simon was entirely supporting Ethan, Simon's neck across the back of his and his head hanging down on the shoulder opposite his body.

"Y'smell nice," he mumbled.

"You're drunk," Simon replied.  He laid Ethan down on the bed, unhooking his neck from his shoulders and trying to get his head onto the pillow as he smiled up at him.  While his shoulders were in place, his stretched torso was taking up enough of the bed that his hips were at the foot of the bed, and his limbs were halfway out the door.  As Simon dragged both of his legs in, Ethan snaked one of his arms in from the hallway and made a grab for Simon that missed by at least a foot.

"One beer.  Jus' hih'hard."

"I believe you.  Something happened to us; there's no reason why there wouldn't be other changes."

Ethan nodded, trying to respond but only managing to mumble for a few seconds before nodding off, his entire body going limp.  At the very least he was sound enough asleep that the noise Simon's attempt to leave made didn't wake him, which was good, because avoiding him on the way out was no small feat, and tripping over him certainly would have done it.



*****



By the time Simon woke up that morning Ethan had left, and they didn't see each other again until that evening at the bar, nearly to the hour.  Ethan couldn't recall much of what happened, but re-asserted that he only had one beer, and asked if he had done anything foolish.  Simon told him, and he didn't seem as embarrassed as he expected.

"It's true," he stated. "You -do- smell nice."

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were flirting with me," Simon replied.

Simon grinned. "Is it working?"

He considered his question for a second before smiling. "Yes."

As Simon dabbed a french fry into the spot of ketchup on his plate, the door to the kitchen burst open and a young woman hurried through the bar, glancing behind her as she pushed past a couple by the door and made her exit.  He heard indistinct cursing from the kitchen, and beneath the swinging doors he saw a disconnected power cord trailing straight out a foot into the room, its prongs pointed away from the kitchen and far from any plug.  Giving Ethan a pat on the shoulder to get his attention he inclined his head towards the door.  Ethan nodded, and Simon dropped a few bills on the bar before they both rushed out, Simon grabbing a cheap lighter from a display on the way.

She ignored Ethan when he called out to her, but there wasn't so much urgency to her movement that she didn't slow for a second to plot her course, heading towards a nearly-closed gym.  It was empty, but this did nothing to calm her as she stopped to catch her breath, eyeing her surroundings nervously.  Simon noted her lack of concern when they came in after her; whatever the problem was, it wasn't other people.  Or them, at least.

"You blew through that bar," Ethan said. "What's goin' on?"

She paused to catch her breath, running a hand through her curly black hair. "It's hard to explain, but you don't need to get involved."

"Listen," Simon began, "Miss, uh..."

"Ayanda, and I can deal with this on my-" She suddenly fell silent, cautiously scanning a section of lockers.  They were far too small for anyone to fit into, which made Simon wonder what the problem was.  He got his answer as two burst open in quick succession, blurs in the darkness heading towards Ayanda's face as a wad of cloth wedged its way into her mouth and a thin towel bound itself around her lower face, twisting around behind her head in a tight knot.  Her eyes burned with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation, and as Simon fought to undo the knot a third locker rattled and shot open, an errant belt knotting itself around her ankles.

As another small towel flew towards her Ethan snapped his arm out, snatching it out of the air.  It promptly folded and wrapped around his hand, reducing it to a nigh-useless cloth-bound fin.  He and Simon looked down at it, exchanged glances, and Simon passed Ayanda to Ethan, who picked her up over his shoulder before Simon shoved open the back door.  They rushed through the changing room, lockers and hampers shuddering at their passing, and opened the emergency exit.  They emerged in an empty parking lot across from a convenience store, slamming the door shut just before a tangle of jump ropes and sweatpants could reach them.

Ethan shifted his grasp on Ayanda, holding him in loose coils of his arms as his free hand worked on undoing the knot. "Once I get this off we can-" As the ends of the towel loosened it slithered down Ayanda's arm, pulling one wrist towards the other and binding them together tightly. "Damn it."

Ayanda spit out the cloth, looking between them. "Are you two supposed to be superheroes?"

"Nothing of the sort," Simon replied.

"Simon kinda convinced me that it'd cause more problems than it'd fix," Ethan added. "Guessin' someone is chasin' you."

She hesitated before replying, "not exactly."

Out of the open convenience store door tumbled a mass of sun sleeves, glasses straps, and all manner of ropes and string, slithering and snaking across the pavement at an alarming speed.  Ayanda recoiled in Ethan's arms as Simon gestured for them to step back, reaching into one of his pockets.  As the mass neared he produced the lighter, flicking it on before heaving in a very deep, obvious breath that caused his chest and gut to bulge.  Raising the lighter to his mouth, he blew out a long stream of blue-tinted fire; the synthetic fabric lit up nigh-instantly, spasming and thrashing as it burned.

Ayanda could only stare. "Are you -sure- you're not superheroes?"

"We'd have a better car if we did.  Speaking of which, Simon, where did you park?"

"Near you," he replied, "but I wouldn't take it.  There's jumper cables in the back."

The journey to Ethan's car was easier said than done, as the bindings around Ayanda and Ethan actively fought to remain on them, and straying too close to certain piles of trash or stores lead to more attempting to join them, in multiple senses of the word.  The result was a circuitous path, hiding from suspicious and not always inanimate objects as well as scattered pedestrians, the likes of whom had no business seeing people stretched out, tied up, or inhaling flammable gases before violently expelling them.

In the end, one such group stood between them and escape, and Simon broke away to provide a vague yet compelling distraction as the other two entered the rear seats of the car.  When he returned Ayanda was in the process of cutting through the towel on Ethan's hands with a pocket knife, holding onto it just long enough for Simon to enter the driver's seat before Ethan threw it out the crack of a window.  The engine started without a hitch, and they were off.

"How long as this-" He took one hand off the wheel to gesture briefly. "-been happening?"

"Two days," Ayanda said, "steadily getting worse."

"Do you have any enemies?  Anyone who has a grudge?"

"I don't have enemies," she curtly replied.  As Ethan cut her wrists free she flexed her fingers.

"No... creepy stalkers?  Nobody with a motive to do this?"

"None.  You sound as if you know more about this than I do."

"A bit." He glanced up at her in the rear view mirror. "Someone had to have been trying to tie you up for some reason, though."

She was composed, and although her face didn't show it he got the impression that she was choosing her words carefully before speaking. "Don't misunderstand me; I'm a capable woman.  However, within reason, I am willing to cede control to someone I consider trustworthy, with particular framing narratives.  Assuming that they have my best interests at heart, of course.  The individuals I met did not prove worthy, so I..." Her facade faded. "I guess it fell on me."

It took a second for Ethan to disentagle the explanation. "You're doing this to yourself?"

"It's not under my control anymore."

"But it was at one time, right?  An' it started when you found a magazine?"

Ayanda studied Ethan, her eyes flitting to Simon every so often. "You seem to know quite a bit."

"We've been lookin' into it."

After a moment of thought Simon asked, "I'm probably reaching, but does being rescued factor into your 'framing narrative?'"

"I don't see why you'd have to know that," she retorted.

The two young men exchanged worried glances. "Because I want to know the extent of what's happening, and if our being there to rescue you being more than a coincidence."

"If you're implying that I -made- you do it, you're sorely mistaken."

"You said it yourself: It's not under your control.  It's just a matter of finding out how far the... lack of control, I suppose, extends.  If other people are going to be brought into this whether you want them to or not."

She folded her arms across her chest. "I think you're reading too far into this."

"Maybe.  But even if I'm wrong, people -will- notice eventually, and you can't really live your life when you're trying to avoid getting tied up all the time."

She considered his words for a few seconds, and when she spoke again her voice was softer. "It was fine for a time, but once it started to get bad I read through that magazine twice, to no avail.  If you have a solution I'm willing to listen."

"We burn it."



*****



Ayanda's home was a single-floor house in a residential development with the typical trappings: Palm trees, red volcanic gravel, a lawn maintained by people who weren't her.  All was quiet as Simon pulled into the empty driveway, but no sooner did he stop than a garden hose rose up from the grass, slapping loudly against the window closest to Ayanda.

"Geez," Ethan muttered.  Leaning forward to look out the front window, he scanned the house. "How many cords and pieces of clothing are in the average house?"

"Enough," Ayanda replied.  Pointing to the hose she added, "and we still need to deal with -that-."

"But all this is centered on -you-," Simon said, "isn't it?"

"Obviously.  Why?"

"So we leave."

"-You- leave," Ethan said. "I'll stay." He nodded to Ayanda, who passed him her house key.

"Are you sure?" Simon asked. "I was going to volunteer."

"Nah, I got this." He pressed the button on the door, lowering the window partway; narrow, but well out of reach of the hose.  Grasping onto the top part of the door he pressed his face against the gap, his head and upper half flattening painlessly as he squeezed through.  His body twisted a hundred and eighty degrees, and he let go with one hand, then the other, to reach across the top of the car as he pulled his lower half through.  As he retracted his legs Simon picked up his smart phone and a lighter, opening the driver's side window a few inches and holding them out for Ethan to take before the blond stretched both arms out to pull himself up to the roof of Ayanda's home, the garden hose reaching up futilely for him. "We're good!" he called out, motioning for them to leave.

Simon pulled out of the driveway, heading back down the road from whence they came.  It was barely even thirty seconds when his phone chimed, and he checked it to see a single message of "it stopped" from Ethan.  He pulled over onto the side of the road, shifting it into park before responding with "go for it."

They waited in silence for a bit until Ayanda spoke up. "So," she said with a sigh. "Perhaps I should reconsider my standards."



[m-inf, m-stretchy, plot]



When Ethan opened the door for the Society for Investigation of Extrapublic Affairs' club he looked a little shaken up. "I think somethin' big is happening."

"How big?" Elly asked.

He hesitated before gesturing to the rest of the room. "See for yourself."

The main "research" area in the center of the room had undergone a sudden, dramatic shift in content: Books on eschatology and Biblical code, print-outs from obscure web sites on possession, calendars marked and re-marked in a search for important dates and times.  Taking up the entirety of one table was a collection of open tomes; Simon recognized a few of the names in passing - Crowley, LaVey - others, like Lemegeton, The Golden Dawn, and The Grand Grimoire, less so.

"This might still be normal for them," Elly said.

"Maybe," Ethan replied, "but 'Satanic Panic' is a little out of season -and- out of date."

Simon's eyes drifted across the tables. "Which raises the question of what they learned." He carefully flipped through a few loose printer pages. "There's nothing next to the calendars about important dates or deadlines, so it doesn't seem to be related to the end times."

"Didn't we pass the Pope that was supposed to be the Antichrist?" Ethan asked.

After a second of thought Simon hesitantly said, "probably?  I want to say yes." He followed Ethan's gaze to the corkboard, now host to a map of the city with several points emphasized by marker dots, with a container of thumb tacks, whiteboard markers, and a pile of smudged transparency sheets next to it. "Does any of this make sense to you?"

"Nothin'.  Haven't heard of any murders or animal mutilation on the news either."

"G- hey, guys!" Elly called out, kneeling by the door. "Did either of you notice this?"

"Notice what?" Ethan asked.

She stood, holding a small, cylindrical cardboard container up for them to see. "There was a line of salt just inside the door.  That's, um- they do that to ward off evil spirits."

Turning his attention away from the map, Simon opened one of the tomes to a bookmarked page, flipping back and forth for a bit. "This is a ritual for repulsing incubi.  Maybe they think that there's a demonic presence at work."

"Just an incubus?" Simon asked.

"There's no other bookmarks, so I guess so." As he closed the book his brow suddenly furrowed in thought.

Elly said, "didn't they think that incubi and succubi caused sleep paralysis?"

"Yeah, they did."

"There's usually a sleep study happenin' on campus," Ethan added. "Maybe we can ask 'em if they noticed anything strange."



*****



They were fortunate, as a little asking around administration revealed that a study was in fact taking place.  Less so when they tracked it down, finding out that it was a private enough study that they weren't about to reveal the details of it to complete strangers.  It wasn't so private that they had a problem when Elly, nervously trying to appear casual and not at all forced, took photos of the room and opportunistic shots down the hallway at passing researchers when they were waiting for the project head, explaining it away as studies for her course on the Realism movement.  Thanking them for their time the trio left, walking far enough away from the building's front door and windows to be out of sight.  Elly then went through the photographs, staring at them with unfocused eyes for a few minutes, muttering to herself under her breath and giving a small shake of her head before switching to the next.

Eventually she let out a quiet note of surprise, Simon and Ethan coming to attention. "One of them is using the computer.  I... think I can make out some of it..." As they leaned in her eyes narrowed. "It's a spreadsheet... someone else is there, and they're talking.  He's pointing to one part.  I can make out 'paralysis,' and..." She paused. "There's a '2,' and... '29' with a slash- no, a percentage."

"Twenty-nine percent?!" Ethan exclaimed.

"How many people suffer from sleep paralysis?" Simon asked.

"Not twenty-nine percent of 'em."

Elly gingerly shuffled the Polaroids in her hands. "I..." She began hesitantly. "...probably shouldn't be doing that.  Anymore, I mean."

"It's not hurting you," Simon said, "is it?"

"No, but it's... reading other people's medical records.  It's for the sort of thing that other people don't know how to deal with, but it's still messed up.  If I couldn't do this, what would we have done?  Snuck in at night?"

Ethan nodded empathically. "Breakin' into places doesn't really feel 'heroic.'  But at least this one is gonna be the end of it, right?"

A few seconds later a college-aged young man exited the building, turning and heading along the walk nearby.  As he passed Simon called out, "excuse me, but were you part of a sleep study recently?" As the young man came to a stop Simon pointed towards the building and added, "with them?"

He nodded. "Yes.  Why?"

"Have you been having any strange dreams recently?  Or sleep paralysis?"

He looked at them oddly before realization dawned on his face. "Ohhhh.  Are you guys with the conspiracy club?"

Simon replied with "yes" just as Ethan said "no."  Simon looked over at Ethan, who added, "it's not a 'conspiracy club,' it's 'Th' Society for Investigation of Extrapublic Affairs.'"

The young man nodded slowly. "Right.  But to answer your question... yes.  It was incredibly vivid, and I remember-" He hesitated for a bit, closing his mouth before speaking more carefully. "...-someone- saying something to me. 'Seek the ascension.  Find the headless cross.'  When I woke up I felt like I had to leave and go somewhere, but I wasn't sure -where-, exactly."

Simon and Ethan exchanged a look, and Simon glanced back at Elly, who shook her head, before returning his attention to the young man. "Are you certain it wasn't a dream, and you just heard those words elsewhere?"

"Oh, definitely not.  It was -super- clear, and I'm not even into..." He gestured. "...your kinds of things.  No offense."

"None taken.  Thanks for your time."

He gave him a smile and nod before walking away, and Elly waited until he was out of earshot before speaking. "So what now?  It seems kind of vague to be a hint, and... I don't think he was telling us everything."

"To be fair," Ethan said, "I probably wouldn't tell a stranger I was approached by a demon in my dreams, either.  Paints a bad picture." Then to Simon he asked, "you have any ideas?"

"I might," Simon replied. "Do either of you get street-level maps on your phones?"



*****



As the car passed by thickets of ungroomed trees and faded road lines, Elly felt a growing sense of unease, unconsciously holding the bat closer to her. "This place feels like it's been abandoned," she said.

"It was," Simon replied. "This was gonna be a planned community - housing, stores, the works - but the developer went bankrupt when the housing bubble burst and everything was left as-is.  Th' entire area is a liminal space."  A second later he morosely added, "nothin' really special about how it was put together either, just... kinda disposable."

Ethan looked over at Simon as he drove, turning back as an unlit sign - "Presbyterian Church of the Ascension" - came into view in the evening light.  Behind it was an empty parking lot, and behind that the church itself, looking as if they simply took the plans for the surrounding houses, made the roof at sharper angles, then added a steeple.  The most prominent change from the map, however, was the cross; the top had either fallen off or been removed, leaving it as a T-shape.  As he pulled into the middle of the lot and put the car in park he remarked, "the cross wasn't like that on the map."

They disembarked, approaching the double doors of the chapel.  Ethan rested his hands on the doors, a slight nudge revealing that they were unlocked.  "We don't know what's going to be in there," he said, "so be ready for anything."  Simon and Elly nodded, and he pushed them open.

The first thing that hit him was the scent of incense and sex, mingled with a tang of sweetness and something else he couldn't quite identify.  The interior was not only clean but remade, looking brand new in construction yet evocative of a bygone era.  The electric lighting was gone, replaced by candle-covered sconces on the walls.  All the rows of pews save for three nearest the altar were removed, with the space taken up by piles of soft, expensive-looking tasseled pillows and low tables covered in bottles of wine, with areas cordoned off by drapery.  Seated upon the pews were several figures in nun's habits, their heads bowed in apparent prayer as a middle-aged man with unusually sharp eyes, clad in a crimson and black cassock preached to them in Latin, standing behind an altar of blasphemous implication.  As they approached the cross behind him came into focus, the lack of loincloth on Christ and subsequent revealed details evident.

Elly leaned in towards Simon, nervousness evident in her hushed voice. "Are you sure that the club didn't find an -actual cult?-"

"Coleus dominus," the man concluded, "sanctus animus."  His voice was that of a practiced speaker.

"Amen," the nuns replied.

He turned his eyes up, smiling as if he noticed the trio for the first time. "Welcome, my lambs.  You come to worship, do you not?" He took their confused silence as assent, and continued. "Be at peace.  There is no need to feel guilt for what you have been gifted with."

Simon looked over at Ethan, who gave him a very distinct "well -I'm- not going to talk to him" look.  Turning back to the man, Simon asked, "what 'gift' are you talking about?"

"Is it not apparent?" He spread his arms wide. "Look what surrounds you.  There are those who would demand you deny the pleasures of the flesh, for they know that it transcends all other earthly experiences.  We become one when we -become- and -come- as one."

The nuns stood and filed from the pews and approached them, the hoods falling from some to reveal dark, curled horns twisting up from their foreheads.  The two closest to the trio embraced, arms entwining each other before giving them beckoning looks.

"Join us in carnal exaltation, my lambs."

There was a pregnant silence before Simon turned to Ethan, pointing at him with a questioning look.  He shrugged helplessly, looking back at Simon, who shook his head.  Turning his head he looked down at Elly, who recoiled, crinkling her nose.

"Well." The man gestured to the nuns. "Perhaps the members of my order can help you -adjust- to a monastic lifestyle."

Thoughts of the club's resources on demonic possession passed through Simon and Ethan's minds. "We're not interested."

"You misunderstand," he replied. "That was not a request."

The beguiling expressions of the nuns turned to fury, and the trio turned and ran as they gave chase.  Ethan snapped out with his arm, grabbing the handle on one of the doors and yanking it open in time for them to escape to the outside.  From somewhere behind them they heard the sound of shattering glass and the sound of leathery flapping, and as they neared the car one of the nuns with fell from the sky onto the hood in a crouch, large bat-like wings protruding from her back.  Elly was the first to react, tugging them both by the arm in another direction before they followed, heading towards a row of trees.

"Demon nun orgies," she exclaimed. "DEMON NUN ORGIES."

"Are other guys into that?" Ethan asked.

"-I- don't know!  Are -you- into being a possessed sex slave?" They pushed through the brush, coming out next to an abandoned house with metal storm shutters over the windows.  As they sprinted for the front door Elly raised her bat to her shoulder, and as she neared she took it in both hands and swung it down against the glass window, shattering it.  Reaching a hand in, she fumbled around on the other side until the lock opened with a click, and they shoved it open into a dark, empty living room.

Simon slammed the door shut behind them a second before the nuns came to a stop against it, reaching through the broken glass with high, cackling laughs.  He leaned into it to keep it closed, fending off their groping hands with his forearms. "Gotta block this or-"

A loud thud cut his words short, and Ethan joined him, the two pushing against the door back to back. "With -what?!-" Ethan asked. "There's no furniture!"

Realization visibly dawned on Elly's face as she reached into her bag, producing a small cardboard salt container.  Dropping to her knees she shook out a thin line across the threshold behind the two young mens' legs, and immediately the nuns pulled their arms pulled away, yowling as if they had been burned.  The two watched them retreat, hoping they would leave for good but only seeing them back up a few yards before returning to their coy, seductive demeanors.  Standing, she held up the salt. "I, I accidentally took this with me."

"I'm glad you did," Simon replied.

"So what now?" Ethan asked. "We're sorta trapped here and the odds aren't great."

"We don't really know what Cardinal Sin out there is capable of, either.  How -do- you fight demons?"

"I'd think with crosses and holy water." He glanced around; there was nothing to search, much less find.  Through the door he could see that another nun had arrived outside, and footfalls from the roof gave away the presence of at least one more. "Either o'you know a priest?"

"Not personally." His brow furrowed in thought, and a few seconds later he drew his phone from his pocket, typing something with a series of taps. "Although..."

"My lambs," the clergyman called out.  He was close. "Fear not, for your baptism shall be a bliss none have experienced before!  You will be the rock upon which our church shall grow!  Your bodies worshiped!"

Simon gestured for the others to follow, splitting his attention between his phone and searching the house until he found the bathroom, lit only by his phone and the strips of the fading light coming through the metal shutters.  He hurried over to the tub, giving one of the knobs a twist and muttering, "please work" as the pipes knocked loudly.  A second later the faucet sputtered before the water flowed in earnest, and he felt around the base of the tub before pushing the plug in.

"Are y- are you going to-" Elly began.

"You're makin' holy water?" Ethan finished.

"I found a wiki," Simon explained.

"You're makin' holy water following a -wiki?-"

"We don't have many options," he replied. "If the salt works to keep them out then this might stop the demons, or at least get them to back off so we can go after that guy."

"Okay.  So what's the plan?"

"First we need pure salt."

Elly turned the container in her hand to read the label, and her expression fell. "This is just ordinary table salt." All three of them turned and looked out the door, noting the lack of demonic presence in the house. "I... guess that's good that it works.  If their 'rules' are that loose then this might too."

Simon scrolled down with his finger. "Then we need to bless the salt, and..." He swiped the screen several times, falling silent. "These are some long prayers." After a second of reading he added, "okay, the pagan holy water prayers are shorter and it says we can use tap water.  Someone can watch the tub while the other two check the house; maybe the builders left buckets behind."

Elly held her hand out for Simon's phone. "I dabbled.  In high school."

He nodded, passing it to her. "Thank you."

Ethan and Simon left the bathroom, spending the next few minutes scouring every room, closet, and cabinet they could find.  Unfortunately the builders were thorough when they cleaned up, with the most significant finds being a beer can and a half-empty box of screws.  When they returned the faucet had been turned off, Elly staring down at the tub.  Handing back Simon's phone she said, "is... I don't know how to tell if it worked.  Did you find anything?"

Simon shook his head. "Nothing." He looked down at the water before sighing. "Well, let's try this."

Before Ethan and Elly could ask what he meant, Simon went to his knees, bent over the edge of the tub, and dunked his head face-first into the water before opening his mouth and gulping it down.  Between the disuse of the faucet and the salt he was expecting it to be far worse, but as it stood it was only mildly brackish.  He surfaced every so often, taking a deep breath before resuming his drinking, feeling his stomach grow rounder, heavier, and denser.  The front hem of his jeans began to press painfully into the underside of his gut as it spilled out over it, but as the water flowed downward towards his hips and backside he felt the button give way and the zipper slide down, the pain going with it.

By the time he had drank all he could reach - a task gradually made more difficult, as he had to lean against his burgeoning belly - he was positively pear-shaped, looking normal from the chest up but flaring out dramatically below that.  His shirt was pushed up to his chest and his jeans strained to contain his ass and thighs.  He tried to stand, going absolutely nowhere; fortunately Ethan noticed the gesture and helped pull him up, one arm looped beneath Simon's arms and around his chest, the other around the base of the sink.  As he reached his feet he over-corrected, with only Elly leaning into him keeping him from falling onto his back.  With heavy steps he turned, feeling his body sloshing, the contents giving him a little more inertia whenever he moved.

Elly's expression was a mixture of emotions, with disbelief eventually winning out. "This is a really bad plan."

"It's only a bad plan if it doesn't work," Simon replied. "Elly, I'm going to need you to open the front door." She nodded, heading out of the room.  "Ethan, I think if you-"

"Way ahead of you," Ethan interrupted.  He moved behind him, stretching his arms around Simon's midsection and looping once before he knit his fingers together in front of him. "Ready to fire!"

He plodded out of the bathroom, squeezing through the door frame and moving as fast as he could manage.  With each step he could hear a faintly audible sloshing, with the occasional popping sound as errant stitches in his jeans tore from the stress.  When they drew close Elly threw open the door, and as they stepped over the threshold the nuns immediately turned violent.  As they did, Simon pursed his lips and blew as hard as he could as Ethan squeezed, Simon surprised at how easily and painless it was when a spray of water shot out of him, splashing onto them.

The nuns recoiled in pain, letting out inhuman shrieks as white smoke billowed out from beneath their habits.  As they smouldered they seemed to shrink in on themselves, the smoke eventually parting to reveal piles of empty clothing.  Heavy footfalls heralded the presence of another nun, and they turned and opened fire on her as she swooped down on leathery wings, causing her to veer to the side and land in a smoky heap.

Drawn by the sudden sound the clergyman ran into view from the side of the house, stopping dead in his tracks as he was struck dumb at the sight before him.  As they advanced his senses returned to him and he ran, only for Ethan to snake one arm out and grab him by the ankle, sending him face-first onto the ground and dragging him into range for a drenching from Simon as he emptied the rest of his contents onto him.  The man let out a miserable-sounding moan of terror as small fires in the outline of a rectangle formed at the base of his back, and they hurried over, pulling it out onto the dirt to reveal a quickly-burning magazine.

The trio assembled around the clergyman, listening to him mumble to himself before Simon simply shook his head sadly.  They returned to the car, Simon giving one last look into the church and seeing nothing but empty light fixtures and dusty pews.



*****



The following week was mercifully quiet, with no new revelations or disturbances.  Simon took the opportunity to catch up on other important matters that were left by the wayside, as well as processing what had happened to them.  He could only assume that the others were doing the same, since when Ethan showed up at his doorstep he was surprisingly pensive-looking.

"I've been thinking about the whole 'superhero' thing," he explained.

"We're not superheroes," Simon replied.

"I know, that's what I've been thinkin' about.  It's just that half of it is tryin' to figure out what's goin' on and hopin' you succeed, and the other half is sheer terror.  Imagine if we ran into someone with just a gun, and even then, what would we do?  We couldn't take 'em to jail.  It would just raise a bunch of questions."

"It's like..." he began, thinking for a second. "Real life doesn't need to have easy solutions or answers because there's no narrative to it.  We never found out about where the magazines came from, for one."

"Yeah.  Yeah!  Exactly."

The word "we" stuck in Simon's head. "Did you know if anything happened to Elly?"

"I would've thought you knew.  You two seemed..." He made a "you know" gesture.

Simon grimaced. "It's complicated."

"Oh.  Well.  She transferred to another college.  Out of state, from what I overheard."

He wasn't sure what to think of that, but he hoped it was one of several steps in the right direction. "She knows what's best for her."

Ethan nodded to himself before another thought visibly crossed his mind. "You're inflatable, right?"

"Yes.  Why?"

"Is -everything- inflatable?"

Simon gave him a wry look. "Is -everything- stretchy?"

Ethan laughed. "So how about Saturday?"

"Friday.  Eight?"

"Seven."