Young Writers Society

Tick... tock... goes the clock...

Every minute that passes, you grow more sure something’s wrong.

You were born... you don’t remember. You don’t remember much of your life before the Project. They say that’s normal for someone who went through the trauma you did.

But you remember the burning pain over every millimeter of your body and inside it, too, the blinding light in your eyes, the noise so loud but you couldn’t cover your ears, the acrid taste of blood in your mouth, the paralyzation.

They say everyone you loved was gone. Dead or MIA. You don’t remember them. They say perhaps it’s for the best. They pulled you from the rubble, barely alive, the skin seared from your body, gashes in your skin, broken bones everywhere. They’ve shown you pictures. They say it’s lucky you survived. You and the other members of the Project. They say the bad people attacked you all.

You’ve been in the Project for two years now. When they saved you, the destruction had changed you. You and the others. They say you have a responsibility to use your new powers for good. They’ll point you at the targets, and you’ll save the world.

But something’s wrong. Little things make you think that perhaps they aren’t telling the full truth about the Project. Their expressions, their tones. Somehow, you’re afraid to go out in the real world for your missions.

Tick... tock...

Somehow, someway, something’s wrong.

***
The Real Story:


You grew up in the real world. You had a normal life. You had a hobby or sport or job or extracurricular you were obsessed about. Friends, family, maybe a girlfriend or boyfriend. You were in college, studying to become who knows what.

They chose you because of your hobby. You and the others. They needed someone who was obsessed. Who really, honestly, truly cared. Your new power is based off this obsession.

They kidnapped you from your college two years ago, just poofed you to them. You and the others. They changed you. They buried your memories until you couldn’t access them. They created new ones. Made you utterly loyal to them. Made you believe you were friends with the others. Maybe one of them was even your boyfriend or girlfriend, according to them.

They want to use you as a team to attack entire armies. They want to rule the world.

You trust them.

...For now.

Profiles


Slots

Xandy

I kneeled on the dusty floor, purposefully not making eye contact with the shining cornflower blue eye of the cat crouched in the corner of the laundry room, hissing fearfully. Slowly, she inched forward, as I turned into just another inanimate object for her to inspect. “Shh. You’re a pretty little animal, don’t you know?” I carefully draped a towel over the white cat, and held it tight over her paws. She struggled a little when I lifted her up in my arms, but I controlled her, crooning, “I know, you’re scared. It’ll be okay.”

I slipped into the main room of the shelter, and gently deposited her in her small cage, shutting and latching the door before she could dash out again. She flopped on her side, staring at me balefully with her one eye, her belly engorged with kittens. The teenage volunteer was nearly in tears. “I didn’t know she was a runner,” he mumbled.

I smiled at him, hoping it would serve to reassure him at least a little. “It’s okay. The pregnant ones are always a little odd. You hoping for one of her kittens?”

Mollified, he shook his head. “I’ve already took in one of the elderlies. I think a kitten would be too much for him to deal with. Thanks for helping. I know it’s not technically your shift today, Miss Xandy.”

“No problem. Sorry, I have to go.” I shot him another smile and dashed out the door, knowing I was already running late.

When I got outside, into the wide, noisy streets of New York, Liz was waiting, leaning against a wall, twisting some of her long, dark hair around one finger. She grinned. “You got the bottom of your dress all gray, you know.”

I shrugged, and twirled, letting the green ruffly material flow around me, though the gray tinge to the bottom didn’t vanish. “Still looks pretty. Besides, all that’s going to happen is Allie’s going to visit. I shouldn’t be nervous.”

“It’s only been a year since you last saw him, since you left when you were seventeen. And if you didn’t want to be nervous, maybe you should have worn a slightly more normal ensemble.”

I pouted. “It’s vintage! Or antique, whichever it is with clothes! Fedoras are awesome, and I love green.” Sobering a little, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“I’d love to, but I really should make it to this play practice. Besides, when homophobia is what drove you from your family, it’s probably not a good idea to bring your girlfriend to your reunion with your brother.”

“I just can’t believe he’s going to be a soldier.” I remembered the little blond boy kneeling in the dirt, one hand tenderly cupped around a flower to hold it up while he slid a stake into the ground next to it, carefully. “He’s not like that.”

“Didn’t you say the military was kind of a family tradition, Xandy?” Liz inquired, biting her bottom lip thoughtfully.

I scowled. “On the male side. The girls just marry the minute they turn eighteen and don’t go to college. Which reminds me, I need to pay my tuition bills again.”

A bright green car pulled up, splashing through a dirty puddle, and Liz’s expression turned regretful. “That’s my ride. We’ve been carpooling to the theater. Sure you don’t want us to drop you off at the apartment?”

Shrugging, I said, “I like walking. It’ll give me time to think.” I gave her a quick hug. “Bye, Liz.” She got into the car and it sped off. I shook my head, grinning, and strolled down the street, briefly wishing I’d chosen shoes I’d broken in better. My heels were getting rubbed raw.

I heard the footsteps behind me, but didn’t think they meant anything. The city was full of life, after all. At least, I didn’t think they meant anything until one arm encircled my waist, yanking me against the thick, muscled body of someone much taller than I, and the other hand cupped a cloth with a sickly sweet scent like something long dead over my mouth and nose. I struggled weakly as the drug overcame me, but soon I slumped in his arms.
***
HOME BASE: Before the transformation

When I woke, I had a massive, stabbing headache, and the light was way too bright. Am I hungover, again? I’m gonna kill Liz for deciding we should play a drinking game with the Harry Potter movies. Think we’d know better by now.

I sat up and with some surprise eyed the four others in various stages of wakefulness around me. There was a purple-haired girl wearing practically neon clothes in that tween girl style of a short skirt and leggings and another girl with sunglasses and white hair, but not old lady white, the kind or thing people do purposefully instead. And there were two boys too, one who was small like me with blond hair and the drowsiest of the lot besides me, and another that was tall, thin and pale with dark hair. I’m really going to kill Liz.

Then I remembered what happened. “Shit! I was supposed to be meeting my brother! Stupid kidnap-y people can’t even pick a good time!”

The purple-haired girl smiled, and immediately, I knew she was the type of person Liz would say needs to switch to decaf and would reply they don’t drink coffee. She’d told me that sometimes... “You’re funny! I like funny people! I’m Reese!”

“And you’re loud.” I could practically hear the exclamation points. Not that I didn’t get excited, but wow did this girl overdo it. I wasn’t this bad, was I? How was she so awake? It only took me a moment to figure out. If they didn’t calculate the drugs for our body mass, us smaller people would take longer for it to wear off. So the blond boy and I as the smallest ones in the group were the dopiest. “I hate tall people,” I mumbled.

I stood and nearly fell, grabbing onto the wall for support. My feet were freezing. I glanced down. “They took my shoes!” Then I considered this for a moment. “Actually, those were crappy shoes. Are they going to Hunger Games us or something? Do you people have any skills? I suppose given enough time, maybe I could turn a wolf pack into personal attack dogs.” The blond boy smiled a little at that.

Purple girl, Reese, said, “There was a big muscled guy who said his name was Gansey earlier. He at least talked more than this bunch. But the doctor people went and took him away.”

“Damn. They are so going to Hunger Games us. Or maybe Battle Royale. Something that involves us killing each other.”

“Organ harvesting is a simpler explanation,” the pale-haired girl pointed out.

I glanced about the room, looking for an escape route. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Stumbling over to the door, I tried the knob. Locked. Shrugging, I mumbled, “Was worth a try.”

Reese grumbled, “You still haven’t told us your name.” She pointed to the blond boy. “He’s Marien and the other one is Nathaniel and she’s Dark.”

Dark? So a self-given nickname. Whatever. I took my hat off and curtseyed. “Xandria Seraphia Andromeda-Rose.” The curtsey proved to be a bad idea; still dizzy from the drug, I fell to the ground. “I meant to do that. And everybody calls me Xandy.”
***
WEST POINT MILITARY ACADEMY, NEW YORK, USA

“This is a test.” We all looked to Marien, waiting for our orders. “We all know that. That’s why the scientists are sending us in weaponless and armorless.” I stared. For the first time I could remember, she felt... uncertain. I could feel it as clearly as I could see her expressionless mien. But perhaps I was simply projecting my own uncertainty about the future. Mari was never uncertain.

“Boys, hang back with me. I don’t want Gansey injuring himself further unless necessary, and your creations are taxing to you as well, Nathan. They will allow us to retreat if we need to before reaching the weapon stores, though I assure you I have seen nothing of the sort. I will coordinate our teams and go in to aid them if they encounter unforeseen difficulties before we resort to the boys. Dark, Xandy, and Reese shall go into the field first, retrieve weapons, deal as much damage as possible, and influence senior officials to bring the situation to our advantage. Dark, Reese, you’re working together.” I stifled a grin at the pair of groans from the bubbly Reese and the ghostly Dark. Mari smirked. “I know you two don’t get along, but the combination of your powers is a useful one. Xandy, feel free to range out somewhat from them, but please don’t go too far. I don’t want you on your own if anything goes wrong.” I nodded. “You all know our objective. Go.”

I hopped out of the helicopter where it was landed in a small field within the West Point Complex, thanks to the highly advanced stealth technology the scientists had put on the ‘copter, and turned to watch Dark and Reese step out beside me. We nodded to one another (even Reese knew to be quiet on a mission) and set out to the base.

I glanced at the others as we reached the first building, and murmured, “I’ll go in first,” slipping past them. Surprisingly enough, the door was unlocked. A living area, perhaps.

I entered a large lounge filled with light, with plush sofas haphazardly arranged around a center table. There was a staircase in the back, but what caught my attention was the fireplace, empty and cold and in all likelihood fake, but with a shining sword hanging from it. I stepped towards it, gazing at it covetously.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” a voice called from one of the couches. Startled, I turned to the young man I hadn’t realized was in the room who lounged back, reading a thick book. “Captain Smythe says the sword represents the principles of our institution blah blah blah.” I frowned petulantly. He looked like a standard military boy (immediately the question raised in my mind as to why I was thinking standard when I’d never seen a military boy before, but I pushed it aside) with buzzed short brown hair and muscular flesh. I took a step towards him.

He frowned a little, and I realized I was projecting aggression and switched it to curiosity. “Hey, do I know you? You look kind of familiar,” he said. He snapped his fingers. “You’re the girl in that picture Freddie looks at when he gets all melancholy. The one in the tuxedo. Your hair is longer now. And no make-up. That’s why I didn’t realize right away. Damn, he’s going to be so annoyed he missed this.” I turned and took the sword off its hooks. “Hey, what’re you doing? Trust me, it’s not worth it for a prank!”

“I really am sorry about this,” I murmured, approaching him, projecting calm and fearlessness, holding the sword at my side. He stared at me, fascinated instead of terrified due to my supression of his other emotions. I raised the sword. “But the leaders of the Project can’t be wrong, can they?”

I brought the sword down on him with both hands. It was messy. It wasn’t like I’d ever picked up a sword before now. But you didn’t need to be a master swords person to know cutting deep enough into someone’s neck would kill them. So I did. He, well, I can’t say he wasn’t in pain. I can’t control that. But I can control how it interacts with the brain. Even a child knows pain is bad. I take away that feeling of badness, of wrongness, and pain becomes just another sensation, no more unpleasant than a soft touch on the arm. It’s the least I could do.

I went to the door to the outside and invited Reese and Dark in. “Run into any trouble?” Dark asked, glancing at my blood-splattered clothing and the dripping sword I carried.

I shrugged. “Nothing real.” With my radio, I asked, “Mari, can I please keep the sword? Pretty please?”

“If you keep the sword, I foresee you dropping it on your own foot. Bye, bye, ability to walk.”

Pouting, I grumbled, “I bet you didn’t actually see that. I bet you just don’t want me to have the sword because you’re no fun.”

“Is it a Code W?” This time, Mari’s tone was far more serious. Code W was named by us, created by us. Code Weird. When members of the team had inexplicable compulsions to do something or that something was wrong or something didn’t make sense, it was a Code W. Like the time when Reese had dyed her hair purple with grape juice and when everyone asked why she said she didn’t know why she did it but that it just felt right, and the scientists didn’t make her change it back. Or that time one of the scientists said something stupid about blood and Gansey lectured them about how the blood really worked, and later was confused as to how he’d even known any of that- parts of it weren’t relevant to his power. For some reason, the scientists didn’t like the weird moments. So they’d stopped telling them about them. When asked, I had claimed it was Code Wombat, just something funny to lift people’s spirits. I didn’t know if they believed me.

“No. I just want a sword.” I glanced at the stairwell leading upstairs to the rooms, and stopped breathing for a moment. The sword fell from my slack grip and clattered to the floor. I stared at the rectangle of fabric hanging next to the stairs. My voice came out in a strangled whisper as I said, “But attacking a place with that flag might be.”

“Do you need me to pull you from the mission?”

I took a deep breath and managed to tear my gaze away. The anxiety I was projecting was making Dark and Reese anxious, which was rebounding in a cycle of worsening feelings. So I damped my feelings into nonexistence, and slowly they returned to a tranquil state. “No. No, I’ll be fine. The leaders of the Project can’t be wrong, right?”

“Right.” I was glad I was far enough from Mari that I couldn’t tell whether her feelings matched her words.