Young Writers Society

Tessa watched as the demon swooped down, his tousled black hair falling back into place. Touching the tile floor like a crimson feather, the masked hero turned his head to regard the monster known as Malfunction one last time.

Tessa moved to speak, but nothing came out. Entranced in awe, she moved tentatively toward the boy, her white dress swishing out around her. This is a dream, she thought. It has to be a dream.

The space between them seemed to stretch miles, and the boy finally looked at her as she approached. Tessa could sense an odd calmness from his obscured expression, and let it spread to her.

The boy, John, as she remembered now, walked towards her, swaying carelessly. The pulsating fury she had felt just a moment ago had all but vanished. John passed a hand over his face, and the Mask vanished into shards of red light, as if by magic. His brown eyes were enshrouded in a graceful might, ready to stand fast against any evil that came her way.

“It’s okay,” he said, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, letting a smile cross his face. “He can’t hurt you.”

And at that moment, Tessa was hopelessly in love. This charming, rough, confident hero had completely stolen her heart. She felt her pulse quicken, and her cheeks flush. Her mind started burning as she tried to reciprocate his pure magnificence.

“I-I’m Tessa,” she stammered. Okay, not the best introduction at this point, but she just couldn’t stand the thought of him not knowing who she was.

“My name’s John,” he said flatly, putting his hand out. Tessa suddenly understood, producing his cell phone and headset.

“Ah.” He sighed gratefully, slinging the headphones around his neck while slipping the phone into the pocket of his shorts. “Feels great. Oh, and-” he smiled at her genuinely. “Nice to meet you, Tessa.”

Her cheeks burned, and she felt light-headed in spite of everything. Everything was perfect. If, by some divine joke, it weren’t, she knew that it could be. She had found her knight in shining armor, however that metaphor would apply here. Her heart swelled, filled to capacity, ready to burst from an overwhelming fountain of-

“Hope.” John whipped his head around, searching for the hidden speaker. Chaser squatted atop a metal shelf, spinning his hat on his finger. “I’ve found you at last.”

“You,” John growled, fury pumping through his veins once more.

“You see that?” Chaser turned to Tessa, gesturing to John. “Now there’s some originality! Granted, not by much.” Drawing his machete, he flipped backwards off the shelf as John’s sonic wave blasted it over. Chaser landed like a cat, smirking. “Hello there, Johnny.”

“Do you ever shut up?” The words were warped by the Mask that leeched John’s visage, each one becoming a sonic wrecking ball, crashing into the floor where Chaser had stood.

Chaser flipped across the room, hand holding his hat in place. Vanishing for a moment, he reappeared at Tessa’s side, leaning lightly on her shoulder. “Alright then, Princess,” he said casually. “Now, let’s raise hell.”

John turned to Tessa, ready to kill Chaser once and for all. Suddenly, he felt arms pinning him in the dreaded Full Nelson, immobilizing his arms. Turning his head as far as he could, he could make out a white hockey mask out of the corner of his eye.

Suddenly, a grand flash illuminated the store, filling the aisles with pure white light. Chaser stared right into the center of the colorless sun, his eyes shining with glee. “At long last,” he laughed. “You’ve finally come home.”

The flash brightened further, until it became blinding, burning John’s retinas until he was forced to avert his gaze. When his vision returned, he saw the light gathering above Chaser, forming a milky cloud above his head. Chaser thrust his hands into the light, laughing madly. “I call upon you, my grand creation!” The brilliance began flowing into Chaser’s body, making him glow with dark radiance. “The Hands of Hope!”

John saw the light take shape over Chaser’s gloved hands, burning into them with mad power. Chaser laughed as his hands glowed with an insatiable black aura, writhing hungrily about his entire body.

In a flash, the darkness disappeared beneath Chaser’s white suit, sinking beneath his silk-banded hat and past his crimson eyes, burrowing into the depths of his soul to stay. The ultimate power was Chaser’s once more.

Chaser swayed carelessly, chuckling to himself before his audience. “Well then,” he beamed, “Firstly, I’d like to thank the Academy.”

He giggled like a drunkard, sauntering over to where John was held by Necrophobia. “But really, thank you, John, for that stunning performance. What an excellent beacon it made for my child. Without your contribution, I daresay this could’ve ended in failure.”

A string of obscenities burst from John’s mouth, amplified by the Mask into hypersonic waves. Waves of a magnitude that could topple skyscrapers. Chaser felt each one wash over him like a cool autumn breeze. “Whuzzat, sonny?” he asked, cupping his ear with his hand.

John was shocked into silence, but the Mask gave nothing away. Chaser gave him a Cheshire grin. “Yeah. I’m that powerful.” With that, he raised his hand, and flicked John away with his forefinger.

“Booyah!” Chaser shouted, calling in the direction John had flown. A thought occurred to him, and he called out again. “Eh, sorry, Necro!”

Dusting his hands off, he turned back to Tessa. Chaser pointed his thumb at John, who was lying on his back approximately half a mile away. “How’s that for your hero?” He capped this sentence with a short quip of giggling.

He turned away from the dumbfounded maiden, casting his eyes along the aisles. “Now then, I believe that the man of the hour should be appearing any second…”

A gargantuan roar shook the dream-scape. Chaser grinned to Tessa. “There he is. Not very subtle, is he?” He took a ready stance, hands spread wide to intercept.

Silas burst through the store like a maniac, busting a bear-sized hole through the shelves in his armoured stampede. The white blade he held in his hand glowed, encasing him in its aura, pulsating as he charged. Under normal circumstances, it would have been absolutely terrifying.

Chaser held one hand out, stopping Silas dead in his tracks. The White Knight pushed until he was red in the face, but was unable to gain further ground. Grinning, he turned to Tessa once more. “Now, this is where the magic happens.”

Seizing Silas by the throat, he lifted the Dream-Hunter from the ground, his gloved hand choking the life out of him. “You see, little girl,” Chaser lectured, “Hope is a strange thing. It has a way of unifying people under one sole cause. Now, down here, where reality’s rules are about as useful as John there,” he coughed, “What do you think I can conjure?”

Tessa spoke. “It-”

“Ding-ding-ding! That’s absolutely correct! Give that lady a medal! Because you see, girlie,” Chaser grinned madly, “These hands have the power to bind nightmares together. A combination of powers. A perfect fusion. And since Silas here is a prime candidate, well…”

Silas struggled to speak through clenched teeth. “What-”

Chaser beamed up at his face. “Fusion-ha.”

Silas screamed as Chaser’s malignant aura enveloped him, binding his pure soul into the darkness. Chaser laughed as the shadows around him reacted with the light, growing blinding in intensity, filling the dream-world with their grand chaos.

The murk around him whisked back into his body. Chaser tightened his gloves, feeling Silas’s conscience fade into his. All that was left was to eliminate his soul and destroy him forever. Then, Chaser could take over Silas’s body in the real world. In the real world. The words rang like Christmas morning bells in Chaser’s mind, provoking his heart to infinite glee.

“Yeah,” he said, spreading his arms to all present. “So that just happened.”

A red meteor streaked towards him. Chaser struck John out of the air with a backhand, reveling in his power. The boy flew to the side, digging a long trench in the ground with his face.

“Sorry, should I have held back? Because you look a bit pained.” Chaser waltzed drunkenly across the room, giddily raising his hands to heaven. “This is it,” he rejoiced. “Victory.”

Suddenly, he felt it. “Wha-” A bolt of pain razed his skull. He fell to his knees, hissing angrily. “Oracle,” he snarled. “Shut up and die already.”

Silas’s voice boomed in his mind, clawing at the seams of his consciousness. “I won’t just die. You beasts took my wife from me...and I’ll murder you all!”

Chaser placed his hands on his head, grinding his teeth. “Oh, so that’s how you wanna play. Fine...I’ll….AAUGH!” He screamed as the world was bleached, every color fading into white oblivion.

Silas Oracle stood where Chaser had fallen a moment ago, flexing his hands in wonder. His gauntlets showed no trace of Chaser’s malicious soul, the spirit having faded into his consciousness. In a way, he was Chaser now--but he was in control.

He slashed his hand in the air before him, snapping as he did so. A portal opened, and he could see a moonlit castle in the hazy window. “Yeah,” he growled, his eyes shining blood-red. “It’s payback time, Phobos.”

Raising his sword astutely, he charged through the gate to take revenge on the King of Fears.