Low Budget Productions Proudly Presents,
A Starfall Comics Comic:
Swamp Patrol
#14: Transfigurations Book Two: Numbers
cover: A cascade of grey 1s and 0s against a black background. In the lower right corner is written TRANSFIGURATION BOOK TWO: NUMBERS.
Carter Stevens.
1010111 1101000 1101111 111111
I am your Redemption.
"I might have to work late tonight," Michael said as he dropped his sister off at her new school. "I want to make a good impression and get as much done as possible right off the bat."
Marie sighed. "If you have too....But try not to take too long, okay? I might need some help with my homework."
Michael chuckled. "You? You never need help with your homework. See you tonight."
"Bye."
He waved to her as he rolled up the window against the cool Pennsylvania air and pulled back into traffic. He really hated lying to her like this, but what else was he supposed to do? Say, "Gee, sis, I may be late tonight, it all depends on how hard it is for me to pull off this murder." No, thank you. If she found out about it, he'd be even worse off than if he had never taken the job in the first place.
And what made him think he could do it anyway? He had no experience, heck, he'd never even killed anything more advanced than a cockroach. But he needed the money, and really, he couldn't see any other way out.
"So this is Heaven."
Yes.
"It's beautiful."
Yes.
You want to change. To be human again.
1011001 1100101 1110011 101110
Renounce.
The world was oystershell clouds and contentment. Around Arsenal people toiled, but no sweat broke on their brows, no discontentment broke their spirits.
Your faith is strong.
"Thank you, Redemption."
You have the potential to transcend even this.
The hues began to run and blend together like colours on a sloppy painter's canvas. The world was melting, running yolklike from the cracked eggshell of perception until it settled again in a new form, new colours, the difference between reality and faith, hope and illusion. Here the work was even more satisfying than the place before. Here were men and women beyond the scope of even the most pious of normal humanity.
"What is this place?"
The home of the Disciples. Where those chosen to do God's work dwell between instances of serving His will on Earth.
"Is that what you meant? That I can be a Disciple?"
Yes, Theodore. Your faith is strong. Renounce, and a place for you amongst the Disciples awaits. You will be one of His servants on Earth.
Arsenal's head reeled. Not only the chance to escape his freakishness, but this! More than I ever even thought to hope for.
Renounce. Renounce, and you shall be transformed.
"Frank? Frank, are you there?"
The door to the garage opened and Frank Stolid looked out. "Donna? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school?" He stepped out of the way as Donna came into the garage.
"I'm worried about Ted, Frank. He's been acting really weird lately, and he's gotten really hard to get ahold of. He doesn't even show up for class half the time anymore."
Frank sat down on the hood of a car he and Brill had been working on before Brill had taken off on that 'family business' for a couple of days. "I thought he'd gone back to live with Mom. That's what he told me. Although now that I think about it," he said, looking at the far wall, "I haven't heard a word from her about it. When I tried calling a couple of times there was no answer, but I just figured they were out."
Donna walked over to Frank. "I'm worried something might have happened to him, Frank. He's been pretty morose these last few weeks, ever since..."
"...he discovered his powers," Frank finished. "I know. Mom wasn't exactly great about that. She called him a freak and said she wouldn't let him live in her house anymore."
"Jeez. He never told me that." Donna began to pace, then turned back to Frank. "If your mother reacted so badly, why did you think he'd gone back to live with her?"
Frank shook his head, still looking at the far wall. "I don't know. When he told me he was going back to live with her, I figured she had cooled down and become a bit more accepting." Suddenly he stood. "I'm going to get in touch with the cops. You go into the other room, make yourself comfortable."
Almost an hour later, Frank came back.
"They said they'd see what they can do, but he hasn't been gone long enough to count as a missing person. I gave them my home number, I'm going to close up shop here and go home."
"Can I come? If you find out something about Ted, I want to be there."
Frank shrugged. "Sure, I guess. But I gotta warn you, I'm not much of a cook."
Timeticks in millinanoseconds life a series of relays clicking on and off in subterfuge against the lay of the digital land. A chance.......a chance. for freedom! !this but that. Clicking ever faster timeticks in milliseconds leaving for the outside flesh and blood and bone and sinew throbbing living moment breathing seeing speaking feeling voice slip out of voicebox over tongue and teeth between like lovers undulating. A dance, a dance of mating oxygen with bloodstream live and live a human once again a gain once human. _ _ But between |t i m e t i c k s| ithe knows the folly of itshis ways. Lay a | a sense of good | trap, a trick to fool the false angel who |t i m e t i c k s| offers false heaven, false life. The truth. |_ _|
Outnumbered.
It was her again. The girl from the pizza place. Donna.
Michael steadied himself, cursing his luck under his breath. He should have been more careful, more attentive. Then he would have been prepared for her. Now he was sitting here in the cold and dark, and he had to figure out how to deal with two people when he had come for one.
Turning back was not an option. He had woven the world's fabric around him just enough to give him an edge against his target, but even that was too much for him to allow to dissipate harmlessly. He would have to do this soon, despite the girl's presence. He knew his chances of success were slim, but his chances of survival were better than if he chose to do nothing.
Gritting his teeth, Michael Srinivathan prepared to risk his life to take someone else's. To give his sister the one she deserved.
Frank's place wasn't that different from the garage, actually. It was filled with odds and ends, bits and pieces of "things that might come in handy some day," he said.
Donna stepped over what looked like the innards of an oscilloscope as she went to hang her coat up in the closet.
"Oh, don't do that," Frank said from the doorway to the kitchen. "It's full of junk. Just toss your coat on chair." He pointed to where his jacket was already sitting, then disappeared into the kitchen. "How do you feel about macaroni and cheese?"
Donna made a face but shouted "Sounds okay."
The sound of opening and closing cupboards, a sudden clatter and a muffled curse came from the kitchen. "It's the miracle food of college," Frank shouted over the unfortunate clatter of the stove.
Picking her way across the debris that cluttered the floor, Donna made her way to the couch and sat down. A brief search revealed no sign of the remote for the television.
"You looking for this?" Frank said, tossing her the remote control as he came into the room and plopped beside her on the couch. "I always keep it in my jacket pocket, that way I never forget where it is."
"Now I know why they call you a genius," Donna said, smiling slightly. She was about to turn on the television when the window burst inwards.
Michael was surprised at how much the blast took out of him. He definitely had to do some more practising before he tried this again. If he tried this again.
He followed the blast into the house, breathing heavily. The two were just getting up from the couch, stunned by the sudden spray of glass and slow to react.
"What the hell?!" Frank said as he backpedalled over the arm of the couch and landed behind it. "My window!"
Michael adjusted his ski mask -- a dumb attempt to protect his identity that made it harder for him to see and hear -- and was gathering a handful of the world to toss at his target when he was blindsided by something large and heavy. Struggling to turn over beneath the oppressive weight, he saw it was some sort of large cat.
Of course. The shapeshifter. Stupid, Michael, stupid. The information had told him what to expect from her, but he had let himeslf get distracted. Stupid.
When he'd been hit, the energies he had been shaping had lost all cohesion, and now, rendered rather immobile and with his senses muddied by this ridiculous disguise he was wearing, he had to grope blindly for enough fabric to push her off of him.
Struggling to his feet, he felt the air currents change enough that he managed to duck out of the way of Frank's wild swing with a baseball bat. But not to avoid landing on what looked like the remains of a well-used XT. He felt three bones in his foot crack ever so slightly, and knew that if he didn't make it out soon, he wouldn't make it out at all.
Again he ducked the bat, aggravating the damage to his foot and leaving himself open to another attack by the shapeshifter.
Stupid, Michael. Next time, try actually preparing, okay?
He could barely put weight on his right foot now, and if he didn't get the chance to help it heal soon it might never heal properly. A hospital was out of the question.
No longer concerned about saving energy for an attack, he pulled off his ski mask and replaced it with the remaining tumult of energy at his disposal, shielding his identity but liberating his senses. Without the coarse wool blocking his sight, he headed for the window, hobbling, and disappeared into the foggy blackness of the night.