Dangerous Lunatics
by Alex Reynard
"I declare war on stupidity."
-Overseer, "Slayed"
*****
BOOK SIX:
AFTERSHOCKS
-EPILOGUE ONE-
"Christ that's nasty," the first man said.
"Mmm-hm," the second man agreed.
The two men had been with The Project a very, very long time. They were standing side by side, peering through the grating at the top of the cell door. The men were defined almost solely by their perfectly-cut suits and black sunglasses, which they _always_ wore. Even indoors in a room as dim and clammy as this.
They were observing a truly pathetic specimen. Lying on the floor of the tiny cell (which contained only a cot, a sink and a drain in the floor) was a woman bound so thoroughly head to foot, her only means of getting around was to crawl like a caterpillar. The Project was taking no more risks with her. Her upper body was in a straightjacket, her hands were locked into small vinyl bags, her ankles were chained, and her mouth was filled with a gag that could only allow water in, not intelligible speech out. Even her long, white ears were secured to the back of her head by a plastic strap.
She had pissed and shit all over herself: that's what they were referring to. The smell was strong enough to strip paint.
"How much damage did she do with that mouth of hers?" one man asked the other.
The second man put a paw over his eyes and rubbed his temples. "We are _still_ devoting 90% of all our activity to damage control. We can't get anything done until this gets quiet again. This bitch has set us back twenty, maybe thirty years."
The first man nodded consolingly. "Hey, I'm working my ass off and getting as little return for it as you are. Had to give an entire police precinct MemEr26 last week."
"_All_ of them?" the second man asked incredulously. MemEr26 was just one of the insidious little elements of The Project's arsenal. One whiff and your entire short-term memory was effectively destroyed. It was usually only used as a last resort, since the effects were permanent in about 11% of the people it was used on.
The first man threw up his hands. "Beatrix wouldn't shut up for a second while she was there! She was rattling off Project secrets like she couldn't tell 'em fast enough. Christ knows if any of them told their wives or friends. It's not like we can just gas the whole country!"
The second man shook his head. "What a fuckup..." He thought of something else. "The Brain Room havin' any luck finding those kids that escaped?"
The first man shook his head too. The 'Brain Room' was Project-speak for the area in which the psychic trackers were kept. The ones who were forced to locate others with the same strong 'essence' of abnormality as them. "They're all over the map by now. We get a hit here, check it out, there's nothing. It's like trying to play darts with a spinning board. Until the microchip guys can give us something foolproof, all we can hope for is that some of the subjects get stupid."
"So far, their behavior indicates that's not likely to happen anytime soon." The second man looked in at the bound woman again, grimacing with malice. "I swear... if I could open this door right now I'd spit in her face."
The first man raised an eyebrow. "You could, you know. We have clearance."
The second man looked shocked. "I'm not gonna disregard basic safety just for some sophomoric amusement! Did you see what she did to that one guy's *dick*? Damn near ripped it off!"
They both cringed. When The Project had finally taken her, there was an ugly scene. An _ugly_ scene. Beatrix had fought like a banshee. She kicked, screamed, bit and clawed. She'd sent eight men to the hospital. They'd finally had to club her over the head with a fire extinguisher. Thankfully, they didn't have to be anywhere as gentle with her as a normal furson. Meaning one that could die.
Now she was dormant. Mostly. Occasionally, when the staff came to bring her daily food bag, she'd thrash around and snarl as well as she could manage past her gag.
"What's the final decision on her?" the second man asked with a flick of his head towards the woman on the floor in her own filth.
"Total wash. She's useless to us now."
"Sucks. I knew she was crazy as hell from the first time I met her, but she did damn fine work for a damn long time." He sighed. "I guess I'm not entirely surprised she snapped though. What'll they do with her?"
"Keep her in here forever."
"Oubliette her ass?"
The first man nodded.
"That's harsh. Richly deserved though. They gonna bother to keep feeding her?"
A shake of the head. "She's an extremely high-level Type 23. Can't die. She'll live off her fat for a while, then live off the air and water. Damned if I know how her kind do it."
The second man grimaced. "And she can't even commit suicide. If I had a heart, I'd almost feel sorry for her."
The two men stood and watched for a while longer. The screams and moans of other prisoners echoed up and down the long hallway like cathedral bells.
"Coffee?" the first man suggested.
"Always," the second man replied.
With that they left Beatrix to her long, long torment.
~~~
"Hiya, toots," a voice inside the rabbit's mind said.
Immediately, she began to buck and writhe in her restraints, desperate to free her hands so she could just rip her head to pieces to finally GET RID OF HIM!!!
Always-Jimmy-Never-James smiled serenely. She couldn't touch him no matter how much she flopped around like a trout. "Did you hear what that nice man just said? You're gonna be trussed up and pooping yourself forever, you evil cunt. Doesn't that sound nice?"
Beatrix hurled herself back and forth, screaming as hard as she could.
"Gotta admit, I love seeing you like this. But I have other places to be. That's right, Bea. I'm finally moving on. You won't have to put up with me in your brain anymore."
"VFFFFMMRGH!!!" she screeched.
Jimmy's spirit stepped up out of her body. He stood there watching her, just like the men in sunglasses had. It had been a long wait, but an entertaining one. He'd needed to hear it before he could let himself let go: confirmation that The Project had fully and forever washed their hands of Beatrix Beverley. She was too dangerous to give up control of until he was sure.
He had contemplated, briefly, staying inside her and using her gift of healing in places where it would be needed. It was a poetic thought. And he knew she'd _loathe_ the very idea of it. But it couldn't happen. He would have to stay inside her, in control, every second of every day of every week, month and year. If he let slip and she got free for an *instant*, there was no telling what she'd do. Who she'd kill. He pictured his mind wandering one day, Beatrix pouncing on the chance, and Karen just happening to be by his side at that moment... _No_. Jimmy could not allow even the possibility. It was like a new miracle drug that cured millions, but killed hundreds. The risk was not worth the rewards.
"Before I go, I'm gonna make you a promise," he remarked. The black wolf leaned down and whispered almost tenderly in Beatrix's ear. "This is it: not long after I'm gone, you are gonna *beg* me to come back. Because you are going to be in this tiny little room for a long, long time, Trixie. Eventually, you're going to miss even _my_ conversation."
Jimmy Redasco grinned cruelly.
He stood up and gave his nemesis a final wave. "Toodle-oo, bitch."
Then he winked out of existence, leaving the Inbetween for his final judgement after more than eleven years.
Beatrix screamed her throat raw. But it didn't change a thing. No one would ever hear her again. No one would ever listen to her again. She would never be in control of anything, or anyone, ever again.
She wondered suddenly if she could age...
*****
-EPILOGUE TWO-
The clouds rolled on, fast and bulbous, racing across the sky like time-lapse photography. The street was the same as her dream. A perfect slice of suburbia. Green lawns, cookie-cutter houses. Except this time there were people on the street. This time it was real.
"You're sure this is the place?" Monsoon asked
Karen stared at the house with wide, frightened eyes. "Ohhh yeah," she nodded.
Holly punched her palm eagerly. "Then let's do this."
The doors on the big black SUV (now buffed and polished good as new again) all opened up to let out ten children of various ages, genders and species. But it was clear from one look that they were all a team.
Four doors slammed.
"This shouldn't take more than half an hour," Holly told Monsoon. "Right?" she nudged Karen.
Karen nodded.
Monsoon nodded too. "Alright. I'll go buy us some icecream and be back here at..." he checked his watch. "Six twenty."
"Superman. Or any other blue flavor they have," Tyler requested.
Monsoon grinned at him. "You think I don't know that by now?" He put his vehicle in drive. "Good luck!" he called out to them.
Nine children stood on the lawn, looking to Karen to tell them what to do.
"Hide," she told them. "I'll ring the doorbell and give him one chance to confess."
Brad laughed. "They never do. Why bother?"
She 'hmph'ed at him. "It's polite."
While the others ducked out of sight, Karen gathered her courage and walked up the cement steps towards the front door. The house was *exactly* the same as it had been in her nightmare. The only difference was that the dark red shutters weren't freshly painted anymore. Karen could still smell them though; the pungent memory from her dream had never faded. She wished Alf was here. He was always able to make her feel better. But _someone_ had to hold down the fort while the others were out.
Karen rang the doorbell.
Footsteps inside.
A moment later, the door opened and a tall, perfectly normal-looking ground squirrel of about forty answered. He had short hair, glasses and khaki pants. He saw Karen and assumed she must be selling magazine subscriptions or school fund raiser candy. "Yes, what?"
Karen looked him dead in the eye. "You murdered your daughter," she stated clearly.
He froze for an instant, then a look of indescribably ugly rage crawled over his features.
He slammed the door in Karen's face almost hard enough to knock her off the porch.
She sighed. "...The hard way then."
The others came out from their hiding places.
"You know what to do, Mr. Buttornado," Benjamin teased.
Victor scowled at him. "How many names can you possibly call me before you run out?" he asked as he took up his usual position in front of the door; tail up, pants down.
Benjamin shrugged. "They keep coming to me."
"Duck, everyone!!" Karen shouted.
Then Victor unleashed one of his famous Power Toots.
The door *disintegrated*. Tiny chunks of wood filled the air like confetti. A foot-long sliver flew down the hallway and impaled the grandfather clock, which let out a loud, echoing death chime.
The ground squirrel ran back to his front door so see what in God's name had happened.
He was greeted by a punked-out grey squirrel with flaming red hair who moved alarmingly fast for a fat girl. By way of introduction, she punched him in the stomach so hard he went blind for a few seconds.
~~~
While upstairs Holly, Keith, Tyler and Brad were merrily beating the everliving shit out of Mr. Child Killer, Ruby was using her considerable strength to smash up the concrete floor in the basement with a pickaxe. Victor, Benjamin, Sherri and Zeek were helping carry the rubble away while also looking for bones. Karen, meanwhile, was supervising. And also talking to a very grateful new friend.
The girl with the dust in her eye sockets was named Liddy Trivenzia. Like her name, everything else about her served to perfectly nullify her unsettling appearance. Which was of course caused by the fact that she was a ghost. She had first met Karen in one of the raccoon's nightmares, and was now apologizing profusely for having scared her so badly back then. "Really! I was just shouting my lungs out, hoping someone would hear me! I wasn't trying to freak you out. I just wanted someone to *listen* to me!"
The two of them were sitting on the washer and dryer together, watching Ruby and the others work. Karen patted the ghost girl's shoulder, or at least pretended to since Liddy was currently noncorporeal. "It's okay. Some of it was my fault. I thought I was just having bad dreams. I wasn't interpreting them right. I didn't know any better, but I was *letting* myself be scared. I'm just sorry I couldn't have helped you sooner."
Liddy gave Karen an 'Are you KIDDING?' smile. "I'm grateful out of my mind you're helping me right now!!" she gushed.
Karen giggled. Once she'd gotten used to the little bits of concrete that fell out of her new friend's eyes every time she moved, Karen found Liddy to be a real sweetheart. "Do you have any idea _why_ your dad killed you?" Karen asked gently.
Liddy looked down at her lap. "He's always treated me like I was just something he had to put up with. After the divorce, he said mom stuck me with him. He wanted her to get custody, but they broke up because of her drinking and the judge couldn't help but declare her unfit. Which kinda sucks because even when she was drunk, my mom still treated me way nicer than dad. Like, the very *second* after they split up, he told me we were moving to a new place. As soon as we got here, he showed me the basement and WHAM!" She smacked her palms together for emphasis. "He hits me in the head with the hammer and then off comes my head with the garden shears. ...Asshole."
"I'm sorry, Liddy," Karen said consolingly. She wished she could pat her new friend on the back. "If it makes you feel better, all that thumping going on upstairs is my friends breaking every bone in his body."
Liddy grinned immediately. "You *know* that makes me feel better!"
The two girls giggled together.
Zeek was giving Ruby directions. He'd close his eyes, listen to his mind, then point. "There next," he told her.
The tiger swung obediently.
The pickaxe made a different sound this time.
"We got something!" Benjamin suddenly shouted.
Karen hopped down off the dryer with Liddy following closely behind. Just like an archaeological dig, the other five children were on their hands and knees carefully chipping away at what they'd unearthed.
A hand. Unmistakably a child's hand. Embedded in the concrete.
Karen nodded. "That's enough. The police can uncover the rest."
Ruby looked relieved. "Good. I was 'fraid I was gonna smash it by ax'dent."
Karen waved a paw and her friends all followed her up the stairs. They stood in the livingroom for a while, watching Holly and the others gleefully putting their hearts into their work, before telling them they could stop.
Tyler pouted melodramatically. "Awwww! I'm sure there's still at least a few unbruised spots left on this guy!"
"He hasn't even shit himself yet," Keith pointed out, obviously disappointed.
"Well, we don't want to _kill_ him," Karen pointed out, "...We want him to go to prison where he'll get butt-raped every day for being a child killer!"
Everyone laughed out loud and cheered. (Mr. Trivenzia, obviously, did not.)
Benjamin helped Keith and Brad duct tape Mr. Trivenzia securely to a chair, then went to join the others in raiding the man's refrigerator while they waited for Monsoon to show up. Holly and the others all grabbed glasses and poured out milk, juice, water and everything else liquid and cold. Vigilante justice was thirsty work.
Liddy was practically bouncing up and down with joy. "Oh Karen! I don't know how I can ever thank you! I wish all your friends could see me so I could thank them too!"
The little raccoon smiled warmly. Knowing she'd made such a difference in this poor lost spirit's life filled her heart with warmth. "I'll be sure to tell them. And all you have to do to thank me is to move on. The Inbetween's gotta be the most boring place in the world, right?"
Liddy nodded, acknowledging that that was a major understatement. "I can now, can't I? I got justice. Daddy's going to be punished. He's gonna rot in jail, just like you said. I don't have to be here anymore."
"That's right," Karen said.
Liddy smiled as bright as the summer sky. "Thanks again, Karen. When you get up to Heaven 'ventually, I'll throw a great big party for you or something." The two girls giggled.
And then, Liddy simply ceased to be there anymore.
Gone in a blink. Karen didn't know where she was now, but she knew her dream-friend would find rest and happiness there.
Karen fixed herself a glass of orange juice.
~~~
Not long after, a horn honked discreetly from outside. "Monsoon's back!" Tyler piped up.
Karen nodded to Holly. There was one more thing left to do.
Holly loved this part of the job. They'd taken turns doing it at first, but the squirlette turned out to be so damn good at it that the others had let her take the role permanently.
Holly picked up the kitchen phone and dialed 911.
It rang twice then an operator said, "Hello, nine one-"
"THERE'S A SICK FUCK DUCT TAPED TO A CHAIR IN HERE WHO MURDERED HIS DAUGHTER AND HER CORPSE IS IN THE FUCKING BASEMENT SO YOU'D BETTER COME DRAG HIS ASS TO JAIL BEFORE HE BLEEDS TO DEATH!!!" she screamed into the receiver. Then she hung up.
"Damn, I love doing that," she said, tickled pink.
Karen was last out of the house, as always. She always liked to hang behind a bit to make sure everything was done right. This time, like almost all their other jobs, everything had gone off without a hitch. The little raccoongirl smiled happily. So far, their track record was absolutely excellent.
The others all clambered into the SUV and slammed the doors loudly. Karen hopped up into the passenger seat next to Monsoon (as the leader, she *always* got shotgun).
As he pulled away from the curb and got the hell out of there, Karen tapped his forearm. "Do you mind stopping the next time you see a mailbox? I've got a letter for someone special."
Knowing just who it was for, the mountain nodded. "Will do."
~~~
First important thing, we're all okay.
Second important thing, we're all really glad that YOU'RE okay!
When we heard about you on the news, we all just about blew up we were so happy! I'm sure you've heard about us by now too. I know most hospital rooms have TVs in them. I hope you've been watching the news.
If you haven't, here's the deal. King's Orchard is _toast_. The building's still there, but all the secrets are out. Everybody knows everything. Reporters are all over the place day and night now. At first they thought someone pulled the fire alarm for a prank, then they thought terrorists did it. But when the cops found all the coma kids in Ward Zero, it was all over.
I forgot you don't know about that. Sorry.
The basement of the hospital was _full_ of beds. About a quarter of them had kids in them already. Dr. Beatrix had been putting kids in comas whenever they pissed her off enough and then doing gross lab experiments on them. She tried to do that to Tyler, but Brad and I rescued him. Heck, we ALL rescued each other that night.
Anyway, the news people know now how sick Dr. Beatrix was. But they still won't believe why she was doing all that evil stuff.
It's because we're not _just_ crazy. All of us are different in another way.
We've got superpowers.
I know it sounds nuts but it's true! Almost everyone in the whole hospital has some weird thing they can do! Some of us are psychic, or heal really fast, or can do other stuff with our bodies. Some of us can even see the future or talk to dead people. That's what my dreams were all along. I was right.
There's something called The Project, and what they've been trying to do forever is to keep people from knowing that people with powers exist. They've been doing it for decades. Dr. Beatrix, all by herself, has killed *hundreds* of kids. The Project has killed thousands and thousands. Most of us they don't kill though. They just give us pills and try to brainwash us to think we're delusional. True, some of us are. But that still doesn't mean we can't really do the weird things we can do.
Soon, _everybody's_ gonna know about us.
We've got a lot of money now. A LOT of money. Alf and Monsoon are like our bodyguards (although Ruby's good at that too!). Plus our parents are helping us move around so The Project can't find us. Right now we're staying with Brad's mom, but we probably won't be by the time you get this.
We've got a website where we're finding other kids like us and warning them about The Project. We've got plans for the other three hospitals where stuff is still happening like at King's Orchard. Right now we're tracking down some of the dead people from my dreams so I can help them. Today we're gonna expose this jerk who killed his daughter and buried her in the basement. When I first saw her in a dream, she scared the heck out of me. But I haven't been scared by _any_ of my dreams in a long time now!
That reminds me... I hope you'll be proud of me for this. I called my mom and dad and told them I was okay, and they immediately started saying they were sorry and that they loved me and stuff, but I could tell it was phony. I told them Very Firmly that I felt much, much better now without them around, and that maybe I'd come back and live with them in a year or so, but ONLY if they could get their act together and not treat me so bad. They got _really_ angry then and started yelling at me. So I just hung up on them! It felt great! I felt like hugging myself for standing up to them like that.
Also, we all went over to Benjamin's house a few weeks ago and 'intimidated' his dad into signing divorce papers. Now Ben and his mom are free! And after what Keith did, I don't think we'll _ever_ see Mr. Feldman again! Then we went to see Victor's dad. I dunno what happened, but Tyler took him in the bedroom and had a really long talk with him, and then just like that, he was okay. He came out looking like he'd seen a ghost. Then he went straight over to Victor and gave him a great big hug and said "I'm sorry" about a billion times. Victor looked *so* happy! One last thing: For Holly's birthday present, the rest of us snuck into her parents' house and robbed them blind. With Benjamin's help, we even got all their bank numbers and stuff. When we told Holly about it, she was laughing so hard she couldn't stand up for like five minutes!
We're working on something big right now. Just watch the news in about a week and you'll see. I _guarantee_ it'll be all over the place.
I don't have to tell you it's a good idea to flush this down the toilet as soon as you finish reading it.
Anyway, we're all thinking about you and hoping you get better soon. Don't worry about us. We're being extra, extra careful every day.
I hope the food there's as good as what Alf cooks!
Lots of love and get-well kisses,
Karen Willard.
P.S. Beatrix? We beat her up REAL good. We think she's dead now. And if she isn't, I _know_ she wishes she was. Thurston IS dead. He tried to rape me and now he's 'eating a dirt sandwich', as Tyler would say. I thought hearing that would make you feel better!
P.P.S. Brad wants you to know he really enjoyed your book, and he hopes there's some way he can send it back to you someday when he's done with it.
~~~
In the long run, it was probably a good thing that Brad had no idea how to take a pulse. Or maybe Jimmy's efforts really did have an effect. Who knows?
Nevertheless, after a combined thirty hours of surgery to repair a collapsed eye socket, numerous fractured ribs, massive internal injuries and a broken finger, the patient in room 342b had come out of a twenty-day coma to find the wonderful, wonderful letter lying beside him in a pile of other, less significant, get-well-cards.
The letter was folded up so tightly now it was nearly a sphere. It was hidden beneath the mass of bandages covering his now-blind right eye. He had read it at least two dozen times already. He couldn't bear to throw it away. All the children had signed it at the bottom. Ruby had even given it a kiss, then drew an arrow pointing to it along with her name.
From his hospital bed, the man's mustache was pulled up in a smile as he watched the evening news. They were showing a live report from a hospital called Safe Harbor. Children were running around the parking lot whooping and hollering and bodies were being carried out from the building in an endless stream of stretchers. The reporter said that, given the similarities of this event to the recent King's Orchard tragedy, the government's reports of it being an 'isolated incident' were now cast sharply in doubt.
"Attagirl, Karen," Dr. Jones said. "Give 'em hell."
*****
-EPILOGUE THREE-
"Good evening. I'm Stacey McFadden and this is Channel Seven News Now at six. Our top story tonight: Breaking new details involving yesterday's bombing of a children's aspirin manufacturing plant. What police were calling a terrorist act just yesterday may have actually revealed something much more frightening. Investigators have discovered that a foreign chemical was being added to the aspirin, allegedly for quite some time. This chemical, known as BZ-88, was discovered by the military thirty years ago for use in extracting confessions from enemy soldiers. It creates an effect of extreme suggestibility and diminished capacity to make one's own judgements. For this reason, its use was banned soon after its existence was made public. How such a terrifying chemical found its way into medicine intended for children is unknown at this time. Although investigators have said that, at this point, they have suspicions that the chemical was added deliberately and with full knowledge of the factory's parent company, Carter-Waite Pharmeceuticals. Investigators also say that this particular brand of children's aspirin has been used in hospitals for many years, and that all pharmacists and parents should immediately discard any of the following medications..."
"Jesus, the things people do these days..." Dad said, His face was slack with horror. His forkful of TV-dinner meatloaf was suspended in the air halfway to his mouth.
Douglas Knader was a ten-year-old jackrabbit living in the heartland. Douglas hated being called Doug and hated being called a bunny. He watched the news every night with his parents while they ate dinner. It was a family tradition. Mom and Dad also said it was a good way for him to stay informed about the world around him.
The young lapin found it hard to eat as he thought about what the anchorwoman had just said. He stared at his food. Even the fact that he usually went ga-ga for chicken nuggets couldn't gain his appetite back. "Mom? Dad? I feel kinda sick. Can I go to my room for a while?"
Mom reached across Dad's chest and immediately felt her son's forehead.
Douglas shook his head. "No, I mean I feel pukey, Mom. That news report got to me."
She nodded. "Alright, honey. I understand. It shook me up too. Who would do such a thing?"
"The chemical or the bombing?" Dad asked.
Douglas got up and went to put his dinner in the fridge for later. "The chemical of course. Well, both really," he heard his mother say. "You know, maybe the bombing happened because someone *knew* about the chemical?"
She was exactly right, Douglas knew. That's why he felt sick.
~~~
It took guts to finally go to the website Bryan had told him about. Douglas didn't think he had much guts, but that's exactly what he was doing regardless. Sitting at his computer desk, he spun in his swivel chair a few times as he waited for his Mac to boot up. When it did, he opened his internet browser and typed in the URL Bryan had given him. It was easy enough to remember: www.benandtylersbigtechpage.com.
It took a few seconds to load. While Douglas waited, he thought about the news. He'd been too scared to go to the website the day before when the bombing had actually occurred. But now things were different. There was a chance the people behind it really *were* good guys. Mind-control chemicals in aspirin. It made him shudder. That kinda thing was supposed to happen in movies, not real life.
The reason Douglas was so scared was because Bryan had told him about the bombing two days before it happened.
His friend had called him over to a corner of the playground at recess and spoke in a whisper. "Dude, there's this website you gotta check out," the weasel boy said. He described it in detail, and told Douglas all the secret instructions to get to the *real* website hidden inside it. He said it was the homepage of this weird vigilante group who talked about all sortsa things like government conspiracies and mental hospitals and having superpowers. He said it was wicked creepy stuff.
He also made Douglas promise to never tell _anyone_ else about it. Not unless he was sure about them. Douglas asked him what that meant. "You'll find out," said Bryan.
Douglas scrolled all the way down, then looked for a link marked 'Gigabyte reviews'. He clicked on it.
It took him to a page where there was a graphic of a computer screen about halfway down the page. Douglas passed his pointer over it, and it became a cursor.
He typed in the password: JIMMY
The screen went blank for a second. Then it went black.
'WELCOME TO THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE DANGEROUS LUNATICS. YOU WILL BE REDIRECTED SHORTLY.'
Douglas fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. He felt like he was doing something horrible, committing a crime, and that the police or the feds were gonna bust in through his door any minute. But he couldn't stop. If this site had any information about what he thought it might...
It might prove he wasn't crazy after all.
The screen was still black. A bright yellow 'Dangerous Lunatics' logo appeared. Beneath it there was a message for him.
Welcome home.
If you're like us, you're either just beginning to suspect it
or already know for sure. But you know what we're talking about.
Or one of your friends knows. Otherwise you wouldn't be here.
We're different. We're freaks of nature. If you're not, that's
okay. We can use your help too. Maybe you know someone else who's
different. Maybe you know someone who can do what science says is
impossible. But maybe that someone is you, and you've been afraid
of it your whole life.
Douglas's breath stopped.
Either way, there's people out there who want to hurt you just for
knowing. They want to screw with your memory or put you in a coma,
or even kill you. Why? Because they're afraid of you. They're
afraid of what could happen if you, and the thousands of others
like you, figured out the big secret.
We're here to help you fight back. Soon, you'll be able to help
others fight back too."
How can you? By accepting who you are. Accept it. Embrace it.
Defend it at all costs. And most importantly: USE IT.
The young jackrabbit was trembling all over. He felt cold. He felt terrifyingly excited.
Below the message was a long list of intentionally murky photos. In each one, you could only vaguely make out the gender and approximate species of the furson in it. But it was easy enough to tell they were all kids. Kids close to Douglas' own age.
Beside each photo was a statement.
My name is Conduit. I can speak to the dead.
My name is Warp. I can squeeze myself like a toothpaste tube.
My name is Spark. My spirit can leave my body and go anywhere.
My name is Extinction. I never die.
My name is Incinerate. I can make fire do whatever I want.
My name is Strongheart. I have the biggest muscles you've ever seen.
My name is Access. I can touch objects and know their secrets.
My name is Thunderblast. I've got a lethal weapon under my tail.
My name is Wraith. I can turn invisible.
My name is Seek. I can see the future.
Beneath that was another message. Douglas read it over and over and over again. His heart was pounding. He knew he would remember this moment for the rest of his life.
The message was this:
WHAT'S YOUR NAME?
The young jackrabbit stared at the screen for what felt like forever. He felt dread, relief, hope, uncertainty, anxiety... and he felt saved.
He tore his eyes away from the screen long enough to jerk open the desk drawer. He pulled out the scissors.
Nice, long, sharp metal scissors.
He could see the words on the computer screen reflected in them.
Shaking from fear, but also from the promise of freedom, Douglas held out his paw and opened the scissors. He nestled the shiny blades into the webbing between his thumb and forefinger.
He hesitated.
Then, before he could allow himself to think rationally, he closed the scissors on his flesh as hard as he could.
He grunted from the effort, but did not cry out in pain.
Douglas squeezed the scissors tighter and tighter. Tighter and tighter. His hands were shaking from the effort.
Finally, the screw holding the blades together snapped. The two halves fell away and bounced silently on the carpeted floor.
Douglas stared at his paw.
A little red mark was all that was there.
"Diamond," he said with wonder. "...My name is Diamond."
~~~
In the very same apartment complex two floors down, a plump weasel named Bryan Szalinski stared at the lava lamp on his desk. He stared _hard_ at the churning waxy blobs. His cheeks got red. His forehead was sweaty.
Why wasn't it working? It had before. Way too many times to be a coincidence. What was different those times? Well, for starters, he wasn't consciously *trying* to. But what other-
He realized.
He concentrated his full attention on the glass surrounding the shifting gook.
"Now," he said.
The lamp shattered. The room went dark. Fluid and wax spilled all over his desk, sizzling.
The weasel boy grinned, quite proud of himself.
"My name is Break."
~~~
Just down the street, a perpetually-fidgeting collie girl named Marilyn was on a computer in the public library, nervously checking out a website a friend had told her about.
She read the message, then the names.
She thought about the time she'd come home from school one day in late January only to find that she was locked out of the building. She didn't learn until later that the police had arrested her mother on drug charges just hours earlier, and that her mom was too doped up to remember to tell them she had a daughter. The little collie had sat on the landing all night long, waiting. The temperature dipped as low as twenty-three below zero that night. In the morning, the neighbors had found a small child on the steps covered in snow, her saliva frozen into icicles. They gasped in horror. But then Marilyn woke up, yawned, and asked for her mom. She wasn't even chilly.
"My name is Frostbite," she said.
~~~
In another city, a snow leopard who could make people sick just by touching them said, "My name is Outbreak."
~~~
In another state, a vole who could make objects melt by breathing on them said, "My name is Deathbreath."
~~~
In another place, a boy who could chew and ingest any substance on the planet said, "My name is Gorge."
In another place, a boy who could return broken items to better-than-new condition with only his hands said, "My name is Fixit."
In another place, a girl who could control the density of any part of her body, from liquid state to rock-hard said, "My name is Flux."
In another place, a girl who could flawlessly recall every sound she had ever heard in her lifetime said, "My name is Record."
~~~
Another boy said, "My name is Universe."
Another girl said, "My name is Scarlet."
~~~
"My name is Trance."
"My name is Vortexxia."
"My name is Sparkler."
~~~
"My name is Greenstorm."
"My name is Compactor."
"My name is Powerup."
"My name is Icecube."
"My name is Megablasto."
~~~
"Staredown." "Disintegrate." "Flood." "Finder." "Tank." "Shockster." "Eyebeam." "Translator." "Vermin." "Firestorm." "Blindbright." "Chaosphere." "Whirlwind." "Scream." "Toxicity." "Seedling." "Moonlight." "Oddball." "Nails." "Leviathan." "Brainsaw." "Killswitch." "Chimera." "Trash." "Plague." "Skin." "Chatter." "Cryptic." "Stonepaw." "Dagger." "Narcotic." "Ultrawave." "IQ." "Atomic." "DysLex." "Heavenscent." "Xeno." "Luminous." "Skullgrind." "Flurry." "Quickwit." "Zero." "Spectrum." "Torcher." "Lazarus." "Cancer." "Radio." "Wildfire." "Magnitude." "Miracle." "Lifetouch." "Hammer." "Braindead." "Stomp." "Reverse." "Melt." "Mockingbird." "Pukeycute." "Shadowsong." "Stiletto." "Mindscreech." "Cosmos." "Clockwork."
~~~
What's your name?
The end.
For now...
***********************************
CREDITS
Dangerous Lunatics
written by Alex Reynard
Starring...
Halle Berry -as- Dr. Beatrix Beverley
Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson -as- Monsoon
Jason Lee -as- Always-Jimmy-Never-James
Ron White -as- Thurston Caercase
Steve Buscemi -as- Clifford Markman
Edward Norton -as- Alf
Sir Anthony Hopkins -as- Dr. Jones
Sarah Michelle Gellar -as- Kimberly
Kathy Najimy -as- Camilla
Zach Braff -as- Zach
Jodie Foster -as- Cora Maplewood
Nathan Filion -as- Sheriff Bill Pardy
and
Karen Willard * Brad Maplewood * Tyler Lorenzo
Holly Thornbridge * Keith Carraway * Rubiella Dunston
Benjamin Zarathustra Feldman * Victor Scarbough * Sherri duBois
Isaiah Ezekiel Porter * Veronica Nightsky * Ginny Praetorius
Kuri Rennault & Will Rennault
and Liddy Trivenzia
as themselves
The character of Alf is based off of a character owned by Alfador Fox (who is also the creator of Gorge, Fixit, Record and innumerable other superherocrazycubs).
The characters of Kuri and Will are based off characters owned by Jeffery Dow.
The character of Zeek is based off a character owned by evilgod.
The character of Blade is based off of a character owned by Wolfblade.
The character of Bill Pardy is owned by James Gunn and was completely stolen ...but with love.
Everyone else (as far as I can remember) is owned by me.
~~~SUGGESTED SOUNDTRACK~~~
Down With The Sickness - Disturbed
Insane In The Brain - Cypress Hill
Mad World - Gary Jules [Karen's theme]
Loser - Beck [Brad's theme]
Macha Daynu - Tony Rudd vs The Freelance Hairdresser featuring Asthma t.k. [Tyler's theme]
I'm Only Happy When It Rains - Garbage [Holly's theme]
Boulevard Of Broken Dreams - Green Day [Keith's theme]
People Are Strange - The Doors [Karen's admittance]
Bathtime In Clerkenwell - The (Real) Tuesday Weld [Brad's first look at Ward F]
Twisted Nerve - Bernard Hermann [Beatrix's theme]
Honey - Moby [plotting the first strike]
Supermoves - Overseer [Kuri & Will's theme]
Forza Azzuri - Cranky [the chaos of Saturday night]
Square Dance - Eminem [Tyler's basement entrance]
Lovely - Wagon Christ [Ginny's brain]
Sonne - Rammstein
Shitty Bum - C-Mon & Kypski
Cells - The Servant
Rockit - Herbie Hancock
Down With The Sickness - Richard Cheese
Haruka Kanata - Asian Kung-Fu Generation
Frontier Psychiatrist - The Avalanches
They're Coming To Take Me Away Ha-Haaa! - Napoleon XIV
O Fortuna - Carl Orff
Hello Zepp - Charlie Clouser [trailer music]
Slayed - Overseer [ending credits]
original music by Charlie Clouser.
Fun Little Useless Trivia Thing-
At the very end of the Masters Of The Universe movie, after the credits roll, Skeletor jumps out and says "I'll be back!!" for no damned reason. The magnificently talented furry artist known as Li'l Glenn Doggy (among other things) saw this, and from then on started calling *all* mini-scenes that directors place after the credits 'skeletors'. The term seems to fit so well, everyone he's told about them has started calling them that too. Including me. I've started hanging out till the very end of all the movies I see to hunt for 'em. Skeletors can be found on the tail ends of Kill Bill, James And The Giant Peach, Kiki's Delivery Service, Waiting..., Idiocracy, the Pirates Of The Caribbean movies and, one of the most plot-important ones I've ever seen, X-men 3. So stay in your seats a while next time you go to the movies!
***AUTHOR'S NOTES***
This took two years to write.
It has been the hardest 'birth' of my entire writing career. Aside from just its sheer size, I went through a horrifyingly traumatic event in the middle of writing it that nearly robbed me of my ability to continue. I'd been hurt so badly by this event, I could no longer care about the characters anymore. I couldn't *love* them enough to write about them anymore. I tried as hard as I could to find my talent again, making a lot of mistakes and churning out a lot of crappy writing and occasionally a few decent stories along the way. A friend suggested I show around some of what I'd finished so I'd feel like I was writing for someone else besides myself. I forgot who it was who made that suggestion, but you saved this novel. Thank you.
More thanks go out to everyone who allowed me to reimagine their characters into ones of my own. They all fit so well into the story, I can't imagine it without them.
Further thanks go to Chaos Blackwing for reading early drafts of this and offering simply *oodles* of encouragement.
Still More thanks go to Misbah Ahmed, my brother from another mother, without whose godlike command of all things electronic I wouldn't have a computer to type this up on. Or a best friend to call up and blab about ideas endlessly to. ;)
Gigantic, Tremendous, Humongous, Volcanic, "I'm not worthy"-type thanks go to Alfador Fox, whose proofreading skills are so buttfucking amazing I must avert my eyes in his presence. Seriously folks, he read this damn thing a bazillion times, ferreting out the teensiest, tiniest flaws. Stuff I'd never notice even if they were in red neon. He's polished this novel to a shine and added *innumerable* great ideas. You, my dear friend, win the medal of awesome.
Long distance thanks go out to the Four Horsemen Of My Inspiration: Stephen King, Joss Whedon, Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez. You guys rock my socks infinitely.
Further 'thanks' go to my mother for being such a delusional, manipulative, backstabbing, sociopathic, abusive BITCH my entire life that I never lacked for ideas when writing about Dr. Beatrix (and virtually all my other villains, ESPECIALLY Cheryl MacAllister). I wish you a uterus full of knife-wielding howler monkeys, you zeppelin-like monstrosity. *giggle*
P.S. Just so everyone knows, Dr. Beatrix's name _isn't_ an intentional reference to Beatrix Kiddo from Kill Bill (*or* Beverly Crusher, by the way). The name came to me out of nowhere when I was first imagining her and it fit perfectly, so I kept it.
P.P.S. I started writing this a HELL of a long time before "Heroes" came on TV, so screw them for telepathically stealing my ideas!! ;p
"Dangerous Lunatics"
Started: Jul 15th, 2005 Finished: Apr 17th, 2007 Editing Completed: June 1st, 2007
*************************
~~~
It was a perfect day. The carnival was in full swing. The bright sun and gentle breeze gave all the happy fun-seekers a friendly pat on the back. Rides tilted and whirled, making many furs scream in excitement and nausea. Gigantic quantities of calorie-deluged snacks were consumed. Music was pouring ceaselessly from the too-loud speakers in the beer tent. People were shouting just to be heard. Inflatable animals and giant stuffed cartoon characters bobbed colorfully around the awnings of the myriad midway games.
The man running the coin push booth was so pissed off he was within farting distance of a heart attack.
"NO!!!" he shouted in the young girl's face.
The girl's expression was perfectly serene. Not a hint of 'Get bent, old man.' Although that's what she was thinking.
She was a ferret, and an exceptionally stocky specimen of her species. Instead of being slender and lithe, she was wide in shoulders, tummy, face and hips. She moved and spoke slowly, but her brain was sharp as a razor. "You can't keep me from putting another coin in. It's a free country."
"I can too!" the mustachioed cheetah insisted. He had a European accent, and from the girth of him looked like his entire diet consisted of pizza and coffee. "You're cheating! I know you are!"
"You couldn't prove it if I was," the ferret girl replied, calm as a frozen lake. Despite the warm breeze, she was dressed rather heavily, complete with a bulging backpack. She was also towing behind her a wagon loaded almost to overflowing with swag she'd won from playing midway games over the last hour. When the wagon was totally full, she planned to take it back home, empty it out, and head right back to clean out another booth.
"I know you are! I know it, I know it!" the cheetah insisted.
A single molecule of annoyance entered her tone. "Look. If you don't let me put my money in this machine, I will go to your boss and tell them that you're trying to screw me. I'll show them there's absolutely no way to cheat at this game, and there isn't. I'm just lucky. And as long as your games aren't rigged, there's no reason I shouldn't be able to win them."
"Win, maybe! But THIRTEEN TIMES IN A ROW!?" he roared.
The ferret allowed herself the slightest of smiles. "I'm _very_ lucky."
Scowling, red-faced with fury, the cheetah threw up his hands. "FINE! One more time! One more quarter! But after that- *Fwazoosh*! You're outta here and I don't ever wanna see you again!!"
"That's fair."
She put her quarter in the machine. The way it worked was simple: the coin rolled on its side along a thin trough, then fell into an area where a metal bar was constantly sliding more coins towards the front. Through the glass display, the girl could see hundreds of quarters piling up, some just the tiniest fraction away from falling over the edge. There were also prizes in there. Fake vinyl flowers. A wind-up bear on a unicycle. A little plastic dragster.
The ferret girl wanted them all.
Not because she was greedy though. She knew tomorrow she'd be donating well over half this plastic crap to charity anyway. To her, the thrill of getting away with it was what truly mattered.
So when the metal bar approached, her eyes dulled and she used her mind to sweep every last coin and toy over the edge and into the prize collection area.
The cheetah howled and howled and tore at his hair.
The ferret girl quietly scooped her winnings into her large canvas backpack. It was already so full she could barely lift it. She'd cleared out thirteen more of this dickweed cheetah's machines. Pity she couldn't do all twenty.
She turned around, and was startled to find four other kids standing there.
They had the strangest looks on their faces. Like they'd been observing her, and she had passed some sort of test.
A placid raccoon girl was smiling knowingly at her.
A tomcat with a notch in his ear was chuckling.
Behind them, like bodyguards, were two stone-faced orange-furred kittens who looked enough alike to be twins. But they weren't.
"Do you ever read any X-men comics?" the raccoon girl asked.
