Bad Memories

A Forte Story

By
Domoviye

January 6^th, 2017
Phoenix, Arizona
Early evening

At the sound of footsteps, Austin scrambled to the corner of the room furthest from the solid office door. There wasn't anything to hide behind, all the old furniture had been shoved against the walls, leaving only an office chair and a dingy mattress for him to use. And there wasn't much point in hiding either, his captor always knew exactly where he was from the spell that had been cast on him two days ago. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he huddled there, wishing he had more clothes than just his underwear.

The stony faced wizard opened the door, a rare smile graced his face. Stepping into the office and improvised cell, he dragged something behind him. In the dim light, Austin saw he was holding the wrist of an unconscious woman with short, dark hair. But there was something odd about her.

When she was dropped in the middle of the office, he saw the problem. The woman only had one arm. Her legs and right arm where gone, leaving only short stumps. The second thing Austin noticed was that she was completely naked.

“Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid when she recovers,” the wizard said. “I already have a buyer lined up for her. If she hurts herself, I'll sell you to that pimp who loves freaks like you. Understand?”

Nodding, Austin didn't bother saying anything, there wasn't any point. If he disobeyed, he'd be hurt and the pimp had already come around once to look him over, offering twenty-thousand for him. So the threat wasn't an idle one.

The wizard turned and left the office, closing and locking the.

Crawling over to the woman, he looked her over. She couldn't be more than twenty years old, and there were nasty cuts and bruises on her stumps and chin. She was conscious at least, her eyes wide and glassy, her chest rising and falling rapidly in short, sharp gasps. He knew that look all too well. Whoever the woman was, she was terrified, trapped in a nightmare and unable to escape.

Focusing his power, Austin struggled to keep his own fear from taking over. He thought of himself as the most important and interesting thing in the world, while looking her straight in the eye. “Focus on me,” he whispered. “You have to wake up. I can't get out of here on my own, together we can escape. Focus on my eyes. Wake up,” he urged.

Her eyes shifted ever so slightly, locking onto his. It wasn't much but it was enough for him. Fighting to keep his power working, he kept talking, urging her to escape her nightmare.

September 13^th, 2015
Vail, Arizona
Late Afternoon

Sitting in the sun room of her home, sixteen year old Natalie Foster concentrated on the guitar in her hands and the harmonica at her lips, playing Piano Man with both instruments. It wasn't easy, and she winced as the harmonica squealed on a note.

During her summer music camp, a few of her friends had challenged her to learn the harmonica. Never one to back down, she'd started practicing with it in her few free moments, and every free period where they could try new instruments. By the time she had to head home, she'd been considered an intermediate by the instructors and the few students who could play the instrument. So they'd dared her to keep going, mastering the harmonica, and play it perfectly with a guitar by Christmas.

Keeping her eyes closed, focusing solely on her fingers, her breating, and the music, she allowed herself to smile a little, she was going to crush it at the Christmas concert.

Finishing the song, the room broke into applause. 

It wasn't much of an applause, just her little brother, Micheal, but she grinned and did a little bow while still sitting. “Thank you. Thank you. I live for your adoration and applause,” she said, taking off the harmonica holder.

Pushing his brown bangs out of his eyes, Micheal tossed his basketball lightly into the air. “That was great, Natalie. But when are you going to learn some rock and roll?”

“Sheesh! You think it's easy just picking up two instruments and playing them together?” 

“For you? Yeah!” he said.

Giggling, she felt herself blushing. “Well OK, that's true. I'll start practicing Aerosmith's, Cryin'. That's got a harmonica in it.”

Micheal rolled his eyes. “Don't you know anything that isn't old?”

“IT'S A CLASSIC! You little twerp!” She raised her guitar as if to hit him.

Laughing, Micheal stuck out his tongue, not worried that she'd actually hit him with her guitar. She would sooner cut off her own foot than damage one of her babies. “Want to watch me shoot some hoops?”

“Sure, if you don't mind me practicing the harmonica while you do.”

“That's cool.”

Putting her guitar back in it's case, she followed her eleven year old brother out to the driveway of their nice home. The Arizona sun was low enough in the sky that it wasn't beating down on them, and the breeze helped make the heat bearable. Still she sat in the shade of the garage, while Micheal worked on his dunking. Natalie didn't know much about sports, she did just enough to keep fit and lug her instruments and speakers around, but she could spot talent when she saw it. 

Playing some of the shorter, simpler songs she knew for the harmonica, Natalie made sure to pay enough attention that she could cheer whenever Micheal made a basket, which was more often than he missed. Their parents were talking about getting him lessons and extra training in a couple of sports. He wasn't a prodigy like she was, but if he kept at it, he could at least get a few scholarships and it was always possible he might go pro. She was ready to offer all the moral support she could to help out.

Eventually they got called in for supper. Natalie set the table while Micheal went to wash the sweat off. “Smells good, mom,” she said.

“Tastes good too,” her mother replied, pouring a lemon vinaigrette into a prickly pear and grilled corn salad.

Taking a platter of hot Sonoran hot dogs to the table, her mouth watered at the smell of bacon wrapped hot dogs and the spicy salsa. By the time she came back with the lemonade, everyone was at the table ready to eat.

Once everyone was at the table, they dug in. She quietly sighed and rolled her eyes, as her mother added a dressing to the salad, which made it go from being healthy to fattening. Her mom was always complaining about being overweight and hated the size of her belly and hips, but she couldn't stick to a diet to save her life.

“Natalie,” her dad said, “at work today Mr. Ericson told me he was interested in you playing at the Tucson Business Association's annual banquet. He and some others heard you at the winery festival, and they think you'd be perfect.”

“Seriously?! Sure,” she said. Natalie knew she was good, and performing in public barely made her nervous anymore, it was mostly exciting to have people coming to her to hear her sing. She was even going to perform at some big birthday party in Tucson in two weeks for a few hundred bucks. Up to now, most of the concerts she had performed at were school events or set up by one of they many music programs she was part of.

“How much will they pay her?” her mom asked.

“I don't know yet,” her dad admitted. “They're still looking at entertainers, and working out the budget, as soon as they have it ready, they'll send us a contract to look over. It should be here in about three weeks.”

Letting her parents worry about the money and details, Natalie thought about what songs would be good for the event. Money was important, but she preferred focusing on the fun stuff.

Biting her lip, Natalie slowly plucked at the metal strings of her Chinese zither, playing the beginning of the song, 'Fisherman's Song at Dusk', for the twentieth time, at half speed. The metronome clicked slowly, keeping her from rushing ahead like she wanted to. She'd been practicing the song for weeks, starting at the end and working backwards on each section until today, she felt like she could play the song in her sleep.

She kept practicing, knowing that if she didn't it would end with her humiliation on stage in October, during the Fall Festival. Rushing things and playing by ear was fun, especially in a jam session, it was not what you did for a proper performance. It was her dedication that had gotten her so far, there was no way she was going to throw it away just because practice was a little boring.

Finishing, Natalie took the picks from her left fingers that protected them from developing bad callouses and stretched. She'd been playing all evening and was definitely ready for bed. Grabbing a cloth she wiped the flat, shallow instrument down, checking the twelve strings for any sign of wear, and then with a grunt, lifted the thing that was almost as long as she was tall from the table, and placed it on the padded wall hooks beside a very expensive keyboard.

With a smile, she went around her personal studio that her parents had built for her in the backyard when she was younger and had wanted to learn to play the drums, checking all of her instruments. There would have been many more, but she'd made a point to donate all but her most loved instruments to younger musicians that didn't have as well off parents as she outgrew them. There were several guitars, her oldest one covered in names and messages from her friends and family, a drum set and almost a dozen smaller drums, flutes and other woodwinds, a couple of harps, a violin hung beside a viola, a set of maracas hung over a cello, and there was even a cornet she was still struggling to learn. For some reason she did not like brass instruments. They never quite felt right, and she couldn't seem to get her lips buzzing quite right. She was good enough for a school band with them, but to her that was a failure.

Frowning at the innocent, but frustrating innocent horn, she said, “I don't care how long it takes, I'm going to master you.”

Checking the clock, there was still time before she had to go to bed. Even at sixteen and a half, she still had a bedtime that was far too early for her liking, especially on a school night. Going to the mirror that covered the far wall, she stood up straight and began stretching. It was just basic neck, back, and stomach stretches to loosen up her diaphragm and the muscles around her lungs, as well as keeping her body loose. Too much stiffness and she could hurt her vocal cords, which would destroy her dreams. To help her singing she did yoga in the morning immediately after waking up, followed by jogging to keep her body fit which was important for her music, so there was no reason to work up a sweat now.

Finishing her stretches, she followed it up with fifteen minutes of breathing exercises and warm ups. If her classmates saw her hissing, blowing, doing lip trills which had her curling her tongue and rolling her r's, panting, and sliding up and down the scales making oh and ah sounds, she'd die of embarrassment, but this was her private place, no one would see her here. After half an hour of that, she was feeling loose, relaxed, and breathing better.

Pretending her singing instructor was standing behind her, Natalie went up and down the scales starting softly and slowly raising her voice. She changed her speed, going faster for a few minutes, than slower, training her voice to do what she wanted.

Then it was time to have some fun. Hitting play on her stereo, she started singing, first was 'What I've Done', by Linkin Park. With perfect pitch she hit all the right notes, even if she wasn't as smooth as she wanted to be. She moved into the folk rock song 'House of the Rising Sun' without stopping. She loved playing the song with her guitar, keyboard or drums, but she couldn't quite get her singing voice deep enough to do it justice. She was still smiling while singing the soulful lyrics.

That was followed by some more recent songs. She sang along with a new boy band called Golden Wave as they crushed on a girl with 'Emerald Eyes'. Giggled while singing about a bar crawl gone horribly wrong in the song 'Wow!', by Hide The Whiskey. Then called it a night with a love song sung by the bad boy of a soft rock group, Isle 7.

Taking a drink from her ever present water bottle, Natalie turned off everything and skipped out of her studio, through dark backyard and into her home, completely at ease and her future bright.

September 14^th, 2015
Vail, Arizona
Mid-morning

Listening to Mrs. Soto drone on about Hamlet, Natalie pretended to take notes. In actuality she was thinking about what songs she should sing for her upcoming birthday job. It was supposed to be some family reunion and sweet sixteen party for a teen girl about her age. It would have helped if the woman would let Natalie talk to the birthday girl, but it was supposed to be a surprise, so she'd been given a list of singers and songs the girl liked. It was a pretty typical list for a teen girl, mostly popular pop songs with some poppy R&B, all easy covers for the most part.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tapping beside her from a pencil on a desk. It started off fast and kept getting quicker, until it sounded like a sewing machine.

Mrs. Soto stopped her lecture, and all eyes went to Simon, who just so happened to sit right beside Natalie. The fairly handsome, tanned sixteen year old was moving in a blur, his pencil snapping and breaking as it hit the desk over and over again at speeds no baseline could hope to achieve.

Less than a minute after it started, Simon slowed down looking embarrassed. When the fit was finally over, he ducked his head, giving a very good impression of someone who wished the earth would open up and swallow them. He'd manifested almost a year ago, while doing laps in gym class and nearly ran into a wall at a hundred miles an hours. Since then he'd gone from being a somewhat popular kid to one of the outsiders, mostly because he had episodes where he'd move at high speeds unable to control himself for anywhere from a few seconds to a whole minute.

Seeing him staring at the splinters that had once been a pencil, she pulled out a spare and handed it over. He smiled sheepishly as he took it. Natalie kept her expression cool, not welcoming, not judging, just a classmate helping out. She didn't want to be friends with him, even before he had manifested, they'd had nothing in common and she only knew him because they were classmates. But she didn't have a problem with him being a mutant. She'd been accused of being a mutant once or twice because she was so good with music. As long as Simon didn't hurt anyone, he was just a classmate in her eyes.

Sarah, who sat in front of Simon and was a wannabe mean girl, turned to glare at Simon and when she saw Natalie handing him the pencil, she scowled at her as well.

Returning the scowl, Natalie otherwise ignored the girl. They were both in different social circles, and while Sarah was more fashionable with expensive clothes and purses, and head of the track and field team, Natalie wasn't a nobody. Having performed on TV and meeting some decently famous people at a few of the concerts, she wasn't exactly a typical artsy type nerd. And while she never cared as much about fashion, she wasn't a wilting flower either, having a more eclectic but still trendy style, at least according to her friends, which was all that mattered. Running a hand through her brown hair, which was longer and better looking than Sarah's, she went back to not taking notes.

Class ended soon after and while Natalie collected her things, Camila, a former friend and someone she still talked to sometimes, dropped a small piece of paper on her desk without looking at her. Picking it up, she acted normally until she was in the hallway heading for lunch. Reading it, she gave it a double take, 'Nearest bathroom NOW. Stay quiet and listen. BAD SHIT!'

“That's weird,” she said, mostly to herself. She'd mostly dropped Camila after her former friend had gotten tight with Sarah since the two were both in track and field, but they weren't enemies. And the school wasn't like some poor inner city school with fights and things like that, what could be the problem?

Deciding to take a chance, Natalie ducked into the bathroom and went to the furthest stall. It couldn't hurt to see what was going on, her friends would still be in the cafeteria if she was five minutes late. Just to be safe, she pulled out her phone, ready to record if this was some kind of trick.

She didn't have to wait long when the door opened and she heard Sarah and her group of close friends come in, talking loudly, so everyone had to hear them. Staying quiet while they did their business, and the other girls who were using the bathroom left for lunch, it was soon just her in the stall and Sarah and her friends fixing their hair and makeup and talking.

“So are you going to tell everyone what you were laughing about this morning,” Camila asked.

“Oh my god! I found out this morning that my aunt has a big surprise set up for my birthday,” Sarah said in her typical overexcited way. “She got me a singer, and you won't believe who it is.”

There were a bunch of guesses, from the ridiculous ones like Beyonce to the more reasonable but still very unlikely more local celebrities.

“It's that bitch Natalie,” Sarah finally said.

“REALLY!” one of her friends squealed.

“Yeah. My aunt saw her playing her little songs at the winery festival and hired her to do my birthday party. But Natalie doesn't know it's for me. Can you believe it, she's singing at birthday parties. She might as well become a wedding singer, it's all she's good for.” There was a lot of giggling, laughing and insults.

“It's going to be awesome coming to school the day after and treating her like the hired help she is,” Sarah said. 

Natalie could practically see the sneering face of the bitch. She had to fight down the urge to slam open the stall and start a fight right there and then. Digging her nails into the palms of her hands, she somehow stayed quiet until Sarah and her harpies were gone. Only then did she leave the stall, taking the time to wash her hands so she could get control of her expression.

She was going to make the bitch pay.

September 26^th, 2015
Tucson, Arizona

Natalie watched the party from her table at the back of the restaurant. Sarah was having a grand time being the center of attention with her family and friends. There were at least a hundred people in the nice restaurant which had been rented out for the party, so it was easy to stay out of the way. She'd already checked the equipment before the guests arrived and was just finishing up her early supper. As the 'hired help', she'd gotten a free meal, which was actually really good, she'd need to remember the place for some other time.

Camila had given her a weird look when they spotted each other, but her old friend had stayed away. Natalie couldn't blame her, it would have been awkward. And quite frankly she wasn't sure if it wouldn't have been better to have just cancel everything. Now it was too late and she was far from certain that what she was planning was a good idea.

Her client, Sarah's aunt, waved at her. It was time to get to work.

Rolling her shoulders, taking one last drink of water, and sending a silent prayer to god, Natalie headed for the stage. There was no chance of going back now, it would give Sarah way too much joy seeing her run away like a coward.

Dressed up in a really nice white blouse, black skinny jeans, shiny ankle boots, her long hair curled, and tasteful makeup, with her third best electric guitar, Natalie didn't stand out too much in the crowd. She was completely professional, just like she wanted to appear. Smiling at the crowd, she saw Sarah and her crowd of best friends front and center, all of them dressed to shine.

Sarah had a nasty smile on her face that was matched by her two best friends Emma and Olivia, some of the other friends looked a little less happy, but most  were just there to have fun. Natalie didn't react to any of the looks, she was there to sing and she was going to give them a proper show.

“Hello everyone, I thought I'd get this show started with the birthday girl's favourite song, 'Dangerous Woman' by Ariana Grande.” The VI in charge of the stereo began playing the backup music, as Natalie started singing the popular R&B song. She may not like the birthday girl, and she was planning something really nasty, but she was a musician and the stage was her natural habitat, she threw all of her talent into the music. Whatever anyone said afterwards she was not going to be accused of half-assing anything.

The young people danced, while the older people mostly talked to each other, and Natalie moved smoothly from song to song. At first the songs were all the usual pop and R&B songs that you'd expect a party, then she started slipping in other songs that were popular and sung by singers Sarah liked, but weren't quite birthday songs for a young woman.

It started innocently enough with the still caring but definitely bitter song 'Love Yourself', by Justin Beiber, where he sang about his old girlfriend who was never satisfied and how his mother didn't like her. No one batted an eyelash at that one.

Two songs later, it was time for Pink, 'Just Like Fire', where the singer needs to get away from liars and clowns, and wants to leave the whole charade behind. Natalie may have put a bit too much emphasis on 'And people like to laugh at you', but it was still nice enough that no one seemed to notice it, except maybe Sarah who turned to look at the stage with a smaller smile than before.

She took a break for supper, resting at the corner table where she drank some water, giving her throat a break. Then it was back on stage playing softly while people ate and talked. When the cake came out, she led everyone in an enthusiastic round of happy birthday, and then it was back to singing pop songs. Throwing caution to the wind, Natalie went straight for the songs about fake friends, being cheated on, and betrayal, starting with the new song by Drake and 'Fake Love'.

She'd had to clean up a few of the lyrics from most of the songs, to keep the adults from complaining, and they mostly ignored the trendy songs, but Sarah and her friends slowly caught the trend. She saw the dancing slowing down, the smiles getting smaller, and Sarah getting more confused. Finally it was time for the final song, and at least among the teenagers the atmosphere had changed just enough to be noticeable without being completely obvious.

“For the last song of the night, this is a special one for my fashionable and very pretty classmate, Sarah,” Natalie said, grinning from ear to ear. 

While Sarah looked up at her with confusion and wariness clear on her face, Natalie began playing, 'She Ain't Pretty She Just Looks That Way,' by the Northern Pikes.

I had two jobs

I had dishwater hands

And on the weekend in a rock and roll band

One Friday night in my hometown bar

In walked a girl who looked like a movie star

She stared at me and it was turnin' me on

She said she worked in a beauty salon

I heard a voice inside me say

She ain't pretty she just looks that way

The song wasn't fancy, and some of the lyrics were more like she was speaking, but it got the point across. All the teenagers were watching her in shock, along with some of the adults. Keeping the smile on, Natalie kept going.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha

We made a date to go for a drink

I wore my jeans and she wore a mink

There was this misconception all over town that she ate lonely hearts by the pound

She said

Take me home

There won't be no fuss

I said

Sure you got some change for the bus

Watchin' her leave

I heard the bartender say

She ain't pretty she just looks that way yeah

And now she had all eyes on her. Sarah looked torn between shock and rage, and the adults didn't seem to know what to do. They weren't used to being made fools of by a teenage girl. Riding a high as she got revenge on Sarah, Natalie didn't stop.

Ha ha

Hey hey hey

So uh

I called her up

Her father was home

Said She's busy she can't come to the phone

I held my breath and decided to wait

A girl like me doesn't get many dates

I fell in love with a model from hell

It took some time for my hormones to tell

That chasin' her has been a grave mistake

She ain't pretty she just looks that way

Her ego wrote cheques incredibly fast but her personality didn't have the cash

I laughed out loud to my total dismay ha ha

She ain't pretty she just looks that way

She ain't pretty she just looks that way yeah

She ain't pretty

She ain't pretty

She ain't pretty

She ain't pretty she just looks that way

The song came to an end and Natalie was on cloud nine from excitement and the tears of rage coming from Sarah. 

“You fucking bitch!” Sarah screamed.

Unplugging her guitar, Natalie bowed. “Happy birthday from the hired help, Sarah. See you in class Monday.”

Leaving her USB chip plugged into the restaurant's sound system. Natalie rushed off stage holding onto her guitar, heading rapidly for the back exit that was marked employees only. She did not want to have to face Sarah's family, especially her parents and aunt, who had been practically charging towards the stage. Laughing as she ran down the back alley, Natalie didn't care that she was definitely not going to be paid, seeing Sarah's tears was payment enough.

September 27^th, 2015
Vail, Arizona
Early Afternoon

“Yeah, I got grounded for a month,” Natalie said to her friend. “My parents told me that what I did was cruel and unprofessional. Sarah's aunt phoned mom while I was waiting for dad to pick me up and gave her an earful. But it was so worth it. You should have seen Sarah's face. She was humiliated.”

Looking out the window of her music studio, she saw her mom come out of the house. “Shoot, gotta go. I can't be talking on the phone.” Hanging up, she shoved the phone behind a tambourine and was sitting at her keyboard looking through a music book, before the door opened.

Her mom walked in with a serious look on her face. “Natalie, where's your phone?”

Doing her best to look sulky and oblivious, she said, “I don't know. I left it in the living room like you asked.”

“It's not there. I want you to hand it over right now.”

“You saw me put it on the coffee table. If you lost it, it's not my fault,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Natalie's stomach dropped when her mom pull a phone out of her pocket and hit a button. A moment later her own phone started ringing from behind the instrument.

“Shi-shoot, I forgot to put it on silent,” she muttered.

“Natalie, what were you thinking?” her mom asked, sitting in one of the folding guest chairs.

“Are you going to listen to me now, or just yell at me like last night?”

“I wasn't yel-” Her mother sighed. “OK, I am listening. What exactly happened? And why did you do it?”

Her fingers went to the keys of the keyboard, silently playing 'Clair de Lune' by Debussy, an easy classical song she'd learned when she was six and always found soothing. “I heard Sarah laughing about her aunt hiring me for her birthday party. She joked about me being worse than a wedding singer, and how I was the hired help. I got angry and wanted to get her back.”

“Scoot over,” her mom said, moving to sit beside her on the bench. Wrapping an arm over Natalie's shoulder, she pulled her in closer. “I know you don't like Sarah and you've both given each other a hard time over the years. But you need to learn to keep your anger under control.”

Jerking back, Natalie protested. “I don't get angry that often!”

Pulling her back into a cuddle, her mom kept a tight grip on her. “I know that, which is a huge relief. But when you do get angry, you get mean. Do you remember throwing paint all over Emilia and her painting in grade one, when she said your music sounded stupid.”

“She deserved it.”

“And deleting all of the slides and work for your group in grade five?” 

“They didn't do any work, and tried to make me do everything including present it!”

“Yes, but instead of telling your teacher, or me, you took everyone down with you. What about changing Kyle's music book for the summer concert when you were fourteen?”

“He shouldn't have tried to peek into the girls shower,” she said, feeling completely justified.

“He was stopped before he did anything but talk about it, and he was punished by the camp,” her mom said. “Believe me, when I heard about it from you, I and the other parents made sure it was dealt with properly. You did not have to deal with it yourself, and it wasn't your responsibility to dole out your own punishment four weeks later.”

Looking away from her mom, Natalie didn't say anything.

“For your little stunt, you didn't get to play your song that night. Was it worth it?”

“No,” she said quietly.

Hugging her tighter, her mother sighed. “You can't believe how happy your father and I are that you chose to practice music and not martial arts. Public humiliation is bad, but at least police won't get involved. However, you are nearly an adult and things will get more serious from here on out. If you get angry and go too far you could be suspended or even expelled from school, which might not sound so bad right now, but in college would be devastating. You could also be sued or charged if it's bad enough. And doing it to the wrong people can cut off potential jobs or might even end your music career before it begins.”

“It's not that bad.”

“Not yet, but it could get that bad. Do I need to sign you up for therapy, so you can learn how to channel your anger better?”

“I hate therapists,” Natalie said, making a face as she recalled a few times when she had to talk to the student counsellor for a few minor things that had happened at school.

“OK, no therapy for now. But I expect you to talk to me or your father next time you get one of your revenge ideas in your head, or if you get really angry about something. Deal?”

Nodding, Natalie patted her mom's hand. “Deal. Talk to you first if I ever think Sarah needs a new lesson.”

“All right than. You're still grounded. I won't add any time on for sneaking your phone away, however, if you break the rules again, I'm adding another week to it,” her mom said. “Got it?”

“All right,” she said with a sigh. “I guess I'm going to be practising a lot for the next month.”

“Oh no. How horrible for you. No distractions from playing music when you aren't at school, whatever shall you do?” her mom asked sarcastically.

“Haha,” she deadpanned, feeling a little bit better.

September 29^th, 2015
Vail, Arizona
Mid-morning

Sitting in her usual spot for English class, Natalie couldn't stop herself from watching Sarah. The girl had skipped yesterdays class, and had looked miserable coming into class today. Right now she was sitting slumped in her chair, her shoulder length dark brown hair styled to have large bangs hide her eyes. There hadn't been any sneers, angry looks, or anything. Her best friend Emma was sitting beside her and kept trying to get her to say something without much luck.

“Maybe I overdid it a little,” Natalie muttered to herself.

She wasn't about to apologize for anything she had done, Sarah had deserved it. But Natalie decided it would be best to just pretend Sarah didn't exist. If they ignored each other, they could get through the rest of the year just fine.

Turning back to Mrs. Soto who was going over different types of poetry, beyond the basic just make every line rhyme style, she tried to focus and actually take notes. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world, Simon seemed to be having a bad day with his powers. He'd been having his super fast shakes all morning, some of them even lasted for over a minute before calming back down.

Looking over at her classmate, he was sweating badly enough that his t-shirt was drenched and he was panting like he'd just run ten laps.

“You OK?” she asked.

“Y-yeah. J-ust got, got a cold... or something,” he panted.

“I think you should go to the nurse's office.”

“I-I'm go-” he was cut off by his own shaking.

Raising her hand, Natalie shouted. “Mrs. Soto, something is really-”

She never finished.

Simon became a screaming blur. With her right hand already up in the air, Natalie started to bring it down, instinctively protecting her head with it when a sledgehammer hit her and thunder exploded less than three feet away, knocking her to the floor.

Through the ringing in her ears, she heard people screaming.

She felt a bit of pain. It was all over, but distant. A problem for later, her brain said. It felt foggy, like the time she'd gotten her tonsils out and had woken up after the operation.

Opening her eyes, the world wobbled and wouldn't focus, she was seeing three of everything. She managed to move her head. Her arm flopped around, it looked like hamburger that had been burned on one side and left raw on the other. That probably wasn't good, but she couldn't get her ringing brain to care. Looking at her desk, she saw her legs laying down in a pile.

Something wasn't right.

She wasn't at her desk anymore, why were her legs still there? Her brain struggled to figure it all out.

The pain was coming closer.

The screaming that filled the room was joined by the fire alarm. Her classmates started running out to the hall.

Trying to look at them, Natalie saw Sarah lying down just like her.

The red covering Sarah's face made her eyes focus. She realized that there was a large bloody dent as big as a baseball in the girl's forehead.

It clicked in her brain that Sarah was dead. And then the pain hit.

Lying there, unable to move, Natalie shrieked for help.

October 10^th, 2015
Tucson, Arizona

Natalie lay in the hospital bed, barely conscious from the painkillers that poured into her from the IV. She wished she was still asleep. Through the haze she kept replaying the explosion that destroyed her, seeing her legs and arm torn from her and utterly destroyed. Sarah staring at her with dead eyes.

And the words her parents had been forced to tell her when she'd finally woken up that morning wouldn't leave her ears. Her legs were gone. They hadn't been able to reattach them, the damage had been too severe. She could have lived with that. But her right arm had been shattered and burned. It had to be remove to keep it from rotting. Even if they had saved it, it would have been paralyzed and in constant pain.

They promised her that she was on the list for getting cybernetic replacements. They were already trying to raise money and she'd be good as new when they finally got them. Until then they'd get her the best prosthetics possible.

Humming to herself, she tried to sleep. Sleep had to be better than living.

She wished that her mom and dad were still there to hold her and tell her that everything would be all right eventually. They'd left a while ago when visiting hours had ended. She didn't know how long ago that was. The drugs made time fuzzy, stretched out sometimes and everything happening at once at other times.

The door opened. She looked at it, hoping it was her mom.

It was Emma. Her classmate had her arm and shoulder in a cast along with a bandage wrapped around her head. Through the haze Natalie could tell the girl looked angry.

“Emma,” she slurred, unable to talk properly through the drugs and bandages that still encased her head and face. “I'm... sorry... about... Sarah.” She struggled to get the words out.

Emma remained silent for a long time. When she finally spoke her voice was full of venom that managed to strike through the drugged induced haze. “I'm glad Sarah died, at least she isn't a useless, limbless, freak like you.”

Natalie could only watch in pain and shame as her classmate left the room.

October 20^th, 2015
Tucson, Arizona

“Come on Natalie,” Micheal said, “you have to eat something if you want to go home. I miss listening to you play.”

Natalie stared numbly at the tray of food, she didn't have an appetite and the sight of the food nearly made her sick. She hadn't wanted to eat anything for over a week, and she didn't think she ever would again.

Her little brother patted her left hand. “It's going to be OK. Mom and Dad have spent all month talking to people who can make new arms and legs and things. When you get out of here you'll have a really cool metal arm. Just think how awesome you'll be on stage playing the guitar.”

“I can't play the guitar anymore. I can't do anything,” she whispered. The words felt like anvils hitting her soul.

“Yes you can,” her brother insisted. “I saw one superhero, Doctor Silver, on TV and most of his body is cybernetic. He's able to do all kinds of cool things, he even has jets in his legs that let him jump like a hundred feet into the air and land safely.”

“I'm not a superhero. I'm just broken.”

Micheal quieted down after that, holding her hand in his as if he would will her back to life.

Eventually her mom came in from talking with the doctors or doing whatever it was she had to do. Her dad was at work, trying to make as much money as he could to cover whatever the insurance company wouldn't. She didn't say anything as her mother coaxed her to eat something, to talk, to react in some way.

Finally her mother left, taking Micheal back home, leaving Natalie alone in the dark.

Eventually a nurse came in to take away the barely touched tray of food. “Hey Natalie, still not eating?” Lily asked.

“Not hungry,” she said.

“You can't keep having a liquid diet forever,” her nurse said. “If you want to get out of here anytime soon, you'll need to start eating more than a few bites.”

“What's the point?”

“You'll be happier back home. In your own room, with your own things, it's a lot better than being here.”

Her instruments were back home. The ones she couldn't use. She didn't want to see them. It would just make her feel more useless.

“Do you want to sing me a song while I tidy things up for you? I heard you singing before, when you first woke up, it was really good,” Lily said.

“I have nothing to sing about.”

She watched as Lily did her job, changing the catheter bags as discretely as possible. The hospital had had her in a diaper for the first few days. When she'd stopped eating and barely talked, they'd tried to use a bed pan, hoping it would help her feel less depressed. That had made Natalie try to stop going to the bathroom at all. They'd put a catheter into her for both functions and kept giving her laxatives so she couldn't hold it in for days.

Soon enough Lily got a bucket of clean water and one of soapy water, each with their own wash clothes. “OK, Natalie lets get you cleaned up,” she said, making the bed move into the right position.

Natalie took the soapy washcloth and began washing herself with her left hand, while the nurse watched her out of the corner of her eye. She got her face, chest and stomach washed, avoiding the still healing burn scar on her temple and right side. Then she moved onto her genitals. She felt the catheter tubes and wanted to rip them out, but resisted the urge. She'd made a deal with the nurses, they'd let her clean herself as much as she could, and she wouldn't fight them or rip anything out.

Getting herself as clean as she could, using the second pail of water to rinse off the soap, she began humming to herself. Now was the part she hated. Lily began washing the parts she couldn't. The nurse was gentle and made it seem like it was normal to be washed by someone as she held Natalie's left arm and scrubbed it clean, then moved onto her back.

Natalie silently screamed in anger and humiliation.

November 15^th, 2015
Tucson, Arizona

Natalie sat in her powered wheelchair looking around the circle of other amputees, trying not to glare. Her one-on-one therapy sessions weren't getting anywhere, so her therapist was hoping that seeing other amputees in a group therapy session would help. This was her first session and if she could have run away she would have.

“I was at the grocery store last Saturday,” a young woman with a clearly mechanical right hand said, “and I saw a cute guy looking at me. And, well, you know what happened next, my silly brain insisted that he was staring at my hand. Because what else would he be staring at.”

There were nods and useless acknowledgement from the six other patients and the therapist.

“So anyways,” the woman who Natalie couldn't be bothered to remember the name of or even read her name tag, continued, “I was ready to put my hand in my pocket, or hurry to another aisle. But then I told myself why should I hide. My hand is a part of me and I have nothing to be ashamed of. So I did the hardest thing I ever did, and walked over to him, and said, hi.”

The woman blushed. “It doesn't seem like much now, but when I did it, I felt like I was ten feet tall. The guy was really surprised, and actually jumped. Then he said hi back, and, well, I asked what his name was, told him mine, and we started talking. It turns out he wasn't actually looking at me, he had barely even noticed me, he was trying to remember what he needed for a pasta recipe, and was staring off into space. We went on our first date yesterday, and next week he's going to make me that pasta dish at his place.”

There was another round of applause and other meaningless stuff. Natalie just kept her eyes down, staring at the blanket which hung limp where her legs should have been. A tune was playing over and over in her mind. She couldn't place it, it was unique, using instruments she'd never heard before but seemed familiar. The notes played in ways she'd never thought possible. Her left hand twitched, wanting to move in time with it, despite having no idea what the moves were.

She needed to do something. The music was calling to her, tantalizing her, promising something.

“Natalie.”

She looked up, realizing that she'd missed quite a bit. “What?”

“Do you want to say anything?” the therapist asked. “It's entirely up to you if you want to or not.”

“OK, I'll ask something,” she said, letting herself smile for the first time in two months. Looking around the room at adults of all ages, who were missing an arm or a leg, sometimes missing two legs, she cleared her throat. “When your right handed, but only have a left hand left, what's the best way to kill yourself?”

December 13^th, 2015
Tucson, Arizona

Natalie focused on the white plastic hand, trying to make it move. The prosthetic was heavy and uncomfortable on her stump. She focused on the movements her physical therapist had been teaching her for weeks. Her muscles twitched, causing the fake limb to jerk a little.

“Good work,” the therapist said. “Now try to raise it.”

From across the room, her mother watched, hope in her eyes that this might pull her out of the near suicidal depression.

Listening to the therapist's instructions she started making the prosthetic jerk and shudder. And the the music she'd been hearing off and on for weeks started playing in her head once more. She had tried writing down the notes, but it had been nonsense. She knew it was a song for one person to play, but there was no way a human could play it, the notes were too complicated and jumbled together. Yet they were starting to make sense, and something told her that if she could work them out, it would lift her out of the hell that was her life.

Looking down at her practice prosthetic she saw how clumsy it was, it was worse than useless. It would barely let her hold something if she did manage to make it work for her. Disgust at having to use a piece of garbage rose within her. And then it began to pinch her stump, making her scream in pain.

The music in her head grew louder and faster, the pain and disgust grew with it. “GET IT OFF ME!” she shrieked.

Once she was free of the torture device, she and her mother left for home, ending the session early.

That night she ate her supper as quietly as she ever did. Her depression had affected her family, the conversations that had once been so common at supper replaced by silence. No one smiled, no one had the energy to do more than say what was necessary. Stabbing the small pieces of food that her mother had cut for her before serving it, Natalie ate like a machine, no enjoyment, no satisfaction, just keeping herself alive because that was what she was supposed to do.

Her thoughts went back to the prosthetic. It had been an absolute failure. It had hurt and would be about as effective as a pirates hook. There was nothing she could do now. She'd always be a helpless, limbless freak.

When supper was done, she finally spoke. “Can I have a pain pill? My stump hurts.”

“OK, Natalie,” her dad said.

Watching her mom and brother clean up, Natalie was reminded how useless she was. Just burden to everyone. Her dad came back with a glass of water and a bottle of heavy duty painkillers. He opened the bottle and handed her one pill. She put it in her mouth and reached for the water. Using the water to wash the pill down, she started coughing hard, dropping the glass onto the floor where it shattered.

Cursing, her dad went to get a towel, unthinkingly putting the bottle of pills on the table.

Seeing that everyone was distracted, Natalie grabbed the pills, shoving them under her blanket. “Sorry,” she said, trying to hide her excitement. Slumped down she worked the joystick and went to her room, praying that they wouldn't notice anything until it was too late.

Closing her door, Natalie wished she could still lock it, but they'd removed the lock last month. Instead she placed her chair against the door. 

Opening the bottle took over a minute, since the cap was difficult to open with only one hand. Once it was off, she brought the entire thing to her mouth and swallowed.

Then the door shuddered as her father slammed into it. “NATALIE! OPEN THE DOOR!” he screamed.

December 15^th, 2015
Tucson, Arizona

“Mrs. and Mr. Foster I know this is hard for you and you're hoping for a quick fix, but you need to look at this like a marathon, not a sprint,” the doctor said. “Natalie is suffering from severe body dysmorphia, it's too be expected after her accident. People who have unexpectedly lost a single limb below the knee or elbow, have a 25% chance of suffering severe depression a year later. Losing three of them, we're going to need to take this one day at a time for the rest of her life.”

Natalie looked around the office of her new therapist. She suspected she had better get used to it, since she was a new inpatient for the psych wing of the hospital. Apparently swallowing a whole bottle of pills and having to get her stomach pumped was a bad thing.

Eventually the doctor and her parents were done talking, and she was allowed to wheel herself to her new room alongside a nurse. There was no privacy, nothing she could use to hurt herself unless she wanted to bash her head into a wall or the furniture. The nurse helped her put away her clothes and went over the rules and schedule for the psych ward. Natalie nodded along, barely listening. The music in her head was louder and far more insistent.

“Can I have a notebook and something to write with?” she asked.

The nurse got her a small pile of scrap paper and a well used box of crayons. She took them without complaint. Then since she wasn't supposed to be alone, she got wheeled to the common area where the other patients were watching TV, talking to each other, playing with puzzles, and doing other things she didn't care about. Put at a table, Natalie got to work.

The music in her mind was almost overpowering and she felt she was close to finding out what it meant. Lost in her own little world, she wrote down the notes, not even realizing she was now writing as well with her left hand as she once did with her right. The notes had to let out, that was all that mattered. 

As she worked, graceful golden lines appeared in her vision.

December 25^th, 2015
Tucson, Arizona

Sighing, Natalie put her newest work aside. She was still trying to decipher then music that wouldn't leave her alone, and the growing pile of papers was proof it wasn't going well. Her obsession with it wasn't exactly endearing her with the nurses or psychiatrists, who were busy trying to get her to open up and giving her new medicines that didn't do anything for her. 

Listening to the Christmas music coming from the common area, she wished they'd just shut up. It wasn't like any of them had anything to celebrate, the music was making it hard to focus on the important song in her mind. And if she was going to be honest with herself, it reminded her of how she was supposed to play at a Christmas concert, where she'd have shown all her friends how good she was playing a harmonica and guitar with just a few months of practice. 

Rolling out of her room, she went to the nurse's station, and tapped on the desk to get the woman's attention. "I need to go to the bathroom," she said. She hated having to ask permission to take a piss, but she was still on suicide watch, and letting her be alone in a bathroom was seen as dangerous. 

Following the nurse to the communal bathroom, where there were no doors for privacy, just a short wall between each toilet, Natalie rolled herself into the disabled stall. 

"Do you want some help?" the nurse asked, standing off to the side just out of sight.

"No," she replied, very curtly. 

Pushing the blanket out of the way, she wiggled out of her panties and shorts. Grabbing the bar beside the toilet, Natalie began transferring herself from her chair to the toilet. It was usually something she could manage on her own, but earlier in the day one of the other inpatients had damaged the seat. As she got her butt on the hard plastic, the seat slid from a broken bolt holding it in place. Unbalanced and with no way to catch herself, she fell from the toilet, wrenching her shoulder and hit the floor with no way to soften the blow. 

Crying, stunned and bleeding from her nose, Natalie felt a growing puddle under her. 

The nurse came running, checking to make sure nothing was broken. "Let's get you cleaned up," the woman said. 

Natalie found herself being lifted like a helpless baby back into her chair, unable to do anything but use her one remaining arm to hold onto the nurse. She kept crying, but this time it wasn't from the pain. 

January 12^th, 2016
Tucson, Arizona

Looking over her papers, Natalie nearly burst into tears.

The music finally made sense.

Drawing had never been one of her skills, much less drawing with crayons, but the picture of a silver arm covered in golden lines was immaculate. Each golden line was a note, and the way they wrapped around each other formed a song that she could finally understand.

The music had quieted down to a whisper, content now that she knew how to play it. She could picture the arm in her mind, knowing how it would move, instinctively knowing how she would control it with her stump.

She'd be able to make music again.

Now all she had to do was convince them she wasn't a danger to herself anymore. She wouldn't be able to get anything done in the psych ward. Putting her papers off to the side, she went to the nurses station, smiling and still crying.

“Natalie, what's wrong?” the nurse asked, surprised that she'd willingly went up to her, and that she was smiling.

“I'd like to talk to the doctor please,” she said. “I... I want to go home.”

January 21^st, 2016
Vail, Arizona

“Mom, I promise I won't try anything. I realize that I'm not healthy, but I'm not going to do anything stupid again. I just- I just need to remember what it was like to be happy,” Natalie said, clasping her mother's hand.

Kneeling down, to be eye to eye with Natalie, her mother smiled. “OK, I was told that I need to give you a bit more space. But I'll check on you regularly. If you don't reply to a text right away I'm coming running, OK?”

“Deal,” Natalie said. The smile that came to her lips was absolutely real, which was still very rare even with her new attitude.

Placing her laptop on her lap, she drove her wheelchair to her music studio and opened the door for the first time in months. Looking around the room, she felt tears roll down her cheeks. “Sorry for being gone so long,” she said to the instruments. “I can't play with you yet, but I promise in just a few weeks, I'll be using all of you every single day.”

Putting her laptop on the table, she used her left hand with surprising ease to open a music program. Excitement ran through her, it was like picking up a new instrument for the first time and learning what it could do. She'd used music programs before, but writing music had never really interested her. She preferred playing and letting other people write it down. Still this would let her play again, so she would do whatever it took.

For the next several hours she did her best to turn the music in her head into a reality.

February 22^nd, 2016
Vail, Arizona
Early morning

Natalie looked down at the odd dull silver full of yellowish lines, that sat in the badly corroded plastic ice cream bucket. It wasn't like what she imagined, being duller with odd coloured patches, not the shiny silver metal and brilliant gold lines she had pictured in her mind. Still she thought it would work even though she'd needed to make a lot of compromises while making it. Her house didn't have a lot of things she could use.

She could have asked her parents for help, but asking for mercury and dangerous chemicals would probably freak them out. She didn't want to risk going back to the psych ward, she'd show them all what she could do once she was done. That would be a good surprise for everyone.

She'd prove she wasn't a freak, and she'd play the guitar again for Micheal.

Taking the stuff she had dubbed sonic metal from the bucket, it came out in flaky chunks, while feeling like really damp clay. Grumbling at how much easier it would be with two hands, she got it onto the table.

“OK, Natalie, time to see if this works, or if you're just nuts,” she said. Hitting play on her laptop, the stereo began making a weird warbling sound, that made her stomach feel odd. Ignoring the discomfort, she watched the sonic metal like a cat watching a mouse hole. Minutes passed and nothing happened, the metal just sat there doing nothing. She was about to go over her notes when the metal began to quiver, turning into something like slime and began oozing the different pieces into one messy pile.

“It works,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

February 23^rd, 2016
Vail, Arizona
Evening

Entering her music studio, Natalie bit her lip in nervousness. It was a habit she'd picked up since she couldn't pretend to play a piano with her fingers. The stereo was still playing, it had been working constantly for over twenty-four hours, and it should finally be done.

On the table sat an arm. It wasn't fancy or even a proper size, she'd only had a small amount of the sonic metal, so she'd made it extra thin with five proper fingers on a spindly hand. The socket for her stump was a cup shape with three wide bands that should work and transmit her muscle movements to the arm. It wasn't what she'd imagined in her mind, but it would probably work.

Taking off her shirt, Natalie placed the socket on her arm and whistled, the bands tightened a little too much, making her wince. She wasn't sure how to adjust the size, so she could just deal with the pain and fix it later.

Unlike the other prosthetics she had tried, this one seemed right. It was light, and everything felt natural as she moved her stump and the arm stayed rigid. Whistling, the lines that looped and arced along the limb began to glow a dull yellow. Tensing her stump the hand made a fist, loosening the muscle and the hand opened up. Flexing another way and she bent the elbow.

Laughing, she moved the hand and fingers, instinctively knowing just what to do. Scratching her nose, she shrieked with joy, her excitement hidden from everyone by the soundproof walls.

She wanted to jump and dance with joy, but that would have to wait until she made herself some legs.

Moving her chair to her keyboard, Natalie turned it on, running her flesh and blood hand over the familiar plastic. The feedback from her right hand wasn't good enough to really let her feel things yet, she could work on that later. There was enough she could play some music. Maybe nothing complicated, but even a simple song would be enough.

Getting herself as comfortable as possible, she flexed her fingers and began practicing the scales in C major, the easiest one to do since it only used the white keys.

She immediately ran into problems, her right hand couldn't keep up with her left.

“OK, I just need practice,” she said.

Trying again, going slower this time, she did a little better, but her right fingers got tangled up halfway through. “Practice. If I practice I'll get better.

Closing her eyes, Natalie pictured her fingers and the keys, and tried again, and again, and again, and again.

Her stump was aching from being pinched so hard by the bands when her mother texted her, letting her know it was time to get ready for bed.

Staring at her metal right hand, Natalie couldn't stop the tears from falling. “I'm not good enough,” she said. "I need to be better.”

Whistling to loosen the arm, ignoring the bruises that covered her stump, Natalie put the prosthetic out of the way. She needed it to be perfect before she could reveal it.

She had to be perfect, to prove she wasn't a useless, limbless freak.

March 12^th, 2016
Vail, Arizona

“STAY OUT OF MY STUDIO!” Natalie screamed when she heard a beep in her ear bud. Whoever had been about to knock, ran away.

She'd used a tiny bit of her sonic metal to make an alarm for her music studio, so she'd never be caught by surprise. She had the door locked, but her parents had several keys for it. She didn't want anyone seeing all the chemicals and tools she was using, much less her inventions. They weren't good enough yet. Until she could play her music again, anything she did would just be shit and not worth showing.

Putting her laptop off to the side, she covered up everything under the dust clothes that protected her instruments, before rolling her wheelchair out of the music studio. The cement pathway her parents had made for her, let her roll smoothly back inside the house where her mother was hugging Micheal.

“Micheal, go do something fun, I'm going to have a talk with Natalie,” her mom said.

Wiping his eyes, her little brother nodded and left the sun room without looking at her.

“I told everyone to stay out of my studio!” Natalie snapped.

“Listen here young lady,” her mom said, “you have no reason to take that tone with anyone in this house, especially Micheal.”

“I had one request! Just one. Leave me alone in my studio. Is that too much to ask?!”

“With that attitude, yes! Micheal has done his best to help you. All he wanted to do was to ask if you wanted an ice cream from the store. He misses you, and all you do is ignore him or yell at him.”

The words went in one ear and out the other. She was too angry to care, nothing was working right, and she didn't know how to fix it. “Well I'm sorry! I've had my own problems to worry about!”

“You think we don't know that? We have been by your side doing everything we can to help you, and except for a few weeks after coming back from the hospital, you have treated all of us like crap. We want to help you. We love you. And if I could do anything to take away what happened to you, I would do it in an instant,” her mother said. The anger that had filled her voice was going away, replaced by tears. “We're exhausted, Natalie. I can only imagine how terrible you feel, but remember we have been walking beside you every step of the way trying to help.”

Natalie stared up at her crying mother. For the first time in months she really looked at her, seeing the bloodshot tired eyes, the sagging skin from losing weight too quickly, the new lines and wrinkles, the aura of despair that clung to her mom. She felt the anger drain away, leaving only shame that was turned inward against herself.

She was a terrible daughter and sister. She was just useless, hurting her loved ones, and a waste of everything. She should have just died. Looking away, she spun her wheelchair around and headed back outside. “Just stay out of my studio, please,” she whispered.

Closing the new sliding door of the sun room, she shut out the feelings and her mother. Once she had her music back, everything would get better.

April 19^th, 2016
Vail, Arizona

The guitar twanged painfully, ruining the song.

Natalie slumped in her chair. She'd been practicing for over a month with her prosthetics. The one she was using now was an improvement, looking like a proper arm, with a comfortable socket for her stump, and greater feedback, and it still wasn't good enough.

Running a hand over the silver metal with the beautiful golden lines, it should have worked this time. But she couldn't get it right. She wasn't good enough.

Looking at the dusty instruments that lined the wall, Natalie saw her future, her hopes, her dreams die. She was supposed to be someone great. She knew she probably wouldn't be a superstar, but she was going to be someone famous, making songs, performing on stage for thousands, having fans. She wouldn't be just a flash in the pan pop star. She could play so many things, she'd perform in concert halls around the world.

She'd had a chance to go to practically any college she wanted. She even had a shot at Julliard, the best music school in the world. There had been talk of going to Europe to study music. She had dreamed of studying at the Royal College of Music in London, the Paris Conservatory, if she couldn't get into Julliard.

And now...

She could make music for others to play.

The one part of music she found the least interesting was all she was capable of now. Sure she wanted to make her own songs and had written a few. But those had been made by playing the instruments, not just writing them down on paper.

Now she was going to be known as the failure. The girl who had a chance and had it stolen from her. And the last thing she'd done with her gift had been to humiliate Sarah at her very own birthday party.

What was the point now?

Screaming, she brought her guitar up and slammed it against the floor. She did it again, and again, and again, and again. The instrument cracked and splintered, breaking just like her.

Dropping the ruins of her dreams, Natalie took off her useless arm, tossing it aside and rolled out of her studio, closing and locking the door behind her.

April 30^th, 2016
Vail, Arizona

Sitting on the couch, mostly hidden by a blanket, Natalie flipped through the channels not sure what she wanted to watch. Not that it mattered.

She wasn't angry anymore. She hadn't yelled at anyone in over a week. She had done everything anyone asked her to do. It was just easier that way. Life was pointless so why fight? Why make her family upset?

Alone in the house, with her parents at work, and Micheal at school, she existed, nothing more.

Something caught her eye, and she stopped to watch a news report. On screen a man in blood red armour was fighting a spandex clad strongman. It was pretty easy to guess who was the hero and who the villain was.

Seeing the armoured villain fire some kind of energy beam, the music began playing once more in her mind. It was different than before, a simple tune with a fast beat. She translated it into something she could understand and realized it could be for a sonic cannon.

The hero leaped forward, his fist coming down on some kind of energy field that glowed for several seconds from the impact. The music changed once more, becoming almost as difficult to follow as the first time she'd heard it. She had an idea it was telling her how to make a forcefield out of sound.

The villain fought back, his armour screeching from the strain of the fight. Once more the tune in her mind changed, sounding a lot like the music that had helped her create her failed prosthetic arm. With her experience from that she could picture a seamless silver armour covered in golden threads wrapped around her, making her stronger, protecting her weak body, giving her legs and arm.

Forgetting about the fight on screen, Natalie took the different music and started combining them together. A song began to take form, it was choppy, with sour notes, and a wildly shifting tempo that would need to be smoothed out, but just like she knew the sonic metal would work, she knew this armour could be made.

Climbing onto her chair, she went back to her music studio. Unlocking the door Natalie ignored the broken guitar, going straight for her forgotten laptop. As it booted up, she grabbed the prosthetic arm she had thrown away the last time she'd been there and put it on.

Driven by the music in her mind, she got to work with a passion she hadn't felt in months.

July 23^rd, 2016
Vail, Arizona

“Just put one foot in front of the other,” Natalie whispered to herself, getting ready to stand up for the first since October.

Looking at the devised legs, she hoped they'd work. It had taken weeks to make enough sonic metal for each of them. At least it had given her plenty of time to figure out how to make them properly. She'd found that after the initial creation of the special metal, making new things was harder with a lot more trial and error. Looking at the stained floor, she'd made plenty of errors.

The weeks of waiting, along with her newfound desire to become stronger, had also given her time to learn more about herself. She was pretty sure she was a devisor now, there was no way her creations were normal, and that meant she was a mutant. That had been unexpected, she'd thought she was a little old to be one, but it might have happened because of her injuries. She knew for a fact she'd never had any desire to make things other than music before all of this.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she double checked the brake on her wheelchair. Satisfied it wouldn't roll back on her, she used her arms, the metal one and her flesh and blood one to get to her feet. She was wobbly, and almost fell over as her stump twitched and made her right foot go onto tiptoes. Moving her hands from the arms of her chair to her work table, she very slowly and carefully walked back and forth, getting a feeling for prosthetics as well as walking again.

It was a lot like practicing her scales, slow, steady, and simple. Walk one way holding the table, then turn and walk the other. Within half an hour she was sweating like a pig, but she was walking back and forth around the studio without having to hold onto anything.

Feeling her legs move, not having to sit in a damn chair, and going where she wanted to go was amazing. Laughing she tried to skip, and her foot bent too far, catching her 'toes' on the floor and sending her to the ground.

Rolling onto her back, holding her bruised flesh and blood elbow, Natalie kept laughing. She was walking, and with practice she'd be able to run, jump and climb, faster than any baseline.

Laying there, she thought about some of her other devises, one of them had made her vomit and almost crap her pants. Another one was loud enough that it had nearly deafened her even with her ear protection, and she'd made one that had put her sleep for three hours. There were a lot more she had thought of, but making them was a challenge since she didn't have enough supplies.

Sitting up, she hugged her new legs, loving the sensation of being able to place her chin on her knees. “So what do I do now?”

Inspiration had come from watching the supervillain and hero fight, all of her new ideas seemed to revolve around that type of thing. If she was a gadgeteer, she might have been able to get a well paying job making inventions and patenting them. But a devisor couldn't do that, unless everything she'd read had been a lie.

So it looked like she'd be using her own devises mostly for herself.

A year ago she'd have laughed at having to choose between being a superhero or a supervillain. But she would have gone with the side of justice.

Now, she wasn't so sure.

Looking up the laws, sonic weapons were very illegal and even sonic tools that did more than clean teeth were heavily regulated. Devises were even harder to use legally. Getting permission to use most of her inventions would be really difficult. She could focus on the power armour, being a shield for others and fighting hand to hand, but she didn't really see herself as being that type of fighter. She'd never even punched anyone before.

If she was being honest with herself, being a hero didn't really appeal to her. She wanted fame and fortune. Not a lot of heroes were rich, and to be famous they usually had to fight really dangerous people.

A supervillain on the other hand... that had possibilities.

She could commit a few crimes, make off with the money, and once she had a few million she could retire to Karadonia, having made a name for herself. She might even be able to sell some of her devises to criminals. A few of her ideas didn't seem to break reality too much, and criminals wouldn't care if they were legal to use or not. Sell some devises on the side, commit some crimes, and retire in a few years.

That sounded a lot better.

And getting some of her own back at the world that had ended her music career would be cathartic.

Standing up, she hopped a few times, getting used to her new legs. “A supervillain,” she said out loud. “I kind of like that. Watch out world, Nata- no that would suck,” she said.

Biting her lip in thought, she realized she had a great name. “Forte, loud and strong. That's perfect.” Grinning, she said, “Watch out world, Forte is coming for you.”

Now all she had to do was keep everything hidden from her family until she had enough sonic metal to make her armour. If they found out what she was going to do they'd try to stop her.

Sighing, she looked at her metal hand that seemed so perfect, but was still not good enough for her original dream. “I lost my music. No one is going to stop me from taking back what I'm owed.”

September 19^th, 2016
Vail, Arizona
Midnight

Natalie swung herself out of bed with just her left arm and as quietly as possible grabbed her arms and legs that she'd stashed under it earlier that day while home alone. It was practically second nature putting on her prosthetics at this point, and wearing them felt completely natural. Putting her pillows under the blanket to make it look like she was still in bed, she climbed out the window far more easily than she could have when she was completely flesh and blood.

Sneaking through the backyard to her music studio, she let herself in breathing a sigh of relief that she wasn't caught. In the back of studio her sonic armour sat in a backpack ready to be used. She'd finished it that afternoon before Micheal came home from school, but there hadn't been time or space to do anything more than try it on and walk around the room. It was now time for a proper test run.

Putting on the backpack, she whistled to activate it. The armour moved like water over her, connecting to her cybernetic limbs. It didn't have anything fancy, it just protected her body and would help her use her prosthetics with greater strength.

Slipping out of the her studio, the golden lines glowing lightly in the darkness, Forte began to run, hopping over the fence in one easy bound. As soon as she was far enough away from her house, she began laughing at the freedom to move, run and jump without any worries. She was never going to go back to being a helpless freak.

October 10^th, 2016
Vail, Arizona

“Thanks mom,” Natalie said, as her breakfast was put down in front of her.

“You're cheerful today,” her mom said, looking confused.

“I just thought I should say thanks. You've done a lot for me, and I haven't said it enough.”

Natalie tried not to squirm under her mom's questioning gaze. She knew why her mother was so curious, she'd spent enough time with therapists and eavesdropping on them to understand how she must seem. “Mom, I promise you, I'm not suicidal anymore. I know I'm happier than I have been in a while, but I'm not about to try to check out again. You've seen me being a bit more energetic and less of a... bitch for the last few weeks, I'm just trying to get started again. I'm even going to get to work on those home schooling programs you got me.”

Her mother seemed to teleport from her chair to Natalie's sidey, and she found herself being hugged, kissed and cried on at the same time. Twisting in her wheelchair, Natalie hugged her back as best she could.

She wasn't going to be home for much longer, she already had a bus ticket for Phoenix, and she knew it would hurt her family. The least she could do was try to make the last few days happy for them. And when she was rich and retired in Karadonia, she could invite them for a visit.

It would be the best for everyone that way, especially her.

October 13^th, 2016
Morning

The moment Natalie heard her mom drive off to work, Natalie went to her studio and got ready. She had to catch a bus soon and there wasn't any time to waste. Putting on her arm and legs, she got dressed in some old clothes from before her accident. Everything she needed was already packed, and her chemicals, along with five pounds of sonic metal that hadn't had time to finish curing, had been buried the day before.

Going to the mirror, she picked up a pair of scissors and began cutting her shoulder length hair into a messy pixie cut. It wasn't pretty, but sooner than she had expected she had a punk hair style that was very different from what she would normally have. Vacuuming up the hair, she emptied it into a bag to be thrown out on the way to the bus. The less evidence she left behind the better. 

Putting a glove on her right hand and double checking she had her bus ticket and fake ID, she grabbed her big backpack that seemed to weigh a ton, with two sets of armours, her devises and essentials inside. Thankful for her metal legs, she turned to leave her studio and home.

Then she turned around and looked at the wheelchair she'd been trapped in for a year. Grinning, she kicked it as hard as she could, sending it toppling to the ground with a very satisfying crash.

Closing the door, Natalie took off running for the bus station, not worried if anyone saw her go. She was Forte now, not the freak Natalie.

January 6^th, 2017
Phoenix, Arizona
Impromptu Cell
Early Evening

Very slowly, Forte climbed out of her nightmare that was made up solely of her memories. It kept dragging her back under, but something was calling her, giving her a lifeline out the hell that had been her former life. Finally she broke free and found herself staring into eyes that were almost hypnotic.

“You're finally awake,” a boy said, his voice raspy and sounding tired.

She tried to speak but her throat was bone dry, and her tongue was so swollen it filled her mouth. Her head was pounding in time with her heart, threatening to explode if she moved too quickly. It was hard to focus on anything.

“I'll get you some water,” the boy said getting to his feet. She watched him stand up and go to an old desk getting two bottles of water from a box. He was just wearing a pair of tight underwear or a speedo, which struck her as odd.

When he turned around, Forte's eyes went wide. The underwear was a pair of panties, and the boy was clearly a girl, despite having a chest like a ten year old, and sounding like a young teenage male.

The girl took the lid off the bottle and held it out to her. Reaching for it, Forte realized she was missing her right arm. The headache faded into insignificance, and she realized her legs were gone as well, the fact she was completely naked was so minor she barely noticed it.

Trying to scream, Forte looked around, flailing with her left arm trying to find something, anything to hide her missing limbs. The nightmare she'd just relived had left her raw and panicked, and she tried to wake up again.

“Hey, look at me. Calm down,” the girl said.

Forte felt compelled to look at the girl who was smiling like an angel. Her heartbeat slowed down and she had a feeling that everything would be all right as long as she stayed close to her companion.

“Drink this.” The girl held out a bottle of water for her.

Almost like she was lightly drugged, she took the water and drank it all. Finally able to speak she asked, “Where are we, girl?”

The kid frowned. “I'm not a girl.”

“Uh,” Her eyes unwillingly went down to the kid's panties.

Blushing, the kid said, “I'm not a girl. I wasn't born one. I'm Austin.”

Still confused, but with the drugged feeling, Forte just shrugged her shoulders, deciding to go with it. “OK, Austin. Where are we?”

“I don't know, some old office building in Phoenix. A wizard, I've heard him called Jared, is selling us,” Austin said. The waves of calmness coming off of him ended, making him look like a scared, young Asian teen.

The fear and panic that had been overwhelming faded away from Forte, replaced by disgust. Behind the disgust, outrage was quickly roaring to life. They'd forced her to relive losing her limbs and the months of agony afterwards, and now they were going to sell her as if she was a helpless freak.

“I'M GOING TO KILL THEM!” she shouted.

It took her several long moments to realize Austin had scurried to the other side of the room. He was watching her with with large scared eyes. Breathing deeply, Forte got her anger to a more manageable level.

“Austin, what exactly are your powers?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.

The odd boy came back to her side. “I can make people feel things when they look at me. It's how I woke you up.”

“So you can't teleport us out of here, or blast the door open?” she asked rhetorically.

He looked away from her, whispering, “No. Nothing useful.”

She wanted to pat his arm or give him a hug, but she was using her arm to hold herself up, still whoozy from the nightmares. “It's OK. You have two hands and legs, you're going to help me build something that will make this Jared asshole and whoever else is keeping us here regret it.”

“How will we do that?”

“I'm a devisor and a supervillain. Physics are my toy, and I'm not afraid to be the biggest, baddest bitch around. Now, I need you to get me any tools, wires, appliances, or electronics in here. It doesn't matter if they work or not.”

“What are you going to make?” Austin asked.

“Something that will shatter every bone in Jared's body,” she said. The music started playing in her head as she thought of killing anyone who thought she was weak and helpless.

Book's Home
Early evening

Book sat back on her new sofa and smiled. She'd finally managed to go shopping properly, and had spent the day splurging with her money from the Christmas heist. No more sleeping bag and yoga mats for her, now she had a real mattress and some comfy furniture, even a fridge. Too bad a TV wasn't in the cards, she'd lowered the 'forget me' spell on the apartment she had claimed rent free, long enough to get the furniture inside, but hooking up cable was probably a bridge too far. Still, she now had a good phone, which was almost as good for watching movies and videos, even if it wasn't as big as she'd like.

Running her hands over her skinny black jeans, her smile turned into a grin at not having to look like a runaway anymore. She'd mostly stuck to dark clothes, with her parchment brown skin colour, not to mention the black ink that moved across her skin like weird living tattoos, she'd figured going gothic punk was the best look for her, cute and cuddly, she was not. It also fit her image as a supervillain, even if she'd only robbed one place. The bags of clothes were still stacked against the wall, ready to be washed and put away. That could wait for tomorrow, she was wiped, physically and magically.

Yesterday she'd finally mastered an illusion spell that let her look like an ordinary girl. A bit of tweaking had even let her 'age up' into an adult, so no one questioned her buying furniture. She'd been just another young woman setting up things for her first apartment.

While it had made shopping easier and even let her talk to people about the best fashion for a dusky skinned teen wanting to change her entire style, it had cost her a lot of essence. She'd been learning that magic didn't always come easy. And since all of her spells needed blood, it was a good thing she healed quickly, otherwise the cuts and scars would make her look like an out-of-control cutter.

Curling up on her couch with a romance novel picked at random from the three dozen she'd bought earlier, Book let herself really relax for the first time since waking up in the desert as a baby demon thing.

So of course her phone rang at that exact moment.

With a tired sigh, she picked it up. “Hello?” she asked, wondering who it could be.

“Book, it's Big Guy,” her former, short-term partner in crime said, his voice tight, it sounded like he was very angry and in pain. “Shits hit the fan and I need a favour. I'm at the spot I dropped you off last time.”

It was a shock to hear Big Guy sounding anything but calm. Even after getting hammered with water while escaping a superhero at Christmas, he'd kept things under control. “Drive north for a block, I'll be waiting for you. We can talk in my place.”

“Will do,” he replied, hanging up.

With a groan Book got to her feet, put on a black hoodie with a shiny crescent moon on the front, followed by her shoes. Rushing downstairs, she saw Big Guy driving towards the building and waved at him. He parked and groaned as he got out, dragging a large duffle bag from the passenger seat. She gasped when he walked over to her. The left side of his face was horribly bruised and swollen. His eye was a tiny slit peering out through puffy lids, his coat and pants were bloody and shredded, and his visible skin was covered in bandages.

“Jesus Christ! What happened?” she demanded, running over to him.

“Inside first,” he said, limping for the door.

Nodding she led him inside up to her apartment. For a moment her spell made him look around in confusion as she opened the door, but seeing her do it was enough to make the magic fade for a moment, and he was inside a few seconds later.

“Sit down, let me heal you,” Book said, getting her pocket knife from the coffee table.

Waving her off, Big Guy put the bag down and unzipped it. For the second time in as many minutes, Book gasped, instantly recognizing what was in the bag. The silvery metal hand with the flowing golden lines was unique to Forte.

“Where's Forte?!” she demanded.

Big Guy collapsed onto her new chair. “We were ambushed doing a job. I need your help finding out where they took her.”

“OK, I think I can do that. But first you need healing.” Taking the knife she sliced her arm. “I know you don't like this spell, but it's the best I have. And if you want to rescue her, you need to be healthy. You can tell me everything as I heal you.”

Grimacing in disgust, Big Guy leaned back in the chair and let her place the bleeding cut against his mouth, as she murmured the spell.

Earlier That Afternoon
Peoria, Greater Phoenix Area
Peoria Community College

“So the plan is we walk in on this guy and give him a scare?” Big Guy asked, looking across the road at a community college that seemed to be deserted for the Christmas holiday. He'd been enjoying the little vacation he always took after a successful heist, when Forte had called him up with what was supposed to be an easy job the day before. With nothing better to do, he'd agreed.

“Yep. This Newton guy didn't pay Doc Morris last month. It's his third time missing a payment, and since he's not answering his phone, it's my job to scare him into coughing it up.”

“And you need me why? I've heard of Newton, he's not even a supervillain, just some guy you call in to help with a plan or doing math.”

“We're meeting him in his civilian persona and at his job, since it's the only way I can figure out to meet him, unless we drop by his house. I'd like to keep things peaceful, not blowing his secret identity all to hell. And I'm not exactly the most intimidating person out of my armour,” she admitted. So I talk, you look big and mean behind me. If there's no fighting, you get a hundred dollars for it. We have a real fight, you get five-thousand.”

“OK, I've never said no to easy money,” he replied, already thinking about what he'd get for supper. He'd be eating really good with an extra hundred.

Walking beside Forte, he did his best to look casual, like they weren't planning anything illegal, just spending time with his girl as she did her business on campus. It was an easy look for Big Guy, he'd become a master of looking big and stupid, or big and bored by the time he was ten. He did look around a little, being interested in the campus. He'd never been to a college, not a lot of crime that required his talents happened there. In fact the last time he'd been to a school had been a little over six years ago, when he'd been fourteen.

Stepping inside the building where Newton presumably worked, he had to admit Forte knew how to fit in. Holding her backpack in front of her, she had the look of a nervous kid that was dreading having to ask a professor for a big favour. If anyone had been wandering the hall, it would be pretty obvious why they were there.

They reached an office for some B. Black, physics teacher, where Forte put on her backpack which held her armour, and, timidly knocked on the door. An angry voice told them to come in.

He followed Forte into the office, and took a quick look around. The office was pretty bare, a few diplomas hung on the wall alongside a big family portrait of a middle aged balding man who was sucking in his gut to look slimmer, his plain looking wife, a pretty enough young lady in a wheel chair, and a toddler, all smiling happily. A bookshelf had a bunch of books with big names, and not much else. Finally behind a tidy desk was the balding guy from the picture, he was scowling at them, and Big Guy instantly recognized the angry look so common among criminal masterminds who thought they were smarter than everyone else.

“Who are you? You're not one of my students,” B. Black said.

“You're right I'm not, I'm just a messenger girl from our mutual friend Doc Morris,” Forte said very pleasantly, taking a seat in front of the supervillain.

The scowl grew darker. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Removing her gloves, Forte flexed her cybernetic hand, making Newton pale. Her smile became nasty, and Big Guy stretched a little, making his sweater strain against his muscles. He knew how to play his part.

“You missed a December payment for the good doctor. That's the third time you've missed one in the last year, and you really screwed up by not talking to him.” Forte leaned in closer, her silvery hand placed on the desk in plain view. “So Newton, what am I going to tell the Doc when I leave here?”

“Things have been tight. Most people in our profession don't work around Christmas,” Newton grumbled.

“That's your problem, Doc Morris just wants his money.”

Newton's eyes should have been on fire, that was how angry he was. Watching the angry little man, Big Guy was glad the man didn't have any powers, mutant or otherwise. He was all ego, ready to explode if he ever got the chance or pushed hard enough. He'd worked with a few supervillains like that early on. They usually threw away the plan as soon as something went wrong, turning to violence with a frightening glee.

“Well he's going to have to wait,” Newton said, sounding like he was going to spit.

“Doc wants his money in one week. That or you go to his office no later than tomorrow, setting up a new payment plan that won't be nearly as nice as the current one,” Forte said. Her voice lightened a little. “Whichever you choose is fine by me, I don't want any hard feelings between us, but you will choose one of them. I'm up to my neck in debt with Doc Morris too, so I know how tough it is. Right now, I'm trying to be friendly, no threats, no violence, just laying out the options. Now when I leave here and call the Doc, what am I going to tell him?”

“I can't get the money, and I can't afford to pay him ten thousand anytime soon,” the supervillain replied, trying to sound tough but coming off as whiny.

“OK,” she replied, “I'll tell Doc to expect you tomorrow to work something out.”

Standing up suddenly, Newton shouted, “Don't you understand! I don't have the money! Even if I go tomorrow I won't be able to set anything up!”

Big Guy stepped forward, his large hands already balled into fists. At the same moment Forte whistled, and her cybernetic hand grew claws, making Newton step back in surprise and fear.

“You have a lovely family, Mr. Black,” Forte said, looking at the family picture, her claws tapping the desk, leaving small slices in the hard wood. “Tell me, was your daughter always in a wheelchair, or did it happen later in life?”

“She was born like that,” Newton whispered.

“That couldn't have been easy for you. I personally know how hard it is to have to make a home wheelchair accessible.”

Newton roared, forgetting his position for a moment. “You leave my family out of this!”

“I wouldn't dream of hurting your family. But, how would they react hearing that their husband and father is a supervillain?” Forte asked her voice innocent even as she threatened him. “I know my own family was devastated to learn their darling daughter had taken up a life of crime. Reporters hounded them for weeks. My little brother's classmates are placing bets on when he'll become a supervillain. Your daughter looks to be about eighteen, how will it look when she's trying to enter college and they see that her father is a wanted criminal? And it would be tragic having a son who can only see his daddy in prison. What about your wife. I have your home address, it's not in a great part of town. Will she be able to keep paying your rent or mortgage on her salary alone, or will she and your kids have to go to an even worse neighbourhood?”

As Forte talked, Newton seemed to shrink. The anger and pride was gone, he was just a tiny, little man once more. “I-I'll have the money in a week. Just leave my family out of this.”

Another whistle and Forte once again had a normal hand. “I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Black. As long as you do that, I won't breathe a word of what I know.” Putting on her gloves, she stood up smiling once more. “Feel free to hate me if you want, but this was purely business. I won't use anything I was told against you, as far as I'm concerned this was a dispute between you and Doc Morris, with me as the messenger.”

“Just get out of here,” Newton said, slumping down in his seat.

Opening the door, Big Guy waited for Forte to leave first, keeping his eye on Newton until the door was closed. When they were well down the hall he said, “That might not have been a smart move,” he said.

“Yeah I know,” she agreed. “I didn't want to bring his family into it, but do you honestly think he was going to agree to anything if I had just threatened him personally?”

“Probably not. Hitting him would just make him angrier and stupider. Still you made it personal.”

“And what's he going to do about it? You said it yourself he works behind the scenes, helping mad scientists get their numbers straight and working with criminals to come up with workable plans. He could come after me, but he doesn't even have enough money to pay a few thousand dollars a months to Doc Morris. It's not like he can afford to get someone competent to come after me.”

“He doesn't have the money now. Things change,” he reminded her.

Stepping outside Forte started to reply when she suddenly hit the ground shrieking, curling up into the fetal position. Well-honed instincts kicked in and Big Guy started to grow in size, looking around for the attacker rather than wasting time on Forte, he could help her after.

It was at that moment he felt himself getting punched in the face. The fist was almost as big as his head and there was superstrength behind it. At his regular size, Big Guy was a very tough baseline, he only became superhuman when he grew in size, and even at his biggest that punch would have broken his jaw. It was only by luck that he was punched as he was growing, the shifting in size made him 'squishy', not quite there and a little jumbled, softening the blow. He was still sent flying twenty feet onto the grass, stunned and barely able to move.

From his position, he saw a trio of supervillains who were fairly well known in Arizona and the surrounding states, Soldado, a devisor or gadgeteer, Insanity, a psychic villainess who made people relive the worst moments of their lives, and the brick who sucker punched him, Gigante. He couldn't make out what was being said or done, but a minute after being jumped, he saw Forte's clothes and limbs tossed aside.

Gutting the pain he forced himself to his feet and staggered as quietly as possible towards them. He had no plan, all he could think about was he'd been paid to help Forte as muscle, and he kept his word. Seeing them shoving Forte's small body into a large bag, he felt a moment of relief that she was still alive. Then Gigante turned and saw him.

Common sense took over, he had no way of beating all three of them even if he was healthy. Escape was the only option, he could find her later. Growing in size he scooped up the pile of Forte's limbs and bag, then he jumped up towards the 2^nd floor window as Gigante tried to grab him.

Big Guy felt the brick's hand wrap around his ankle, and that's when he used a trick he only used when he had to run like hell, he got smaller.

His ten foot tall body shrank to a foot tall in less than a second, leaving Gigante clutching air. A moment later and he was crashing through the window leaving a small hole. Hitting the ground, he screamed in agony from the cuts and gashes as well as the landing. His bones threatened to shatter, and he could feel different parts of his body trying to expand to their normal size. Giving in, he let his power do it's thing and his bones and muscles grew faster than his skin, tearing it in places, making him bite through his lip in pain.

As soon as he was his normal size, Big Guy ran down the hall, getting to the stairs as far from the entrance as possible he headed upstairs. The locked door to the roof didn't stop him, he just grew to eight feet tall and barged through. Closing it again, he waited beside it, ready to run and jump over the side of the roof if he absolutely had to.

After five minutes and not hearing anything, Big Guy relaxed a little. Looking over his body, his coat and pants were ruined from jumping through a window and his power. Turning small was never gentle, and if he stayed small for more than a few minutes, he would shred his muscles when he turned back. He'd done that once and hadn't been able to walk for a month as he recovered. But for a quick and very unexpected getaway, it had saved his ass at least a dozen times.

Sitting on the cool roof in pain and exhausted, he unwillingly closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Present Time
Book's Apartment
Late Evening

“Fuck!” Book swore. “Forte told me that those three had tried to shake her down last month.”

“So that's why they wanted her,” Big Guy said, looking a lot better with his face only lightly bruised and swollen, while all the smaller bruises and scratches had largely healed up, the bigger gashes and tears had to hurt, but they'd scabbed over at least. “They're probably going to sell her to someone who needs tech gear, or use her as their pet devisor.”

“We need to find her,” Book said. She already had her demon book open and had been skimming over the spell while Big Guy told her what happened. “It's a good thing you brought her arm and legs, I need something close to her to even have a hope of finding her.” 

“Yeah. I hadn't thought of that, I just figured she'd want to save them. I don't know if she any spares. You find her, I'll go rescue her. I made a deal with her, and I don't take that lightly. Almost getting killed in an ambush really pisses me off too, I want payback.”

“I'm coming with you. She's my friend, I'm not letting any asshole keep her.” Book really didn't know if Forte thought the same about her, but it didn't matter. Even with her damped down emotions, she liked the girl and the thought of something bad happening to Forte made her angry. And that anger was a lot more intense than anything else she'd felt for weeks. “You lie down for now, and I'll work on the spell.”

While Big Guy laid down on her new couch, she turned back to her book, and read over the spell. It wouldn't be easy to do, but it looked like something she could manage. Still something nagged her, it took a bit to realize what the problem would be. “I don't have enough essence,” she said.

Even with the tome's 'help' it had taken her a while to figure out how much essence she had at any given time, and she usually had to concentrate on it to get anything more than a lot, some, and a little. Learning how to save it had taken a month, and it was a work in progress that she was still struggling with it.

“OK, how do I get more essence?” she asked. 

The book flipped several pages and came to a stop on a page titled, 'SACRIFICES'. A quick read of it and she slapped the stupid thing. “I'm not sacrificing people! Especially not babies! Why do you always automatically go to baby sacrifices!”

A word seemed to pulse in time with her heart. Looking it over, Book said, “OK, animals are a possibility. But I don't have time to find an animal right now. Is there anything else?”

Going to the next page, the tome heated up a little. Book knew it was a sign that it thought she was making a mistake, ignoring the warning she started reading. Getting to the end, she had grown pale and felt like throwing up. “So that's the only other option?” she asked.

The book didn't react, sulking at her decision.

“O-OK, I've done worse. Time to get started.” Going back to the location spell, she got to work using her blood to draw symbols on the tiled floor.

Two hours later, she and the tome were satisfied with her work. She'd needed to redraw it three times, which hadn't been easy considering what she had to use to do it, but some pineapple juice helped with the lightheadedness. Forte's legs and arm were laid out in a triangle, each one at the center of an ornate circle that was supposed to focus the spell on their owner.

“Now for the final part,” she murmured. On shaky legs she went to the bathroom to get some dental floss and a towel, followed by the kitchen for a sharp knife and a cutting board. Back in the living room Big Guy was still sleeping on the couch, she was grateful for that, he'd probably try to stop her if he knew what she was planning.

Tying the dental floss around her left, little finger, she placed her hand on the cutting board, fingers curled into a fist except for her pinky.

Taking the blade, she put it in position right at the joint, closing her eyes, she said, “It'll grow back,” and brought it down.

Ten minutes later, after the tears had stopped and the towel was soaked in dry, inky black blood, Book placed her finger in the central symbol. Struggling to keep her voice steady, she repeated the words from her tome, feeling a bit more of her essence disappear into the spell. The majority of the essence came from the finger, which aged and withered before her eyes.

The book had said that she was filled with essence. Most of it was keeping her alive and changing her from a human into a magical entity. Her blood was the easiest way for her to use magic, taking essence straight from her body for the spell. But if she was willing to suffer the pain, larger sacrifices could be made.

The spell ended and all that was left was an ancient looking finger made of mummified skin and bone. Picking it up by the piece of dental floss, the finger spun three times and stopped dead pointing to her left. Moving the finger, it refused to point in any other direction, even spinning it around, it unerringly pointed in the same direction.

“Big Guy! Get up, I have a compass.” 

Waking up quickly, Big Guy rubbed his eyes. “It works?”

“I'm pretty sure. It should lead us right too her. Come on we have to go,” she said.

Getting to his feet, Big Guy saw the bloody symbols, followed by the cutting board, towel, and knife. Then he looked at the finger hanging from her hand. “FUCK! What did you do?”

Trying to hide her left hand which was missing a finger, but had a patch of new skin covering where it had been, Book looked away. “I didn't have enough essence, and... my book said this would work.”

“You seriously need to get that book away from you. It ain't healthy.”

“I don't know how to get rid of it!” she retorted. “Now are we going to go save Forte or not?”

“All right, lets go,” he said, shaking his head and avoiding looking at the grotesque compass. Putting Forte's things back in the bag, they headed for his car.

Back In The Cell

“Dammit!” Forte swore as the copper wire fell from her bloody fingers.

“I could do it for you,” Austin said, holding the length of copper wire that was haphazardly made up of much smaller pieces that had been twisted into one longer bit.

Getting the wire again, she kept twisting it around another copper wire coming off of what had been a calcutor circuit board. “No can do. This is all mad science, if you do more than hold some things for me, it probably won't work.”

“Why not?”

“Because my mutant power is to make things that break reality. Most of my stuff can be used by other people at least a few times before breaking. But those are made using proper tools and equipment, not a bare minimum of junk.”

“Sorry I couldn't find better stuff,” Austin said, looking at the two broken desk lights, an old calculator, a half roll of scotch tape, and a few little things that could be used for cutting and screwing things. All of them were broken open with their guts spread out.

“You found enough,” she told him with a smile. She was still naked as the day she was born, but she barely cared. It helped that Austin wasn't leering at her, and while the kid said he was a boy, the panties and lack of obvious outer genitalia made it less embarrassing. The simmering rage that demanded she get bloody revenge also pushed other concerns aside. She could be embarrassed later, for now she had someone to kill, and the weapon wouldn't make itself.

With a sigh of relief, she finished wrapping the copper wires together. Looking at the devise, she had to admit it was an ungodly slapdash mess. A dimmer switch from a lamp would control the volume, that was attached to the circuit board of the calculator. The circuit board had some copper wires taped to it rather than soldered, that should make it work as she intended, once, if she was lucky. All of that was connected to the power cord from a lamp ready to be plugged in. The cobbled together the circuit board and power setting, was connected to... 'something' that would go against her voice box providing it the necessary oomph to turn her voice into a weapon.

This was going to hurt like hell if it worked.

Taking the tape she attached it to the connecter for her voice box. Putting it against her neck, she held it firmly and said, “Tape it around my neck, several times. Don't touch the devise.”

Austin did as he was told. “Are you going to test it?”

“No. This WILL work,” she stressed the words, forcing the many, many doubts she had out of her mind, silently willing her power to work with this Frankenstein devise. “But it will only work once or twice. I have to make sure it counts.”

Leaning against the wall beside the electrical outlet, she put her fingers in her mouth. They'd had to break the calculator open carefully, and the shattered plastic had torn up her fingertips. The ancient desk lamps had been easier, a blade from a broken pair of scissors and some broken plastic from the calculator had let Austin unscrew them. Using her fingers to wrap the copper wire around everything had cut her even worse. Hopefully the blood would help put a bit more of her mutant powers into the machine. It seemed to work well for Book.

“So Austin, how did you end up here?” she asked, trying to take her mind off of the annoying tape on her neck, and her worries about the devise.

“I got grabbed by some jerks that saw me using my powers to make people think I was really cute and deserved some money. They threw a bag over my head when I was alone so I couldn't stop them,” the kid replied.

She gave a little snort of laughter. “Starting a life of crime early, I see.”

“I was hungry!”

That made her pause. “Runaway?”

He looked away from her, before answering in a voice so quiet she could barely hear him. “Yeah. Something like that.”

She leaned into him for a minute, using her stump to pat his slim shoulder. “I'm a runaway too. Except instead of running to the circus, I decided to become a supervillain.”

“How can you be a supervillain without...” his mouth snapped shut.

Sighing, she said, “The first devise I made was type of metal that can do amazing things with sound. I used it to make myself an arm and legs. The first ones were crap, but I kept getting better at it, now they move almost as good as my real legs and arm used too. And they had weapons built into them. I managed to use them to fight two superheroes at the same time in my first real fight.” She didn't mention how she'd ended up falling a hundred feet and had nearly died getting away from them.

“Why did you become a supervillain?”

“That's,” she paused and got her thoughts in order. “I didn't want to be one at first. I was going to be a musician, a great one. Then an accident happened, and I couldn't be one anymore. When I discovered my powers, I decided to be a supervillain so I could get money and be remembered in another way.”

“I get that,” Austin said. “When my... when I ran away, I was really scared, but I also wanted to hurt people. Make them feel the same things that I did.”

She realized the kid was holding back a lot of very bad memories and feelings. She wasn't sure what he'd gone through, but she felt like he was a bit of a kindred spirit, which left her feeling bad for Austin, and without his help, she'd never have finished her devise. Pushing down her own emotions, she forced herself to smile. “You're a little young to do the whole revenge schtick. And being a supervillain isn't all wine and chocolate. So, it's probably a good thing your power isn't very dangerous. Being able to use it to get ahead in life and making it seem legal is actually a really good thing for your future.”

Once again he looked away. “Yeah, I guess it's good,” he whispered.

“Cheer up, Austin. Once we kill Jared, we can call a friend of mine and he'll come pick us up.” She hoped Big Guy was alive. She had no idea what had happened after stepping out of the college building and waking up here, but he was experienced so he should be OK. “Once we both get some clothes, we'll order pizza and drinks, and then I'll have my buddy drop you off at the police so you can get off the street. And anytime you need to, you can call in one hell of a big favour from me. Foster parents being pricks, I'll set them straight for you. Some fuckwits bugging you at school, I'll give you a little toy that'll make them shit their pants. Need some money for a special someone, I'll go rob a bank.”

For the first time all evening she saw Austin smile. It was just a little one, but it was genuine.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Now I'm guessing you're not from Phoenix, otherwise you'd know all about the amazing supervillain Forte. So where did you come from?”

“California. I hopped onto a train and kept switching to different ones until I found myself here. I thought it was big enough to get lost in. And it's not really cold here, at least during the day.”

“Cool. Much cooler than my own story. I just got a bus ticket and came here.”

Before Austin could reply, they heard someone coming to the door. They both tensed up, knowing that their one and only chance at escaping was about to happen.

“Plug me in, and get out of the way,” she told Austin.

He plugged her in, and scrambled under a desk, curling up as small as he possibly could, while covering his ears just like she'd told him earlier.

The door opened and a man walked inside. She had no idea who he was, but Austin had told her only Jared had ever come inside, so he was clearly the man she had to kill.

With the devise set at maximum, Forte sent a silent prayer that the slapdash mess would work and screamed as loud as she could.

There was instant pain. It felt like she was ripping her throat out as the sound wave erupted from her mouth. The devise on her throat burned and the smell of burning meat filled her nostrils.

But the pain she was feeling was nothing compared to the wizard who had captured her. He slammed into the wall, blood flying from his ears and nose, his arm twisted unnaturally as he fell to the ground.

She kept screaming. She needed to make sure he was dead. Specks of blood flew from her mouth, getting larger with ever passing second. The devise was a glowing coal against her throat, searing her flesh, burning a hole through her skin.

She didn't stop screaming.

And then the cobbled together devise exploded.

The circuit board shattered, peppering her side with shallow, painful cuts. Grabbing the burning piece on her neck, she tried to scream as it tore the skin that had melted onto it. Every breath hurt. The air was a bitterly cold, making the molten lava that seemed to coat her throat crack and tear. Her chest heaved, struggling to fill her lungs.

Austin came running over, babbling a confusing mix of asking if she was OK and telling her to stay still.

She raised her left arm and spoke in a painful, gravelly voice, smoke rising from her mouth as she did, “Is... he... dead?”

With a pain filled look, Austin left her for a moment to look at the twisted, bleeding body, and ran back to her. “I think so, he's not moving even if he survived.”

Despite the pain and having lungs that wouldn't properly fill with air, she gasped out, “Get.. phone.”

Nodding, he ran out the door to find one. There was no point in looking for one on Jared. If the bastard had his on him, it was definitely destroyed.

Slumping to her side, Forte fought to stay conscious despite the pain. She just needed to stay awake a little longer. Once she called Big Guy or Book, everything would be OK. Keeping her eyes on the wizard, gasping for every single breath, she wished that she could have one fight that didn't nearly kill her.

Book pointed at a small office building in a run down section of the city. “She has to be in there.”

It was well after dark, trying to track someone through a city with just a compass had not been quick. And they'd needed to circle the block to make sure they were at the right place. At least she was sure Forte was alive, if she had died the spell would have stopped.

Following Big Guy as he slammed on the brakes and barged towards the door, already ten feet tall with his revolver out and ready to kill, she flinched when he shattered the door. Going inside, she kept her eyes out, watching his back, ready to cast a spell if necessary.

No one rushed out to meet them, but from the stairwell they both heard a very cautious and young sounding, “Hello? I need help, my friend is really hurt.”

“Stay back a bit, if it's an ambush use your tentacle spell to lock everyone down,” Big Guy said once they reached the stairs.

“Will do,” she replied.

Shrinking to a more manageable size, Big Guy moved up the stairs, still ready to shoot. There was a scared yell, and whoever had called them started talking too quickly and softly for her to hear. Since no one was shooting, Book jogged up the stairs.

“Jesus! Book, get in here,” her partner shouted.

Running, Book saw what looked like an exploded door in the hallway. She'd seen a similar scene before, when she'd been kidnapped back in November and had to blast her way out, the memory of it made her shiver. Going into the room, she gasped at the sight of Forte, lying on the ground covered in a blanket with her head propped up on a pillow. Her throat was one massive burn, blood had stained the thin blanket, and more of it covered her chin and cheek.

“I tried to help her,” a half-naked Asian teen said. “I couldn't find a phone that worked. And when I went outside no one was around and everything was closed. I didn't want to leave her alone for too long." 

Kneeling down beside her friend, Book already had her knife out and was slashing her palm. She tried not to look at the place where her pinky should be, it would regrow eventually, but it still turned her stomach. Placing the wound against Forte's badly burned lips, she spoke her healing spell, pushing as much of essence as she dared into it. She ignored Big Guy who was trying to calm the kid down and figure out what the hell had happened.

Finally she had to stop, spots were dancing in her eyes, and she was shaking from exhaustion. Falling onto her butt, she watched as the burns faded. They didn't go away entirely, Forte's lips were still a brilliant red and puffy, but they were on the way to healing. The throat was still bad, looking like well cooked ham right in the middle of a ring of blackened skin. Still it seemed that Forte was breathing easier.

“Is that the best you can do?” Big Guy asked.

“Yeah, I'm all out of juice,” she replied.

“I'll get my first aid kit and her stuff, she'll want to know they're safe.”

She nodded as he rushed out. Turning to the kid, who she realized was likely just two or three years younger than she thought she was, she wondered who they were. “Hey, you were locked in here with Forte?” she asked, feeling a bit of deja vu to her own kidnapping.

“Yeah. I helped her make the devise she used to kill Jared.”

Turning to look at the man, Book realized he was still alive. He was definitely down and out for the count, and maybe on the way to dying, but he wasn't dead yet. A nasty little thought reminded her of how she could get essence by sacrificing a person. Shaking her head, she decided she wasn't at the point of murdering someone just for some power.

“Good for you. I'm Book, a friend of Forte. And you are?”

“Austin,” the kid replied. “Are you a supervillain too?”

Her cheeks would have turned red if they could have. “Uh yeah, I guess you could call me that.”

“Ugh. Fuck that hurts,” Forte said.

Book winced at the sound of her friend's voice. It was raspy, hoarse, and a lot deeper then it had been, it was like listening to an old lady with a two pack a day habit. She still rushed back and hugged her. “I'm so glad you're alive!”

“Did Austin call you?” she croaked.

“No. Big Guy had me cast a spell to find you and we got here just a few minutes ago.”

Big Guy came stomping up the stairs, carrying his well-stocked first aid kit and Forte's limbs. Putting them down, he immediately got to work putting ointment and a bandage on her neck before dealing with the other wounds.

When Forte was tended as much as she could be without a hospital, she turned to her limbs. “Oh thank god, they're safe,” she said pulling them out of duffle bag. She tried to put her arm on and cursed loudly, only to have a coughing fit that actually had her spitting up a bit of blood. “The seals are fucked up! It'll be hours to fix,” she croaked, her voice little better than a whisper.

“Be glad you can fix them,” Big Guy said. “Those fuckers hit us hard and fast, taking you out with one hit and tried to kill me.”

Book watched Forte's eyes go from angry and full of pain, to pure rage. “Who did it?” the devisor demanded, looking and sounding a lot like the supervillain she was. 

“It was the devisor Soldado and his crew. They had to be waiting for us, and had that bastard over there ready to buy you,” he said, pointing his thumb at the badly injured man.

“Is the asshole still alive?”

“He is,” Book replied.

“Big Guy, I'm going to ask you to carry me. Never tell anyone about it, and never remind me about it. Can you do that for me?” Forte asked, even with her horribly mangled whisper of a voice, the humiliation and rage was clear to anyone with ears.

“You're still my boss until I get you home. So my lips are sealed, professional courtesy,” he said. Bending down, he scooped her up in his arms making sure the blanket covered her and was kept between him and her.

“Let me look at him.”

Book followed the pair to the broken man, wondering what her friend would do.

“He's alive?” Forte asked.

Big Guy gave the would be slaver a none too gentle kick in the leg, making the man groan in pain.

“Can you wake him up? I want him to see this.”

“I can try, but I won't use magic, I'm almost out,” Book replied. Getting to one knee, she lightly slapped the man's face. “Hey, wake up. Paramedics are here,” she lied.

The badly swollen eyes slowly opened. She couldn't tell if the man was actually conscious and thinking. There was a large pool of blood around his head and he'd hit the wall hard enough to leave a crater in it.

“I think this is the best we're going to get,” she said.

Forte nodded. “Good enough. Big Guy, give me your gun.”

“You sure about this?” he asked.

“Never been more sure in my life. After I'm done, loot the whole fucking building,” she croaked.

As Big Guy handed over his revolver, Book turned to the teenager who was standing off to the side looking at his feet. “Come on Austin, you shouldn't see this,” she said, taking his hand and leading him from the room.

Out in the hallway they both jumped as a gunshot rang out.

Twenty minutes later they were all in the car with Forte's limbs in the trunk, alongside a grimoire, a laptop, a few notebooks with notes on magic, and a bag with some weird ornaments and a few thousand in cash inside.

“OK, where do I drop Austin off?” Big Guy asked.

“Can I stay with you, Forte?” the kid asked.

There was a long drawn out silence. Finally Forte spoke in a creaky, weak voice. “Are you sure? I'm not really a... safe person to be around. I'm on a couple of shit lists and a wanted criminal.”

“Yeah, I'm sure. I know you'll keep me safe,” Austin said.

“OK, you can stay with me as long as you want.”

From the front seat, Book turned around to look at the pair. “Forte, you shouldn't talk much, your throat is seriously damaged. Just try to rest while we get you to the doctor." 

"NO!" Forte shouted, breaking into a wracking painful sounding coughing fit.

"Even with my healing, you're throat is seriously fucked up. You need medical help." 

"No- doctors. I will not go back there," her friend said, gasping and fighting to say each word.

Looking to Big Guy who looked as worried as she did, Book finally nodded. "All right. Tell us where you're place is and we'll take care of everything.”

Forte gave them her address and then there was silence, broken only by the painful sounding breathing coming from the devisor.

Late That Night

Forte sat in her workshop, listening and watching her limbs being repaired. They'd wanted to put her in bed, but after getting a clean shirt and underwear, she'd insisted, with threats of violence, on being put in her lab. The events of the day, and the memories she'd been forced to relive, made her terrified of going to sleep. Dozing in the car had had her dreaming of being in the hospital again, in pain and being seen as a freak.

As tired as she was, she didn't want to go back there.

So Austin was sleeping on a cot that had come with the secret lair, and Book was sleeping in her bed. Her friend had insisted on it, saying that she had to do some more healing magic the next day when they were both rested.

Sitting in her comfortable work chair, Forte tried to think of new devises, of how she'd kill Soldado and his friends for making her relive hell, of anything that might keep her from falling asleep again. Her eyelids still drooped, and every time her eyes closed she thought she was back in the hospital.

Finally she started singing.

Instead of the pitch perfect voice she was used to that made her a passable singer, she croaked and gasped while her voice cracked, her throat burning in protest.

The last bit of music she could practice had been taken from her.

Lowering her head onto her arm, Natalie cried at the loss of everything that she once been. All that was left was Forte.

The End