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Wave: Re-Endemic (1, Espurr TF)

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Part 1: Sleep Run
Chapter 1: The Ends that Meet


Hello?

World?

Where is the world?

Is there still a world?

Where are you guys?

Can you guys hear me?

I can't see anything...

No, I can see too much. It's blinding me.

Guys? Please say something.

Of course not... Why would they say anything? How long has it been again? It's been years, right? What are years again? Three hundred days? No. Years are longer. Three hundred sixty? Maybe somewhere around there. Three sixty.

I was in the hive.

I saw pulsing visions of symbols, swirling, blue and white, twirling like music of the eye, singing, ringing my bell. I heard colors. I saw sounds. I felt the untouchable. It was neither warm nor cold. It was outside of my body and inside of my mind. So many three sixties went by since I'd felt this way. I didn't remember any of the points after and before this. This was everything to me. This was my life. It was a bath of colors and sounds dancing on the tips of my whiskers. I was aware of my body, but I also knew that I didn't have one anymore. I was fully integrated into the hive, he called it. I was in the center, the core, the embryo, the meteor. I was liquid starlight.

How many more three sixties was he going to go through before the end? I saw no light in him. He was deathless. He was timeless. He was the one to take me apart piece by piece and put me back together again until I looked pretty enough to be called his creation. I wanted to hate him so much. I wanted to shed anger upon him like all of the others. He peeled anger out of my soul. He took it from my bell. I rang only love. I rang forgiveness. I was his song. Every time, I was his melody.

I want to hate you. But I love you.

If only something could let me hate you, I could feel more complete than you ever tried to make me.

I was not alone. I had two others with me. They were distant from my mind, but close to my body and my soul. I wanted to hear their thoughts. I was so lonely. Was it too much for someone like me to ask for a friend again? I wanted a friend again. I wanted to go back. I wanted my friends back. I wanted the world back.

I wanted a second chance... Please...

There were tears in the starlight. No. The starlight was tears. Everything was tears. I had no anger. All I had was sorrow. That was all that he would let me have. It felt so good to curl up and cry into my tail. It was the final thing there was of my life. Tears brought me so much closer to the ones I truly loved... I was starting to feel hot. My body was burning up. I recognized this feeling. Something told me it was called entry. Entry was occurring now. There was a fire somewhere. It was behind me. It was behind all of us. All three... I remembered. The fire made me remember. I remembered everything. For a moment, I saw my lives rewind. I saw the faces of the world that was before me; there was a... human... with blond hair, touching me with a warm hand. He had been touching my body for years. I remembered his name. They called him Edge.

That wasn't his real name, but it wasn't my real name either.

Still... they called him Edge.

He came closer. I came closer. We were three. We remembered ourselves as far back as our worlds astray, but when I came home, I lost it all again. I was nothing.

I...

Forgot...

Everything...

But... you?

Who are you?

Are you La... Cel... a...za.... bi...

N... o...

Do... n... 't... co...me... clos... er....

Ge...t... awa... y... from... m...e!

WHO... ARE... YOU...?

AAAAAAH!



I feel it...

Ha...te...

...

It's been said before, in the distant future, so shall it be said again, in the past.

His image, desecrated by an ungodly force.

His intentions, set awry by a terrible resolve.

His name, no longer his own.

You, veiled in a shell of electric, fuzzy static. You, unidentifiable

The dream froze like glazing frost. Cracks lined the scene, rings of silver-lined lightning.

You're mine.



I yawned wide, nothing short of daily badinage inhaled. Accidentally, may I add. Noisy chums, they were. 'S not to be confused with any hard feelings. I loved 'em all. They were my buds and we were all one big happy, crazy family.

I was sitting on the dirty ground with dirty jeans and my back against a crumbling dirty wall. On the other side of that wall was a locker room for dudes. In front of me was the gymnasium. All around me were folks I knew who happened to go to the same high school as me. What's more, they were all part of my being, my upbringing as a student here at Metedia High, some of 'em going back earlier than that. Sophomores, all of us, tryin' to make it here at a place nice and quiet, full 'o rigor at all the right stops. Classes were bitches, projects were due soon, and all the work just didn't fit into my line of interest. I was busy with other things, y'know? The fun things. The things that made us happy and cozy. All that.

I threw my arms up, giving them a brief stretch, before setting 'em nice and comfy behind my head so that I didn't have to rest my scalp against the flaking wall. My knuckles were better suited for that. The rest of me was sturdy as well, but whatever; I hated bragging. I didn't get that way by sitting on loose gravel my whole life. I was the classic karate kid; a dude who loved martial arts, sport, and hey, even a bit of writing. Sounded crazy, sure, but I was a member of this little team of heroes that called themselves the Circle, and we were all writers in our own way. Wonder how they got that name. Ah yeah. Tophs gave it to us. Little cuzzy here.

I faced the girly boy. He was sitting to the left of me as always, his legs crossed with his lunch bag in his lap, picking from a bag of sugar-coated strawberries and nommin' away. Ya were what'cha ate. Little strawberry boy here was a couple clicks of estrogen short of being a chick. His hair was sunny bright, all fresh and soft, ponytail trickling down his back like liquid. Real cute face: sky eyes and flowery cheeks, make-up makin' him all pretty—guyliner I guess. Loved to wear his bangs over a good portion of his face. Kinda like me, but hey, I was just too lazy to get it cut. Tophs was a bit of a cross-dresser who pulled it off a lot better than anyone. Just sayin'. Today, his choice of girly garbs was a nice pink spaghetti strap top with this cloudy fuzz on the breast-line. Whatever it was called; I wasn't the clothes expert. Cuzzy was all silky arms, bracelets, and manicured hands and nonsense, what with the tight cut-offs and the frilly flip-flops. Tophs was a summer. Still loved the cold, too. And showing off. The guy had thighs like a supermodel.

Then here I was with my abs and my shoulders and my scraggy-ass punk face. Yeah, I didn't really look like Topher. I was a little bigger. Now I wasn't beefcake or anything, and I'd no interest in that whole thing. I wasn't shooting for macho thunder from down under. I just needed a bit of muscle to protect what mattered. Corny bullshit. Plus I was hard on myself; it was the perfect storm for long days of sweat and iron. The folks always teased me; they said that it'd probably be healthy if I left a bit of muscle for my head. Even Al, our local rugby star, had the balls to agree, while the guy was practicing daily, probably droppin' to his knees in wet grass up there at the field. He was standing around with my pal Nick, lookin' all swag in his letterman's jacket, clean brushed blond hair and a golden glint of victory and confidence all up in his eyes—God DAMN the guy was good with the womens. He was big walk and jock here at Metedia. Thankfully, he was here at home with us in the Circle.

Nick over there was a shady, tall fella who dressed pretty well on occasion, and poorly other days—I'd know the guy for ages and I'd still not been able to figure out the pattern behind his mode of dress. Today he was lookin' real snazzy. He had his good 'ol black fedora and a polo shirt gray as the autumn overcast. He had the haze about his face to match it. Them dark hazel eyes all hidin' behind his glasses—Nick was a mystery and a half. I wasn't even sure about his background—was he Asian? Middle East descent? I didn't know. Didn't matter; I liked 'im. Smart guy. Little condescending around the edges, but clever.

We had the girls with us today. Pat and Emi were here chattin' away about stuff on Facebook and outfits that Topher would look cute in, I guess. Yeah only one of 'em was at all super girly and that was our cheerleader Emelina, a recent participant in the Circle's home affairs. I swear, that girl was a spitfire. She had the energy of a freakin' sun. It wasn't that she was like hyperactive, it's just I couldn't picture her sleeping. Excuse me if that seemed perverted, maybe, but Emi was a living, breathing firework. She had the work ethic of a disciple... with a good work ethic. Wit's not my thing. But her? She was sharp as steel scissors, that girl. Dressed real sweet too. Lot like Tophs, 'cept boobs or something.

Then ya had Patty Pat. Light and dark, day and night, up and down—I couldn't think of anymore antonymous analogies, but the point was that these two BFFs, man, they were like polar opposites. Gothic Patricia was only talkative around either the Circle or Emi alone. She loved laughing with us, but holy crap, she was a mouse on her own. You could see it in her face. She was like the shiest living thing, yet she found her way to someone as preppy as Emelina. She was a formal girl. Very polite, covered herself up with a blouse and a sweater, long jeans. Nice accent too. Straight from Australia. Was always nice to hear her speak. We encouraged her to get more out there; she couldn't sit inside and write stories forever. But damn, could she write. Literary prodigy over here.

Last and probably least—nah, I kid—Bryan. Frenchie, we called him. No reason behind it, but he didn't make a lot of sense either way. This was the guy who made the Circle groan daily, all with his crazy-ass jumpy personality and his “tag-you're-it” demeanor. Still, we tolerated him. Naaaaah, in all truth, we wouldn't have been the Circle without Frenchie. He was a nice person at heart: generous, helpful, and pretty good at basketball. That was his realm, and it was there in his scarred knees. Well, he was a skinny sucker. All bones. Wore loose Ts and shorts every day, no matter how cold it was. Actually, Frenchie and I had a lot in common. We both had a thing for comics, which is what he and his buddy Kieran liked to work on in their spare time. Same was true for Tophs and I. All about them comics. I let the cuzzy do most of the creative work.

“Nope. Not started yet,” Topher tweeted, a little puff of rosy, honey-scented perfume rolling into my nose. He was looking right at me, so I figured I was being talked about. “You haven't started yet, have you?”

“Probably not,” I ventured. Sure, I didn't know the topic, but I knew how to answer. I could hear the smile in Topher's voice anyway. “What though? What're we talking about here? I zoned out.”

“The thingy with the English.” he chirped back. Now I was catchin' on. Yep, that. See, we had this project for English, and it was due soon, and I didn't start yet. End of story. How about that? Ah, the academic life.

“Yeah, no, that's nowhere.” I said, shrugging my shoulders. Apathy in its prime.

“That's due like tomorrow.” he whined. Exaggerated, too; tomorrow was Saturday.

“It's okay, you still have a few days,” Emi joined in, likely having started the conversation. She did that. Reminded us of assignments. Yeah. It was really bothersome, but we probably needed it. I knew I did. “At least, I think so? I have a different professor than you guys, so I don't know.”

“The science fiction fantasy story thing?” I asked.

“Uh-huh. I'm doing a story that I read over summer.” she said, looking real proud. Must've been nice to be prepared.

“Sooooo, how 'bout that? I didn't read nothin'.” I huffed.  

“You should do the report on Ashy's story! It's, like, perfect.” she cooed.

“Oh noooo; don't though,” Tophs jumped in, literally speaking, throwing his hands on my leg and leaning himself onto my lap. “Please no?”

“'S not a bad call. That is fantasy, and the comics are pretty good, dude.” I teased; of course I wasn't actually gonna do a full whatever-page report on Topher's cute comic fairytale about saving the universe and all that, even if it was actually well written and drawn.

“Nah-ah, they're sucky and kiddy and pleeeeease no,” he asked—no, begged. Freakin'... his face, I swear. He gave me a nose-to-nose puppy-eyed staredown and it was the worst thing ever. “I'll kiss you if you do it.”

And then it became even worse.

“I'm having to weigh my options, man!” I scrambled back a bit until the back of my head was touching the wall behind me, and, even then, it wasn't enough to escape the explosion of cuteness that my vocabulary tripped over.

“Oh my God, do it.” Emi urged, which sucked because Topher loved it when she fangirled; it was like feedback—just this endless loop. What made matters worse is that Pat joined in.

“I need a picture, please!” Pat exclaimed—didn't hear her exclaim all that much, so that was worth it.

“Okay, wait,” I gulped, looking into the eyes of cute death. “So if—and this is hypothetical—if I end up doing the report on the comic, what exactly is my punishment? If I can call it that.”

“Biiiiig smooch right on the lips. Ten seconds! No exceptions!” Cuzzy giggled, disturbingly comfortable with the whole thing. Dammit, this is the sort of thing that he couldn't get enough of. He loved it when my faced turned red and my eyes got all shifty. This was always his gag, too. It was like the dude was programmed to embarrass me and I couldn't get away from it. So, right, I wasn't gay, and, yeah, I wasn't the first guy to admit that Tophs was a good lookin' human being. But tits-all if I was up for frenchin' him! No thanks; I was stickin' to the ladies for now.

“Alright, Tophs, just—could ya maybe dismount me?”

“Dismount!” he laughed with all the triumph in the world. I didn't get what was so funny; it was probably the word choice that tickled him. Well, it worked in my favor, because he rolled right off of me and oriented himself with his soft little head on my shoulder, giggling away. “There. Happy now?”

“Tch,” someone scoffed. Sounded like our jock. I looked over to Al, and yeah, there he was, lookin' over at us like we were bratty kids. “This guy's a mush.”

“I'ma plush~!” Tophs came back, closing his eyes tightly and grinning.


“He's a plush mush.” Al corrected, arms all crossed like he was better than snuggles.

“Plush mush; say it five times fast. Ready, go!” I prompted quickly, but no one caught on. Actually, Bryan did. He tried to say it quickly, but it sounded like mouth trash after the first attempt. What was mouth trash, you might've asked? Well:

“Plush mush plush mushplshmushsspslbtbsltppltsbtt.” Bryan raspberried, I guess, after attempting again. I saw some spit fly out of his mouth. I wasn't aware of rain. Frenchie rain. I sighed, then chuckled a bit to keep myself from looking like I didn't enjoy that.

Nick frowned, taking Frenchie's shirt between two fingers and wiping off his arm. I wasn't an expert, but I'm pretty sure he got Bryan juice on him. I wasn't sure where that mouth's been, so I would've done the same thing. Probably not onto his shirt though, since I also wasn't too sure where the shirt's been.

I, on the other hand, smiled. Everyone was in a pretty good mood today. No one was upset over how unfair their parents were or how depressed they were or whatever it was. It was a drama-free day in the life of 'ol Crucie. I wasn't the type of person to make it all awkward and say how happy I felt aloud. I kept that inside. For some reason, more than ever, I wanted to let it go. Right now. I wanted to tell 'em I was happy to know them, but I couldn't have imagined how weird that would've made me look. Even Topher may have thought me a bit odd to put that out there, and this was the fellow who wore a skirt in public seven times out of ten. Sentimentality was thrown around with actions these days, not words. We were all fine with it. No arguments there.

Man, I tell ya, it was sure tuggin'. There were some strings on my heart and they were being pulled right from my throat. I was becoming too comfortable for comfort. What to do, I wondered? I wrapped an arm around Topher's body, patting his far shoulder. He squeaked and looked at me.

“'Sup. Gonna head over to see Kat.” I told him.

“Kat's here?” he queried. I didn't get the confusion. 'Course she was here; she was a student, too. But maybe the alarm came from my initiative. I didn't voluntarily bring myself over there all that often. Kat was a reclusive girl after all. Well, we still made some room for each other, and, hey, I figured if anyone could knock the sentimentality right out of me, it was her. I gave Tophs another pat before inching my shoulder forward, pushing his head from me—not forcefully, just to give him a quick heads up.

“Yeah. Haven't seen her in a while,” I said, one palm aiding me to my feet. The small gravel rocks buried into it, stinging briefly. I wiped both hands on my hoodie and the pebbles fell. “I'll be back before the bell.”

“Noooo, you can't leave me with them! They'll eat meeee.” Topher complained, holding that last vowel for a good three seconds. He pouted, shoving his lower lip forward and grasping one of my wrist with both hands.

“Can't you talk to Zatch or something? I mean he's right there.” I smirked, pointing over to Zack's crew. Ah, yeah, them. Friendly guys!

“Zatch and I aren't a thing anymore though.” he whined, letting go of my wrist.

“I know. 'S all good. I'll be right back,” I reminded him, patting his head and messing up his hair, causing another four seconds of vowel sounds. It was great. “And let 'em know where I'm at if they start freaking out.” I instructed, before heading on over yonder to our bros. These guys were all real tight. Two Seniors and two Sophomores liked to hang out with us at lunch every now and then. They weren't really a part of the Circle, but we hung out long enough for us to start talking. They liked to call 'emselves the Square as a sorta gag on how there were four of them and how they thought the Circle was silly. I didn't blame 'em; who named their clique of buddies? Topher, that was who.

“Afternoon, gentlemen!” I greeted them, assigning fist bumps wherever appropriate. First was Zatch, since I knew him alright from the little curiosity he and Tophs shared for a few weeks.

“Hey man, how's it going?” Zatch asked, all laid back like usual. That was a big thing with these four. They all sounded like stoners, I guess except Zack, who always had a nice haircut, a leather jacket, and the cleanest face ever. Handsome Zack, I called 'im.

“I'm all good. Whassup with you fellas?” I asked no one in particular, even though I was still lookin' at Zatch. He was a pretty nice person all around. He didn't look a whole lot like his brother. Younger face. Still round, whereas his bro's was all squared off and mature. They didn't dress the same either. Zatch looked a little like Bryan, wearing old T's and cargo shorts.

“Just chillin'. Hey, you got any idea for that project?” Another of them replied. That was Vince. Vince was in that English class with the lot of us, and I'd known him before Metedia. I couldn't remember what his deal was—I think he was a farmer kid or something. I saw him running around the woodland at times. He was a cross-country runner all the same, so it made sense. I don't know. How did cross-country work here?

“Uh, well maybe. I just got an idea for it, but eh. You have somethin'?”

“Ah, for real. Dude, I haven't started on it! I don't have time to,” he started. “Yeah like, every time I sit down to think about what I want to do, I get called to help Drew with the farm work.”

“What project is this?” Zack asked.

“It's the science fiction fantasy one for English where you gotta read a book and do a report on how it fits literature or something.” Vince answered.

“Oh. Y'know, you don't have to actually read a book, right?” he began. I tuned in. He'd done the thing before, so I'd have gathered he was a source of wisdom. “Yeah, ask your teacher. You can just pick a science fiction-related thing or fantasy-related theme and explain how it could be considered literature.”

“That's how I passed it.” the other Senior finally spoke up. I barely ever heard the guy talk, so it was weird hearing his voice. It was like Pat on a bad day, except it was every day with him. He was Danithan, the guy who was allergic to the sky. He wore shades twenty-four seven for all I knew.

“Yeah, he got like a B and he didn't read anything. He just watched a documentary on something.” Zack explained.

“How fitting? Danny B?” Zatch poked, elbowing the quiet Senior in the arm. Danny B—they called 'im that—shrugged.

“Oh shit, I didn't know that.” Vince muttered, breaking into a bewildered laugh. He beat me to it, really. We were probably sharing the same breath of relief. I forced myself to break away from the conversation before I got stuck-in. Truth be told, I'd have liked to see Miss Valentine today. I saw them off with a 'good day' as quickly as I'd barged into their lunch. It was too bad. Vince was someone I'd have enjoyed discussing ideas about the project with. Poor guy was up to his neck in work and sport that he didn't get the chance to get everything together.

I carried myself through the outdoor hallways of Metedia, trying not to bump into a slow walker in front of me or a group of students walking in a row of like six. It's not that the school was flooded with people; Metedia was actually kind of small. It's just that everyone knew each other, so there was rarely a rush to get anywhere to see someone. So, my current scenario didn't really agree with the meta of Metedia, so to speak. Hey, the weather was all right and everyone seemed to be at their life high today, so as long as that remained true, I had nothing to complain about. I passed one building, then another, and at last came to a stop at the corner of one of the math buildings. I put a hand over the corner of the building, peek around to see if anyone in particular was sitting by her lonesome on the sidewalk near that tiny grassy knoll that no one wanted to build classrooms on because it was pretty or whatever. Yeah, there she was, sittin' down with her legs stretched out before her, eating her fill.

I smirked all mischievous-like, planting myself right against the wall and shuffling over slowly, probably grabbing a few looks from the folks around, despite Katalyn having like a repulsive bubble. Eventually, I'd shuffled my way to her, standing about a foot from her. I was in the danger zone now.

“What do you want?” Kat hissed, not bothering to show me her vicious, pretty face.

“Easy tiger; it's just Cruce.” I assured her, taking a seat next to the Senior.  

“I know,” she answered, deciding it best to bring a curtain down on the cold shoulder. She looked at me and smirked. Kat was a tough cookie, but she had looks. Her hair was short, black, hugging around her neck. Her eyes, hazel, almost feline. Her nose, a bit pointed down. Her lips were hard of smiling, but they still looked good when they weren't hiding behind that crimson wool scarf of hers. Nice accent to her pale skin and all. Always covered herself up in boots, jeans, and sweaters. “What do you want?” she repeated.

“Would you bite my face if I said I just came to see ya, kitten?” I flinched, because there was a hand smacking me in the arm before I could even finish the last word of that sentence. It wasn't geared to hurt me. She was doing it with a wide smile on her face.

“Come here.” she urged, wiping her hands with a napkin, before tossing it onto her wrinkled lunch bag. She urged again with a gesture of her head. I obliged like an idiot! Yeah, she got me with that. She lurched right for my face. I went cross-eyed and saw her nose. I smelled peanut butter, then there was a brief sharp pressure in my nose. The pressure went away, and she leaned back a couple inches so I could actually see her whole face again.

“Ow?” I whispered, a hand over my nose. “You bite.”

“I bite hard,” she chuckled. “But for you, a little softer.” Kat said, leaning in and planting a much softer, much more welcome kiss to my cheek.

“Holy crap,” I murmured, shivering at the warm embrace of her lips. There was a puff of her breath against my skin, then she pulled back. I looked at her and she was still smiling. “Who are you and what've you done with Katalyn?”

“Not convinced?” she asked, before punching me in the shoulder. Her knuckle must've slammed right into a nerve, because it was a full-on deadarm. I ground my teeth together and cursed.

“Aahkay, sure. Shit! Too real, Kat. Too real.” I uttered, rubbing my shoulder.

“Want me to kiss that too?” she offered, and I was stupid enough to feel obligated to let her, given the warm fluttering in my chest from that earlier kiss. Well, I didn't say anything, but I sure didn't decline it. Instead, she leaned in and there was a sharp, wet pain right in the same damn spot.

“KAT, OW.” I laughed, lifting my head. “You were so affectionate and it was amazing! What happened?!”

“What do you mean?” she smiled innocently—hey, there was a word I'd never thought to use around her.

“You're so mean.” I pouted right at her, closing my eyes and sticking out my tongue.

“Careful. I'll bite that.”

“Mm!” I quickly sealed my tongue away behind my lips and blushed. Damn, woman, you were on fire today, weren't you? I wanted to say that to her, but I was afraid she'd freaking rape me. Nah, I kid. Kat and I were cool around each other. She was tomboyish and kickass and awesome and I loved her. We weren't really dating, but we had a close bond since a while back in our karate class. We took that real seriously, paying our due respects to our master and sparring regularly. Our idea of a date was a day of sparring in one of the old sewer outlets lost in the woodland. It was nice and quiet. Perfect place to spend some time with someone who wasn't all that hot with other folks.

“So what; your friends picking on you?” Kat inquired.

“Not for the most part. Uh, real talk, I've just been feeling kinda huggy-touchy as of late? Maybe you can relate?”

“You couldn't tell?”

“I could.” I said, rubbing the spot where she had kissed my cheek. My cheeks were still red.

“Yeah, I'm getting that too. Don't get any ideas.”

“It's not about that,” I shook my head, trying to get this blush off one way or another. “It's like I need to let everyone around me know how much I... bleeeegh care about them.”

“Ugh,” Kat gagged, placing a fist to her mouth as if clearing her throat. “Don't do that; I just ate.”

“You feel the same though?”

“Yes, I do actually. I wouldn't take it as far as making myself look like a fucking daisy in front of people, but it's there inside of me.” she agreed, lifting a knee and leaning back up against the wall. She took a deep breath, but it was quiet. I could only see it in her chest.

“Crazy shit. Make it go away.”

“Hah, it'll be harder for you. You got your bubbly cousin. You guys still virgins?”

“Oh don't.” I groaned, pulling up my hood over my entire face and keeping it that way. No one was going to see my face anymore. That was it. Until my death, I was going to live my life—couldn't breathe. I pulled the hood back down.

“Don't worry about it. You know, Master told me that these feelings don't come out of nowhere. If you and I are both feeling it, then it's probably best to prepare for something pretty bad. Not sayin' it'll happen, but...” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Hm. Hey, don't get me wrong, I think of Master as like a second dad, but he does say some cheesy things. Like, gouda cheesy.”

“You're a dork.”

“Thanks.” I grinned.

“Mhm. Cruce, I'm not going to tell you how to deal with it. You can burst and hug your friends if you want, or you can keep it all to yourself. If it were me, you know what I'd do. I'm not the best with feelings.”

“But--”

“You're different, kitty,” she stopped me, giving me her cold, feral gaze. “You and Topher both. By the way, if you tell anyone that I kissed you, I'll skin you and make a scarf out of your pelt.”

“Make sure to dye it the right color, or else it'll look like hell.”

She laughed. That didn't happen very often, so I just sorta basked in it. She had a nice laugh. It wasn't overly cutesy or loud or annoying. It was genuine and clean, like it begged to escape her and charm others around her. She could be charming if she wanted. She never wanted to though. I was so happy to have her as a friend, 'cause just about everyone else was anything but a friend to her. I didn't want to correct her or tell her that it was wrong to have so few friends, because that would've made me look like a jackass and I'm sure she would've had a few nasty things to say about it. We liked each other because we were comfortable together. I accepted her, respected her, and gave her distance. 'Nough said, really.

Still, I had a clingier personality than Katalyn. Just about anyone did. Mine was developed and nurtured because of my cousin. I regretted not spending more time talking with her about this feeling. It was godawful. She alluded to somethin' our master said a while back. It was about being prepared to deal with the worst of the worst; it was something we could only predict with our spirits and not our minds. I was never to sharp with the mystic proverbs and the chakra-talk, but I still tried my best to take it seriously, and what this meant was to pay my emotional debts pretty damn soon. In the tongue of the common man, like myself, it was just tellin' your peeps you loved 'em, just in case something bad were to happen to you. Nothin' wrong with that; it was the most innocent thing on the planet.

The day went along. After the final bell for the afternoon, we were all free for the weekend. Most of us. I still had a pesky little project to bury myself in. It felt better knowing that Topher and Vince still had a ways to go before they were finished. I didn't wanna pride myself in their pity. For some reason, in this day and age, not writing some words down on paper based on a fantasy idea was pity.

It was somewhere around three thirty. Topher and I dropped by the woodland, backpacks still strapped over our shoulders, weighing us down with what it implied for later tonight. Or tomorrow night. Or Sunday night. Procrastination at its best. Step after step on the dirt road underneath arches of red leaves, Topher enlightened me with his day, every little detail in each of his classes. I was a listener, with the occasional acknowledgment here and there. He told me about his ideas for his comic book and his interactions with peers. It was a nice little melody to make me forget my own dull day. A lot of the time, it left me with the desire to see the world through Topher's eyes. There was a lot more color for him to see, I was sure, to the point of makin' my world look all gray. I couldn't even imagine what the woods around us appeared to him as. For me, our woodland here was a realm of its own locked in twilight. An inferno of leaves clouded the sky above, trees creating a series of autumnal tunnels. A river cut across woodland, meandering from the valley nearby.

The Autumnridge woodland was the heart of the Circle. It was our home. We explored it as children, wrote about it in our comics, and made it our usual spot to hang out. It had a nice surplus of surprises, like Native American monuments and ancient burial sites. That was to say that the woods was a scary place by night. For now, it was an escape. This escape brought us to a fork in the biker trail we had followed all the way here. We heard voices behind the trees. Tophs and I stopped at the fork and noticed that there were tracks in the mud; now, it wasn't a very inviting trail. It looked like the sorta path people weren't supposed to tread, with thickets and shrubbery in the way. But, beyond this crappy little mud trail was our hideout.

“Ladies first?” I instructed, giving a gentle squeeze to the cuzzy's back.

“Thank ya!” he cheered, hopping ahead and then taking the wet mud nice and slow. Tophs didn't even think twice about the comment. Kinda funny. I bent my neck to the side, lowering my head underneath a branch above before stepping forward. The trail curved a full ninety degrees, and then again, before leading us right to one of the most bizarre spots in Autumnridge. It was a small clearing open to the sun and the sky, the trees symmetrical, standing around the area in a large circle like an audience. Within this circle was our own personal Stonehenge. There were twelve slabs of solid obsidian arranged around a much larger, smooth slab of granite. Runic hieroglyphs were etched into the slab long ago, but due to the minimal exposure of wind, they were still as fresh as though drawn yesterday. We never tried to decipher them.

This was the obsidian circle. We didn't know its real name or purpose, but we assumed it to be some former ceremonial area from the Natives that once lived here. There were twelve slabs of obsidian, so it could have been an early clock of sorts. Whatever the case, it served a very important purpose to the Circle.

Tophs and I entered the scene to five sets of eyes. The rest of our gang was here, all sitting on their stones. Al and Nick were right in front, closest to the entrance. Pat and Emi were near one another, and Frenchie was more along on his own, two slabs away from Nick. This was where Tophs and I placed ourselves, letting our scholastic sacks drop into the dirt, crunching leaves beneath. I was sitting beside Frenchie. I leaned closer to see what sort of bunk he was up to. He had a notebook out with a mechanical pencil. On the page, he was sketching a symbol that looked familiar. I turned to the granite slab in the center. The symbol from the page mirrored it.

I had a hard time trying to describe it. It was an isosceles triangle with smaller circles at each point. Around the triangle was an ellipse, and another ellipse around that. Outside of the ellipses, there were hundreds and hundreds of lines that looked like Sanskrit. I knew that wasn't really the case, but it was some ancient language that no one seemed to care enough about to translate or identify. Or maybe it was just a bunch of pretty shapes and scratches in a rock. We got into some discussions about the symbol from time to time, namely the triangle in the center. It was too perfect. Three were no errors. The lines were straight and the circles lacking any irregularity. Tophs found a way to incorporate the symbol into his comics, and I'd imagine Bryan did too. Somehow, I pictured myself in the future with that tattooed to my arm. Just a thought.

My gut started to sting, and not because I ate wrong. I was getting that softy feeling again. I wanted to tell everyone here that I appreciated them being around to give me a good time. I wanted to say it, but I couldn't, because it was so stupid, and it was stupid because they already knew that. They did, didn't they? I didn't need to question it? Man, what the hell was wrong with me today? This didn't strike me as a thing that'd be so hard. All I had to do was make it sound nice and succinct. I didn't need to drag it out or make it dramatic. Just a simple thank you for showin' up, or, 'thank you guys for being chill. You mean a lot to me.' 'Cause they really did.

Maybe tomorrow. I'll let them know then.

Our get together was cut short. Al and Emelina had to bounce, and by extension, Pat. I knew Al had practice, and Emelina just liked to follow him around. It was tiring to see Al flake out on us so many times. He never made it when we wanted to go bowling or tag along with the girls, Topher included, for hanging out at the mall. It was all good; he had stuff to do. Hell, we all did. I should've been doing my own part right now instead of sittin' around in a smelly 'ol enchanted forest.

Thirty minutes only gave us enough time to update Facebook, mess with Snapchat, and maybe discuss ideas for a fifth of the time we were there. It was the end of the week and people were tired. I could understand. I lifted myself from the slab, throwing my arms up and stretching, groaning loud. I checked my phone. It was five passed four and I had all weekend to show this report who was in charge. Nope. Procrastination had a real greasy way of suckin' the inspiration right out of you.

Tophs and I walked home. We lived on a real quaint street called Orion Avenue. Nice place, lots of trees, friendly neighbors. The American Dream, eh. Mama Janet and Pops Gibsy weren't home yet, so we helped ourselves inside and dropped our stuff off in our room. Cuzzy and I shared a room since the house was pretty cozy small, and he, well, wanted to because he was a creepy sumbitch. Nah, I kid. Well, fine, we did share a bed. But it was large enough for the two of us, EVEN THOUGH he thought it funny to close all the space we COULD have had and CONSTANTLY lay as close as possible to me. I couldn't be mad at him though. I mean, just... that face. Damn him and his face. Fuggin' cuddles.

The room was a surreal place. Half of it was magical, the other have muscly. Tophs had plush toys stacked up in one corner, and I had barbells in the other. He had his own desk for his works, and then we shared another with the desktop. Flat screen, bed, lamp, ceiling fan, closet. It was a bedroom. It did the job. I dropped right onto the bed and Topher sat himself down in his desk chair. Friday, baby. Screw it. It could all wait 'til tomorrow. It was time I got some real R 'n R. I shut my eyes and let my hands meet behind my head.



Huh. Kind of a horribly normal day, wasn't it?

So why'm I still feeling like I need to let the world know I care?

Is there something wrong with me?


…There was some shuffling somewhere. I was moving, but everything was quiet and dark.

Kat, you got it as well?

I wonder if Tophs is feeling the same way. He'd vent. I know that.

Maybe he would've already.




I woke up.

Topher was at his desk. I heard the scratching of pencil against paper.

I was covered in blankets, but I didn't remember tucking myself in.

The sun was gone. I reached straight up and pulled the blinds forward to get a clearer view of the window above. There were stars.

When I stared long enough...

Some of them were...

Darting by.

My eyes grew heavy again.

But I didn't want to sleep.

Sleep... Sleep?

Why was that word so damn sad?

Didn't make much sense if you asked me.

I sat up and the bed squeaked.

“Oh! Good, you're not dead!” Tophs rang loud. Gah, his voice was a headache waiting to stab me in the temples. I felt as horrible as I must've looked, and he was looking right at me looking all cute and perfect, smelling like fruit. “Thought you might've hit your head somewhere 'n slipped into a coma.”

“Fun,” I moaned, holding back a yawn. I pressed a palm against my forehead. “Does feel like I hit my head. What, I slept that long?”

“Yeah, you really conked right out. You fell asleep three hours ago? Three and a half? Can't remember. I'm not even sure how you napped that long.”

“That sucks.” I rubbed my eyes and gave a blurry glance to the clock at our nightstand. Eight thirty-six. I wasn't even tired, yet I managed to catch an extra three hours of snooze.

“Mhmm, good luck sleeping through the night. Maybe take something to help you sleep.” he informed, spinning around in the chair and heading right back to work on his comics, his hair flicking like a golden whip. He was into that—like, INTO his stuff today.

“And then I gotta put up with your shuffling and belly dancing in bed.” I scoffed, keeping an eye on the clock, and what felt like another on the sky, trying to catch a fleeting glimpse of any falling stars. I didn't know we were divin' through a meteor shower. Those were my jam. This one was poppin', too! The whole sky was lighting up. Man, did somebody drug me? What's been with me today?

I smirked. Crazy night, I thought. Well, not crazy, but so dull that it was crazy. Man, eight thirty-six. I just kept looking at that until it changed. I didn't wanna see those numbers anymore. They really drained the life out of the rest of my Friday. Get out of here, vampire clock.

The numbers changed. I shivered, and my head spiked with enough pain to get a grunt out of me. The numbers were three sixty. Three. Six. Zero. Again, I pushed my hand to my head. I squeezed my skull and my eyes stung, my ears rung, my heart raced. There was a loud buzzing sound coming from the clock. It was deafening at first, but the sound became quieter, like water flushing into my ears.

“Cruce?” Topher spun around. “What'd you do?”

“N-nothing. I didn't even touch it. It's broken.” I stammered, all of my senses pulsing with my heartbeat.

“Three... Sixty...” Topher relayed blankly, reading the digital number as it appeared. The air was stiff and the alarm wouldn't stop, but it kept getting quieter.  

Then the sky cracked open.

The stars exploded. At first, there was a deep bang, then a loud smack nearby. More of a crack, a hammering of rock against rock. The noises stopped. There was no more alarm, no more blurring pain, no more slogging heartbeat. I pulled up the blinds again and looked into the backyard. Lights were flickering like flames, but there was no fire. Instead, there was a radiance coming from something as large around as my fist. I smacked my tongue. Something exciting? Sure, why not, let's give it a look.

I swung my legs off of the bed and led my body forward, hitting the floor running. Topher questioned me. I heard the chair squeak loudly behind me.

I ran to the kitchen, unlocked the sliding glass door, and pulled it away from its hinges. The screen door came next. There were footsteps behind me, bare feet slapping against kitchen linoleum.

When I stepped outside, the cold bit into my bones. I noticed Topher standing at the other side of the sliding door. I waved him over with a smile on my face. Nothin' to be afraid of, Cuzzy! Hoping he mustered up the bravado to chase after me some more, I ran through the backyard patio and onto the grass, the cool blades tickling my feet through my socks. The closer I got to the light, the warmer the ground became. At the same time, the closer I got, the more the light dimmed. I made a goal for myself to reach this sucker before its light went out. I almost dove right at it, but I thought it best to take things nice and easy. I leaned down to get a closer look at it. It was a rock, but it looked smooth and crystalline. The light was trying to escape into the translucent crystal. I reached for it.

I touched the rock, crystal, star—whatever it was. Its surface was warm, not hot. It was deceptively jagged in spots. I shuddered, startled when a second hand came right over mine. The hand was Topher's. He was crouching beside me.

“Maybe best not to pick up meteorites right away?” he inquired, with a sugary, nervous smile on his face. I smiled back, but the smile faded as quickly as it came. I became as stiff as stone. The light in the rock was gone now. Everything but my eyes was locked in place, and as still as I felt, it still seemed like I was moving too fast for the world. I could hear Topher's voice calling my name over and over, but with no way to respond, I could only flick my eyes back and forth as acknowledgment. Still, he acted like there was nothing left of me, like I was limp and helpless. Dead in his arms. I felt awake, but my senses were betraying me, telling me that his voice was becoming someone else's, that my arms and my legs were becoming something else's, that this world was... becoming... something else. The ground and the stone turned dark. Topher turned dark. Everything was muffled over and over again.

...

But...

I heard a hello.

It was peaceful and lax, a rainbow sound.

And it brought me back.



       But... This doesn't feel right.

       I was dying.

But I'm alive now.




“Cruce?! Cruce!” Topher rallied and echoed, his voice and his face coming into focus altogether. He became a puzzle, lining up, all the gaps filling in, until he was just right and there were no more cracks, no more lines. “What's wrong with you?!”

“Shh, God, don't wake everyone up.” I pleaded, only just now realizing that I was laying on the grass. No, there was something else underneath me. Topher's arms. I couldn't mistake 'em. Nothing else was that soft, right? He was cradling me. Shit, did I fall over?

“Why would you do that?! You scared the hell out of me! Don't do that!” he barked. Oh, he was boiling. This was a rare sight. The way the corners of his lips were pulled inward, making his mouth seem all small. He was right on fire.

“You're right. I'm sorry; I must've gotten a head rush or something. Got up so suddenly from bed, y'know?” I told him. I knew that wasn't it. Anyone in their right mind should've. It didn't look like Tophs was seated to comfortably in his right mind.

“Head rush?! Really?! You think I--” I put a hand against his mouth.

“Dude, it's all good. Really. I overdid it after sleeping forever.” I asserted, watching how slowly my tone managed to change the girly boy's jawline. I left the palm there for long enough 'til I was convinced I didn't need to hear that horrible screeching sound that was Hulk Topher.

“You didn't get a head rush.” he suspected, his voice nice and quiet now. Awesome. He was still frantic. I could see that in his breath.

“Not sure what else it was then. It's okay, this happens at karate class when you don't regulate your breathing and stuff. Same thing, 'cept... just don't worry. Everything's going to be okay. Go let Janet and Gibsy know I'm ace.” I advised, making a quick motion of my head toward the house. Tophs was still shaky. He wasn't the best with these situations, but neither was I. I tended to operate better when I was the one with the ailment. About as delicately as achievable, Tophs let me down in the grass. I couldn't feel the rock anywhere. There were some miscellaneous rocks jobbing into my back. They could've been shards of the thing. That was a nice little thought after going through that haze of death the star-thing caused me. Anyway, Tophs was off, probably double-taking at me once more before getting inside. I wasn't trying to shoo him away; I didn't want him to over think the scene or worry himself into a panic attack. Anxiety issues plagued him.

Well, I didn't wanna lie, being on my own for this holy little time was a godsend. I still couldn't escape the chains of the headache. It was a nauseating headache, too. It hit me in more spots than one.

I took a deep breath. It reminded me of Katalyn, with the way her chest pushed out, then retreated, all in one gentle frame. I brought myself to sit up. In my peripherals, I noticed a faint glow beside me. The rock was there, laying in the grass I was moments prior. Its color was different. I... didn't recognize that color. It looked magnificent and everything, but...

The bigger worry was the boy standing a few feet in front of me.

I watched him stand there. He looked so... zero. I dunno. Zero. There was nothing about this boy that existed. He had a face, but it may as well have not been there, since there was nothing to it. He had a pair of arms and legs, a head and a torso. Hair and everything. But it belonged to a shell. He looked familiar. His name was nowhere to be found. He stepped closer and left me to wonder how he could, because a boy with nothing deep inside should've had no muscle and sinew to move.

“Cr-” he clicked. “Cru-” He attempted again. “...ce.” he succeeded, his voice as devoid of humanity as his face. I leaned forward and crossed my legs, both hands on my knees.

“Hello there? What's up with you, kiddo?” I asked him nice and softly. I was getting some ghastly vibes from the boy, so the best place to start was as politely as I could for someone who'd just been thrown unconscious by a space pebble.

“I...” he began, his movements like syrup. Eventually, he conjured the ability to do what it was that I was doing, sitting right in front of me with his legs criss-crossed all kiddish-like, hands in his lap. He looked at me, no, through me. “...Am... Laz... a...”

“Come again, little guy? I didn't hear ya.”

“Be...ca... use... my na... me... is... Lazareon.” he spoke, a glint of red piercing through my skull, my mind, my spirit. I furrowed my eyebrows and blinked and the boy was as good as gone.

Oh no. He wasn't gone. My stomach growled. My head pounded. My heart stopped.

“Ah... I'm... definitely not okay, Tophs.” I whimpered, the flow of blood in my body freezing, my marrow liquefying. Everything was wrong with my body. My spine was threatening to snap. My mind was being s-...s-STABBED.

My eyes were BURNING. I tried to stand, and though I accomplished that much, I felt ready to collapse again. Again, I wondered. How could a little pebble have made me so fatigued? No, it wasn't just fatigue. I was all manner of jacked up, and it was hitting me harder than the last time. I gave a good effort to stand up, and while I managed, I had my laments. Every movement was pulling me apart, screaming at me to stay as still as a statue. My legs couldn't handle the punishment. I fell forward once they gave in, feeling absent from my being. My arms still worked, so I put them ahead of me and caught my fall. I was still on the grass. The world was swaying back and forth, to and fro, up and down. My mind was melting in two directions. It felt like it was going to ooze out of my ears, but it stopped.

Then I saw it all.

I saw someone's face. He looked like me, but it was chalky and reptilian. His face told me everything but his name. He was cloaked in my hoodie, albeit torn, and bruised and bloody. He was floating, deceased. His eyes were closed, but I didn't need to see them to know about who was behind them. I... forced myself to look away, only turning my gaze to the cold grass below. Hands and knees, I was being pushed from all directions, collapsing and compressing into myself, corporeal suffocation, taking me from where I am to where his face told me I belonged.

“Ss... stop...!” I pleaded, digging into the soil with aching fingers and crackling carpals. No one answered me. I looked forward and the doppelganger was gone, but the patio was crawling away from me. My hoodie felt loose, and my jeans looser. I cursed at whatever anything was to stop this. I cursed again. There was no mercy. I was being crunched alive, my mind trying to flee itself all the while. Part of me wanted to laugh, but the other half was too busy gasping for air. It felt like I was two.

I'm not gonna be myself after this, I thought.

I was crossing over now. My hands weren't hands anymore. They were stubs, and my arms were much smaller, adorn with a bright pink fuzz. The fuzz grew a little fluffier before a distinction developed at the end. The stub, formerly my hand, was white, set apart from the pink. The other arm felt the same change, before both disappeared into my sleeves. My clothing became itchy against my skin. No, it wasn't skin, it was something softer. My sleeves gave me the same problem in regards to my arms. Was it fur? I wasn't sure how I made room for curiosity in the burning midst of my contortion. I threw my jacket from my chest, and with it my shirt, desperate to rid myself of the itching. It was amplified by the pain, set a hundred times worse with every tingle and pinch. Every tick and scritch and touch pressured my skeleton. I was seconds short of falling to pieces.

My torso was free of clothing, chest only inches from the ground. The ground was coming closer to me. Both of my hands were gone, but I still had arms. Those arms were as pink as the tufts of fluff around my neck and those flaring from my shoulders. My ears stung as if being pulled, my hair weightless until the stinging stopped, and it felt like all of the sound in the world entered me through that hair. But that wasn't right. Those were still my ears up there. They were drooping forward, protecting something inside; what that something was must have been my brain. It kept the rest of it from leaking out of my head. My thoughts were threefold now. I couldn't explain it. I thought thrice. I could see every dimension moving more slowly. I discriminated particles. Everything was analyzed three times over, sensed once, twice, for a third time for good measure. I tried to lift an arm to my head. My hair felt different. It felt fluffier. It was mingling with the rest of my face, my nose having pushed itself into my skull even though it was still there, lips too small to shout, my eyes shut, afire. There were no more bindings around my legs and feet. I must've crawled out of them. I felt cold slivers of grass brush across my chest—the pink fur on my chest.

The next time I opened my eyes, they felt different. They were rounder, brighter, albeit full of darkness. I still saw shapes and color. I saw them better than ever, but that may have been because I was so much closer to them. I could touch them with my thoughts, every line and curve and corner. I could reach everything. I reached forward with my right arm, now too short to be of use, but it was still mine somehow, as deformed as it was. I pulled myself onto the patio concrete, looked over my shoulder, and saw nothing but pink fur, a fluffy tuft where my spine ended, and a few dreadfully stubby legs that barely sprouted inches from my waist. They gave my paws credit in their appearance... Uhm...

Well I...

I just wallowed there in open-mouthed anguish, looking back at this thing. This thing was me! I moved its legs and its tail and its hips and chest and arms. I moved everything about this creature. I thought like this creature, but I still held onto myself pretty well. I remembered everything, especially those two faces—the boy and my duplicate. No, he... he wasn't my duplicate anymore. He was the only human me. Was he human? Who was he? Who was I supposed to be? What even? I crawled away from the hoodie and the jeans and the socks all discarded into dirt. I reached the patio and crossed my arms over it, laying my head over them and giving myself time—all I needed was time. I needed a few deep breaths and a minute or two. It felt good to rest my head. I laid on my face because, for some reason, I was too afraid to mess with my ears. I didn't want my mind to escape them. It didn't make any sense. Nothing made sense. But it was so warm. My sense was so warm... It made me want to lay here. All the pain went away. I was to lay here. That was all. Lemme lay here...

“Wait, WHAT?!” I snapped, throwing my head back and staring ahead. “You wanna run that by me again real quick, universe?! What happened to me?!” I cried, looking left, looking right, trying to look beyond my voice. It was so kiddish. I sounded like a seven-year-old again. Giving the world a puny growl, I got to my feet, wobbled some, and fell backwards. I was small, so the fall felt like landing in a pile of pillows, 'specially given all of the fluff. Limbs splayed, I grimaced into the sky and blushed. “No! Oohoho no! This is bad. This is REALLY bad. Oh my God, everything is terrible. Y-YOU!” I flopped around, scuttling back over to the crystal-rock-thing. It looked a helluva lot bigger, but that's because I was the size of a kitten—I think I was a kitten. I grabbed the rock in both paws and shook it around like it was alive and like it could feel me shaking it around—yeah it probably didn't. “What did you do to me?” I mewed hoarsely, frenzied and desperate to get back into my skin. The reflection didn't help. The rock was clear enough to show me a faint, distorted shape of my new face, fangs in my open mouth, a tiny nose in the middle of my pink face, and these creepy marble eyes. Dammit, man, I liked my other eyes!

That wasn't the end of it. My ears really were folded over. I was tempted to pull them back to see if I was bleeding up there or maybe some of my brain matter actually did squeeze out of my head. It sounded pretty morbid, but nothing hurt anymore. Everything was still a smidgen fuzzy. My hair was still messy like it normally was, but it was a part of my, uh, fur now. Ughhh why pink? Really? Turn me back, you freakin' alien artifact thing!

Wait.

I lifted my head and, appropriately, felt one of my eyes twitch half shut.

“This changes everything.” I whispered to myself, even though, somehow, I knew exactly who was standing behind me. I swallowed spit.

“Cru-Cruce...?” Topher mewled. I kept the rock in my paws and turned to look at him. He was confounded, one hand encroaching upon his mouth, the other attempting to reach out to me, despite his distance of a couple meters. Well, what could I tell him? There weren't a big number of words created for this sort of thing. I watched him for a little. He didn't move. He wanted to hear something out of me. So be it, then.

“I'm sorry.” I told him.

That was all I had for Tophs. Shame. He gave me so much more, and in the end, I just threw a crappy little apology right at his face. That itself deserved an apology. Well, at least I wasn't dead. Could've died, right? We all could've.

Where was logic at today?

-Espurr (Shiny)
Ohai. So this is Wave. Well, more accurately, this is Re-Wave. It's a rewrite of the original Wave, and by rewrite, I mean complete makeover. This has been a project that I've wanted to do ever since the start of Wave: Endemic's sequel, Epidemic. 

Wave itself is a Pokémon-based transformation fan fiction. The idea came to me when I saw a few Pokémon TFs here on DA, and so I decided to try my part at writing some TF stories. Originally, they never really got anywhere grand. I ended up scrapping them, because they were too consensual. I was always a fan of the kind of TFs that don't result in someone being satisfied with the way they are or having their personality flipped around for the sake of the new body. But then, with that, I had to ask myself: If I just made a story where someone turned into a Pikachu, for example, and ended up miserable, I couldn't just end it there. That's freaking bad! So, instead, I went ahead and came up not with a single one-shot TF, but a transformation adventure. And just for fun, I put it in first person. Really livens things up a notch or ten. Wave's come a long way, but it's been aging, so I wanted to pretty it up and make it presentable for DeviantArt. The original Wave's still on fanfiction.net, and actually, due to the size limit of text files here, there's an important piece missing from this chapter that should be available on FF.net, as I'll be posting this over yonder as well! 

Now, for those of you who do venture out and read the old Endemic, I gotta warn you, it's a little bit different than this. Lemme know your thoughts on it! And this one. Both of them! Send me a comment. Send me flowers. Send me mail with spit in it; I don't care, send me something. xD It gets boring around here dancing through writer's block sometimes. I hope it serves to be a decent read. It's as convoluted as Kingdom Hearts, too. Just a heads up.

Special thanks to :iconmrtherandomguy42: for giving me all sorts of motivation. I appreciate it, dude! :3

Disclaimer! I don't own Pokémon.
© 2015 - 2024 C-Mnesia
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teriax's avatar
I think I finally get the beginning. Its Visrosiya, thats when he crushed Edge, and sent Laza and Celibe away the first time. Thats how Edge was able to hate him so much though his crushed exitence directed it towords Lazareon/Luna working in Visrosiya's favor. This again is really only a theory but I really think this moment now has major significance in the story.

Oh also this marked the beginning of the new cycle where for a moment Edge/Aza remebered everything...