Olo-Doorbell

Introduction "Skeptic." "What?" "I'm called Skeptic." "Oh." "What?" "Sorry, I'm just a little skeptical. Phaha – oh come on, don't freaking look at me like that." Autodidact Skeptic isn't one to brag, but he still smiles a small, thin smile to himself when the idiot woman in the blouse and too-short skirt asks him which karate studio he learned self-defense at. He knew that it would have been too easy to leave a trail back to his real self if he had chosen to seek official lessons instead of buying those videos. Petulant The entire trip back to the docks is filled with a broiling, irritated sort of silence; Apex almost remarks

Moniker "They should have called you 'Cynic.'" "I couldn't care less what title they gave me. We're only here to serve a purpose, not to amuse the idiots that we're helping." "Man, what kind of superhero are you?" "The self-aware kind." "Yeah, well you're snippy as hell." Decision They've got to pick which city they can save, and they've got only a day to do it. Jesus Christ. Weapon It really wasn't a big surprise that Apex never learned how to use a gun or knife or anything – why should he, when he could freaking bench-press a car and then outrun it without breaking a sweat? – and it'd never really stopped him from being

I would like to start by introducing myself. I am not a "prawn," as you may have been told, but a "Poleepkwa," an "Outlander." These are the proper terms for us. We are not simply "non-humans," not a group sorely defined by its exclusion from your species, but a proud race with achievements all its own. But all classifications aside, my name is Olo, Olo Lamna, and I am here on my own, to speak with you as an equal—and an individual. I'm not here to represent every Poleepkwa on this planet and beyond the stars…the honor and responsibility is too great for someone such as me. All I have are my own experiences and beliefs, and the dri

It was just the two of them. Just the two of them in an apartment. To be honest, Roberta Baker –it wasn't Roberta, it was Rob, or Robbi if you were dead-fucking-set on keeping names sex-specific – preferred that at the moment; it was just her and her daemon, hunched together on the same loveseat-chair that sat perfectly straight in Aaron's living room, perfectly clean and free of hair and probably aligned with some secret feng shui setup that he would have in the room at the moment, since he would do that sort of thing. Even the lampshades were set at a perfect angle, precisely color-coordinated with the rug and the loveseat-couch-

Introduction "I think I will call you Vickie." It's not exactly the start of a beautiful friendship, but it starts anyway. Autodidact "Where'd you learn to fly like that?" "My Dad was teaching me, when I was very small. Was wanting me to pilot ship when I was older." "He taught you to fly loops with a cargo ship?" "No. That was me and other transporters at Iron Forge. Cannot remember much but learned how to there. Wickie coo' party, dude. Off the fizzle." Petulant Sometimes, when they had argued too much and Vickie refused to talk to him, he would simply settle down near where she was working and watch her bang away at bits and piece

"Shut up, okay? I'm gonna do this." And before Chris can hiss out a response or stop her, Vidette jumps off of his lap and lands lightly on the ground, scampering across the room to where Robert sits at his desk, little lamp shining in the dim room and the same papers and books walling him off from the world; claws catching on the cloth of Robert's pants, she climbs up his leg and worms her way onto his lap, settling down in something half-crouch, half-curl…and sitting there, completely still. She doesn't make a sound, just looks up at him with her black eyes shining in the almost-darkness cut through with florescent lights and stays th

Chris and Vidette had a plan, and (after several discussions as to how gay a plan would sound without being…gay) it was called Get Stick Out Of Roommate's Ass. It's little plan-brother was Get Roommate Out To The Club By Friday, along with Find Out What Roommate's Daemon Is – because seriously, it was pretty pathetic (and weird) that they'd been living with the guy for almost two months now and they'd barely seen his daemon at all or even had a conversation with him, unless you counted asking to borrow laundry detergent or trying to figure out whose jeans were which. "They are obviously his," says Vidette as Chris rubs the fur on h

"Enough of this horseshit. Is this the real Donoway or…hell, a copy? Last time I checked, we don't look into time travel around here." Koiman simply pauses, tilts his head in that annoying way of his, and then looks over at the teenager currently scuffing an oversize shoe into the ancient tile of the 'lobby.' Now that he's finally got a chance to stop and look at the kid, Weiss can see how he looks like something not exactly from here;  his hair is just a bit too long, the shirt too worn-looking, the pants a bit too wide at the bottoms for them to be from this decade, and if he's right about Donoway's age, that'd put him right

Threat. For the life of her, Claudia Smith can't understand why she is received the way she is at every dinner or meeting of the scientific societies; her behavior is impeccable – if slightly aloof – and her conversations rarely stray from topics of anatomy or current research, yet every time she arrives at a tea social or experimental showing she is invariably phased out of the conversation, sometimes outright ignored. More times than she can count, she has ended up towards the back of the room by herself, stirring a cup of tea and halfheartedly conversing with the assistants and wives of famous scientists as the discussion carrie

[ROBERT slowly gets to his feet and walks slowly over to the window. Outside, the sky is noticeably red-tinged and spider webs have formed in the corners of the glass; pan in from the outside through the glass to ROBERT's face as he stares outside, eyes blinking in a wave and pincers clicking. CHRIS mills about uncomfortably in the background.] ROBERT: [still looking through the window; businesslike, pincers clicking as his mouth moves] You put me in an interesting position, Chris, and I don't think you know you have. I don't think you know how much you affect the situation right now. CHRIS: Fuck that, man. This is…this is fucked. How