~PolarFarina
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Chapter Fourteen: Long-Term
Rose watched the blue thing. It looked like an octopus, except...
creepily humanized. It had a relatively humanoid head, and had two
tentacles that were slightly larger than the rest, which she guessed
could be used as legs, the kind you walk upright on. Right now it was
just kind of lying there, gulping up water like it had never even tasted
it before. Which, of course, would be impossible, because it was an
octopus... probably.
She'd given it a liter of water about ten seconds ago, which he was draining the last drops of while she was trying to nail down what it was. The Super seemed very angry with the thing, but he brought it up here anyway. She wondered why, and what it was doing out in the middle of the desert.
The Super paced back and forth, mumbling to himself, impatient and obviously bothered by the fact that this thing was here. She wanted so badly to ask one of the billion questions that would knock on the door of her mind. But she decided it would be best not to ask, so she would not answer, and they would move on. Before long, she accepted this strange turn of events and focused back on the blue heap on the ground.
She pulled out some food and tried to give it to the octopus thing, but before he could accept it, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out. She stared at his face, his eyes still behind their lids, and his mouth open slightly as breath passed between them. He had no nose. So, she thought to herself, he's a Voldemort octopus who was found wandering alone in the desert. She wasn't sure what scared her more: This person collapsed on the ground, or the fact that The Super, who was supposed to be their leader, their compass, knew this criminal, and, in fact, failed to mention it. Rose supposed it was a bad thing that it was here now. She'd never known The Super could get so worked up so quickly.
"It's passed out again," she called. "Third time."
"Yes, I know, I can count to three," spat The Super. "I just wish he'd stay conscious. You're doing a great job, by the way. Stellar work." He turned to face the sun, walking off again.
"You're welcome," Rose grumbled.
"He looks so tired," said Cassandra, watching Blue Voldemort. "Poor Octo..."
"Yeah, I think he's an octopus, or something close to that anyway," Rose said. She'd almost forgotten that Cassandra was there, she'd been so quiet. I mean, Rose thought to herself, I wasn't exactly known for being a loudmouth when I was a kid. But man, that can really be creepy, even if she doesn't mean for it to be.
"No," Cassandra corrected, "I mean, that's a sort of nickname for him. He's called The Blue Octo. He's The Super's number-one nemesis. He's pulled off some pretty big stuff, and can change his appearance however he wants. I think he's cool. I hope he wakes up soon," she finished, like it was completely normal to recognize random octopi found in the middle of Arizona deserts. Her attention shifted to somewhere in the distance.
"Wait," said Rose, "what?" She whipped her head to look over at The Super, who had already turned back and was glaring at Cassandra, clearly seething with anger. Rose stood up, returning the glare. "And you didn't mention this why? If he's your nemesis, why are we even helping him? Why are you even helping him? What kind of stupid word is nemesis anyway??"
"That," said The Super, gesturing toward the octopus, "is not my nemesis. He's been in jail for the past... uh... years, and I don't want anything to do with that thing. Got it? Stupid T-Bo... Almost confessed, too. He was about to tell us all of their secrets, and then? You just had to let him pass out, didn't you? Now he won't even stay conscious!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Rose, anger rising. "Why is it my fault that he passed out from exhaustion? And since when did you help in any of this? You just dropped him off here like a sack of potatoes so you could go hide in your imaginary man-cave! He probably would've died by now without water! I saved his life!"
"I didn't want you to save his life!"
"Well, then, how would you interrogate him, smartass?"
The Super's face turned a bright shade of green, which, Rose guessed, was most likely meant he was blushing. His skin was normally a kind of sea foam greenish color. Rose was satisfied with her victory, and was relishing in this moment of beating such a famous hero with logic, when suddenly something clicked in her brain, something that had her slightly worried.
"Did... did you forget how many years ago you put this guy in jail? You forgot how long it's been since you fought your first nemesis?" she asked, incredulous.
"...No." He quickly turned his back to her, but she could see his face darkening to more of a grass green, maybe with a bit of forest mixed in. Meh, she thought. Shades aren't really my thing, anyway.
"How old are you, Supes?"
"Why don't you check on The Blue Octo, huh? Since you're so interested in him."
Rose sighed. "Aw, man, that's just sad." She turned back and sat down by the octopus, who showed signs of stirring soon. There was silence as she opened up another bottle and poured it over The Blue Octo's head, trying to cool him down more. The wind whistled through the canyon.
"It's just... I don't know where I came from," The Super said, breaking the quiet. "I can't remember any of my childhood. As far as I know... uh, the hero life? It's all I've ever known. I can't remember anything else, can't be anything else. And I've tried. I'm just... different."
"Yeah, I know how that feels," said Rose. "Technically? I'm about 22. But, also technically? I'm eighteen. Two ages at once. Go figure that one out, why don't you." She looked at Cassandra, and her first thought was: hey, cool, Cassandra can turn invisible. But then she realized that make any sense...
"Uh... where's Cassandra?"
The Super immediately flew into the air, looking over the cliff... where a small dot was moving very fast through the air-- presumably Cassandra. "There," he said, pointing at the small dot. Great, she was running off again. It was almost like having a little sibling, when your younger self hangs around. Except you can always tell what they're thinking. That's the creepiest part about it, almost like being psychic. Rose hated psychics.
"Okay," said Rose. "You go after Cassandra. I'll stay here, look after Mr Voldemort here."
The Super nodded, and took off, sending a sort, refreshing gust of air through the canyon and he neared light speed.
"Who's Cassandra?" croaked someone, probably a frog. His voice was so croaky Rose couldn't picture anything else. And hey, if she can meet her eight-year-old self in an alternate dimension where she was a super hero, and they were both working with an alien superhero from another planet with a long-term memory problem, why can't frogs talk?
She looked down at Blue Voldemort. "Hello," he croaked. "I've got some very important information for you, if you're willing."
"Oh, yeah," said Rose. "I'm willing."
TAAAAA-DAAAAA!!! Hooray! Story advancement! Yay! Yay! Yay!
I hope you like this! I spent about an hour on it, so you better like it!! Just kidding, you don't have to like it, but it would make me really happy if you told me what you thought, or even just complained to me about my lack of consistency. Remember, you can email me at polarfarina@gmail.com. Don't hesitate to tell me what you think! I will always reply. Always.
Thanks so much for reading! I LOVE your support!!
~PolarFarina.
She'd given it a liter of water about ten seconds ago, which he was draining the last drops of while she was trying to nail down what it was. The Super seemed very angry with the thing, but he brought it up here anyway. She wondered why, and what it was doing out in the middle of the desert.
The Super paced back and forth, mumbling to himself, impatient and obviously bothered by the fact that this thing was here. She wanted so badly to ask one of the billion questions that would knock on the door of her mind. But she decided it would be best not to ask, so she would not answer, and they would move on. Before long, she accepted this strange turn of events and focused back on the blue heap on the ground.
She pulled out some food and tried to give it to the octopus thing, but before he could accept it, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out. She stared at his face, his eyes still behind their lids, and his mouth open slightly as breath passed between them. He had no nose. So, she thought to herself, he's a Voldemort octopus who was found wandering alone in the desert. She wasn't sure what scared her more: This person collapsed on the ground, or the fact that The Super, who was supposed to be their leader, their compass, knew this criminal, and, in fact, failed to mention it. Rose supposed it was a bad thing that it was here now. She'd never known The Super could get so worked up so quickly.
"It's passed out again," she called. "Third time."
"Yes, I know, I can count to three," spat The Super. "I just wish he'd stay conscious. You're doing a great job, by the way. Stellar work." He turned to face the sun, walking off again.
"You're welcome," Rose grumbled.
"He looks so tired," said Cassandra, watching Blue Voldemort. "Poor Octo..."
"Yeah, I think he's an octopus, or something close to that anyway," Rose said. She'd almost forgotten that Cassandra was there, she'd been so quiet. I mean, Rose thought to herself, I wasn't exactly known for being a loudmouth when I was a kid. But man, that can really be creepy, even if she doesn't mean for it to be.
"No," Cassandra corrected, "I mean, that's a sort of nickname for him. He's called The Blue Octo. He's The Super's number-one nemesis. He's pulled off some pretty big stuff, and can change his appearance however he wants. I think he's cool. I hope he wakes up soon," she finished, like it was completely normal to recognize random octopi found in the middle of Arizona deserts. Her attention shifted to somewhere in the distance.
"Wait," said Rose, "what?" She whipped her head to look over at The Super, who had already turned back and was glaring at Cassandra, clearly seething with anger. Rose stood up, returning the glare. "And you didn't mention this why? If he's your nemesis, why are we even helping him? Why are you even helping him? What kind of stupid word is nemesis anyway??"
"That," said The Super, gesturing toward the octopus, "is not my nemesis. He's been in jail for the past... uh... years, and I don't want anything to do with that thing. Got it? Stupid T-Bo... Almost confessed, too. He was about to tell us all of their secrets, and then? You just had to let him pass out, didn't you? Now he won't even stay conscious!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Rose, anger rising. "Why is it my fault that he passed out from exhaustion? And since when did you help in any of this? You just dropped him off here like a sack of potatoes so you could go hide in your imaginary man-cave! He probably would've died by now without water! I saved his life!"
"I didn't want you to save his life!"
"Well, then, how would you interrogate him, smartass?"
The Super's face turned a bright shade of green, which, Rose guessed, was most likely meant he was blushing. His skin was normally a kind of sea foam greenish color. Rose was satisfied with her victory, and was relishing in this moment of beating such a famous hero with logic, when suddenly something clicked in her brain, something that had her slightly worried.
"Did... did you forget how many years ago you put this guy in jail? You forgot how long it's been since you fought your first nemesis?" she asked, incredulous.
"...No." He quickly turned his back to her, but she could see his face darkening to more of a grass green, maybe with a bit of forest mixed in. Meh, she thought. Shades aren't really my thing, anyway.
"How old are you, Supes?"
"Why don't you check on The Blue Octo, huh? Since you're so interested in him."
Rose sighed. "Aw, man, that's just sad." She turned back and sat down by the octopus, who showed signs of stirring soon. There was silence as she opened up another bottle and poured it over The Blue Octo's head, trying to cool him down more. The wind whistled through the canyon.
"It's just... I don't know where I came from," The Super said, breaking the quiet. "I can't remember any of my childhood. As far as I know... uh, the hero life? It's all I've ever known. I can't remember anything else, can't be anything else. And I've tried. I'm just... different."
"Yeah, I know how that feels," said Rose. "Technically? I'm about 22. But, also technically? I'm eighteen. Two ages at once. Go figure that one out, why don't you." She looked at Cassandra, and her first thought was: hey, cool, Cassandra can turn invisible. But then she realized that make any sense...
"Uh... where's Cassandra?"
The Super immediately flew into the air, looking over the cliff... where a small dot was moving very fast through the air-- presumably Cassandra. "There," he said, pointing at the small dot. Great, she was running off again. It was almost like having a little sibling, when your younger self hangs around. Except you can always tell what they're thinking. That's the creepiest part about it, almost like being psychic. Rose hated psychics.
"Okay," said Rose. "You go after Cassandra. I'll stay here, look after Mr Voldemort here."
The Super nodded, and took off, sending a sort, refreshing gust of air through the canyon and he neared light speed.
"Who's Cassandra?" croaked someone, probably a frog. His voice was so croaky Rose couldn't picture anything else. And hey, if she can meet her eight-year-old self in an alternate dimension where she was a super hero, and they were both working with an alien superhero from another planet with a long-term memory problem, why can't frogs talk?
She looked down at Blue Voldemort. "Hello," he croaked. "I've got some very important information for you, if you're willing."
"Oh, yeah," said Rose. "I'm willing."
TAAAAA-DAAAAA!!! Hooray! Story advancement! Yay! Yay! Yay!
I hope you like this! I spent about an hour on it, so you better like it!! Just kidding, you don't have to like it, but it would make me really happy if you told me what you thought, or even just complained to me about my lack of consistency. Remember, you can email me at polarfarina@gmail.com. Don't hesitate to tell me what you think! I will always reply. Always.
Thanks so much for reading! I LOVE your support!!
~PolarFarina.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Expectations and The Apocalypse of Rainfall
I have a strange way of setting expectations: I don't have them.
You might be like, "Whaaaaaat?" But it's true: I never expect anything from anyone or anything. Because it sucks to be let down. But also for a more important reason: It make the good times stand out.
Let's set an example. Say I'm going to a party. Let's say that I'm expecting it to be the best party ever where I dance the whole time and end up passing out from too much fun. Of course, this doesn't happen, and I leave this party feeling stolen of my rights. What rights, you ask? I don't know. Maybe my rights to predicting the future? I can't clarify. But, the point is: I have let myself down. I never even thought about the good stuff that happened at the party; only the fact that I felt cheated.
Let's say that never happened. Let's say that I'm going to that same party, but instead, I have no idea what to expect. So I don't assume anything, other than I should wear shoes and bring a coat. I go, and end up joking with my friends, jamming to certain songs, and spending the whole time smiling. I might not have been a party animal, but heck, I had a good time.
The difference? Not expecting anything. Not really sure how it works, but if I have no idea what I'm getting myself into, I end up having more fun, being happier, and in turn, making the people around me happier.
I started this blog with one expectation. That's saying a lot, coming from someone who normally doesn't have any. I expected it to fail. No joke; I never even imagined actual people in the actual outside world ever reading it.
It's one thing to have no expectations and end up having a good time; it's a different thing entirely to expect the worst and then get the EXACT OPPOSITE. I never even knew it was possible, but here you are, proving me completely wrong. And it makes me so happy. Like, so happy that I have tried again and again to voice my euphoria, and failed every single time. So I keep trying, and failing. This is the closest I've come, really, and it still doesn't illustrate it the way I want it to.
But when I let you down? That crushes me even more. It feels like I've been buried underneath a building that was set on fire before it toppled on top of me. And it makes me so sad, and frustrated, and worried that you're losing your trust in me. Because, I've gotta say, I have not come anywhere close to giving you what I promised.
I choose now to write this because I've let you down. Again.
Long story short: I've been working on this comic. And it's been a year in the making, so it's really thought out on my part, and I was going to make this big reveal on Friday the 24th, and it was all going smoothly, and I was happy. Of course, once things start going smoothly, that should be a warning that something bad's going to happen, but I failed to see reason that day. (Well, I fail to see reason almost all the time, but, you know, I'm a teenager. That's what we teens do, really. Fail to see reason.) I hadn't finished it yet, so I brought it with me one day in my backpack, and, well, it rained. Needless to say, it got completely soaked, and now it's ruined. All of the pages have had at least some marker bleed on them, and so they're tinted pink. And Batman? He ain't pink.
So now I feel like I've let you down. It was my fault that I had it in my backpack, but it wasn't my fault it rained. I'm not really sure where the blame falls, but that's not really the point. I still feel terrible.
I'm going to try to fix this. It might go longer than any of us want it to, and I'm sorry. I know I keep saying that, but I keep doing stuff that I need to apologize for. I feel like a jerk if I don't tell you that I feel bad about ruining your blog experience.
THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE ANYWAY!! You make me feel like I can go on, and if you guys weren't here reading this I'm not sure I'd have the confidence to even go out in public. It's weird; impressing complete strangers gives me the confidence to do stuff.
So anyway, I'm losing track of what I'm talking about here, so I'm going to end this post. Please bear with me; I've got a lot of stuff. What with Halloween coming up (which I don't even have the beginning of my costume done yet -- oops!), and basketball tryouts the day before my birthday next month, and friends suddenly quitting, and random allergic reactions to stuff I'm not even supposed to be allergic to, and... there's just a lot of stuff going on in my personal life I don't need to stress you about, but here I am, rambling again. I'll let you get on with your own personal life.
You guys are the best time travelers in the universe.
~PolarFarina. (Does it have to make sense? My life doesn't make sense. Deal with it.)
You might be like, "Whaaaaaat?" But it's true: I never expect anything from anyone or anything. Because it sucks to be let down. But also for a more important reason: It make the good times stand out.
Let's set an example. Say I'm going to a party. Let's say that I'm expecting it to be the best party ever where I dance the whole time and end up passing out from too much fun. Of course, this doesn't happen, and I leave this party feeling stolen of my rights. What rights, you ask? I don't know. Maybe my rights to predicting the future? I can't clarify. But, the point is: I have let myself down. I never even thought about the good stuff that happened at the party; only the fact that I felt cheated.
Let's say that never happened. Let's say that I'm going to that same party, but instead, I have no idea what to expect. So I don't assume anything, other than I should wear shoes and bring a coat. I go, and end up joking with my friends, jamming to certain songs, and spending the whole time smiling. I might not have been a party animal, but heck, I had a good time.
The difference? Not expecting anything. Not really sure how it works, but if I have no idea what I'm getting myself into, I end up having more fun, being happier, and in turn, making the people around me happier.
I started this blog with one expectation. That's saying a lot, coming from someone who normally doesn't have any. I expected it to fail. No joke; I never even imagined actual people in the actual outside world ever reading it.
It's one thing to have no expectations and end up having a good time; it's a different thing entirely to expect the worst and then get the EXACT OPPOSITE. I never even knew it was possible, but here you are, proving me completely wrong. And it makes me so happy. Like, so happy that I have tried again and again to voice my euphoria, and failed every single time. So I keep trying, and failing. This is the closest I've come, really, and it still doesn't illustrate it the way I want it to.
But when I let you down? That crushes me even more. It feels like I've been buried underneath a building that was set on fire before it toppled on top of me. And it makes me so sad, and frustrated, and worried that you're losing your trust in me. Because, I've gotta say, I have not come anywhere close to giving you what I promised.
I choose now to write this because I've let you down. Again.
Long story short: I've been working on this comic. And it's been a year in the making, so it's really thought out on my part, and I was going to make this big reveal on Friday the 24th, and it was all going smoothly, and I was happy. Of course, once things start going smoothly, that should be a warning that something bad's going to happen, but I failed to see reason that day. (Well, I fail to see reason almost all the time, but, you know, I'm a teenager. That's what we teens do, really. Fail to see reason.) I hadn't finished it yet, so I brought it with me one day in my backpack, and, well, it rained. Needless to say, it got completely soaked, and now it's ruined. All of the pages have had at least some marker bleed on them, and so they're tinted pink. And Batman? He ain't pink.
So now I feel like I've let you down. It was my fault that I had it in my backpack, but it wasn't my fault it rained. I'm not really sure where the blame falls, but that's not really the point. I still feel terrible.
I'm going to try to fix this. It might go longer than any of us want it to, and I'm sorry. I know I keep saying that, but I keep doing stuff that I need to apologize for. I feel like a jerk if I don't tell you that I feel bad about ruining your blog experience.
THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE ANYWAY!! You make me feel like I can go on, and if you guys weren't here reading this I'm not sure I'd have the confidence to even go out in public. It's weird; impressing complete strangers gives me the confidence to do stuff.
So anyway, I'm losing track of what I'm talking about here, so I'm going to end this post. Please bear with me; I've got a lot of stuff. What with Halloween coming up (which I don't even have the beginning of my costume done yet -- oops!), and basketball tryouts the day before my birthday next month, and friends suddenly quitting, and random allergic reactions to stuff I'm not even supposed to be allergic to, and... there's just a lot of stuff going on in my personal life I don't need to stress you about, but here I am, rambling again. I'll let you get on with your own personal life.
You guys are the best time travelers in the universe.
~PolarFarina. (Does it have to make sense? My life doesn't make sense. Deal with it.)
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Chapter Thirteen: Flashback
The Blue Octo hid in the darkness. The alleyway provided optimum cover; he was surprised he hadn't thought about it before this plan.
A shout rang out, bouncing across the brick walls, shattering the dull noise of cars driving by. The Blue Octo took a deep breath, and put on his wig. He straightened his dress, which was wrinkly from being kept in the bottom of his closet for so long. Though he'd though about it many times, he could never part with it, and now he was extremely glad that he hadn't. He held up a tentacle, and, closing his eyes, pressed the button on his watch. There was a flash of light, and like that, he was human.
Of course, it was just a projection, a mirage to act as cover, but it seemed to work well. He'd never tested it in the field before, and he was incredibly nervous. He tried to breathe calmly, not quite being successful, but at least he wasn't hyperventilating. Calm down, he told himself, it'll work out just as you planned.
A second shout echoed through the alleyway. It was time to begin. The Blue Octo smoothed his hair, fluffed his dress, squeaked in a high pitched voice to get in tune, and stepped out of the alleyway. Shaking, he tried to maintain his composure, walking as ladylike as he could manage.
A figure leaped out of the shadows, landing directly in The Blue Octo's path. A red cloak was drawn in front of his face to conceal his identity.
"I'm sowwy, ma'am," the crook said in a deep voice. "I'm afwaid I'll have to take your puwse."
The Blue Octo sighed in frustration, dropping his hands and looking to the sky. He glared at the figure standing in front of him. "Really? Really? Apologizing before you even commit the crime? You have to be the worst criminal I've ever seen, Red." Here Octo crossed his arms, to further emphasize his frustration.
The crook lowered his arm, face open to see, and frowned at Octo. "I'm twying," he said, "weally."
"I know you are," said Octo. "And you were doing a fantastic job, up until you started talking. I know you have a deep voice and all, but that 'I'm sowwy, ma'am' just doesn't cut it. How about you just don't talk at all? Just stand there looking real intimidating."
Red shrugged, and shrank back into the shadows. He jumped back out, and made a growling sound. He made motions to indicate that there would be no funny business if the purse was handed over.
"I like it," said Octo. "Do exactly that next time. And we'll be doing it for real, with fire and everything, so be careful."
"I will," said Red. "Just as wong as I'm gettin' paid."
"Oh, don't worry," said Octo, "if this goes well, you'll have your money. Now once more, from the top! With feeling! It's going to be the real deal this time, so be ready."
Red hid and popped out of the shadows once more, and struck a match. He threw it, and it landed in a puddle, but not before catching Octo's wig on fire.
Octo smiled. Now it was his turn for the theatrics. He took a deep breath, and let out an extremely girly... squeak.
"You wanna twy that again?" asked Red.
"Shut up," mumbled Octo. "You've never had to be a woman before." He took another deep breath, and this time let out a blood-curdling scream: "AAAAAAGH! HELP MEEE!!!" Now they just had to stand there and wait for a minute. So far, it was all going according to plan.
"Oh," said Octo, "and sorry about this next part. I forgot to mention it, and it's really my fault."
"Whaddya mea–" Red was immediately pummeled by a blue-green fist while he simultaneously caught on fire. He collapsed on the spot.
"Sorry about turning your power against you," said a powerful and heroic voice, "but it's in the script."
And there he was: The Super. The one, the only. Octo had never met him in person before, only seen pictures, heard stories. But Octo was a supervillain, and it was high time he stepped up his game. Octo stood there for a second, just taking it in... wow. He had nothing but respect for the hero standing in front of him. It would be such an honor to kill him.
The Super posed for a moment, doing the thing that all heroes do. Then he turned to Octo to offer help; Octo was still in disguise as a damsel in distress. The Super looked directly into his eyes, smiling with all the warmth of a true hero.
But then, his face started to contort, turning to disgust, and then fury, watered down with a bit of disappointment. "Now," he said, "tell us why you're here."
What? thought Octo. This made no sense. Why would he say such a thing? He blinked, and all of a sudden Octo was lying on the ground. He felt extremely warm, and there was sand in his mouth. He rolled over, looking to the sky, and saw The Super looking down at him. There were also two girls, one in her late teens, with very short brown hair, the other maybe ten with long blond hair. The two girls looked worried; The Super was just annoyed.
"Glad you're finally up," The Super said drily, standing up and walking away. The two girls fussed over Octo as he tried to sit up. His head hurt like it had been smashed with a hammer.
"Where...?" he started, but his voice croaked. His throat was like sandpaper. The older girl reached into her knapsack and brought out a bottle of water, handed it to Octo.
"In the desert," answered The Super. He kicked a rock off the cliff. "Where you escaped from prison. What happened, exactly? Where are the others, and why aren't you with them?"
Octo stopped drinking for a moment, trying to catch his breath.
"Aha," he croaked finally. "Now we get to the interesting part. Time," he paused a moment to breathe, "time for the game to begin."
Hello peoples of the planet Earth! I have made another post!
(Random) Heads up: I have Friday off of school. I'll most likely have something up sometime that day for you guys.
I'm excited to be writing again! Sorry I've been sick. I'm the worst person to get sick, too: whenever I get sick, I have trouble doing more than the bare minimum to stay alive, so it's really hard for me to write. It doesn't matter what I get, I just feel really awful and can't do much.
The good news is that I'm back on my feet and writing again!! I've got lots of plans for the blog this month, and not all of them have to do with this story... ;)
By the way, how do you like how it's unfolding? Feel free to comment below, or if it won't let you because sometimes Google just loves people like that, you can email me at polarfarina@gmail.com and it'll be awesome!
Thanks for bearing with me,
~PolarFarina
A shout rang out, bouncing across the brick walls, shattering the dull noise of cars driving by. The Blue Octo took a deep breath, and put on his wig. He straightened his dress, which was wrinkly from being kept in the bottom of his closet for so long. Though he'd though about it many times, he could never part with it, and now he was extremely glad that he hadn't. He held up a tentacle, and, closing his eyes, pressed the button on his watch. There was a flash of light, and like that, he was human.
Of course, it was just a projection, a mirage to act as cover, but it seemed to work well. He'd never tested it in the field before, and he was incredibly nervous. He tried to breathe calmly, not quite being successful, but at least he wasn't hyperventilating. Calm down, he told himself, it'll work out just as you planned.
A second shout echoed through the alleyway. It was time to begin. The Blue Octo smoothed his hair, fluffed his dress, squeaked in a high pitched voice to get in tune, and stepped out of the alleyway. Shaking, he tried to maintain his composure, walking as ladylike as he could manage.
A figure leaped out of the shadows, landing directly in The Blue Octo's path. A red cloak was drawn in front of his face to conceal his identity.
"I'm sowwy, ma'am," the crook said in a deep voice. "I'm afwaid I'll have to take your puwse."
The Blue Octo sighed in frustration, dropping his hands and looking to the sky. He glared at the figure standing in front of him. "Really? Really? Apologizing before you even commit the crime? You have to be the worst criminal I've ever seen, Red." Here Octo crossed his arms, to further emphasize his frustration.
The crook lowered his arm, face open to see, and frowned at Octo. "I'm twying," he said, "weally."
"I know you are," said Octo. "And you were doing a fantastic job, up until you started talking. I know you have a deep voice and all, but that 'I'm sowwy, ma'am' just doesn't cut it. How about you just don't talk at all? Just stand there looking real intimidating."
Red shrugged, and shrank back into the shadows. He jumped back out, and made a growling sound. He made motions to indicate that there would be no funny business if the purse was handed over.
"I like it," said Octo. "Do exactly that next time. And we'll be doing it for real, with fire and everything, so be careful."
"I will," said Red. "Just as wong as I'm gettin' paid."
"Oh, don't worry," said Octo, "if this goes well, you'll have your money. Now once more, from the top! With feeling! It's going to be the real deal this time, so be ready."
Red hid and popped out of the shadows once more, and struck a match. He threw it, and it landed in a puddle, but not before catching Octo's wig on fire.
Octo smiled. Now it was his turn for the theatrics. He took a deep breath, and let out an extremely girly... squeak.
"You wanna twy that again?" asked Red.
"Shut up," mumbled Octo. "You've never had to be a woman before." He took another deep breath, and this time let out a blood-curdling scream: "AAAAAAGH! HELP MEEE!!!" Now they just had to stand there and wait for a minute. So far, it was all going according to plan.
"Oh," said Octo, "and sorry about this next part. I forgot to mention it, and it's really my fault."
"Whaddya mea–" Red was immediately pummeled by a blue-green fist while he simultaneously caught on fire. He collapsed on the spot.
"Sorry about turning your power against you," said a powerful and heroic voice, "but it's in the script."
And there he was: The Super. The one, the only. Octo had never met him in person before, only seen pictures, heard stories. But Octo was a supervillain, and it was high time he stepped up his game. Octo stood there for a second, just taking it in... wow. He had nothing but respect for the hero standing in front of him. It would be such an honor to kill him.
The Super posed for a moment, doing the thing that all heroes do. Then he turned to Octo to offer help; Octo was still in disguise as a damsel in distress. The Super looked directly into his eyes, smiling with all the warmth of a true hero.
But then, his face started to contort, turning to disgust, and then fury, watered down with a bit of disappointment. "Now," he said, "tell us why you're here."
What? thought Octo. This made no sense. Why would he say such a thing? He blinked, and all of a sudden Octo was lying on the ground. He felt extremely warm, and there was sand in his mouth. He rolled over, looking to the sky, and saw The Super looking down at him. There were also two girls, one in her late teens, with very short brown hair, the other maybe ten with long blond hair. The two girls looked worried; The Super was just annoyed.
"Glad you're finally up," The Super said drily, standing up and walking away. The two girls fussed over Octo as he tried to sit up. His head hurt like it had been smashed with a hammer.
"Where...?" he started, but his voice croaked. His throat was like sandpaper. The older girl reached into her knapsack and brought out a bottle of water, handed it to Octo.
"In the desert," answered The Super. He kicked a rock off the cliff. "Where you escaped from prison. What happened, exactly? Where are the others, and why aren't you with them?"
Octo stopped drinking for a moment, trying to catch his breath.
"Aha," he croaked finally. "Now we get to the interesting part. Time," he paused a moment to breathe, "time for the game to begin."
Hello peoples of the planet Earth! I have made another post!
(Random) Heads up: I have Friday off of school. I'll most likely have something up sometime that day for you guys.
I'm excited to be writing again! Sorry I've been sick. I'm the worst person to get sick, too: whenever I get sick, I have trouble doing more than the bare minimum to stay alive, so it's really hard for me to write. It doesn't matter what I get, I just feel really awful and can't do much.
The good news is that I'm back on my feet and writing again!! I've got lots of plans for the blog this month, and not all of them have to do with this story... ;)
By the way, how do you like how it's unfolding? Feel free to comment below, or if it won't let you because sometimes Google just loves people like that, you can email me at polarfarina@gmail.com and it'll be awesome!
Thanks for bearing with me,
~PolarFarina
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Chapter Twelve: Haunting
The Super rushed forward, the wind in his face, screaming in his
ears, yanking on his cape. He saw his target coming closer, and he
slowed to avoid collision. His feet touched the ground and he stood in
front of The Blue Octo.
His first nemesis, his first success, his first headline. He put this bad guy in jail years ago, and had moved on, expecting him to stay there. But that stupid dragon... wait, where was that dragon? Or any of the other convicts? Last month's bust, Biter; or the guy he'd caught ages ago, the star guy... what was his name? Never mind that, what about the sorcerer boy?
"Where's everyone else? What are you doing here?" he demanded.
He looked down at The Blue Octo. Wait, down..? The Blue Octo was lying on the ground, and he wasn't looking too hot. "Wa-teerrr..." he croaked. The desert air had finally caught up with him.
"What are you doing out here? Why aren't you with the others?" demanded the Super. He stared right into Octo's eyes, trying so hard to read the criminal's mind. It was the one power he didn't have. He could fly, shoot lasers, open portals to other dimensions. He could light things on fire at will, understand anything said in any language, and even survive in space. He had a magic map that could take him anywhere he wanted, and he was so strong he hadn't found a limit to what he could carry yet.
But he couldn't read minds. And it made him so frustrated. He was constantly finding new abilities. At least, he used to. Ever since he became a big hero, famous across the galaxy, he'd stopped learning new things. The people in charge of keeping him "under control," an organization he never quite learned the name of and never claimed to be part of the government, told him that he was "above petty crime" and should "focus on the big stuff." In other words, no more stopping crime wherever it could be found; he had to spend his days waiting for them to call him for an assignment. They might not sound legitimate, but when he was faced with either "slight restrictions" or being sent to jail yourself, he decided to follow their orders.
Being a big-shot superhero wanted all over the galaxy seemed nice at times, but The Super missed the old days. Once you get high enough you can't get back down without falling.
He grabbed The Blue Octo by the neck, yanking the limp figure up so they were close to eye level. "Come, on, say something!" demanded The Super. The Octo looked up into The Super's eyes, and he could tell that this enemy had lost all respect for him. The days of witty banter were long gone. Battles fought might as well have never happened; it was as if The Blue Octo were searching for something to tell him who this person was, a look of curiosity combined with caution, and just a hint of skepticism.
The Blue Octo looked into the eyes of The Super as he had done the first time they met: as a stranger.
This terrified The Super so much he dropped Octo, and the creature dropped to the ground with a grunt. Had he really changed that much? Had he become a stranger to himself? It had only been a few years... Years that The Super had lost count of. How long had it been, again? Ten years? He was slipping, and he'd known it for some time, but that didn't stop him from acting as the hero he thought he should be. He didn't want to give up. Not yet. There was always hope; at least, that's what he used to tell himself to keep going, back before he became a big-shot hero, back when he struggled with even the simplest of crimes. Life seemed so simple back then, even with the setbacks. If something needed doing back then, he could do it without having to clear it first. That seemed so far away... like a dream he couldn't quite remember all of. He remembered how it used to feel, becoming a new hero; but not much of what he'd done. Gosh darn it, he really was slipping.
The Super crouched down to look at Octo. His eyes were closed, and for one terrifying second The Super thought he was dead. Then he saw the octopus' chest slowly rise and sink, and he relaxed. The Blue Octo was still alive. The next step: re-hydration.
The Super reached down and looped his arms around The Blue Octo's torso, and slowly took flight, ascending carefully as he thought. He had become a stranger to himself, and it didn't feel good. It felt... hollow. Something was missing, something he'd missed because he hadn't been thinking about it. But now that he focused... there was definitely a hole there. He wondered what used to go there...
The Super sped forward, reaching the top of the plateau in record time. He touched down to the ground, and Rose and Cassandra turned. "Who's that?" asked Rose, looking at the limp figure of The Blue Octo. "Oh, my God! Is he hurt?" She stood up from the rock she'd been sitting on and hurried over to The Blue Octo's side.
Cassandra glared at The Super. "Why's he here?" she asked pointedly.
"Wait," said The Super, "you know who this is?"
"Yeah," said Cassandra. "The blue octopus guy. The one you're always fighting."
"Didn't you say you were from another dimension?" asked The Super.
"Yeah."
"So how do you know who this is? Even if your data is a little off, I mean, his face hasn't even seen daylight in years, and he hasn't fought me for twice as long – but still, not even Rose or Alfonso knows this stuff. No one does. So how can you, a person who's never even seen me before yesterday, know so much about my past?" concluded The Super.
Cassandra stared at her feet, her face turning red.
"To be fair, I'm from another dimension, too," interjected Rose, who was somewhere behind The Super reviving the dehydrated octopus.
Cassandra looked up for half a second, then her eyes darted back down. Wait, was that...? It was! She'd just looked at Rose for collaboration! The Super turned to look at Rose kneeling by The Blue Octo behind him, just as she turned back to her work. Hm... something fishy was going on here.
"I dunno why," Cassandra finally said.
The Super scrunched up his face for a second, debating whether or not to address this secret they were so obviously keeping. He'd worked so hard to hide his past. In the kind of hero business he had somehow gotten into, anything from your past could destroy your future. He couldn't take that chance, because even if he didn't plan to stay like this forever, the past shouldn't determine the future. The Super chose to have no past, so that to figure out his future, they'd have to look at the hero standing in front of them, not the one who rescued damsels in distress fifteen years ago.
The Super decided to let it slide; his career was already falling apart at the seams, and they had bigger problems to address. The Blue Octo was waking up.
"Now," said The Super, "Tell us why you're here."
Hey, guys. Sorry it's been so long. It's just that... stuff happened. I don't really want to talk about it. Basically it took me almost two weeks to write this, and I hate having it drag out for so long. I'll do my best to prevent it from now on, I promise.
This post went really long, and I didn't get to write the stuff I wanted to. But I had to cut it short or else it would be another week before you guys got anything. So I'll write it in the next post. You'll get it sometime during the week of the fifth.
Random note: The movie, The Boxtrolls? Really, really, cool. I recommend it.
That's all I can think of for now. I'm really tired. See you in the next post.
~PolarFarina
P.S. Try to guess why this chapter's called "Haunting." I'll do something special if you do, maybe even draw up a new Randomness of it All comic... *wink wink* Seriously, though, you guys are awesome. Thanks for just being here.
His first nemesis, his first success, his first headline. He put this bad guy in jail years ago, and had moved on, expecting him to stay there. But that stupid dragon... wait, where was that dragon? Or any of the other convicts? Last month's bust, Biter; or the guy he'd caught ages ago, the star guy... what was his name? Never mind that, what about the sorcerer boy?
"Where's everyone else? What are you doing here?" he demanded.
He looked down at The Blue Octo. Wait, down..? The Blue Octo was lying on the ground, and he wasn't looking too hot. "Wa-teerrr..." he croaked. The desert air had finally caught up with him.
"What are you doing out here? Why aren't you with the others?" demanded the Super. He stared right into Octo's eyes, trying so hard to read the criminal's mind. It was the one power he didn't have. He could fly, shoot lasers, open portals to other dimensions. He could light things on fire at will, understand anything said in any language, and even survive in space. He had a magic map that could take him anywhere he wanted, and he was so strong he hadn't found a limit to what he could carry yet.
But he couldn't read minds. And it made him so frustrated. He was constantly finding new abilities. At least, he used to. Ever since he became a big hero, famous across the galaxy, he'd stopped learning new things. The people in charge of keeping him "under control," an organization he never quite learned the name of and never claimed to be part of the government, told him that he was "above petty crime" and should "focus on the big stuff." In other words, no more stopping crime wherever it could be found; he had to spend his days waiting for them to call him for an assignment. They might not sound legitimate, but when he was faced with either "slight restrictions" or being sent to jail yourself, he decided to follow their orders.
Being a big-shot superhero wanted all over the galaxy seemed nice at times, but The Super missed the old days. Once you get high enough you can't get back down without falling.
He grabbed The Blue Octo by the neck, yanking the limp figure up so they were close to eye level. "Come, on, say something!" demanded The Super. The Octo looked up into The Super's eyes, and he could tell that this enemy had lost all respect for him. The days of witty banter were long gone. Battles fought might as well have never happened; it was as if The Blue Octo were searching for something to tell him who this person was, a look of curiosity combined with caution, and just a hint of skepticism.
The Blue Octo looked into the eyes of The Super as he had done the first time they met: as a stranger.
This terrified The Super so much he dropped Octo, and the creature dropped to the ground with a grunt. Had he really changed that much? Had he become a stranger to himself? It had only been a few years... Years that The Super had lost count of. How long had it been, again? Ten years? He was slipping, and he'd known it for some time, but that didn't stop him from acting as the hero he thought he should be. He didn't want to give up. Not yet. There was always hope; at least, that's what he used to tell himself to keep going, back before he became a big-shot hero, back when he struggled with even the simplest of crimes. Life seemed so simple back then, even with the setbacks. If something needed doing back then, he could do it without having to clear it first. That seemed so far away... like a dream he couldn't quite remember all of. He remembered how it used to feel, becoming a new hero; but not much of what he'd done. Gosh darn it, he really was slipping.
The Super crouched down to look at Octo. His eyes were closed, and for one terrifying second The Super thought he was dead. Then he saw the octopus' chest slowly rise and sink, and he relaxed. The Blue Octo was still alive. The next step: re-hydration.
The Super reached down and looped his arms around The Blue Octo's torso, and slowly took flight, ascending carefully as he thought. He had become a stranger to himself, and it didn't feel good. It felt... hollow. Something was missing, something he'd missed because he hadn't been thinking about it. But now that he focused... there was definitely a hole there. He wondered what used to go there...
The Super sped forward, reaching the top of the plateau in record time. He touched down to the ground, and Rose and Cassandra turned. "Who's that?" asked Rose, looking at the limp figure of The Blue Octo. "Oh, my God! Is he hurt?" She stood up from the rock she'd been sitting on and hurried over to The Blue Octo's side.
Cassandra glared at The Super. "Why's he here?" she asked pointedly.
"Wait," said The Super, "you know who this is?"
"Yeah," said Cassandra. "The blue octopus guy. The one you're always fighting."
"Didn't you say you were from another dimension?" asked The Super.
"Yeah."
"So how do you know who this is? Even if your data is a little off, I mean, his face hasn't even seen daylight in years, and he hasn't fought me for twice as long – but still, not even Rose or Alfonso knows this stuff. No one does. So how can you, a person who's never even seen me before yesterday, know so much about my past?" concluded The Super.
Cassandra stared at her feet, her face turning red.
"To be fair, I'm from another dimension, too," interjected Rose, who was somewhere behind The Super reviving the dehydrated octopus.
Cassandra looked up for half a second, then her eyes darted back down. Wait, was that...? It was! She'd just looked at Rose for collaboration! The Super turned to look at Rose kneeling by The Blue Octo behind him, just as she turned back to her work. Hm... something fishy was going on here.
"I dunno why," Cassandra finally said.
The Super scrunched up his face for a second, debating whether or not to address this secret they were so obviously keeping. He'd worked so hard to hide his past. In the kind of hero business he had somehow gotten into, anything from your past could destroy your future. He couldn't take that chance, because even if he didn't plan to stay like this forever, the past shouldn't determine the future. The Super chose to have no past, so that to figure out his future, they'd have to look at the hero standing in front of them, not the one who rescued damsels in distress fifteen years ago.
The Super decided to let it slide; his career was already falling apart at the seams, and they had bigger problems to address. The Blue Octo was waking up.
"Now," said The Super, "Tell us why you're here."
Hey, guys. Sorry it's been so long. It's just that... stuff happened. I don't really want to talk about it. Basically it took me almost two weeks to write this, and I hate having it drag out for so long. I'll do my best to prevent it from now on, I promise.
This post went really long, and I didn't get to write the stuff I wanted to. But I had to cut it short or else it would be another week before you guys got anything. So I'll write it in the next post. You'll get it sometime during the week of the fifth.
Random note: The movie, The Boxtrolls? Really, really, cool. I recommend it.
That's all I can think of for now. I'm really tired. See you in the next post.
~PolarFarina
P.S. Try to guess why this chapter's called "Haunting." I'll do something special if you do, maybe even draw up a new Randomness of it All comic... *wink wink* Seriously, though, you guys are awesome. Thanks for just being here.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)