I am venom, poison to the touch Doomed to never know the feel of a lover Left alone on the streets by an uncaring family Forced to live in the Hell of everyday life All that I touch fades slowly away Until I'm left naked and cold in the dark gloomy street Keep your distance, you stranger, else you will know Why everyone around me does not touch this damned girl ---------- Venom Papers lifted and black ink screamed a headline: "Port Street Rapist Still at Large!" The buyer smiled, glanced around, and snuck the paper under his arm while the vendor wasn't looking. Casually but quickly he left, using the dark as his cover and the umbrella as his shield against the dreary rain. His eyes veered left, right, left, sweeping with mathematic precision every secret corner of the street. There no, here no, there maybe, here not tonight. Not tonight, not that one. Seclusion beckons; he slipped into a dark alley, looked around, and hid himself further. There were no lights there save the random flash of lightning from heaven. Finding shelter under an emergency exit staircase, the man leaned against the brick wall, unfolded the paper he stole, and read casually. A shifting object caught his eye; the rustling of paper and crude cloth took his eyes from the inky white of the world's news to more immediate matters. A person was there in the alley, several steps away, and was struggling just to keep their shelter. A flash of light from above gave the man the impression that the figure was a young woman. A second flash confirmed it. He grinned. "Hey, you. Young lady. You getting soaked?" The woman made little frail coos, but otherwise didn't answer. The man put the paper away and approached her. "Those rags you're wearing can't be good for the weather this evening. Here, maybe you should take them off and borrow my coat." "Stay back," he could hear her whisper. He grinned and hoisted her up by the cloak she had thrown on. His loins thrust forward in excitement as he realized (with some help from the lightning) that she was totally naked underneath. "Oh, I like what I see. Bit of a naughty girl, are you, to be wandering around with only those rags on? You'd give guys like me the wrong impression." "Don't touch me." She wrenched free, nearly flinging half her garments on the floor. Rain soaked them; he advanced as she tried covering her exposed chest. "Please, stay back! Don't come any nearer!" He ignored her. The cement belched up water as he sloshed his way through. She moaned softly, like a woman damned to die at the gallows, and tried walking away. He followed. "I won't hurt ya. Here, take my coat. But first, about those rags..." "Stop it! Don't come any nearer!" "I won't hurt you." She whimpered and stumbled. He was on her and loosening her coverings easily, as he had done so many times before. She shrieked as he grabbed her wrists and pulled himself closer—but it was his screams that pierced the night sky. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! "I warned you," she whispered darkly as he lurched backwards in pain. The man's voice shattered the gloomy silence of the damp evening as he fell to the ground in pain, clutching his hands. They felt like he had shoved them in a fire; the very skin was already burning off, revealing smelly flesh and grieving dermis. He wailed and wriggled like a worm with a section of its body stepped on; she whimpered back, and ran away into darkness, every naked footstep etched into the ground permanently. ......... Merry Lynn Weathers yawned, stretched her enormous body, and dizzily got out of bed, groaning over how late she had slept again. It was nearly eleven—quite a breach in discipline for her—yet she felt like she could go on sleeping for another eight hours. She forced herself out of bed, stepped into her personal bathroom, and blasted the shower as cold as she could stand it before screaming herself into the living world. Next door, Amielle Celestino winced and forced a heavy pillow over her head, trying to drown out the noise from the other room; Marissa Wainright, Shalis Torth, and Alisti Kreager were already up and rolling their eyes. MONOTONY. "You can say that again," sighed Wainright. Kreager smiled eerily. MONOTONY. "Not literally." She smiled again and kept her tongue. Wainright yawned and waited for the only person she could honestly call a friend to finally join them, keeping herself busy with a book in the meantime. Kagemusha was a definite no-show for mornings, and Rancor slept late as always, leaving her and her "fellow freaks" alone for a few hours. Marissa didn't trust either Torth or Kreager, but living with them in the same compound gave her no choice. Merry finally came out of the shower, dressed in a worn-out white robe with a towel still scrubbing her pinkish hair. She greeted everyone with her usual goofy smile, and sat perched right next to Shalis, inquisitive and curious as a girl half her age. Torth had been investigating world news since waking up five hours earlier, and was paying particular attention to one story that had recently cropped up. "So, what's up?" "Distance yourself and I will tell you." "Hmm, nice. What up, Wainright?" "Same old, Weathers. Tech's in her usual mood, and Alisti is creepy as ever." OFFENSIVE. "Sorry." "She'd have better reason to apologize if you could conduct yourself in a more mature manner," said Shalis, deadpan and focused. Alisti let out a very audible snort but otherwise did nothing. Torth continued as she typed, "Just because you are bound in that chair without any advanced communications, that does not give you the right to wave around your juvenile malcontent. And do not give me that look; I can see it in the reflection of the monitor." BITCH. "Ever the linguist." A smile threatened Torth's mouth as she hacked away. She could hear Kreager wheeling around looking for sympathy, and knew she wouldn't find it. She focused on Merry Weathers next, pointing one of her artificial fingers while keeping the others on the task at hand: "And to answer your question, I'm investigating these rape headlines and reports. Something interesting has come up within the past several hours and I've been researching it in full." "What is it?" Torth made a few strokes and one of her monitors flashed up several newspaper headlines in a row. They all basically read the same, centering around a case of serial rapes in the Port Street area. Weathers examined them as they came and shrugged. "So? I mean, it's horrible, but this stuff is for the police." "It was, until recently. Nobody knew who was doing it until just last night, when a man came forth and confessed. Police described him as having severe mental and physical trauma. The skin on his palms and fingers had been burnt away by some sort of corrosive, though nobody could identify it. The man was imprisoned and told the police about his final crime, that of advancing on a young woman who was not so helpless as he thought. He claims she used the corrosive on him, perhaps because she knew who he was." "Well, he got what he deserved." "Perhaps, but I'm more interested in the girl. Think about it. These days, forensics have evolved to determine almost any kind of acidic compound, regardless of how long ago it was used on the human body. The man's hands went through surgeries and tests, and nothing could be identified. Therefore, they have concluded that this is a new element, and the carrier has been listed as extremely dangerous. The man had only a vague description, so police are warning everybody." NASTY. "And what's your theory?" asked Marissa. Shalis stopped typing for awhile to rub her face, which had barely moved since she first woke up. "Common people don't carry around unidentified acids, and this man said that aside from a few old rags, this girl was naked and unarmed. I've come to the conclusion that she may possibly be carrying powers similar to our own." "So you're saying she burnt him?" "In effect, yes. I don't know how yet, so that's why I'm digging around—specifically, for other related cases. A woman who has the power to corrode things cannot go unnoticed for long; surely another story has been done about her. Now if you please." Merry and Marissa let the woman get back to her work, and exchanged worried glances. A girl who could use an unknown acidic compound on other people, or other objects, was as dangerous and lost as any of them. If she had control of her power, she was a danger; if not, she was a lost soul. Either way, their hearts went out to her. "I'm still too tired to think about this," said Merry at last. "I'm gonna go get something to eat. You comin', Marissa?" "No, I'm good." "Kay'. Alisti, you hungry?" FAMISHED. "All right, I'll help you inside." Merry manually guided the girl's wheelchair and disappeared into the kitchen. Marissa sighed deeply, stood, and placed her hand on Shalis' shoulder. "I'm going outside for some fresh air. I'll be back in about an hour." "Have fun." Wainright smirked sarcastically and left the ice-cold computer wizard to her work. As pale as she was, being out in the sun was a lot more fun than being stuck inside with the Technomancer. Twelve oh-five, post meridiem Marissa burst back into the compound via its front door, feeling energized and healthier thanks to her walk. She smiled and nearly skipped inside the main den, but stopped as she noticed Shalis was still at the terminal. She made a face and stepped in for a closer look. "Are you still at it?" "Yes. These things take time." "But you told me how fast you were." "Yes. But these things take time." She frowned and shrugged. "Okay... Where's Merry and Alisti?" "In the back, having sex." Marissa's face contorted in a grimace, and she whined out a "What?" Shalis stopped typing to turn around and fake a smile. "Sorry, my humor has never been good. They're reading." "Merry and Alisti are reading together?" "What else is there to be done around here—disintegrate ants? Hahaha." Her mechanical laugh and poor attempt at another joke made Marissa leer. "Nice. Still, you've got a point. I think I'll join them, unless you need help." "No, not at the moment." Marissa waved and was gone, thus leaving Shalis with her privacy—just the way she liked it. "Hey guys, what'cha read—" "Marissa, everyone, could you come in here? I found something." She turned around, barely having time to breathe in the smell of books, and grunted. "Huh. So much for quality time." "Sorry for the interruption," called Shalis' voice, "but I've discovered something that could give us a lead." "All right," she sighed, and the trio returned to the den and Technomancer's side. One of the monitors before them came to life, depicting a photo of an average, thin girl around her mid-teens. She had short brown hair, passive blue eyes, and as far as the photo was concerned, everything below shoulder level was unmentionable. "Nice mug," said Rancor. "It was taken three years ago. Her name is Namie Ayako Chizuka, aged nineteen right now. The newspaper reported her parents evicting her from their home a year earlier, so she's been living on the streets for some time. I only found this after cross-referencing files from disaster claims stating that an unusual corrosive had deteriorated construction—mostly in soup kitchens and the like. I looked into a few files and got her name, but there was no other connection. In other words, nobody knows she did any of that." "What about her parents?" "An exception. They were interrogated by police, but kept insisting that they had no daughter. Finally the father wrote a confession, but there's still no official link between Miss Chizuka and the disasters." "And unofficially?" "The police are scared out of their minds. How can they apprehend somebody who'll burn through cuffs and prison cells? They can't shoot her because she doesn't attack people—all the burn victims are rapists and the like—and washing her down doesn't do any good either. According to my readout, they would need very hot water, the type you'd use in a sauna, to briefly stop the secretion of acid, and that would do more harm than good if applied improperly." "Well what about acid-resistant suits?" "Actually, I've been working on that since news of this came up. I reasoned that if we were going to take her into our ranks, we'd need to make sure she couldn't destroy anything. I'm actually almost complete with one, but I'd need proper measurements." "So you're saying you really want her on our side?" "Yes. Like most of us, she's a danger to society, and she would be very safe here. Besides, underneath my mechanical exterior, I have a soft spot for people like her." She turned around and smiled weakly, then resumed her work. Marissa and Rancor shrugged; Alisti coughed. LOCATION? "Unfortunately, that's the one thing I can't find. The closest I can pinpoint is Port Street, which was the scene of the rape last night. It's been a few hours since then, so she's probably not in the area. This is where I need everybody's help." SEARCH? "Precisely. Once our fifth is roused, you should head to Port Street and look around. Split up if you want, be mindful of the usual precautionary warnings, and if you find her, call me first. Do not attempt anything until I have confirmation. I would like to speak to her personally." "How, a cell phone?" "No, portable monitor, courtesy of Mr. White." Shalis extended her artificial arm backwards, keeping her face glued to the monitor while she held out the small device. It looked like a large cellular phone or calculator with a television screen, and seemed difficult to understand until Torth explained how to operate it. She pointed out two others on the table, inviting Marissa and Rancor to keep one each and save the last for Kagemusha. As usual, Alisti reacted with scorn. UNFAIR. "Only because you couldn't handle one on your own. At least I am sending you out this time, and that's only because you'd be in my way if you stayed behind." BOSSY. "It's how I operate. Learn to live with it." Alisti blew a very rude raspberry, but Shalis was too absorbed in her work to care. Marissa kindly guided Alisti away to the door, while Rancor had the distinct "honor" of waking up the shadowy fifth member of their troupe. Needless to say, having skin that could form armor sure came in handy... ......... The team split up into three groups once they reached Port Street, with Rancor and Marissa each going in opposite directions, leaving Kagemusha and Alisti to search wherever they wished. The shadow-girl who was sometimes called Stalker hated doing what she called "a babysitter's job" and took no pleasure in pushing the quadriplegic young woman around. For her part, Alisti was silent, choosing to observe rather than make Kagemusha's job worse. Neither girl wanted to strike up a conversation with each other, which was fine. However, ninety minutes into their search, Kreager finally spoke up and tried not to sound snappy. SHADOWS? "What about them?" USE! "Huh?" POWERS! "Damn it, I can't understand you. Can't you use more than one word at a time? USE! ...SHADOW! ...POWER! "I didn't mean it that way, but I think I understand. So how'd you learn about that, anyway?" GUESS. "I'm not in the mood for games." INQUIRED. ...WHITE. "Did you now. Hmph, that bastard—who does he think he is, telling you what my powers are?" NICE? "I think he needs to wrestle a cactus." Alisti snorted and coughed out something that might've been a laugh. Kagemusha just rolled her eyes. "Anyway, the shadows don't know everything. They only see the present. If our target is hiding in the light, I won't be able to find her—and you're probably interfering with them more, what with all that telekinetic babble." BITCH! "Go read a dictionary, you're boring me." Alisti suddenly jerked and waved her arm around. "What now?" IDEA!! "So?" TRACKS! "What about them?" FOOTPRINTS! Kagemusha slowed down and nearly stopped as the thought processed in her mind. If Namie Chizuka really did secrete acid from her skin, then both shoes and socks would wither away—and the concrete beneath her bare souls would melt, thus leaving behind her footprints. Kagemusha was not one to be impressed by people, let alone freaks like the Disintegrator, but she had to admit it was a brilliant idea. "All right, all right, I'm sorry about before. I'm going to call the others and see if we can't find anything. We're lost if she's decided to pick up some platform shoes, though." Fortunately for the group, Namie Chizuka had gone barefoot since the attempted rape the other day. Although she had stolen new clothes and rags to replace the ones she had lost, she had neglected her feet—the most telltale part of her body. Rancor noticed some faint prints of smallish feet while wandering around an empty alleyway, and buzzed her location in to headquarters and her teammates as she followed them. Soon, everyone found a set, and wound their way around town like bloodhounds until they were almost close enough to smell the chemicals eat away at the pavement. "Shalis, we're close," whispered Rancor. "I can almost smell the chemicals eat away—" "Spare me the poetry, Weathers, and link me up. Get close but don't give her any reason to fear. Stay calm, especially Shade and Spade." Kagemusha and Disintegrator snorted. "Uh, Shalis, now may not be the best time to say this, but Rancor and I aren't exactly the best at negotiations. I mean, we failed twice already." "The first time couldn't be helped. The second...I do apologize for my behavior, but I had a lot of work and a lot of stress. Frankly, I owe you girls for getting me out of there eventually. I would've turned into a real machine if I had stayed there any longer." "Don't thank us, it was Mr. White—" "Ssh!" Rancor silenced her friend as they came upon a huddled mass of brown clothes and rags. She cleared her throat and called out to it, which she assumed to be Namie Chizuka herself. One of the folds of cloth lifted up, revealing a face full of fear, sadness, hopelessness, and misery. "Who are you? What do you want?" "Miss Chizuka? Right? Can we call you Namie?" "I...guess. What do you want?" Before Rancor could say, her earpiece buzzed to life with Shalis' voice. "Weathers, patch me in if you would." "Don't we get a chance?" "You will if I fail. Please?" "All right," she huffed as she presented the portable monitor to Namie. The girl watched and listened with interest as the Technomancer appeared and spoke to her. "Good afternoon, Namie—or should I say good evening? My name is Shalis Torth, but these people call me the Technomancer. We're part of an organization called ‘The Lost', where people like you, me, and these four can find safety and security away from the world. All of us have some kind of deformity or dysfunction that does not allow us to fully interact with the rest of society; I myself am part machine. We're all good people at heart, Namie, and we want to look for other people like ourselves—those ‘lost', you could say, or those who feel they have no hope because of the cruel way life has treated them. I'm offering you a chance to come with these four and live with us, away from prying eyes and the constant danger. I promise, you will be well-treated here, and you will find friends who accept you for what you are. I myself would be pleased to have you here. Don't concern yourself with your power; I already know about it, and have gone to great lengths to, shall we say, adjust to it. If you refuse, we will simply leave you in peace; if you accept, please follow these four. You can trust them. Thank you." The image disappeared. The girls looked down at the huddled young woman, wondering what she would say. Even Alisti seemed anxious; Kagemusha just crossed her arms and bit down on her tongue. Slowly, Namie stood up, dropping some of her clothes in the process, and bowed. "I accept." ......... After meeting face-to-face with Shalis, Namie was asked to strip her rags off and step on a special acid-resistant platform. Shalis asked Marissa to go into her room (which was rarely used, naturally), fetch a white box on her bed, and give it to the newest member of the team. She obeyed, and when Namie got the box, the cardboard, tape, and ribbons burned slightly as she fought to open it. Inside was an outfit made out of an unrecognizable material, but as Namie touched it and lifted it up, something strange happened: it did not corrode. She smiled at Shalis. "Put it on." The suit was skintight but roomy, and colored so pale blue that it looked ghostly. She gave a little squeak as she fitted it around her waist and bosom, and blushed as she looked at herself in the mirror. Despite it hiding her skin, she still felt naked—it left nothing to the imagination. Finally, skintight footwear and gloves went over her hands and feet, completing the outfit. Aside from her head and neck, Namie was totally covered and completely unable to burn anything. She giggled nervously as she walked across the bare carpet. "My god, this is so amazing!" she gasped. Shalis smiled at her. "Here, catch." Torth threw a tomato in a gentle arc, and Namie caught it. She held it delicately, admiring it not only for its color, but its constitution as well. It held up perfectly. "Amazing. It's not disintegrating at all." Suddenly, the tomato burst in a messy explosion, spewing out red chunks everywhere. Namie yelped and jerked back; Shalis glared at Alisti, who was chortling like an imp. "Now really, was that necessary?!" Kreager grinned and winked, but Namie was too happy to take offense, so she laughed and forgave the young cripple for her mischief. Shalis sighed. "Namie, if I were you, I'd put some regular clothes over that when you go out. That suit will last you a long time, but you have to take care of it. Try not to leave the house without it—oh, and the gloves come off easily in case you need to...uh...you know." "I'll remember," she replied with a smile. "You don't have to worry, Shalis. I'm not sure I'll ever take this off." "Well...it does need to be washed." Chizuka grinned, Torth blushed, and as Alisti glanced between the two, her childish mind conceived something moderately adult. She grinned and decided to leave the two alone; in fact, everyone did. They had seen enough for one day. ---------- May the Lost find their way home, wherever it is, whenever it may be. The next chapter reveals a demon in the dark, a creature forced to live underground, scorned and hated simply because of her appearance. Will this gentle-hearted monster finally surface and see the light? Find out in the next chapter, "Lurker".
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