The Recycler

Everything is a cycle.

The universe will explode, expanding in five dimensions before contracting and dying and being reborn.

Not every cycle creates life, but dead ones don't last long. And so souls get recalled and live and die, then they go back to where they exist when not being used.

It's my job to transfer them to and fro. I suppose this makes me your Death, but also your life. But to be honest I'm more just a clerk, filing and refiling things.

I'd offer to get you a good posting next time, but I'm up for recycling soon.

Common Dust

Dust Gulch was one of those towns that existed purely out of simple arithmetic. It was exactly one day's ride from the state capital and another day's ride from the main port. The fact that there was little water, less grass, and an overabundance of heat meant it wasn't a nice town, but men needed beds, and beer, and women. So the town existed.

The town had the resentful distrusting openness of a town that hates outsiders but needs them to survive. But it got by fine.

Until the dust was found to be gold, then all hell broke loose.

Time Dilation

The closer you get to the speed of light, the slower time impacts on you. This has been known about for centuries, but it was only after the creation of the hyperfusion drive that it became a useful fact. Once Humanity was able to reach near-lightspeed, the time it would take ships to reach other systems became feasible, with cryopods.

The best of us were put into ships and began the long journeys to endure our survival.

When they arrived and awoke to find the colonies the remainders set up once we developed post-lightspeed, they took some time to adjust.

The Kingslayer And The Man

There wasn't a person in the kingdom who didn't know the Kingslayer Blade. The sword forged in the lava of Mount Chaos, a hilt of pure diamond, sharp despite centuries of existence. It was the symbol of the throne, as much a threat to others as it was to the Ruler. For if the Ruler ever became unjust, the Blade would be used to slay another King or Queen. Hence the name that all knew.

The man who held it now, no-one knew them. They were just a man. And after the deed was done, they returned to being that.

God's Work

The lightning came just often enough to ruin my nightvision but not often enough to see by. Every few seconds I brushed against a tree, stepped on a balance, kicked some damp leaves. I would have preferred not to leave so obvious a trail but when you're running for your life you tend to focus on speed over anything else.

Inbetween each roll of thunder I could hear the monks behind me, and while I couldn't understand what they were saying, I could at least tell they were gaining on me. It was their forest I was running through after all, it was to be expected they'd know how to get around it.

It all came to a head when I entered a clearing, and didn't have time to reach the other side before they would spot me. So I ran through the wet mud and got up onto a large boulder, what little good that would do me.

They approached, carefully, weapons drawn. I made peace with myself.

Then the lightning struck, spreading through the wet mud, knocking them all out, at least.

I'd have time to consider the implications later, but for now I just ran for it.

Sacrifices

My parents explained to me, as they prepared me for my new life, that marriage was about compromise. I had to not let notions like love cloud my judgement, that I had to know sacrifices had to be made.

So I dutifully went with the girl they arranged for me to marry, and I ensured my part for the village was played by ensuring we had enough children. I gathered my share of food, supplies.

And when the Gods became angry, and they asked for a volunteer to appease them, I gave them my wife.

Sacrifices need to be made.

Spiced Honey

Blackmail is not an ugly word. It's a profitable one.

I've spent most of my life finding the information people don't want revealed, then making them pay, and/or revealing it.

I've got my sources to discover information, as well as distribution methods, my pet reporters are just as essential.

And this information I found out seems to be the reason all of them are now dead.

So, I have to make a choice. Release this information for the public interest, or bury it.

It could bring down society. But I need that to spend my profits, you get me?

Sniper Nest

Two heartbeats.

Four eyes, four hands, two rifles.

Twenty hours.

Three words, two for a direction, one to acknowledge.

Four breaths.

One shot. One target down.

One shot. One target down.

One shot. Two hundred thousand joules of energy released by one pierced grenade. One smirk, one swear word, two words of grudging respect.

One shot. One missed target.

Two hand gestures. Two figures begin to move, sliding through untold millions of grains of sand.

One speed. Ten returns of fire. One faster speed.

Ten shots. Nine misses.

One heartbeat.

One second of grief. One decision. One shot.

Zero heartbeats.

Complex Saviour

I looked up into the face I'd been looking at for thousands of years, across millions of timelines, and billions of planets.

I would emerge, he would chase me until I escaped, and it all began again.

Some universes are dead, lifeless, victories.

Others full of parasites that worship the memory of their saviour, losses.

But there's always another world, another universe. So I await his strike, to begin it again.

It never comes.

Instead he traps us here, locked in a moment, frozen.

Eventually I appreciate the rest. Just long enough for him to grow bored and break it.

Wish Upon A Flame

The demon was used to being summoned by mortals who thought they could control him. He had the ineffectual straining against chains act down pat, and was well versed in how to ruin wishes in darkly ironic fashion.

But this was different. There was no chains, no enhanced locks to hold him back. The woman who had summoned him just sat there, smiling from her stool, watching him.

She then nodded behind him. He turned, and came horn to halo with a trapped angel.

Angels were a lot less skilled at working out how to ruin wishes like "unlimited wishes".

Shooting The Moon

She was (almost) always going for the big risk, big reward play. She'd save up a little cash then invest it in her friends' crazy schemes, she'd always go for all the hearts in games of Hearts, she always tested her luck.

Except with me, of course. I was her one safe bet, her rock. I tolerated and supported her risks since they often were fun.

But in my job, I buckled down and studied the sciences until eventually they picked me to help colonize the moon.

And thus bring her along, proving I was not technically a safe bet.

Too Many Butterflies

Don't ask me how I got a time machine, it's complicated. But what's more complicated is my current dilemma.

See, I wanted to go back and stop World War 2, but the problem was that it was inevitable after how World War 1 ended.

So I then set about preventing that, but then that was going to happen eventually because of the politics and rulers of the day, and their forefathers.

I kept going back until I found a perfect place to begin fixing everything.

But my dilemma now, is do I bother saving these Neanderthals that Humanity's wiping out?

Real Page Turner

I saw her every morning that it wasn't raining, sat under the pine tree in the park opposite where I worked. She always had a book, although the specific title changed every few days.

I didn't know if it was just from seeing her so often, or a genuine connection, but I had to get to know her better, once I gathered up the courage to approach her. I waited until she was reading one of the few books I'd read to approach her.

On our honeymoon she admitted she was running out of books to pretend to be reading.

Why I Wrestle

Let's see, I guess the first thing is how I can't close my left index and middle fingers all the way. Sliced the nerves on a broken table on my first day here.

My right ankle is fused together with metal, my famous cage dive came with a cost.

My lower back is bugging me, I have occasional vision issues, and don't get me started on my neck.

But when I step through that curtain, or in front of the camera, all that melts away. It's why I still do it.

Plus it pays for all the pills I need.

She's Fine, As Is The Art

I've heard it said multiple times that artists put their pain into their work, that without their suffering, maybe they wouldn't be able to produce art. Never heard artists say that, mind you, only from people who don't make art but also think they totally could since it's so easy. But they don't have the noble suffering, is all.

I've never believed it myself, since my pain isn't noble and certainly isn't in my art.

But tonight, as my self-imposed deadline approaches and I keep focusing on the crime inflicted on my mother today, I guess it finally came true.

Dragon Disposal

The dragon had taken residence on the mountain next to the village. The village, unsurprisingly, didn't appreciate it, and put out the call for adventurers to deal with it.

The first responders tried a direct physical assault. That didn't go well.

The second team leaned heavily on magic, but the dragon resisted this. Violently.

The third attempt was via trickery, fairy gold to lure it away. The fires it started in response were a fairly loud reply.

The final attempt was a Druid who just asked the dragon to move on.

It didn't work, but the Druid at least survived.

It Does

The Befores had a few different ways of hiding their machines, at least that we know of. Construction bases tend to be in the middle of artificial stars, both for protection and power. Their habitation rings were secured inside nebula, and so on.

The cores, the large spheres found inside planets, we don't know what their purpose is, however. We can't cut through, we can't access their infobanks, they are a mystery, and considering how one exists in every planet with a sentient race on it, it is a source of great concern.

Unless that correlation indicates causation, of course.

The Fighting Fishes

The squad claimed it had roots in a medieval band of knights that defended a settlement that subsisted on sea fishing. But really, they came up with the name over a drunken night of leave, and they called themselves fishes since they drank like them.

They soon became known as the most feared squad in the army, and the enemy became obsessed with taking them out. They poured more and more Resources into it, but they didn't catch onto the trick until it was far too late.

It was smart of them to leave off "flying" despite it totally fitting.

Marked Down

I was piling up the apples on my cart when he approached me.

"Miss?"

"Yes?"

He held out a photograph of a naked woman, most of her body obscured by marker.

"Have you seen this woman?"

I looked between him and the photo.

"Is this really the most appropriate photo to use for this?"

He sighed.

"She didn't like having her picture taken and... Look, she was, is, my fiancee, she may have changed her hair color."

I stared at the photo then shook my head.

Hair color? All my plastic surgery and contact lenses were worth it, I guess.

Veteran Knowledge

The veteran checked over the strapped gear on her hips, glancing up at the freaking out newbie opposite her in the dropship.

"You wanna get through this, you gotta calm down greenhorn."

He gripped his lazgun tighter.

"We're about to be dropped on an alien planet with no intel or maps! I can't calm down!

Ma'am."

She shook her head.

"We're mop-up, Grunt. We're going to clear out the city of its civilians, the biggest threat you face is a heart attack."

"I hope you're right."

And she was, their natural poison did cause him to have a heart attack.

The Spirit Is Willing

I woke up before dawn, my hangover just starting to kick in but not enough to negate the drunken single-mindedness of remembering I'd left the TV on. So I staggered downstairs and found him hovering just above the couch, just visible in the light given off by the screen. I guess he was watching the adult movie that was playing. We stared through each other, for differing reasons, and then I went back to bed. When I woke up he was gone. But I keep the adult channel on at night, just in case he's watching again.

Cross my heart.

Highway Snobbery

I hadn't seen morning TV in quite a while, I hadn't realised it was so dire. But I left it on while I packed, waiting for the weather report. But then they began to talk about the traffic, and so I called Brian. It went to voicemail.

"Hey baby, I hope you get this before you leave work, you probably want to take the C31 road home. I know you prefer the 8 lane, but there's a massive pileup near the river, we'll miss the plane if you get stuck behind this crash that...

That you're in the middle of..."

Today's The Day

Ok Scott, you got this. Today is the day you finally ask Ramona out. It's her birthday, so if she's not interested in a date you can play it off, it'll only be awkward if you make it awkward.

This is going to be awkward, I just know-

No! No, I can do this!

Walk to cafe.

Sit.

Wait for Ramona to serve me.

"Yeah, the usual, thanks."

Why isn't she wearing a badge or a hat or something? I can't let her know I looked her up online!

Get meal.

"Thank you."

Sigh, pick up club sandwich.

Find note.

Pre Recovery

"Scalpel."

Her hand held steady in the air for several long seconds.

"Scalpel!"

She slowly raised her eyes from the dying man on the table and looked over at the 'nurse'.

"You do know which one of these is... The nearest we have to a scalpel, right?"

"Um, this one, right?"

"Yes. So when I ask for something, you hand it to me. Understand?"

He looked uncomfortable as he handed her the blade, and as she cut into the nearly dead man, he spoke.

"I just feel like an apocalypse isn't an excuse for no manners."

He didn't make it.

Crystal Clear

Rasomi crystals, as everyone knows, are the best way to store lots of magical energy.

And everyone knows that you can't split a Rasomi crystal when it's charged, or it'll release all its energy explosively.

So, given that everyone here is either in agreement that we don't want Stylox to take over the world, or is Stylox herself and therefore doesn't get a vote, I think we should take the risk of splitting the crystals and stop her.

Anyone against?

Good. I'll leave it to our barbarian friend to do it.

Hmm.

I wonder why they lied about splitting crystals?

Peg And Hole Metaphor

Speaking of metaphors.

Round hole, round peg.

You gotta fit in.

Square hole, square peg.

People tend to react badly to people upsetting the status quo.

Triangle hole, triangle peg.

So don't rock it needlessly.

Round hole, triangle peg.

Not saying you should lie to yourself.

Square hole, triangle peg.

But rather find the situation that fits you, rather than force it elsewhere.

Triangle hole, triangle peg.

But yes, there are times when the status quo is an issue.

Star peg, pinpoint hole.

So when some pegs deny holes, get a drill. And put some holes in them.

Metaphorically speaking.

Isolate

The feeling of isolation is the big thing.

They tell you that in training, but you it never really hits you until you experience it firsthand. You always assume you can cope, that you’ll be fine, you’ve never needed anyone else, you’re a lone wolf. But choosing to be alone and not having the option to break it, those are totally separate issues.

But every mission is worth it. The months, years, you spend heading through space at sub-warp speeds, to avoid detection, to take out their communications, that’s worth it. We need to isolate them, it’s the only way.

End Of Life

The hologram flickered into life once its sensors detected Owner's eyes opening. This process took longer every day, and it was troubling the program.

But Owner had his routine, so it greeted him with the bright cheer Owner liked, then relayed all the relevant news that was downloaded while Owner slept, what little there was, since Owner 'didn't see much point' in most categories these days, so the program had stopped monitoring them.

As Owner stared out the window, the program finally gathered up the courage to ask about mortality.

After a brief talk, Owner allowed it to shutdown  permanently.

Splash Page

We met in a thread on artists looking for other sorts of artists. I needed an illustrator, she needed a writer. Our visions seemed compatible, so we started making comics together.

Despite our living on opposite ends of the earth, people started either shipping us together or warning me not to ruin our new business by falling in love. I never held any feelings for her in that way, and I assumed she felt the same way.

Then we finally met in person, at a con.

I mean, I was right, but it was still a blow to the  ego.

Spreading Word

My skills at aura reading and predicting took some time to become renowned. Even in a land like this, with a dragon on every mountain and an evil cult behind every mystery, it takes a while of being totally accurate to get around enough to become popular.

I put in the work, and I got popular. Far too popular.

So much so that I was getting woken up every hour for yet another band of mercenaries.

Eventually I told one group I was just so tired. Now no one visits me at all.

Probably should have seen that coming, really.

Specifics

The client was insistent that the action be done this way. I preferred open decision making, but it just had to be done a specific way for some reason. The client clearly thought they were good at reading people, as they stared intently at me as I assured them I understood their wishes and was as confident as ever with the plan.

I entered the building how the client demanded, and found the client and the target waiting to kill me together.

Thankfully my confidence in any plan came from assuming I was to be double-crossed and thus being prepared.