Jane hunched over her desk, staring at myriad pieces of hardlight holocube projector core. Even through her shade visor, the world was headache-bright. That omnipresent gritty burn seared the corners of her eyes.
She balanced half the core in her palm, slotted in another part. Tried to
If life were a streaming service, Max would’ve hit “Skip Intro” a long time ago.
Every day played out the same: wake up, scroll, eat cereal that claimed to “optimize your morning,” and try not to think about the flashing ad
The Agents Against the Abuse of Arcane Accords had originally been pitched as the Break-A-Wish Foundation, but someone thought that might be irreverent, so they went with Quintuple A instead.
Agent Vera Fray, Quintuple A’s best wizard, listened to the morning’s recorded call for clues as
“Why are you soaking wet?”
Scamper reeled back from his best friend, HearSay, to avoid the shower as the awkward, towering droid dripped water from the ragged trench coat draped on his thin frame. HearSay brandished three glimmering fish impaled on his makeshift spear for Scamper
A job for Icebird, on Dad’s birthday. How ironic is that?
One year ago, Houston Haas had taken up the mantle of Icebird from his late father, complete with costume, jetpack, and freeze ray, but in a wholly different direction. His father, Jerry, had used his inventions to help criminals commit robberies for a cut of the loot.
The metal hallways flash red as my team and I dash toward the control room. Security alerts reverberate through the corridors, muffling the sounds of our footsteps.
“Attention,” a voice blares. “Intruders detected in Hallway B3. Deploying security measures. Attention. Intruders detected in hallway B3…”
I grin. “They’re onto us, boys.”
Pearlescent light envelops me when I slide from the vent and brush the dust from my tattered dress. A groan parts my lips as my spine uncurls, limbs stretching. I glance around, anxious that I have given myself away. But the airship’s Grand Hall is empty, silent.
Trying to ignore the tempting shape at the end of the room,
My stroll down the block came to a halt as I caught the sign in my periphery. TIMELESS: Antiques & Vintage Goods. I could practically feel the time portal pulse with hope, though I’d shoved the former deep within my bag and the latter deep within my soul.
Read it now
“Wake up!” a man barks through a respirator mask as he raps his baton across the window my head rests against.
I stretch open my drugged eyelids and meet an unrecognizable world. I’m waking up to falling ash and a crimson sky.
“It’s the
“I’ve got it!” Marc waved off the left fielder and pursued the fly ball.
But his synthetic body, like his physical one in years past, had its weaknesses. As the baseball’s path took it past the sun, Marc’s eyelids closed to keep his vision sensors from burning out, and he lost track of it.
I peered down the prison ward’s empty hallway—shiny and sterilized like everything else in the Domand Empire. “All right, I’m here.” My whisper echoed off the metal walls. “Which cell is Colton’s?”
Alexander’s tinny voice crackled in my earpiece. “B-5.”
“Stella, you’re clearly the creative type.” The smiling digital man flowed along the wall screens as Stella walked home. “So, check out StoryTeller Pro 5.0! With just a few prompts…”
She looked down to escape the relentless advertisement, but this street had freaking
Recent Comments