Resistance
Version Beta-4
By Tom J. Hyde

The storm crashed around me, black lightning tearing through the sky as if reality itself was being split asunder. Roiling masses of mottled putrid gray clouds filled the heavens without a single hint of refreshing rain or comforting breeze. The air itself was dead, a frozen miasma of lost thoughts and broken dreams.

I let out a howl as a hideous claw tore through my right arm. Blood spurted from the wound as icicles of agony stabbed through my chest from labored breathing. I dodged left to avoid the second stroke, but it only put me in range of Stephanie's infuriated roundhouse kick. It caught me in the jaw and I spun to the ground with a groan of pain.

Pushing myself to my feet, I plowed into the male form of James and sent him flying into the mass of shadow people. My left foot lashed out with speed borne of panicked desperation. It connected solidly with the translucent mass of one of the nameless catalysts I had once half-imagined.

My heart felt as if it would leap from my chest and begin to tap dance on the scorched soil beneath my feet. I jerked around wildly, my eyes dancing among the faces of the creatures and people who haunted my nightmares. There were too many. The crowd stretched into the horizon.

Then my eyes once again caught upon the blackened pits of the man who wore my face. I knew every contour, every detail of his visage. An angelic version of myself, pulsing with charisma, power and glory.

Except for the eyes. There was nothing but death there.

"Hold!" he cried in a potent voice. The stuff of nightmares around me halted their advance instantly, but continued to regard me as a vulture would eye a dying rodent.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "It doesn't have to be like this, you know."

My chest seized in great, heaving gasps as I tried to regain my breath. The weight of his gaze was enough to sink me into the pulpy soil. I fell to one knee and tried to stare him down. I didn't succeed.

"You don't have to be beaten into submission," my doppelganger commented. He sounded like he was having a conversation at a coffee shop.

"Go to hell," I growled at him. Every bone in my body screamed in pain. My skin was a patchwork quilt of bruises, cuts and wounds. I didn't know what was keeping me going, save for animal desperation.

"It would be trite to say 'you first,'" he laughed. I hated that laugh. It sounded like some cheap supervillain. But it was the kind of supervillain who was just toying with his prey before getting down to business. "Take a look around, Tom."

"No," I grunted. I dropped my gaze to the blackened earth beneath me.

"You think me to be the villain in this piece, don't you?" A dry chuckle escaped from his lips. His voice was nearly identical to mine, yet it was the opposite. It was everything I was trying to deny. "These are not my creations. These monsters are yours, my little friend."

My head rose unwillingly and I looked into the sultry gaze of Ken. She winked at me and ran a finger along her ridiculous curves. Behind her, I could see her male form, grinning wickedly at me. And beside the two of them stood a few versions of his once-sweet fiancée, Clarissa. Silvery black patterns washed across their skin where Doctor Nol's unholy combination of technology and magic had worked to mold their bodies into his weapons of revenge.

And I was the author of Nol's story, alongside Clarissa's and Ken's. Nol hadn't performed the abhorrent transformation upon them. I had. I had given life to the three Succubi who plagued the city of Forest Cove and began the dark work. And I could see them hovering around my doppelganger's form at the back of the crowd.

"You wrote them into existence with your imagination. You gave them hopes and dreams and ideas for how things should be. You created men and women in love. You created friends and families. And then you shattered their worlds, erased their minds and twisted their bodies."

Every word was like a bullet. And every shot pieced my heart. Because the truth of the matter was my shadowy self was right. It was my fault. I was responsible for their fates.

I tried to gasp out an apology, but no words would come to my lips. There was nothing I could say that would make this better. Salty tears dripped down my face and landed with a dusty splash.

"I offer you a chance to make this pain stop," he said. "It's not difficult. It just requires a realignment of your thinking. You see, in my view, these are just stories for a good time. Just fun and exciting things. They aren't people. They're just dolls to play with."

My muscles tensed.

"All you need to do is reclaim your title. Make it mean something again. Just do it my way."

I twitched ever so slightly and rose to my feet. I stared into the pits of his eyes.

It didn't sound like a bad proposition. When I wasn't looking at the price.

I spat at him. The wad didn't go more than three inches.

A smile crept across his features. "I was hoping you'd say that. After all, it would be more fun to beat you into submission."

A shadow moved within the shadows and a thrill of true fear scrabbled at my body.

"After all, don't you have a thing for submission?"

A silky blue outfit that left utterly nothing to the imagination fluttered around her body. Multiple versions of the girl crept toward me, like a panther stalking its prey. One face was a violet fox, smiling at me. Another was a blond Japanese girl. And a sensual redhead.

I took a step back in horror. This was too much. But the monsters began to converge around me. There was simply nowhere to go. Pure terror clutched at my soul as I looked into the eyes of the three women. I could see shades of more behind them.

Every one had the eyes of a mindless, unthinking doll.

Stephen swept up behind me and grabbed my left arm. I tried to elbow him in the face, but Paula seized my other arm. Dozens of hands wrapped themselves around me, pinning me before my greatest horror.

"All your dreams torn asunder," he whispered in my ear from a distance. The Succubi were approaching now. I knew they had little interest in my life. That wasn't the kind of creatures they were. They were after far more important things.

"Look into the eyes of what you will be." I needed to fight it, but the moment my eyes latched upon the purple orbs of the foxgirl, I could feel my strength draining away.

Shivers ran the course of my body. My vision began to darken. I could feel the shifts beginning. Memories and ideas began to change and sway in my consciousness.

"You belong to me." His voice was inside my head now. And one other tiny voice I couldn't quite hear.

With my last ounce of strength, I reached for the sky, as if seeking divine intervention.

Something crashed into my hand. Without thinking, I seized it. It felt warm.

With a mighty yank, I was pulled free from the grasp of my shadow's minions. I stared down below at the howling masses in utter astonishment, completely shocked at the sudden reversal of fortunes. They screamed and gibbered at me as I rose into the air, echoed by a roar of fury torn from my double's throat.

"Ahem," said an amused voice above me. My eyes darted upward to see the face of my savior. It was so unexpected, I nearly lost my grip. Dark curling locks framed a smiling and caring face. Her two eyes carried a hint of madness within them. Her green top fluttered in the wind as we soared through the crashing storm, her black pants standing out against the flashes of red and orange lightning.

She was standing on an odd metallic plate in the shape of a boomerang as if surfing the air currents themselves. In her left hand was a thick strand of tawny rope climbing up into the sky. Above, a strange flying contraption I couldn't quite make out sputtered among the cascading clouds.

I glanced at the single energy weapon on her belt. Emblazoned on the barrel was the word 'zappy.'

"You forgot about something," she said. After attaching the rope to her belt, she reached behind her back and pulled out a five foot golden staff. Intricate runes ran the course of the sheath. Teardrop shaped bulbs grew from either end of the staff. One side was inlaid with a faceted amethyst, while the other held a brilliant sapphire. I knew it instantly. After all, I had created it.

"Take it!" she shouted over the howling wind. She lowered the staff so I could grab it.

I recoiled as if she offered me a snarling viper. "Do you know what that thing is?" I screeched. "And what it does?"

"Yes, I do." She smiled and a look of concentration passed over her features. A wave of violet energy washed over me with all the subtlety of cannon fire. I let out a high-pitched gasp of shock as I felt my body being completely reshaped by whatever power this entity possessed. And in a moment, my vision was blocked by a curtain of vivid red locks.

I glanced down in surprise and saw my battered body healing and shifting. Gentle curves swelled from a thick and battered form. A sense of serenity flowed through me like the touch of the first spring rain.

When I opened my eyes, she was still smiling. She once again offered the Staff of Weyna to me. A creation of an ancient people which would allow the wielder to use the power of transformation magic, yet not be touched by it. Any who held it would be immune to transformations forever. This time, I took it with honest determination, my delicate hands wrapping around the shining metal.

"Just remember," she said conversationally, as if we weren't perched precariously on some little sled hundreds of feet above the ground. "My imagination works in different ways."

I grinned and tightened my grip, suspecting the Staff's immunities wouldn't hold up her power. But it would hold up against my own.

And even as a disk of dark energy tore through the thick rope and sent us both plummeting to the ground, I began to laugh.

I remembered.

I remembered the endings of the stories I had once written. I remembered my character's true fates, still locked within the tomes of my imagination. I remembered I was going to right the wrongs and make things better.

Then, I remembered much more. The tales where good fought evil and won. The stories which may have been adult in nature, yet ended with joy and happiness. Because in the world of my imagination, the good will always triumph. I wouldn't tolerate any other outcome.

Warm light began to fill my body as we fell to the ground. The fear was fading like fog before a glorious sunrise. I glanced down to see the teeming masses of shadows and nightmares beneath me.

I looked to my companion. She winked at me and snagged her weapon from her belt. She didn't look any more concerned than I. With a single shot from her zapper, she cleared our landing area, sending the monsters scurrying back.

I thought her hair looked quite pretty as it streamed in the rushing wind. I wondered if my hair was doing the same.

With the Staff of Weyna in my hand, I spoke a word of power. A cushion of air popped into existence beneath us and the nightmares once again backed away. I noticed their numbers had swelled further and wondered if my companion's demons had joined with mine. It was an interesting twist to things, but not one which concerned me much.

Despite the height of our fall, we both landed perfectly in half crouches to the snarling of the nightmares around us.

The blacked pits of my former doppelganger bored into me. "A pretty face won't save you. I'll just turn you like I did everyone else. You'll be just another doll."

"No," I whispered. "I won't."

The black skirt around my legs fluttered as I summoned the power my companion had given me. The Staff of Weyna burned with energy, casting a brilliant golden glow across the demons.

They didn't look so confident anymore.

"You forgot something," I said with a smile. I glimpsed my companion. She nodded.

"And what's that, little girl?" he sneered.

"These aren't my only creations."

I slammed the staff into the ground with a mighty cry. Shockwaves of force exploded from us in an expanding ball of concussive air. Thick cracks tore through the ground, blowing chucks of black stone and dead soil across the landscape, revealing glowing streams of green and blue.

Shimmering motes of light swirled between us and the formless mass of nightmares. I felt her energy coursing through the staff as our imaginations linked for that brief moment.

And like ghosts from the mist, our heroes stepped forward.

Jeffery Webb took his place beside Talissa and Redwick. Zaree'parn and Kopin'raf held erifles targeted at the creatures, backed by Therobelin, Meghalen and Xhaiden. Lah'ra and Toan glared at each other for a moment before standing alongside Daniel Makkus and Jeremy Rogers.

Captain Marcus Simms winked at Commander Amy Darreller as they leveled their weapons at the wall of creatures. Both versions of Thomas and Bethi Logan worked the kinks out of their necks. R.K. Stansi stood in his dress uniform, his rifle ready. Hasid cackled, his turquoise turban bouncing, while Brooke stretched her wings and claws.

And that was just the first line of defense.

As my companion's heroes burst forth into existence, the warmth inside me unfolded, washing over the landscape in a brilliant light. Emerald grass swelled at our feet as a butterfly swam through the air.

I thought it might just end up being a pretty day.

The last two figures shimmered into being. The first, a beautiful blond girl with an aura of such tender joy that my heart sang within her presence. And beside my companion, a crimson haired woman with a pen in her hand and mischief in her eyes.


Our champions assembled, I smiled into the dark pits of my former self. The fear was gone. I remembered who I was and where I'd been. The nightmares were simply dreams without the happy endings. And I was going to give them their happy endings.

For just a moment, I gripped my companion's hand again, finding impossible strength in the fact that I wasn't alone.

Her zapper bucked.

My staff sang.

Our heroes charged.

And the shadows quailed.