Jittery hands move back a lock of hair that was constantly in my right eye. It was almost as if it were a patch meant to hide an injury or something.

I pulled out the piece of silk almost by route, and felt the pen in my hand before realizing it was there. I still don't know where the Tool comes from, but I've never had anyone I could ask either.

A climactic breath as the sensation took hold once more.

My hand flowed across the piece of silk, crushed and frayed towards the edges. It was not a perfect surface for the Art, but it did suffice.

Paradigms shifted as the shapes took form.

A blossoming red rose, the ink tinting on its own as the brush moved, was shown first. Its petals opened further and further before my wrist flicked to the side twice of its own volition.

Not the perfect red blossom of a rose. The shape was that of a red blossom of blood instead.

Black shapes formed around the slash of crimson, rectangles and circles, the ink massaged into the falling frame of a man. One arm was akimbo, angled unnaturally as if it were snapped, while the other reached for the chest wound. Auburn shades painted the top of the victim's head.

The drawing was a map. I never knew where it would lead, or what path it would take. With my own I eyes I watched my hands create a masterpiece only I could deduce.

Possibilities shortened as the scene sharpened further.

Geometric designs were scrawled on the page next, small hexagons of irregular shapes that started near the mortal wound and trailed off and up, curving to the left in a hodge-podge brick-like pattern. The tools in my hands changed as needed to render the image, where moments ago I held a brush, the fine tip of a pen now finished the hexagons and started drawing more rectangles, smaller, and more sketch like in design than the visual cue had been drawn in.

The finger tightened on the Glock's trigger as another bullet was loaded in the chamber. The crosshatch the weapon had been surrounded with flowed into botches of purples and blues, black slashes of pigment adding a wash effect to the watercolors.

The killer's face was partly shown as a final burst of dark draped across the right side of the female's face.

Humanity #4
"Pacific City" 4 (of 6)
"Manga"
by Alex Cook

If I didn't know who to blame each and every time this happens it might actually be easier. Blaming the person who brought you into this world for the very reason you hate each and everyday of it is a terrible crux to bear.

Some people didn't see why she was such a bitch. She just added it to the list of reasons she would dine on dear old daddy's heart.

"Where the fuck am I now?"

Raven hair covered the sides of a face with pronounced cheek bones, a red hue to their apex complementing the shade on her full lips. Brown, dawn like eyes hardened by anger glanced around in irritation, a facial expression that almost magnified the lady's exotic beauty to some.

Cherry blossoms swayed in the slight breeze between buildings. Slashes of black in exotic looking patterns adorned signs.

Ornate buildings with swaying arcs that made up the supports for shingled roofs dotted the area. Banzai trees, immaculately trimmed shrubs, koi ponds: balanced examples of beauty and function surrounded her. It reeked of the Orient's box like thought process regarding most layers of life.

The displaced Madame looked down at her boot clad feet. "Japan. Fuck."

"Enough with the language already!" My teacher yelled at me. Jenni was mostly a great instructor. Today however, I was distracted.

Today I was supposed to kill someone.

Pause. Rewind.

Everyone is defined by their exterior, a combination of the myriad of layers that make up a person including appearance and social abilities. As an artist, I along with others define our exterior by our interior, rather than the other way around, as most within society would have it. Few think we are radicals. I just see us as creative. The left never did care for the right.

One day my internal started defining more then just my immediate local reality. Once my drawings began depicting times to come, my definition was divided, multiplied, and reasserted from the first strand of my very DNA. I painted, scratched, and fingerprinted the very future.

This was the first time my painting had turned into a self portrait.

Play.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am." I whisper.

Jenni's blue eyes, with her Italian features and blonde hair, glanced over at her student. "What's the matter?" She had always known when something was wrong, no matter how I tried to hide it.

"My head is just not in the right place today, Teacher. Please forgive me."

Jenni patted my shoulder, something about my stature saying more I think than my words. "Why don't we call it early then?"

I put away my pad of watercolor paper and pigments silently. Jenni took it as consent and moved to gather her own things. Without a glance back, I walked out of the class into the hallway.

Lockers and students stood affixed to the walls in social regiment as I meandered through four buildings on the campus before leaving for the day. Jenni had called it early. I didn't hear her specify she meant only her class.

There was no background in my painting. I had no idea where I was supposed to be, or where to stay away from.

The streets of one time Edo seemed interesting enough of a companion for the afternoon.

The hours past eleven had been a waste. She had no idea why she was here, where she was going, or when she was getting the hell out of here.

This was her little problem with the entirety of life. A cosmic joke forced her to spontaneously appear at different spots around the world. Yea, she had had some trouble explaining it away as well.

"Unnnngh." At somewhere in the near six-foot range, it was noticeable when someone of her height doubled over and dwarfed into a fetal position due to an onset of pain. Her body was screaming at her, nerve endings on fire. Fuck, she thought. I'm heading the wrong way.

She had to think about her dear sister then, her twin. An identical one at that, or at least in appearance. The two children's
personalities were such polar opposites few wondered if they were in fact related at all. Demeter had taken up the psychological studies, while she herself had chosen the physical application of medicine.

The former wanted to help, while Lilith...

Lilith knew one day she would be forced to kill her Father. She saw becoming a doctor a means to learn the most possible about the human body. Hell, for all she knew, her patronage was near immortal, living a mighty long time already and having survived some of the most horrendous wounds and skirmishes Lilith had ever treated.

It was because of Dad she kept getting dragged around the globe like some deity's ambulance service. Hermes ER-to-GO.

As she turned back toward where she came from, Lilith watched the sun begin its afternoon crawl to the horizon.

"Come, enjoy the dusk with us!" The boisterous Japanese businessman jostled. He was average height for his locale, with brown close cut hair and thin rimmed glasses. A sharp defined nose rounded out a plain, unremarkable Asian face.

His partner, on the other hand, was not UN-memorable. The way his eyes seemed to pop past the confines of his skull, almost like a toad's, disturbed the questioned American visitor. "Yes, come on Rick, let us toast our deal over some sake."

Rick smiled, and ran a hand through his auburn hair. With a small point in his chin and a rounded jaw-line, he himself wasn't a lady-killer but faired well. It was the way he intended to look. "There is this great place, with some nice waitresses named Houng's down the way we usually go to."

"Well, guys, if you insist." Rick replied, and grinned wider. He had intended to gain the men's confidence after all.

Time began to be measured in ivory vases of warm liquor. Five bottles later, and Rick watched the two drunk Japanese men sway in their chairs. Neither of them dared ask Rick how he handled the copious amount of alcohol he himself had ingested, because to do so would mean to admit they were each more drunk than the American. It almost became a game for the two local citizens. Damn Americans, they both thought at the same time.

Rick smiled as he sipped his water again and grimaced a little. Sleight of hand tricks were a favorite of his, and filling his small
cup with water rather than sake hadn't been hard to do.

"Congratulations again, Mitzo." He commented, raising his glass. Toad raised his own glass, saluting his partner as well.

"Yes, the United States and our own Country will profit greatly from this partnership." Mitzo sipped form his own cup.

"The genomes will be secure, correct?" Toad asked, Rick having honestly misplaced his name while remembering all the details of his cover identity. The two businessmen themselves operated under covers, not true movers or shakers in Japan's economic sectors. All three belonged to a different playground of power ploys and double crosses.

The alcohol loosened Toad quicker than Rick thought it would.

"Yes, the genomes. They will be shipped with the utmost of care." Rick played along.

Mitzo looked at his partner, but he too was inebriated, so let the slip slide. "The product must reach our hands in the next seventy two hours, sir."

"I'm aware of that," Rick led Mitzo along. "To be sure, where is the drop site?"

Mitzo's eyebrow rose slightly. Rick wondered if he had played his hand too much.

"Neither of us said the location was a drop site, Rick," Mitzo folded one hand over the other.

Toad's eyes narrowed as the red flush of drink started to fade from his face, his attitude growing sharper.

Fuck, Rick thought.

Mitzo was first to draw his gun, two shots off before Rick hit the ground. Instincts had taken over and Rick's legs had pumped back with a powerful thrust seconds before the shots rang out. Still in the chair, Rick pushed again and used the wood of the chair to easily slide further back across the wood paneled floor. Two seconds later and each hand gripped a nine-millimeter of their own. Four seconds after that, three of Rick's shots returned the first two's mating call.

Mitzo dropped to the floor as Toad jumped back himself and ran for the kitchen doors.

Fuck, Rick thought.

Rolling to the right, Rick laid flat and brought his knees up to his chest underneath his prone body. Another push and he was on his feet, turning around and sprinting after the departing amphibian looking agent of the Japanese government. Toad didn't seem so lethal, Rick thought as he pushed through the doors.

Fuck, Rick thought.

Another bullet's birthing cry was heard, followed by a gurgle of clenched pain and the dropping of a body to the floor.

Fuck, Rick thought. I've been shot.

It really was like a bullet wound. Demeter probably wouldn't know what a gunshot felt like, so would have no clue how to relate to such an analogy. But Lilith, she had had a few run-ins with automatic weaponry and their ilk.

The sudden tug of the tether she had fought painfully against earlier ripped through her.

There were a few facts Lilith knew about her so-called 'powers'. She was meant to help a superhuman, Hero or Villain, who was physically harmed. Once she arrived on the scene, she would usually be right there, in the middle of it. Sometimes, like this one, she was dropped into a place early, almost as a precaution. Lilith cared not to think about the implications of such a fact though. Her only guide was these painful spasms. Almost like radar, they lessened the closer she got.

Whoever decided on the equivalent of shock therapy to keep her in line was another person she added to the list of targets she counted off nightly before sleeping.

When the convulsion jumped to this degree, Lilith guessed things had just gone to shit, and she was needed yesterday.

Heading further into Tokyo, Japan, Lilith felt her wind return to her the deeper she went.

Another silver piece of steel ripped into her shoulder.

Rick was no longer who she appeared to be.

Toad fired again, the smoke of the kitchen fire that had broken out when he had shot blocking his view. He really didn't know whom he was firing at anymore.

The damned American was a spy, Toad had reasoned. Mitzo opened fire and was dead because of it. Toad simply wanted to run. But no, that wasn't going to happen, was it. Rick, the government scientific liaison sent to see Mitzo and Toad, wasn't what he had been billed as.

He, Toad saw, changed into a she.

Toad had gotten off a few good shots. At least three fragments of hot metal invaded the shifting shape's body. Where once Rick had auburn hair, it was blonde, and rather then the rounded features of before, there was a face of Italian decent with full lips and brownish skin.

Jenni blinked as she fought to shift back to her Rick cover. Only in extreme times of stress did she lose the focus required to keep her shape. The fourth, and Jenni really guessed the final for her, shot echoed across the kitchen and shattered her knee.

Falling to the ground, Jenni / Rick blinked away blood from a head gash. Resigned to her fate, she watched Toad level his gun to take his final shot.

The shot never came.

A Greek Goddess sailed through the air, parting the flames between Jenni and Toad. Before even landing, a fist connected with the Japanese operative's jaw. Spinning, Toad turned to take in the new arrival.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Calvary." Lilith replied with a smirk.

Grimacing, I continued my trek through Tokyo. Being a teenager, I was, well, bored. Walking was only so stimulating, even with the enormity of my situation at hand in the forefront of my mind.

I was going to kill today. I just didn't know who, or where.

That only left what I did know, which was how. How do I get a gun in the first place?

I hurry across the street, horns from cars and motorcycles blaring at me as I do, after noticing I was standing directly in front of a gun parlor.

Upwards, to the heavens, I now looked, praying silently. I prayed for insight into my drawings every time another one was created. This time, I prayed for insight into myself.

I felt the need to sit, and sulk, like a good teenage girl. Houng's, the sign said above me. I wonder if they had any cafe mocha.

Cocoa sprayed into Toad's eyes as he finally dropped the Glock he had been carrying. Lilith used the moment of hesitation and grabbed for the discarded weapon. Fingers gripped steel as the man's bulbous eyes were finally clear.

The grinning image of Greek death was all he would see before joining the dead Mitzo outside.

"Bang." Lilith pulled the trigger without a flinch. She turned and looked back at the bleeding body she had leapt over to get into that ugly bastard's face. "Who are you?"

What looked like a man, yet had the chest of a woman, shuddered as it tried to answer the question. "My serial.. seri... serial number is.. 15633.."

"A spook." Lilith said, interrupting the agent's chatter.

"I will not be coaxed by any means you can employ. I know nothing that will help you accomplish whatever your goals are. I am useless to you." What looked like a man, but with the face of a blonde haired art teacher, said.

"I'm not here to torture you." Lilith replied, walking to the wall and pulling down the fire extinguisher nailed to it. With a hiss and
a spray of white foam the burning pan of oil was taken care of. Now, time to handle the patient, Lilith mused. The fire extinguisher dropped to the floor as the estranged twin reached for the First Aid kit.

"Unfortunately, this might hurt as much as being tortured." A spark on one finger appeared, blue in color and translucent almost. Lilith looked away from her patient's eyes as she touched the first bullet wound.

"ARRRRH!!!" Rick / Jenni shouted. Lilith only moved her hand to the next round, and dipped her finger into its bleeding orifice again.

"Whom do you work for?" The doctor questioned.

"ARRRRH!" was the only reply as another wound was administered to.

"Anesthetic usually is administered to block the pain you are feeling. I could whip up something like that with the items here in this kitchen actually," Lilith said, almost non serious in nature as with equal disregard another wound was cauterized. "If I was given a reason to. Whom do you work for?"

"I will not answer.. ARRRRRRRH!" Lilith twisted her first digit.

"Whom do you work for?"

"Who the fuck do you think? Who the hell has the resources to employ supers as fucking secret agents?"

Lilith only stared down at the shape shifter as it continued to lose its form. "Fine."

The greatest scream yet was uttered as Lilith really went to work.

Screams greeted me as I walked into the small lounge. I was mistaken to come in here. This was the type of place that catered to men who cared to see naked female breasts, not little girls with a craving for chocolate and sorrow. The scream only confirmed my sudden suspicion.

The kitchen doors flung open as a man rushed past their confines. My eyes widened as I looked at him.

His auburn hair burned my soul.

Another person ran out of the kitchen as well, black hair flailing about as she sprinted. I watched, frozen in my spot, as she raised her arm and pointed a very vicious looking firearm my direction.

A very vicious looking Glock, I recognized. My breath was caught in my throat as she pulled the weapon's trigger.

No, not pointed at me, pointed at her.

The crack of the bullet brought her to a stop. The law of motion kept her hair traveling forward, one half wrapping around and
covering her face. The right side of her face.

The killer's face was partly shown as a final burst of dark draped across the right side of the female's face.

"ARRRGH!!!" The auburn haired man shouted as a slash of crimson burst from his chest. His head connected with the ground with an even sharper crack sound.

I hadn't thought my eyes could grow any larger at this point, but I was proven wrong as auburn hair washed away like a wash of water applied to a painting of ink. I finally found the breath to gasp as strands of gold replaced the departing hair. I watched in detached horror as the man's chest swelled, his middle section thinned, and his hips rounded out more.

He became a she.

A tear dropped down my cheek as red pumped out of the wound in my art teacher's chest.

"You've cost me enough fucking time. Here's the offer. I heal you, you owe me. When, where, how, those are up to me. I will call when I need you, my dear, you don't call me. Shake your head if you want to live or die."

Jenni grimaced as she looked at her assailant. I don't think she ever even saw me.

"Fuck you."

"Fine." Again paralysis set in as a final shot plastered Jenni's gray-matter against the floor.

In a far off place, I watched all this. Like a tape on a VCR. Eventually I was able to review the previous events over and over
again. I could stop them, rewind them. Pause portions of them to dissect and rearrange and study. I became focused on one thing as I stared at the painting that had led me into that Houng's in the first place.

I fixated on what Jenni's killer had said before she had blinked out of existence. "Finally, time to get the fuck back to PacCity."

Nothing of her was left. She just folded in on herself like some human origami trick and was gone. In the space of a heartbeat, I was left alone with Jenni's bleeding dead body.

My drawings foretell the future. At least, I thought they did. I've come to realize, at the cost of my dear instructor's life, that my
sketches show ME in fact what my path will be.

I'd done my research. The raven-haired woman had only said PacCity after all. But I had found the place.

And my path is now leading me to Pacific City.

MORTAL COIL

Inspiration was a bitch on this one. *shrug*  I'm on a roller-coaster of ability with everything it seems. Some high points, some low. I do like how this came out, but have to say sorry it took so long.

-ALEX 07.04.02