The Rising Dawn, # 6— "Dusk for the Shop"
- David Parker
- Oct 2, 2023
- 4 min read
[Short stories. Images generated by hotpot.ai]
There was a Gifted, called an Outlier by those who persecuted them, held at a faceless facility run by, much less the federal government, but an unofficial government— those who worked for the government irrespective of any legal documentation. After seven long years of being a guinea pig for these insidious forces, Serenade, or Nade, also called Voodoo, was joined by a fellow Outlier called Beacon, though his captors did not know this.
The folly of James Wark, or Beacon, was that he believed he belonged in the Secret Unofficial Agency to begin with. Beacon had the ability to enter dreams, thoughts, urgencies, and other means that would impel people to come and find him. He called them his Vibes. If he wanted to, he could cause a minx of an actress like Emma Watson to home in on him— which he did, at one point, but once she got there he realized that he could make her meet him, not love him. After an awkward and even near-disastrous interlude, he let her go.
He had the ability to do this, and had known for seven years now, but didn’t understand why he had the ability to begin with. After trying his luck with some porn stars, with mixed success, he finally decided that he was a Hero, meant to serve his country as an agent of his beloved America. A naturally-occurring patriot of the USA, he excited himself at the prospect of being a secret agent. When he made his decision, he sent out his reckless Vibes to draw in the clandestine agencies that he believed he should belong to.
The agents said little when they found him concerning who they were, but they referred to themselves as The Shop. When they got close, Beacon’s vibes told him he was in danger, but he mistakenly believed that overcoming the perceived danger was a test of courage for becoming a legend in the Intelligence community.
Beacon’s saving grace was that he kept his mouth shut almost completely as they took him into custody. The Low Men knew that James was an Outlier— they just didn’t know how. Striking up a conversation inexplicably felt dangerously awkward, even though one or two of them conveyed warmth and inspired confidence. When James knew what kind of situation he was in, he was in fact frightened, but he had a famous poker face.
He met Nade in the facility, and she didn’t tell him much, but she said with her eyes that the facility was a prison, and these were not good people. Before he had opened his mouth to chirp, they were immediately feeding him drugs. His Vibes told him that he needed to take them, or potentially they’d pop him with more.
What the Shop didn’t know was that Beacon’s power was quite literally the bane of their existence. It didn’t even require courage to use— simple self-preservation. And because Wark was careful to unplug from the internet on a regular basis, he knew of not only the Sentinels, but the Dawn Society. And with cathartic spite, perhaps enhanced by the drugs they gave him, he became the most unignorable homing beacon on the face of the planet for a society of supermen (and company).
Wraith, Pointer, Mech, and Sir Gallant were more than ready and able to storm the facility, as their active agenda was to find as many Gifted as possible and liberate them.
And so they did.
As for Voodoo, she warmly embraced being taken to Freedom Tower. The collection of other Outliers at the Shop facility joined them almost to a man, except two who were driven mad from their harrowing abuse and unethical experimentation. When the Sentinels formally met with Serenade, they were delighted she had joined the Society and to hear of her abilities.
“I need only their names, a memento, or a picture of the people who do this,” said Nade, “other than that, a budget of simple crafting supplies will do.” “... crafting supplies?” said Sir Gallant. “The nicer the better,” said Voodoo, “pure silver is better than baser metals, rare stones that have already been cut, bones of certain animals. A 3D printer, actually, is the best way for much of it.” “What is it that you do?” said Pointer. “They call me Voodoo. If I pour my juju into my craft, I can make it do anything, if it’s made of the right materials.” “You’re a Witch Doctor?” said an incredulous Wraith. “I try to avoid that name. It’s not good in polite society. But sadly, it’s true.” Yahtzee said, “Why worry about names? I think it’s awesome. Just aim it at the bad guys.” “I will do this even if you tell me not to,” she said gravely, “My suffering is unmentionable. Whether it is right to use my gifts, I cannot ignore what has been done.” Gallant said, “It sounds like a cup of just ice. Otherwise known as justice.”
Yahtzee, Ratcatcher, and Gamer all booed in unison.
“What about the Beacon?” said Wraith. Gallant replied, “He’s… unusual. And Gifted. But he may need… remedial education.” “He tried to home in a pizza delivery after they refused to enter Freedom Tower,” said Mech.
There was some laughter.
*-------------------------------------------*
Think about it: I’m resolved to write 30+ short stories a month, complete with beautiful illustrations. Combined with my unique writing style, innovative ideas, and unlimited creativity, I’m making magic happen in your life. Two comic books cost eight bucks, and it’s the same stuff you’ve been hearing about for at least fifty years. Voluntarily pay me at least five bucks a month, and you’ll know you’re getting your money’s worth. Be a team player, and we’ll all make some magic happen together. Swain and the Rising Dawn Society can’t make it without you, fellas. Donate via Venmo, Paypal, or GoFundMe, and I’ll be all hands on deck. Hell, I could be doing 60 short stories a month if I had some motivation to do so ;)
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