Strange Days: The Descendants Basic Collection, #5

By Landon Porter

School's out and summer is officially underway! But it's not all fun and games, as it becomes clear that with the Academy gone, all new threats are popping up to try and take advantage of descendant kids. Laurel and Alexis set out to deal with this while the teens head to Dawson Bay for a weekend at the beach.

Summer for the Descendants promises to be packed with fun and fulfillment. Too bad it will also be packed with magical monsters, killer robots and maybe even a super-powered team-up!

They are heroes. They are people. This is their story.

Styled after works from the Bronze Age of Comic Books, The Descendants is presented in a unique manner: as an all-prose comic book complete with issues, specials and annuals, each telling a complete story that ties into the overall tale of the titular superheroes.

It is also written as a throwback and love letter to an earlier age of superheroes, to a time before everything was grim and gritty and when comic books were fun.

Collects Issues #25-31 of the web serial The Descendants by Landon Porter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paradox-Omni Entertainment
• Release date: Dec 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502278562

Landon Porter

Landon Porter is a billionaire industrialist who fights crime with the aid of his magic sword and faithful companion, Distraction Lad whenever he's not dating supermodels or fighting evil robot bears from the future. On a completely unrelated note, he makes up fanciful stories for a living. An avid fan of superhero comics and roleplaying games, he blends tropes from both into his works along with themes of family, hope and redemption alongside a fervent rejection of cynicism and darkness.

Book preview

About This Book

As you read this book, please keep in mind that it is not a single, contiguous story. Rather, it is an anthology of stories set in the same universe and following the same characters. One issue will not necessarily follow up on the events in the last. In true comic book fashion, these stories form a story arc where events in Issue one may be revisited many issues down the road.

Issue #25: Summer Session

Summer Session (Part 1)

So there it is. Laurel looked to each of her friends and housemates in turn as she finished relating the basics of the data General Pratt had sent her. She hadn’t wanted to tell them over breakfast, but it didn’t seem right to keep it from them any longer than necessary. Regardless, she could tell by most of their faces that she’d added more than a little stress to their day.

No more slick attempts at cover-ups, no more fronts. Without the Academy, Tome’s tactics have switched to outright kidnapping. Olivia White was even taken from her home. Laurel continued, recounting what she’d already said as if to convince herself of the fact.

Are we sure it’s Tome? Alexis asked. Her voice came out in a croak thanks to a late night out with Ian compounded with this new element.

Maybe I’m being hopeful. Laurel said, In all honestly, I’m praying that this isn’t some new danger to young psionics, but the evidence and motive is there. All of the kids on that list are around the same level of strength or versatility in their powers or have a rare power, just like the kids they’ve gone after before. And the document has been confirmed as coming from Tome by the ROCIC.

So, what are we going to do? Cyn was the only one who was still eating. It was literally impossible to cause her to lose her appetite.

We can’t ignore it. Warrick said.

Even if they aren’t Tome, we can’t ignore this list if it really is a kidnapper’s itinerary. Juniper joined in shyly.

I think we all understand that. Laurel said. The question I’m working on is that ‘what will we do about it?’.

We can’t take them in. Melissa said dryly, staring dully at her pancakes. This place isn’t big enough for thirteen more people; it’s a bed and breakfast, not a mansion.

Cyn gave her a sidelong glance, but she was right, however nastily she’d put it. And we can’t trust any of the new schools, can we?

Not at all. Alexis said sadly. We looked into it and of the two dozen schools out there now, all of them are owned, sponsored or controlled by a grand total of five corporations. None of whom were exactly known for their philanthropy before there were young psionic minds to influence. And any one of them could still be a front for Tome.

What about that place where you got all the stuff you use to train us? Warrick asked.

The Brunswick School? Ian supplied.

Didn’t you say that place was run by British Special Services? Warrick asked.

MI-6 is Military Intelligence. Ian corrected, But pretty much. At least the man in charge is a company man.

"Hugo Lansdale is former military intelligence. Laurel corrected his correction. In fact, I did some checking. MI-6 publicly only admits that Lansdale was employed as a clerical worker, when in fact he was a psionic operative codenamed Absolute Silence. He was forced out after allegedly failing to complete a mission involving a young mentalist they believed the French were conditioning to be an agent of their intelligence agency, the DRM."

’Allegedly’? Cyn said around a mouthful of hash browns. You couldn’t get anything more specific?

That’s all MI-6 got, apparently. Laurel admitted. The boy disappeared, the training facility was destroyed, but no one at the agency could confirm him dead and Lansdale’s powers fouled every lie detector they tried on him. The crown’s been grudgingly allowing him to operate his school without normal oversight for the past decade out of fear that he still has ties to this boy, whoever he was. And believe me; they’re so afraid of him that every database I can access has been scrubbed of any mention of his actual name or abilities.

So he could be a good guy or a bad guy. Cyn concluded, attacking her heretofore unmolested sausages. I mean we don’t know what it was he did to the kid. He could have eaten his brains to gain his powers or something.

Juniper gave her oatmeal a horrified look as it changed to something wholly unappetizing in her mind’s eye thanks to Cyn’s colorful example and pushed the bowl away. That’s just horrible. He can’t be like that, can he Ms. Brant?

Laurel was in the process of giving Cyn an odd look and took a few seconds to respond by shaking her head. Nothing that graphic, I imagine. Thank you for the mental image nonetheless, Cyn.

No problem. Cyn replied. Are you going to eat that grey matter, Jun? She asked, pointing to the girl’s abandoned oatmeal. When Juniper indicated she didn’t, she stretched out an arm and snatched the bowl up.

But you’re right, Cyn. Laurel continued, He may be dangerous. For all we know, Tome has gone global in the decades since they broke from the government. But the Brunswick School is our best solution if I can trust General Pratt’s theories about it.

That they’re the ones smuggling kids out of the country. said Melissa. But has it occurred to you that maybe they’re just competing with Tome? Pretty much everyone else on the planet wants to alternately kill or experiment on us; I don’t see how these people would be any different.

Everyone? Cyn asked slyly. So what does Terry want to do; kill you or experiment on you? And remember, playing doctor doesn’t count as experimenting.

I think it would. Juniper said, completely missing the innuendo.

Mind your own business. Melissa snapped at both of them, sending Cyn into peals of laughter.

Girls. Alexis said firmly, causing everyone but Cyn to quiet down. She ignored her; trying to tell Cyn what to do was like telling a glacier to hurry up. We’re getting away from the point. If you can’t get better information on him, Laurel, then no one can. That’s a big gamble we’d be taking with these kids.

Yeah, Ian added. One I don’t think any of us is willing to take. This isn’t like contacting the kids’ parents, this is literally taking a chance at handing them over to the enemy.

Laurel took a sip of orange juice I didn’t say I couldn’t get any more information on Lansdale and the school, only that I couldn’t access it digitally. The Brunswick School’s intra-net is entirely separate from the internet and even the normal internet access is strictly controlled. I’d be willing to bet that he’s got a technopath on staff just for this purpose.

How are you going to get information without the internet? Warrick wondered.

Ian shook his head in mild disgust. Okay, kids, next training assignment is to read a couple Sherlock Holmes adventures and watch some detective movies. He sniffed at Warrick’s stunned reaction to this. Come on. Do you not understand basic investigation skills; hunting for clues, interviewing witnesses?

My dad taught me a few things. Juniper spoke up. But… how is Ms. Brant going to do that from here, Mr. Smythe?

Ian blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him in his righteous indignation over the kids not respecting the classics. Well, she’d have to… He looked over to Laurel. Obviously, she’d already come to the same conclusion, possibly within minutes of reviewing Pratt’s disk. You’re not going to England, are you?

It’s the only way. Said Laurel, starting in on her own sausage. I’ve convinced General Pratt to arrange a tour for us using his own and my father’s World Affairs Council connections. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.

What? Alexis was shocked. You already arranged this without telling us? You’re going to visit a potential enemy on foreign soil alone? I can’t let you do that, L.

I’m just as dangerous as any of you in proper context. Laurel returned. She couldn’t help but smile at the concern she engendered. And if you’re really concerned about it, well, I anticipated someone would want to come along to keep me company, so I had Daddy get me a second ticket.

Why would you need your father to book airline tickets? Ian asked.

Because we’re not going to be taking a plane. Laurel said, I want to get this done as quickly as possible, so we’ll be taking a sub-orbital shot.

Alexis blanched. Cyn finally found something to distract her completely from her meal. Awesome. She said with a seriousness and wonder that bordered on a religious declaration.

***

Later that day, the door to Laurel’s workshop opened as she oversaw a file transfer to her notebook computer. Hey. She said cheerfully. Glancing back, she saw that it was Ian. I would have thought you’d be helping Alexis pack.

She kicked me out for being unhelpful. Ian admitted. Is it my fault I think everything she has looks good on her?

Pretty much, yes.

She noticed him poking at a half finished piece of equipment on one of the work tables. What’s this? he asked.

Laurel left the computer to come over and look. Oh, that’s something I’m helping Warrick work on. After Tina’s electromagnet immobilized him, he figured the bad guys may figure out the same thing. So this is a demagnetizer. Or it will be once he figures out how to get it to work.

He figures it out? Ian asked, But I know for a fact you know how. We used industrial demagnetizers in Seattle.

But he doesn’t. Laurel supplied, And I’d rather he figure that out by himself. He’s a pretty bright kid when he applies himself. Have you seen his chemistry grades?

Not hard to ace chemistry when you can actually check your watch battery to see how many electrons nickel has. Ian quipped.

They both had a little laugh, which faded to uneasy silence. Laurel rushed to fill it. So is Alexis still nervous about the sub-orbital shot?

Incredibly. I’ve got to ask: is there any particular reason you’ve suddenly decided it’s necessary to shave eight hours off your flight time when it just happened to involve a mode of transportation she hates more than anything?

I told her; g-force dampers are generations ahead of the ones they had went we took our senior trip.

Laurel… Ian used the tone she herself used when people weren’t being completely straight with her.

Alright. I was trying to convince her to stay here. Laurel admitted. For one the kids need her here training them. Especially Melissa. I swear, she’s become worse at using her healing under pressure, not better; and she never uses her emotion heightening.

The training’s in good hands. Ian assured her, Mine.

Speaking of which… Laurel went over and lifted a notebook computer out of its charging cradle. I’ve programmed in the training sessions for the three days we’ll be gone. Remember, Cyn needs practice mimicking inanimate objects and Warrick needs focus control. Don’t worry about Kareem aside from the usual medical care; he knows the manifestation routine I planned for him by heart.

I know, I work on the lesson plans with Alexis. Ian accepted the notebook. And don’t think you’ve made me forget my question; why are you trying to convince Alexis to stay home?

Laurel sighed and sat down in one of her computer chairs. Because this is what I’m good at and staying here, watching the home front and leading the Descendants, is what she’s good at. If we can’t let one another fulfill our roles, we’re going to have problems.

She scrubbed her hand through her hair. It isn’t even that I don’t want her on the trip. I’d love nothing more than to tool around Europe with you two, and I know she’s choosing to go because we’re best friends. I just think it’s more important to have her here. Giving up, she looked at the ceiling. This would be so much easier if I was all cold and logical like the hyper-cogs in the movies. At least I wouldn’t feel bad for thinking this way.

Ian grabbed another chair and pulled it over to her. I for one am happy you aren’t. You’d be pretty annoying if you were. They both laughed at this. But don’t worry so much; I’m on the case here and I’ll handle leading the kids if anything comes up. I’d say ‘it’s only three days, what could happen?’, but we both know that would summon a giant shrimp or something to attack the city, so I’ll shut up.

Laurel laughed at the mental image of an immense shrimp rampaging through the city. Thanks, Ian, I needed that.

It’s what I’m here for. He smiled. Listen, you’ve said more than once that Alexis is better at thinking on the fly than you because you have to analyze everything, right? He let her nod before he continued. I think this qualifies as on the fly. Day before yesterday, we were dealing with Mad-Mad warping reality. Now we’re suddenly back to thinking in terms of Tome? Not to mention you’re going to only have three days at the Brunswick School. Maybe it’ll be to your benefit to have Alexis along.

That’s true. Laurel conceded. But I’m still taking the sub-orbital shot. I find them fascinating.

***

The cab had dropped her off down the road from the main entrance, affording her time to duck into the woods and shed her overcoat as well as don her mask. By the time she was properly attired and her coat securely packed in her suitcase, noon had slipped past her.

Those circumstances suited her fine. The dirt road was a comfortable walk and took a switchback route that offered a view of the French coast, gorgeous in the noonday sun. Soon enough, the path turned away from the coast and onto wooded hills.

Between two of those stood an ancient manor house that bore the patchwork effect of an owner desperate to renovate while at the same time suffering constant natural disasters. It and the grounds that belonged to it were surrounded by a concrete and steel wall. Incongruously, a set of old fashioned, wrought iron gates were set into the gap in the front, the words Académie Arcenaux des Arts Spéciaux were formed from the metal at the very tops of the bars.

There was also a camera, which she only noticed when she was close enough to have already been spotted. No worries, she wasn’t there to cause trouble.

Do you have an appointment, Mademoiselle? A deep, male voice asked in French from a speaker box set into the wall. It was a concerned, suspicious voice. The kind that called the police or reached for a firearm in a hurry if things didn’t go exactly the right way.

Monsieur Arceneanux is expecting me. She replied in her own, rather poor French. Of all the languages she’d learned, she’d neglected to learn the one she used most often aside from English until very late in life.

For security, Madame, the voice replied, Please remove your face covering and submit to biometric recognition.

Non. She said with sharp irritability.

There was a pause, and then the gates swung open before her. Welcome to the Académie Arcenaux, Mademoiselle Vorpal. The man on the intercom said cheerfully.

Summer Session (Part 2)

The front of the manor had undergone the most extensive reworking. The stone façade that set off twin oaken doors had been replaced with an atrium enclosed with what appeared to be, but most assuredly wasn’t glass. That had been done since Vorpal had last visited.

Stephan Archeneaux was already there to open the door for her. I didn’t know when to expect you. He spoke in English for her benefit. Otherwise, I would have sent Arnold to pick you up.

A free vacation in the south of France is doing more than enough, thank you. She set down her bags and the two shared a quick hug. Besides, all things considered, I figure Arnold has his hands full already with you converting the manor into a school. Your parents hired him to take care of one young psionic, not half a dozen.

It’s closer to a full dozen now. Stephan said, matter-of-factly. We had two new arrivals this week, a brother and sister. We’re letting them stay in their rooms until they’re comfortable. He ran an analytical gaze over her. I didn’t expect you to be in uniform. That’s new, isn’t it?

Courtesy of Vincent Liedecker. Vorpal held out her arms and turned so he could see it all. The metal is a new alloy they call ‘orihalcon’; probably because they failed Classics class. It’s supposedly indestructible once nano-assembled.

Then how…

Because it isn’t. Vorpal cut him off smugly. You of all people know, Stephan: Nothing’s indestructible when I’m determined. That left an unsteady lull in the conversation. In any event, don’t worry; I won’t be wearing it around here this week. I packed real person clothes; shorts, skirts, my bathing suit, sleeping clothes – the essentials.

I promised you that I wouldn’t give you trouble over the mask, Stephan started, but won’t it be uncomfortable? Especially if you’re swimming?

I bought a cowl. Vorpal made a show of casually looking about the receiving hall. It’s lightweight and still covers my hair and eyes.

Even on vacation? Stephan asked.

I have to take it off when I go to my apartment or shopping, or anywhere in my normal identity. Vorpal explained. But on vacation is where a person is allowed to be themselves. I’ve told you, Stephan; the girl under this mask isn’t me. She never was.

I can accept that for now. Stephan agreed, trying to salvage the occasion. I’m just happy to have you here again. It’s been years since we’ve met in person. I frankly don’t know where to start; showing you the renovations we’ve made to the place, introducing you to the students, asking— He was cut off by a cacophony of mixed laughter and moans from a room just off the receiving hall.

It sounds like the students have spoken. Vorpal said with a smirk. Stephan only smiled and motioned for her to follow him to the door of the adjoining room.

The last time Vorpal had been to the Archeneaux family manor, the room had been a formal parlor with all the trappings gathering dust after its young master’s long absence. Formality had been replaced by joviality. One wall was populated by antique arcade games, the one opposite it by a large television monitor. The monitor was currently showing split screen images of two motorcycles racing through what Vorpal recognized to be Hong Kong.

Three sofas had been pulled into a rough semicircle in front of the television. The central-most of the trio held two boys while the furthest one from the door was taken up entirely by a bulky figure with knobby, grey skin and a body that looked like an ox had been persuaded to stand on its hind legs then sit cross-legged on a sofa.

The commotion had obviously come as a reaction to one of the two cycles that had taken a detour along the sidewalk and suffered an ignoble end against the side of a fruit stall.

With clear annoyance at the heckling of his classmates, the oversized boy flipped the game controller underhand at the more stout of the two. He muttered something petulant that Vorpal couldn’t understand in a low voice as he did. The throw was off target enough that the intended recipient was forced to extend his arm out to half again its normal length to catch it.

So engrossed in the game were the three that they didn’t notice the two adults entering.

Has your French improved? Stephan asked Vorpal quietly.

Not by much, I’ve been busy getting settled in Mayfield.

Then this will be interesting; their English skills are just as poor for the most part. I guess you’ll have to learn from each other. Still, if we’re going to call ourselves a school, we really should offer lessons.

Not to me. Vorpal shot back. I’m your friend, not your student. You’re the linguist; translate for me.

I like my way better. Stephan mused. Before Vorpal could retort, he cleared his throat loudly enough to get the attention of the three boys. Gentlemen, he addressed them in French. This is a dear friend of mine from the states. You’ll know her as Vorpal. She will be staying with us for the week and I expect the best behavior. Additionally, to practice your languages, you will address her in either English or Mandarin for the week.

I recognized ‘Mandarin’ in that. Vorpal groused. I don’t know—

Stephan didn’t deviate a bit from his script. Ms. Vorpal, these are Charles Humbert, He indicated the young man with the stretching ability, Jules Krantz, The second boy was small and sharp featured, not unlike some kind of weasel, and this is one of our newer students, Zeke… he doesn’t have a last name. The giant simply shrugged at this, giving no indication that he knew or cared what Voice was saying about him.

They don’t have other names? Vorpal asked, almost automatically.

What? Like at America’s Academy or British Gifted Education? Stephan asked. You saw how that turned out. No, I’m not trying to train prelates or militants here, Vorpal, only give these kids a safe place to stay and learn to use their powers safely. That’s all. He frowned. That’s enough, really. He paused to collect himself, straightening up to his full height before addressing the boys in English. That will be all for now, boys, you can go back to your game now. Zeke, I’m glad to see you’re spending time with your fellows.

Zeke gave a half nod and heaved his massive shoulders. Stephan returned with a nod of his own and led Vorpal out of the room. Along the way, he regained some of his cheer. Come on, I’ll show you your room. I’ve had the new maid prepare the old guest chambers on the third floor for you. There’s a wonderful view.

Vorpal glanced back at the door to the parlor as they began to ascend the stairs. Is that the boy you were detoxing last time we talked about the school?

We had to use a high powered rifle to administer the treatments, but he’s clean now. Not exactly happy about it, but he’s better off not going berserk on stimulants.

If you ask me, a few uppers might do the sullen boy some good. Vorpal said dryly. How did he manage to take any kind of drug if you needed to shoot him to give him an injection?

Zeke’s skin is nigh invulnerable, but he’s just as susceptible to toxins as anyone—more so in fact. He’d take inhalants or pills and they’d drive him crazy. If we hadn’t gotten to him, the army was going to put him in an isolation cell for the rest of his life.

So what’s this about not letting them have nicknames? Vorpal changed the subject swiftly.

I haven’t forbidden it, only discouraged it. Stephan said. Vorpal, this isn’t America. The EU hasn’t engaged in a twenty year propaganda campaign to make psionics celebrities and ‘productive citizens’ in the peoples’ eyes. When people see a psionic here, they don’t see John Harding or Sonja Remington. They see a potential Arjun Ravi in the making.

They reached the second floor landing and Stephan held the door to the stairs leading to the third floor open for Vorpal.

Raising the next generation to make people think of them as those celebrities and productive citizens without the propaganda would help. Vorpal said, accepting his courtesy.

Maybe so, maybe not. Stephan charitably ignored the fact that an international assassin was advocating teaching heroics. Vorpal lived and died by the mantra ‘do as I say, not as I do’. "But this isn’t the place. These kids need a home and a family. Most