Volume I: The Lost Boys

11th of October, 2023. Westview high, Brooklyn

Students poured into the hallway as soon as the buzzing ring echoed over the school’s PA system. A short minute later, and the once quiet and empty corridor was flooded by chattery teenagers, eager to make the most out of the short recess between their boring classes.

The more seriously-minded among them made a beeline to their lockers to retrieve the textbooks so they could head straight to their next class without delay. Others were more interested in catching up with their friends before their next period started, gathering in small clusters that inevitably congested the crowded passageway.

The clatter of locker doors opening and closing, the squeaking of sneakers over the floor, and students talking over one another, made it hard to carry a conversation without raising your voice to match the pandemonium in the background. The two teenagers standing near the row of lockers did NOT raise their voices. They would have gone unnoticed by all, if not for the evident distress on the girl's face…

Unknowingly to the two, there was another bit of drama brewing farther down the hallway, one which, predictably, involved the Ogre. The monstrous giant always drew the attention of the entire student body whenever he stepped out of the classroom. Only today, the stares and fearful glances were accompanied by hushed whispers and an occasional giggle – and it all had to do with the three Harpies walking right in front of him, their voices carried farther than one would expect over the cacophony of the school’s hallway as the students tended to be much more reserved in the monster’s presence

Enola closes her locker just as Deion and Angelina finish speaking, having eavesdropped on their conversation with as much subtly as possible. Given the nature of her powers, her rodent friends have given an ample description of Mr. Sleepy, the laziest cat in the neighbourhood. Every time she passes by Angelina's house on the way to work and Mr. Sleepy is lazing about, she can hear how brazen the squirrels and field mice are about walking up to the cat without provoking it. The name is certainly apt. Still, rodent or not, Enola can definitely understand Angelina's worry. One of Enola's pet rats escaped from her enclosure back in Wyoming years back. She was worried sick, and were it not for her powers, she'd have never found them. Angelina does not have that same capability nor does she have any means of finding Mr. Sleepy. However, who better to find a cat than its potential prey? She could try asking the local rodents if they've found a cat matching the description. It might be a long shot; cats are notorious for exploring hard-to-reach areas. Mr. Sleepy however is a special lazy case. Enola figures that she could ask around while looking for Chayton after school. The thought of her brother's behaviour forces a sigh out of her, but she buries it quickly enough to turn to Angelina.

"Hey, uh, Angelina?" she says, nervous of offending her further. "I couldn't help but hear about Mr. Sleepy. I go on long walks around the neighbourhood all the time." Mainly to track down my annoying brother. "I can't promise that I'll find him, but I'll do my best to keep an eye out for him. I've got my own pet at home so I know the feeling of one of them running away. So...yeah."

[/quote]

Though Enola can admire Deion’s enthusiasm to help, she was expecting to do this by herself with the help of her rodent friends. It’s more efficient that way and makes sure no one else goes missing. Still, it can’t hurt. Once the ever-passionate Deion moves away out of earshot, Enola decides to speak to Angelina more personably.

"Hey, I know you’re really worried. I get it. I really do. However, I’m confident Mr. Sleepy is okay. Cats are resourceful and intelligent, even the lazier ones. It will be okay. This may sound like a stupid question but how are you doing?"

Enola watches as Angelina scurries off in sadness. Although she was trying to be helpful, she can appreciate how worried she must be as well as how unusual it’d be for someone who’s barely an acquaintance to come up to her and offer support when they’re feeling particularly vulnerable. At least Deion left so Angelina could have some breathing room.

As she turns, Enola becomes aware of the situation occurring between her fellow teammates and the so-called popular kids. She sucks on her teeth in annoyance, wanting so badly to conjure a small plague of rats to humble them. It wouldn’t be too difficult. She can already sense several of them in the walls as it is. There’s even the mice in the science lab that she could call upon. However, she can’t expose herself. She doesn’t even want her teammates to know that she’s actually Vermite, and so to use her powers in such a grand fashion would give her away. Not only that, but it might also endanger her rodent friends, especially if there’s a panic. Instead, she tries to opt for something more subtle.

She reopens her locker and sticks her head inside, appearing to be grabbing books. In actuality, she closes her eyes to attune to the presence of a single rodent. She opens her eyes to now see what looks like the inside of her backpack. Looking at her hands reveals little rodent paws, and popping her head out of the backpack shows herself concentrating in her locker. She is looking through Skipper, a small field mouse that lives just outside of her own home. She goaded this little one with some processed cheese from her packed lunch this morning. After that, Skipper joined her for a little adventure.

"Alright little guy," she communicates to the mouse through her extended senses. "Time to make your debut. Be careful, okay? Now let’s see how brave these popular girls really are."

The mouse then stealthily moves out of the locker, along the wall, and right beneath Stacy’s feet.

Still attuned to Skipper’s senses, Enola beckons the little mouse to return to her silently. The mouse obeys, scurrying back to the locker. It is then that Enola bends down as if pretending to tie her shoe, allowing Skipper to crawl up her sleeve. Enola then carries the little miscreant back up to her locker and hides him in her bag again.

"Good work, Agent Skipper." She then slips an even bigger piece of cheese from her lunch for the mouse to nibble on. Enola then packs her bag and closes the locker as if nothing happened.

It is certainly commendable to see Ogre be the bigger person…well, emotionally and physically. Stacy and all of those girls were a damned nuisance, always thinking they were on top of the pecking order and that everyone is beneath them. Sure, Wyoming also had its fair share of cliques, but her mom Blair - originally the sheriff of her town - made regular visits to the school to ensure everyone was at least cordial with one another. This place seemed far more barbaric in that sense. She shakes off the thought before heading to class, already exhausted before the day even officially started.

***** Later that afternoon *****

The run-in with the Harpies was enough to sour anyone’s mood. It would have been nice if you could put the entire ordeal behind you, but unfortunately, the trio shared classes with most of you, and school being school, there was no way to avoid running into them in the future.

The day drew to its end, the school drama nearly forgotten as you recuperated in the comfort of your homes. That short respite was interrupted when a text message, sent from Vermite on your discrete channel, buzzed on your phones.

Enola had spent a couple of hours after school searching for Mr. Sleepy, or rather recruiting the neighbourhood rats, mice, and squirrels for her own personal information network. It took a couple of hours, but eventually they led her down the right grapevine. A black squirrel by the name of Squidge pointed her towards an alleyway, claiming they recently saw a cat matching Mr. Sleepy’s description. Wanting to not frighten her quarry, Enola sneaked her way into the alley through the shadows. Sure enough, Mr. Sleepy was there, but with a rather unusual cohort. A disheveled man in ragged clothes clung to the small cat. At first, Enola suspected him to be a homeless passerby who found Mr. Sleepy. However, her enhanced sense of smell started to pick up an odd scent about him: blood and rot, lots of it. His movements and behaviour seemed unusual, and there is something very suspicious about his form. Looking around the alleyway, she also noticed the scattered remains of various animals, including feathers, fur and bones. Something wasn’t right.

Unsure of what the stranger has in store, Enola airs on the side of caution and contacts the team.

Hey all. I could use some help over at 4th and 5th. There’s someone here that’s really setting off my alarm bells. Reeks of animal blood. Not sure what to make of it. Can explain more once you get here. Thx.

Enola shoots the text off to the rest of the group before reaching into her backpack for her costume. She pulls out the folded oilskin coat and respirator, both of which came from her dad’s old auto shop back in Wyoming.

"Time to get to work," she tells herself and she begins to don the costume.

The pungent smell of rotting flesh was overwhelming. Hard to determine if it came from the milky-eyed man with the dusty gray skin and yellow fingernails himself, or from the pile of bones, blood, and animal fur littering the back alley.

And while there was no definite answer (yet) to Retribution's question about the danger the strange man posed, what WAS certain, is that one very-lazy orange tabby cat squirming in his hands was in immediate danger. Unfazed by the panicked hissing cat scratching and clawing, the man opened his mouth to reveal a set of rotten, but very functional, teeth.

Mr. Sleepy's fate was going to be decided in the span of a split second, because it looked like the man was quite willing, if not eager, to devour the cat alive.

"Good to see everyone came," Vermite answers everyone, just as she witnesses the stranger open their monstrous maw. "We’ve definitely got a situation on our hands, I’d say!"

Though she’s not as reactive as Retribution, Vermite is still quick to act. As Mr. Sleepy begins to scurry away, she moves rapidly to snatch him up into her arms. At first, the cat understandably resists.

"I’ve got you! You’re okay. Shh shh shh."

Eventually Mr. Sleepy relaxes, though still shaking and clearly on edge. Vermite sighs in relief, then turns her attention to the situation at hand. She nestled Mr. Sleepy into her backpack before pointing at the stranger.

"Anyone have any idea what we’re dealing with here?!"

With Mr. Sleepy secured in her backpack, Vermite takes a deep breath, mumbling to herself in complete disbelief.

"Zombies. Of course it’s fucking zombies. Couldn’t just be a street gang or something normal. It HAD to be zombies."

She glances around the alleyway. If there’s a second zombie now, there’s likely a good chance that there will be more. They’re coming from somewhere. But where? Then she notices Deion’s unconscious body. A pang of guilt and sadness rifles through her.

God damn it, Deion. Why’d you have to search for the damn cat?!

"Ahhhh, fuck it! These things want to eat. Let’s start the damn feast."

She gives a loud whistle and taps into her surroundings. Suddenly, the patter of dozens of little feet echoes through the alleyway. From every conceivable crevice around them, a bunch of rats emerge with loud coordinating squeaks. After all, why wouldn’t they be eager? There are two walking piles of rotten meat fresh for the taking. Vermite points at the zombies, urging the rats to charge them and begin nibbling.

Vermite recalls the rats with another kurt whistle. They obediently return to her side, marching onto her shoulders and back whilst curiously sniffing the air. She kneels down next Deion’s body. A whole mess of worrying thoughts rush through her head. She’s seen enough horror movies about zombies to know what’s likely to happen. She looks up to the stranger in the lab coat. She sighs, then beckons him forward.

"Hurry then. Guys, let him through for now. Listen, sir. I don’t know who you are or what’s going on, but if these things belong to you, then you must know how to clean up this mess. That said, don’t try anything funny, okay? Me and my little friends here are really at sniffing out bullshit."

The rats’ eyes all turn to face the doctor in one creepy stare.

"Now, what’s your name? What do you need us to do?"

The three heroines manage to subdue the Zombie, between them. Wrapped by shadowy tentacles, petrified by a magical hex, and with a busted knee - 'Paul' wasn't going anywhere - as long as Blacklight could maintain her concentration.

While they were busy restraining the Zombie, the two gang members were ushering a trashcan with two legs popping underneath it out of the alley - a spectacle that could have been comical, if one forgot there was a ravenous flesh-eating Zombie inside.

The rats scurry around the abandoned auto repair shop. Once Vermite discounts the tabby cat napping at the Doctor's office as the biggest threat (though the rats are convinced that he is!), she's left to decide if either the dozen zombies in the steel cage, or the twenty or so armed gang members pose the most significant danger. The zombies, most likely, if they weren't behind bars. But since they are, it must be the few young men carrying side pieces. Or the couple with the submachine guns.

As for the group's true intention - that is a bit harder to ascertain. The Doctor seems to be in charge, so he's likely to have all the answers. But if you're not going to ask him directly, then surely his laptop, at the makeshift field lab he's leading you to, has enough information to piece together what's really going on

**********
A couple of hours later
**********




The Moonstone Grove looked like a quaint little new age shop, to those who didn’t know any better. The proprietor, Marlene, certainly didn’t take any measures to dissuade people of that notion. She had baskets full of crystals up front, with the unverifiable claim of possessing healing properties. Sticks of sweet incense. New age books about yoga and meditation.

The REAL wares were reserved for her more serious clientele. Row after row of odd books, and even odder spell ingredients. Ritual crescent blades and chalices. Herbs and cauldrons, and witches’ ladders. Candlesticks, horns, bells and strange-looking amulets. Each of them had a purpose, and if one was curious and bold enough, their use and function would all be related by the ever-patient Marlene.

12th of October, 2023. Westview high, Brooklyn

**** The Following Day ****

It was another typical day at Westview.

Still early in the morning, car after car were pulling into the parking lot; be they parents dropping off their teens, or older students parking their cars. School buses, in the familiar yellow, stopped right at the forefront of the school, students disembarking (some willingly, some less so), once the doors folded open with a mechanical hiss.

Clusters of students stood outside, those who preferred to postpone entering the school grounds for as long as possible. Rebellious teens with ripped jeans taking their last puffs of the forbidden cigarettes, group of friends welcoming each other, or just teens enjoying the morning breeze - the last chance to enjoy the weather before winter arrives and it becomes too cold to stand outside.

As usual, the Ogre's arrival was accompanied by hushed tones and stares. Even more so today, after Stacy's posts on her social media the previous day, complaining how she 'didn't feel safe' at school around someone who can 'bend steel beams with his bare hands', or 'toss a school bus to the other side of the Hudson'. Those posts made their way not only to the student body, but to their parents as well, and to her tens of thousands of devoted followers. If things around school have been difficult so far, they were about to become that much worse.

All of you trickled to school one by one. There was nothing left to do last night, after Vermite promised she would track Dr. Harris down. You didn't hear a word from her until this very morning, the text message from her arriving just as you entered the school grounds.

The Ogre made it to the back of the school.
The only person in sight was Coach Col, but he was a good, good, distance away, walking around the football field overlooking the main building. Even if he did notice the Ogre, there would be nothing he could do to stop him from leaving.

Ogre waits in an alleyway behind the school. He grins when he sees Blacklight appear.

"Just you and me? S'alright though, we go this! After all, I'm with the Dark Defender. We can't lose."

Even in daylight, the decrepit hospital exuded an aura of malevolence. Every corner of the grounds told a story of abandonment; broken windows boarded up with rotting plywood, tangled weeds growing through the cracked pavement, and walls marred by streaks of mildew and creeping vines. Occasionally, dark silhouettes moved behind the shattered glass, casting fleeting glimpses of movement that sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to pass by after dark.

The very air hung heavy with the musty scent of decay, a testament to the building's slow surrender to the forces of entropy.

Shadows flicker over Blacklight’s face as she looks through the darkness at the labyrinth maze of haunted corridors.

She sees the zombies locked in the psychiatric unit. Howling and banging upon the doors, arms flailing through the cracked glass in a vain attempt to try and grab the couple of gang members left to guard them.

She sees Dr. Harris, needle in hand, approaching a young teenage girl strapped to an operating table.

She sees the Lost Boys living in the filthy, decrepit patient rooms. Some of them are posted in the hallways, a few others are looking at the heroes right now through the broken windows, guns pointed at them.

There was a crowd forming outside the operating room. More and more young men (and a few teenage girls) coming out of their rooms at the news of the interlopers in their midst. Armed with bicycle chains, knives, and handguns, they looked menacingly at Harmonia, who was blocking the entrance. The Doctor was the one who brought hope into their lives, and they wouldn’t let her, or anyone else, take it away from them.

Blacklight speech only had an adverse effect on them. There were disgruntled murmurs when she said they ‘would let him do that’. If there was one thing they hated with a passion – it was being told what they can, or can't do.