Maven
Maven
Layna Howard was born to middle income parents in upstate New York. Her father was a teacher and her mother was a financial analyst for an investment firm.
However, her mother worked accounts for a secretive Russian industrialist who had been trafficking humans for various illegal trades. Her mother reported the activity to her management and was thanked for her honesty.
In the coming months, her mother became pregnant and inevitably was brought to the hospital for labor. Cooincidentally, the secretive Russian industrialist had also arranged for her Vanishing.
Layna was birthed while her mother was being vanished. She spent her early years trying to understand her powers and to remain 'hidden' until she could join the ranks of Level 37, hoping to reconnect with her mother in The Hollow.
Her father passed away during the NYC Blackout. He required medical treatment maintained by electricity and died during the power outages. She vehemently loathes the rogue NYC LFER "cell" that claimed responsiblity for the attack.
Her un-shifted form is hideous. But her father was the only person who ever loved her in that form.
Grotesque humanoid with green piercing eyes and grey cracked skin with razor-sharp teeth. She can change into any humanoid form she’s been nearby within the last twenty-four hours.
View Character Profile
Alignment
Evil & Confused
Age
22 Years
Date of Birth
June 2nd 2050
Children
Gender
Female
Eyes
Green
Hair
None
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Grey
Height
5 ft 8 inches
Weight
150lbs
Related Reports
Maven On The Hunt
167 pages. The report produced by the committee investigating the NYC Blackout had more detail than she’d expected. Each of the committee’s investigation targets had been followed, bugged, scanned, and even washed. Financial records accessed and wiped. Audio records obtained and analyzed by HIVE intelligence agents. Sentiment analysis performed on every handwriting sample available in the ether. Real-time satellite feeds had been authorized for “past view monitoring”, “present-day feed”, and “future-follow.” Then, once the committee had reviewed everything, the investigation targets had been ‘erased’ from all records and given new identities.
Maven sighed heavily as she sat under the dim glow of the single light in her small basement apartment.
“What in the world is past-view monitoring?!” Maven thought to herself incredulously. Though none of the data feeds were available in the printed report, just the mention of them made her question how far-reaching was the IERA’s authority and capability.
There had been thirty-two targets in the report, codenamed “Project Greyhound”. And only eight of the targets had ultimately been confirmed as responsible for the blackouts. That meant the IERA had wiped twenty-four people unnecessarily.
“Wow” she thought. “These people’s lives were just destroyed by the IERA.”
Nothing like the LFER causing her father’s death and the death of thousands in the blackout…but still, she hadn’t thought of how heavy-handed they could be before now.
The report provided an inordinate amount of printed detail on the eight convicted targets and on the twenty-four individuals (and families) who had been wiped and relocated: their new addresses, names, occupations, tracking numbers, and mutant registration information — along with all sort of seemingly unrelated details like allergies, life expectancies, and even their connections with “The Hollow” and familial vanishings.
“I wonder if the IERA knows about my mother…?” she thought to herself before turning off the light and slithering into her bed, now surrounded by countless jars of severed heads lining the walls.
The next morning, she began to plan out how she would track down the seven remaining targets — she’d already eliminated Samuel Cominsky in a Motel 6 the prior year. He had been named as target number three in the report.
She awoke early in the morning, opened the jar on the wall containing her father’s head, lifted it momentarily from the fluid he’d helped her develop, and inhaled his scent. In a split-second, she shifted into his perfect likeness and began to speak in his voice.
Her body a few inches taller, her muscles more defined, she walked confidently up the stairs to open the Pharmacy on Saturday morning. In a few moments, two employees arrived and she chatted with them briefly before returning to the basement. At this point, the Pharmacy ran itself. Maven only needed to keep up the role of her father as the Pharmacy’s owner because she had been too young for him to transfer it to her before he died during the blackout.
And so every day, the same routine passed. Open the shop, make small talk, and then return to the basement to plan how she would eliminate the people responsible for her father’s death.
After several months, her plan was ready. She would visit the seven cities where the convicted targets had been relocated. Eavesdrop on a colleague of the ‘target’ for a week. Learn enough about them to take on their identity. Then, begin coming to work as them and use proximity to the ‘target’ to learn more and ask questions about their past, eventually, finding a time to be alone with each ‘target’.
Then, for the fun part.
For Alex Oranick (convicted target number six), it was an after-hours conversation in the supply room of the Ft. Lauderdale Digital Currency Express Headquarters. Maven had taken on the identity of Alex’s boss, Joe Montfort, and required him to stay later than everyone else for an inventory project.
“Alex — I like you. You’ve only been here a short time, but you’re doing great!” she said heartily in the form and voice of Joe Montfort while they were reviewing the shelves’ ledger entries for accuracy.
Alex responded with humility and they carried on a cordial conversation for a few minutes. They talked about family and sports, but the topic eventually moved on to hunting. Alex collected antique guns (all registered) and knew a great deal about them. His affinity with weapons triggered Maven’s emotions and she blurted out:
“Do you feel remorse for the people you’ve killed?”
Alex was startled by the question. ”What?” he asked with sincere surprise. But Maven couldn’t recover and she pressed further,
“In New York. You killed at least a thousand of people…” she spat with accusation, losing control of her emotions even further.
Alex made a move to bolt for the door, but Maven relinquished the form of Joe Montfort and took on her natural form, grotesque and undulating.
She blocked his escape from the inventory room, with hooked spikes forcefully protruding from her body as Alex collided with her in the narrow hallway. Blood spurted from his back as the spikes held him close to her hardened skin and very near to her razor sharp teeth.
Stunned from the loss of blood, Alex was bewildered. In the next moment , Maven’s hardened skin thinned and she encapsulated him with her own body and began to whisper as his panic set in. Alex could not escape from the entanglement of Maven’s body around his.
“Your family will be scared too.” she said calmly.
Alex began to weep.
”I will come to them tonight in your form, Alex.”
Muffled cries were all that he could form as Maven’s hooked spikes pierced through his neck.
”But I will not harm your daughter. She will have to live without her father, just like me. Because of you.”
With two more spikes thrust through his abdomen and lungs, Alex collapsed to the floor and Maven returned to the likeness of Joe Montfort, but covered in Alex’s blood.
She walked throughout the office, leaving behind tracks of blood and traces of Joe’s DNA. She passed in front of the cameras enough times to remove any doubt as to the identity of Alex’s killer.
Then she drove to the Oranick family home and took on the form of her last victim, his scent fresh in her memory. In the form and likeness of Alex Oranick, Maven tucked Alex’s daughter in bed and read her a story. Later that night, as Maven laid next to Alex’s wife, she thought of her own mother and began to weep. Alex’s wife hugged her and asked gently,
“Oh honey, what’s wrong?”
But Maven didn’t answer. Now in her natural form, she looked at Alex’s wife for a moment and stretched her razor-like arms across her neck. With a flit, her head was separated from her neck without a sound.
Maven returned to Alex’s form and walked out of the house, hailed an UberAI with the digital thumbprint of Joe Montfort and requested an uninterrupted route to Austin, Texas.
Maven Goes To Work
The next morning Maven, in the form of Jennifer Sanders, reported for work at the Records Division of the International Energy Regulatory Agency’s New York office.
She took the subway with her best friend, Lucy, and the two friends chatted along the way, making plans for lunch at a new bistro a couple of blocks from the office.
The day went by slowly. Maven couldn’t just look up records on the rogue LFER agents behind the NYC Blackout on the IERA system…all computer systems are monitored. She’d be noticed, she reasoned.
So after lunch, Maven walked toward the Print Records Library of their office and looked down the hallway before making her way toward the room’s locked door.
But Maven wasn’t accustomed to walking in the high heels typically worn by her victim, Jennifer Sanders. She tripped and fell, her crash to the floor echoing down the hall. Darlene, her direct supervisor, quickly ran to the hallway and inquired, “Jennifer, are you OK?!”
“No…Yes…” she stuttered. “I mean, I hate these shoes.” She said truthfully. But her frustration grew. And she kept talking about everything she hated,
“I hate this place. I hate this city. I hate the fuckin’ elfers. I hate…”, but Maven had finally regained her composure and stopped herself from speaking further out of ‘character’.
“I understand, Jennifer.” Darlene smiled kindly.
“We all hate the LFER, don’t we, ladies?” she asked the group graciously as she attempted to diffuse the situation. The ladies in the office agreed, but looked warily at Jennifer…typically a stable and poised woman, now having cussed aloud after she’d fallen to the floor.
Maven didn’t make another attempt to enter the Print Records Library that day.
The next day, Maven waited for lunch to go to the Print Records Library. The other ladies were out of the office when she again set her sights on the locked door. But after almost thirty minutes of wrestling with an antique lock she’d never seen before, she cussed and went back to her desk, dejected.
She tried again the next day, but to no avail. She should’ve read up on the old Diebold locks used in the building, but her ‘friend’ Lucy had taken them out drinking that night. Maven had lost track of time and even enjoyed herself a little. But then she remembered,
“Lucy isn’t really my friend. I have her friend’s head preserved in a jar.”
The night ended after a few more hours with a headache, but she was as determined as ever to try again. So the next day, Thursday, she waited for everyone to leave for lunch and tried to pick the old lock again. Left, right, hold the pins upward. Then, *click*, the lock opened.
Maven quickly searched the rows of records and found a section called “Closed Committees”. She found the date she was looking for — February 2nd, 2072 — the date the report on the LFER Investigation was completed relating to the NYC Blackout.
Jackpot. The official report not released to the news media. She flipped through the report finding names, dates, and other potentially useful information. Maven took the 167 page report conducted via Closed Committee and placed it in her briefcase. Then she walked calmly out of the Print Records Library and closed the door. She sat down at her desk and began typing two resignation letters. A few moments later, she printed the documents and walked down to retrieve them.
She took both sheets from the printer and signed them both — one with the name Jennifer Sanders; the other with the name Lucy Creighton. She then sealed them individually and placed the letters in the inter-office mailing to the attention of Darlene Rhodes, expecting the letters to arrive the following morning. When Jennifer and Lucy wouldn’t be there.
Now there was only one loose-end remaining…
Maven found the phone she’d taken from Jennifer Sanders and opened it using her faceprint. She typed the following message to her best ‘friend’ Lucy:
“Hey Luc, let’s meet at my apartment for dinner tonight. Just you and me. Let’s have a girl’s night.”
Closing the door to the apartment she’d used for the last week, Maven had taken the form of the handyman and walked to the elevator. Once out of the building, she took the subway to the old neighborhood where her mother’s parent’s had once lived. Nearly abandoned, she wandered down the empty streets. Maven felt a mixture of satisfaction and grief. She’d successfully infiltrated the IERA and had the unredacted report on the NYC Blackouts…but she’d had to kill her best friend in the process. It was necessary. “I kill because I’m a killer.” She repeated to herself. But Maven could smell the pain of people in the buildings nearby. Their pain…Her pain…it all became overwhelming. She began to take on the forms of the people she could smell. Cycling between their forms, she grew tired. But something snapped and she reverted into her ‘monstrous’ form. Maven took a few deep breathes. She regained her composure in this form. But within minutes, she could smell the scent of two IERA agents coming for her. ”I’ll handle them just like Lucy…” she said to herself.
Closing the door to the apartment she’d used for the last week, Maven had taken the form of the handyman and walked to the elevator. Once out of the building, she took the subway to the old neighborhood where her mother’s parent’s had once lived. Nearly abandoned, she wandered down the empty streets. Maven felt a mixture of satisfaction and grief. She’d successfully infiltrated the IERA and had the unredacted report on the NYC Blackouts…but she’d had to kill her best friend in the process. It was necessary. “I kill because I’m a killer.” She repeated to herself. But Maven could smell the pain of people in the buildings nearby. Their pain…Her pain…it all became overwhelming. She began to take on the forms of the people she could smell. Cycling between their forms, she grew tired. But something snapped and she reverted into her ‘monstrous’ form. Maven took a few deep breathes. She regained her composure in this form. But within minutes, she could smell the scent of two IERA agents coming for her. ”I’ll handle them just like Lucy…” she said to herself.
Time For A New Job
Layna returned from Chattanooga with an insatiable hunger. Every scent on her way home made her stomach growl.
It had all happened so quickly. Even with her preparations, the trip to Tennessee and back to her basement apartment under the pharmacy in Brooklyn took less than forty-eight hours.
On her way home, she took the form of the cab driver for the train ride. Then she took another UberAI back to her father’s pharmacy on the corner of Myrtle Ave and Washington Park. Having been away from her father’s preserved remains for more than a day, she walked quietly down the dark back alleyway and used the service entrance — entering the combination on the door’s padlock and then making her way to her small one bedroom apartment.
For all the excitement, Layna’s trip to Chattanooga afforded her no new information about the LFER group responsible for the blackouts the had taken her father’s life. And so, over a bowl of cereal at the table, she ate in the dim light and considered how to locate her next target.
Thinking back, Layna remembered the weeks of constant news reports about secret courts that were convened when the IERA finally located the LFER operatives responsible for the attacks on the city. The names of the agents had been kept confidential until a highly publicized leak of Samuel Cominsky’s name gave Layna her first target.
It wasn’t very difficult to find him — even in protective custody. Layna shifted into countless forms, using each one to gain a morsel of information on the street, leading her to the motel where Samuel was staying until his permanent residence could be established. Layna used the form of a housekeeper to enter his hotel room and then decapitated him before returning into the housekeeper’s form and leaving the room — in clear view of the security cameras.
“I’ll return to the streets,” she thought to herself. But no matter which gang leader or powerful executive’s form she took, her questions led to a dead end. After a week of searching, Layna decided to go directly to the source.
“I’ll have to check the records at the IERA,” she said out loud to herself, through bites of another bowl of cereal.
After her breakfast of Lucky Charms, Layna opened the jar containing her father’s head, breathed in deeply, and changed into his form. She walked upstairs to the pharmacy, exchanged pleasantries with Smitty as he was resting lazily behind the counter, and then left the store heading toward the park.
After enjoying the fresh air, Layna hailed an UberAI and traveled over the bridge into Manhattan. Exiting the vehicle a few blocks away, she found an alleyway from where she could shift into the form of a homeless man. She found some boxes and made a makeshift bed on the sidewalk next to the IERA’s Manhattan office. As employees entered and exited the building, she breathed in their scents and overheard their conversations. Several employees seemed to work in the “records department”. Jennifer Sanders was one such employee. Layna overheard her talking with a coworker about her upcoming vacation over the summer. As they excitedly talked about her plans, Layna followed both employees from a distance and eavesdropped on their conversation. She learned about her coworker-friend, Lucy Creighton and made mental notes about their conversation.
Layna followed and watched Jennifer and Lucy for weeks, always in the form of various homeless people. On the bus, on the sidewalk, in the subway, even outside their favorite restaurant.
When she felt confident enough, Layna decided to make her first move. She followed Jennifer to her house, in the form of a repairman. Not following at a far enough distance, Jennifer noticed her and smiled nervously.
“Can I help you?,” Jennifer asked.
Cursing to herself, Layna thought on her feet quickly,
“Yes ma’am, I’ve been called out to repair a faulty breaker in your unit. I think we took the same train here. Sorry to give you a scare.”
“A faulty breaker? I didn’t report anything…”
“Nah, you don’t have to, we can monitor these things from the main office.” Layna lied confidently.
“Oh, OK.” Jennifer responded slowly.
Jennifer and Layna (in the form of a repairman) walked together down the remainder of the hallway. Layna tried to strike up a conversation, possibly gaining even more information about her work…but all she could think of was the weather. Their awkward conversation about the weather came to an end as they approached the door and Jennifer let them both inside.
Layna had this part planned out, having read the floor plans from a recent apartment listing in the building. She would go to the utility room where the breaker box was and…wait. She smelled Jennifer’s movements throughout the apartment. After a few minutes, Jennifer went into the bathroom…a room Layna assumed would contain the sound of screaming.
As soon as Jennifer closed the bathroom door, Layna spoke in a loud voice. “Ma’am, the breaker is repaired. I’m going to leave now.”
“OK! Thank you!” Jennifer yelled from behind the closed bathroom door.
But Layna didn’t leave.
Abandoning the form of the repairman, Layna turned into Maven. And then, in an instant, her skin, bones, and organs began to grow and move with undulating pustules until she was no ‘form’ at all. Now slithering across the floor, Layna slid under the door of the bathroom.
As her green liquified form appeared under the door, Jennifer Sanders spoke her last words.
“What the hell has the repairman done to my plumbing?! Why is there sewage seeping into my…”
But her last question was cut short by her own scream.
Out from the green puddle on the floor, Layna returned to her grotesque animalistic form, covered in a greenish grey layer of slime.
The scream ceased as Layna’s razor sharp arms severed Jennifer’s head from her neck. Layna cradled her in her arms as she fell forward, Jennifer’s lower half still seated on the toilet. With a fluid motion, Layna carried both her head and body into the shower and turned on the water.
For a few minutes, she stood in the water, holding Jennifer’s head in her hands while her body lie at the bottom of the shower. Then she placed Jennifer’s head on the floor of the shower as well, allowing some time for the water to wash her of Jennifer’s blood.
In the distance, she could hear loud knocking at the door. Then someone yelling, “Jennifer, are you ok?”
Layna turned off the shower and stepped out onto the bath mat, blood still splattered on the walls and floor.
She turned into Jennifer’s form.
“I’m OK! I’m OK,” she yelled with Jennifer’s voice. “Just getting out of the shower!”
She found a robe and put it on quickly. Then went to the front door and opened it to see a man walking away.
“Hey! I’m sorry about that. I was in the shower and saw an enormous cockroach on the floor of the bathroom. I hate cockroaches…”
“Oh, OK.” The man responded. Then smiled, “If you ever need me to kill a cockroach for you, just call. Don’t scream like that.”
“OK. Next time.” She said as she smiled and waved. Then she stepped back inside and closed the door.
She thought to herself, “That was the easy part.”
Layna spent several hours cleaning the bathroom. In the morning, she would go to work at the Records Department of the International Energy Regulatory Agency.
I Kill Because I’m A Killer
A letter arrived from Level 37, but it wasn’t delivered by the same gloved hand this time…and it wasn’t from J…
“I don’t know about this,” Layna thought to herself.
At that moment, she realized she could smell this Broker. The typical letters from Level 37 came to her from a gloved hand extended from an invisible space — a space into which she could not smell.
But this purple sealed “37” letter was delivered by someone else. And as soon as he left, she changed into his form and likeness.
The letter contained the following message:
"Acolyte, Level 37 is asking you to show your devotion to the cause and advance your knowledge and standing in The Way of 37. Your presence is required in Chattanooga, Tennessee at 10 AM local time approximately 36 hours from now. You will be participating alongside other Acolytes and devotees of a higher order to complete a mission critical to the success of Level 37. You must assist in the completion of this mission using whatever means are necessary. Further details will be provided upon arrival.
In F, S, & P, Elder Yoshida Teru"
After reading the letter, she thought to herself nervously, “I am an acolyte now…” and then just as quickly, “Chattanooga is really far away….”
But Layna gathered her composure and set out to make a plan to arrive at the address provided in the letter:
She requested an UberAI to the train station, purchased a ticket, and then made her way to Chattanooga. With some effort, she made up a conversation with a woman on the train who was traveling to California — learning her name (Susan Robinson) and some of her basic details. Once at the station in Chattanooga, Layna bid the woman farewell and found a private restroom where she was able to change into Susan’s form and likeness.
From there, she hailed a cab and paid in cash for the driver to take her to a nearby hotel, paying him another $200 to return the next morning at 9:00AM.
The next morning, Layna instructed the cab driver to take her to an address nearly one mile from the directed meet-up location. After walking the last mile, she arrived at the site at roughly 9:35AM.
Walking up the road, now in the form and likeness of the hotel clerk, she surveyed the building. It was nondescript. A factory, probably. Layna could smell another person near the building, though they must’ve been hiding. She breathed in and smelled their unique scent — it was like a mixture of thick dust floating heavily in the air. Layna found a spot outside the building and sat down, leaning her back against the concrete wall. Another person arrived soon afterward — a man neatly dressed, wearing a suit and tie. Layna inhaled and exhaled deeply — his scent was complicated. At first it was pleasant, but then it burned her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose as her eyes watered. Before she could speak to the man, at exactly 10AM, the ‘factory’ doors opened and they walked in, joined by the ‘blue man’, whose smell was like thick dust. The interior of the building was expansive. Layna was looking upward and around, stumbling into corners until an authoritative man spoke, giving instructions to her and to the group of individuals in the nearby vicinity. She didn’t recognize his name nor anyone else’s. “Where is ‘J’?” She thought to herself. But there was no time for conversation. Their leader, by the name “Takashi”, asked straightforward and gruff questions - instructing Layna to exhibit her powers, or something like that. With a quick inhale/exhale, she turned into the form and likeness of Takashi…which he didn’t seem to like. The smells of everyone in the room were too overwhelming, Layna wasn’t paying close attention to instructions. After Takashi finished speaking, Layna had a question, “Is bloodshed allowed?” Takashi seemed irritated by the question. All she heard of his response was, “…by ANY means necessary.” Layna smiled with her razor-sharp toothy grin. The team was divided into two armored SUVs. Layna sat in the back seat of the first SUV next to the well-dressed man named Dominic whose scent burned her nostrils. Soon after departing, the SUVs were tracking down a SWAT van on the highway, quickly gaining speed on it. She naively asked Takashi, “Do you want me to jump out onto the SWAT truck?” With increased irritation, Takashi answered, “You’ve seen too many movies.” Then he got on the phone and coordinated with someone named “Widow” as he shot a curious weapon at the SWAT truck, which quickly slowed to a stop. Takashi got out of the SUV and Layna intended to follow. But she reverted to her ‘hideous’ form before exiting the SUV. Heart racing, Layna began looking up and around again. The smells of humans were coursing through her…and she noticed a quickly approaching scent. “Takashi — there is a quickly approaching object from behind us, it is red and gold with wings.”, she spoke quietly. “I know who that is — Chromium Condor!”, he exclaimed. And with that, the fight was on. SWAT Officers began firing and, from somewhere, IERA agents appeared and began attacking them with their electrical ‘wands’. But Layna was overwhelmed with it all. Her previous assignments were in secret; in surprise. But this was combat… Everything was a blur until Takashi dove for cover underneath the SUV, brushing against Layna. She ‘snapped’ back into the moment. Layna ran toward the first SWAT officer she could see and swung at him with her claw-like hands but stumbled and caught herself on the ground with ‘all fours’, as her father would call it. Still flustered with the adrenaline of combat, she began to think to herself, “I kill because I’m a killer. I kill because I’m a killer.” She inhaled and exhaled, but instead of changing shape, her arms extended to a point and the edges of her bones flattened into razor sharp edges. “I kill because I’m a killer.”, she repeated to herself. And with a piercing scream, she slashed at the closest SWAT officer and sliced him diagonally across his torso. His body fell to the ground in pieces. Now, with blood splattered on her face and the scent of another man in the tall grass, she lunged forward again, with a downward slice into the grass. Her razor-sharp arms cut deep into an IERA agent hiding in the grass and he wailed with agony. He grabbed at his stomach through his armored vest — intestines exposed, blood seeping from clean-cut wounds. The man looked back at Layna and she inhaled his scent as he collapsed. Layna screamed into the air, anxious for more. But the battle was over. The ‘blue man’ who went by the name Switchblade had captured another man in a light blue suit and tie. And the group had been instructed to return to the SUVs. Layna inhaled the scent of the man they’d captured — he smelled like olive oil and sweaty money. She didn’t mind that smell much, and so she changed into his form and likeness. The return trip wasn’t back to the ‘factory’ but to a secluded place in the woods, instead. Someone wearing red robes spoke authoritatively to the group, welcoming them and thanking them for their work. Layna was disoriented by the smells. And so the next moments were disorienting as blinding lights and overwhelming smells were intertwined from locations unfamiliar to Layna. The man in the light blue suit — the man they’d captured — walked over to a desk and sat down. Then, another flash of disorienting lights and smells and Layna and the others were returned back to the ‘factory’. She had obeyed… They would call upon her again.
Walking up the road, now in the form and likeness of the hotel clerk, she surveyed the building. It was nondescript. A factory, probably. Layna could smell another person near the building, though they must’ve been hiding. She breathed in and smelled their unique scent — it was like a mixture of thick dust floating heavily in the air. Layna found a spot outside the building and sat down, leaning her back against the concrete wall. Another person arrived soon afterward — a man neatly dressed, wearing a suit and tie. Layna inhaled and exhaled deeply — his scent was complicated. At first it was pleasant, but then it burned her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose as her eyes watered. Before she could speak to the man, at exactly 10AM, the ‘factory’ doors opened and they walked in, joined by the ‘blue man’, whose smell was like thick dust. The interior of the building was expansive. Layna was looking upward and around, stumbling into corners until an authoritative man spoke, giving instructions to her and to the group of individuals in the nearby vicinity. She didn’t recognize his name nor anyone else’s. “Where is ‘J’?” She thought to herself. But there was no time for conversation. Their leader, by the name “Takashi”, asked straightforward and gruff questions - instructing Layna to exhibit her powers, or something like that. With a quick inhale/exhale, she turned into the form and likeness of Takashi…which he didn’t seem to like. The smells of everyone in the room were too overwhelming, Layna wasn’t paying close attention to instructions. After Takashi finished speaking, Layna had a question, “Is bloodshed allowed?” Takashi seemed irritated by the question. All she heard of his response was, “…by ANY means necessary.” Layna smiled with her razor-sharp toothy grin. The team was divided into two armored SUVs. Layna sat in the back seat of the first SUV next to the well-dressed man named Dominic whose scent burned her nostrils. Soon after departing, the SUVs were tracking down a SWAT van on the highway, quickly gaining speed on it. She naively asked Takashi, “Do you want me to jump out onto the SWAT truck?” With increased irritation, Takashi answered, “You’ve seen too many movies.” Then he got on the phone and coordinated with someone named “Widow” as he shot a curious weapon at the SWAT truck, which quickly slowed to a stop. Takashi got out of the SUV and Layna intended to follow. But she reverted to her ‘hideous’ form before exiting the SUV. Heart racing, Layna began looking up and around again. The smells of humans were coursing through her…and she noticed a quickly approaching scent. “Takashi — there is a quickly approaching object from behind us, it is red and gold with wings.”, she spoke quietly. “I know who that is — Chromium Condor!”, he exclaimed. And with that, the fight was on. SWAT Officers began firing and, from somewhere, IERA agents appeared and began attacking them with their electrical ‘wands’. But Layna was overwhelmed with it all. Her previous assignments were in secret; in surprise. But this was combat… Everything was a blur until Takashi dove for cover underneath the SUV, brushing against Layna. She ‘snapped’ back into the moment. Layna ran toward the first SWAT officer she could see and swung at him with her claw-like hands but stumbled and caught herself on the ground with ‘all fours’, as her father would call it. Still flustered with the adrenaline of combat, she began to think to herself, “I kill because I’m a killer. I kill because I’m a killer.” She inhaled and exhaled, but instead of changing shape, her arms extended to a point and the edges of her bones flattened into razor sharp edges. “I kill because I’m a killer.”, she repeated to herself. And with a piercing scream, she slashed at the closest SWAT officer and sliced him diagonally across his torso. His body fell to the ground in pieces. Now, with blood splattered on her face and the scent of another man in the tall grass, she lunged forward again, with a downward slice into the grass. Her razor-sharp arms cut deep into an IERA agent hiding in the grass and he wailed with agony. He grabbed at his stomach through his armored vest — intestines exposed, blood seeping from clean-cut wounds. The man looked back at Layna and she inhaled his scent as he collapsed. Layna screamed into the air, anxious for more. But the battle was over. The ‘blue man’ who went by the name Switchblade had captured another man in a light blue suit and tie. And the group had been instructed to return to the SUVs. Layna inhaled the scent of the man they’d captured — he smelled like olive oil and sweaty money. She didn’t mind that smell much, and so she changed into his form and likeness. The return trip wasn’t back to the ‘factory’ but to a secluded place in the woods, instead. Someone wearing red robes spoke authoritatively to the group, welcoming them and thanking them for their work. Layna was disoriented by the smells. And so the next moments were disorienting as blinding lights and overwhelming smells were intertwined from locations unfamiliar to Layna. The man in the light blue suit — the man they’d captured — walked over to a desk and sat down. Then, another flash of disorienting lights and smells and Layna and the others were returned back to the ‘factory’. She had obeyed… They would call upon her again.
LFER Operative Found Dead in Hotel Room, Police Say
Janitor who discovered the body is now arrested and charged with murder
BROOKLYN (AP) — An LFER Operative, Samuel Cominksy, under a protective custody arrangement, was found dead of decapitation in a Motel 6 hotel room located on Utica Ave and Winthrop Street early on Sunday morning, June 22nd.
Video footage made available to the Associated Press show that Rosario Gutierrez, a member of housekeeping staff, was the last person to enter the room moments after Mr. Cominsky entered the room at 8:07PM. Ms. Gutierrez then left the room at 8:11PM.
The following morning, Ms. Gutierrez can be seen entering the room again at 10:07AM after which she hurriedly leaves and returns to the front desk where she calls the authorities, reporting Mr. Cominksy’s death.
Though Ms. Gutierrez denies the allegations, authorities quickly located Mr. Cominsky’s head in the trash bag of Ms. Gutierrez’s janitorial cart. A murder weapon has not been recovered, but video footage and physical evidence tying Mr. Cominsky’s death to Ms. Gutierrez seem to be overwhelming.
Paul Garcia from the King County District Attorney’s Office spoke about the grisly murder at a press conference this morning that was planned to include a commemoration of the NYC Blackouts two years ago.
“We have incontrovertible evidence that Ms. Gutierrez is responsible for the gruesome gang-style killing of Samuel Cominsky. My office will be pursuing the harshest punishment available under the law.”
This is a developing story. We will update as the situation develops.
Once she was far enough away from the hotel, Layna found an unmonitored alleyway and — after inhaling and exhaling deeply — changed into the form and likeness of a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk around the corner. She emerged from the alleyway and began walking back to the Pharmacy. Only ten paces from the alleyway, Layna was startled by someone tapping on her shoulder; she stopped and turned around to find a gloved hand protruding from thin-air, holding a letter with a deep purple colored wax seal bearing the number “37”. The letter contained a typed message organized in verse: There is a narrow path that leads To life beyond the veil Where Mother smiles eternally Awaits her little girl Before you now a moment comes To join the one you yearn Obey my words and in due time, The Hollow you will earn. At the bottom of the letter, a handwritten note concluded the mysterious missive: You are quite nearly untraceable. Levels above me call you a maven of human shape and form. So that’s what we call you, “Maven”. We’ll meet soon. — J Layna was struck by the strangeness of the moment — not afraid, but curious. Desperate even. Her father’s lasts words were “Find your mother in The Hollow” and now, two years later, this mysterious letter promised that she would earn entrance into the Hollow if she followed their instructions…? Whose instructions? In the coming weeks, more letters would come — delivered by an invisible person with a gloved hand. Layna didn’t even know who she was working for, but she wanted to meet her mother so badly that she obeyed.
Once she was far enough away from the hotel, Layna found an unmonitored alleyway and — after inhaling and exhaling deeply — changed into the form and likeness of a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk around the corner. She emerged from the alleyway and began walking back to the Pharmacy. Only ten paces from the alleyway, Layna was startled by someone tapping on her shoulder; she stopped and turned around to find a gloved hand protruding from thin-air, holding a letter with a deep purple colored wax seal bearing the number “37”. The letter contained a typed message organized in verse: There is a narrow path that leads To life beyond the veil Where Mother smiles eternally Awaits her little girl Before you now a moment comes To join the one you yearn Obey my words and in due time, The Hollow you will earn. At the bottom of the letter, a handwritten note concluded the mysterious missive: You are quite nearly untraceable. Levels above me call you a maven of human shape and form. So that’s what we call you, “Maven”. We’ll meet soon. — J Layna was struck by the strangeness of the moment — not afraid, but curious. Desperate even. Her father’s lasts words were “Find your mother in The Hollow” and now, two years later, this mysterious letter promised that she would earn entrance into the Hollow if she followed their instructions…? Whose instructions? In the coming weeks, more letters would come — delivered by an invisible person with a gloved hand. Layna didn’t even know who she was working for, but she wanted to meet her mother so badly that she obeyed.
James Howard
The next morning, Layna awoke to the sound of footsteps on the floor above her basement studio apartment. Inhaling deeply, she recognized the distinct scent of Luisa moving quickly through the store.
Glancing over at the clock, Layna cussed herself for sleeping late. It was 8:42AM on Saturday, June 21st — exactly two years since the blackouts. She remembered those days vividly:
Like dominoes falling across the city, the lights went out and pandemonium crushed the surrounding area as darkness fell. Robberies and muggings became constant after sundown; the summer heat an oppressor during the day. Even in the most interior room of their Manhattan apartment, Layna could still smell so many collective emotions — inevitably triggering the ‘change’ as her father called it. For ten days, Layna changed between human forms almost constantly — huddled in the corner of her bedroom, shifting into the form of people most frightened by the chaos of the blackouts; shifting forms until she would pass out from exhaustion. Meanwhile, the energy-intensive equipment sustaining James Howard’s constant antibiotic infusions operated on backup battery power, licensed only for five days. And as the days without electricity stretched on, it became clear that he would not survive the blackout. “The infection has overtaken too much of my nervous system. I will not survive much longer,” he explained through labored breathing, “I cannot risk you bringing me to the hospital. You’d be tempted to change into everyone there, I think.” Slow, labored breathing. “And I cannot risk leaving you alone.” Leaning heavily on a makeshift laboratory table he’d setup in the family living room, James documented the specific chemical composition of the part steroid-part formalin liquid solution that would preserve his glands — the pituitary glands, to be specific — for at least five years after his death, inside a large glass jar. “It is important…”, he paused while coughing with increasing severity, “…to remove my head before the infection spreads into my throat.” He paused again as grief and pain coalesced in his chest. His daughter’s stare was unflinching as she reverted into true form — a ‘hideous’ grey-skinned, pointy-earned, sharp-toothed creature with piercing blue eyes and visible red vein lines. Her father was unmoved and unafraid. “Layna, you’ll have to sever my head before the infection spreads into my pituitary...” James and Layna Howard looked at each other for several moments without speaking. Then James spoke again, slowly and broken by fits of coughing, “In a few hours…it will be light outside…Take the form of Mrs. Littleton from next door…and drive me to the Pharmacy.” With detours and protests seemingly at every corner, the route went through Chinatown and then across the Manhattan bridge via single-lane traffic into Brooklyn. It took ninety-two minutes to cross the bridge. Even in Brooklyn, the signs of chaos were everywhere. Just south of Mrytle Ave, the IERA had overtaken Fort Greene Park with military vehicles and city-block generators…a rare sight. At a checkpoint, military police working alongside the IERA requested their identification and the purpose for their travel. Layna responded in a sweet and gentle voice, “I’m so sorry, sir, but with the power outages, I’ve misplaced my registration. You can check my DNA, though, right?” The military police officer confirmed it was possible, although not typical. But Layna persisted. “My name is Lenore Littleton and this is my neighbor, James Howard. He has a Pharmacy on Myrtle Avenue, just across the way,” she motioned down the street. “We are going there to check his store and make sure everything is alright. He’s too old to do it by himself,” she smiled. The military police officer looked at James and checked his registration. “You OK, sir?” James, looking quite pale, waved and coughed, “I’m alright. Just want to check my store and get back home.” Layna spoke again more urgently, “Sweetie, if you can check my DNA, then we’ll move through quickly while there is still daylight.” The military police officer’s attention returned to Layna and he held out a device connected to his belt with a small finger-sized receptacle. Layna placed her index finger in the device. After a few seconds and the quiet hum of the device whirring into action, her identity was confirmed, Lenore Littleton, 220 East 72nd Street, seventy-six years old, female, single, born in Rochester, NY. Resident of Manhattan since 2029. “OK. You’re clear.” he said. “Take care of your business but don’t stay past 4PM.“ “Thank you…I hope you get the bastards who caused this.” Layna quipped, in the same voice, but a bit out of character. The military officer turned his head sharply, but then spoke with gruff encouragement, “We will. Believe me, we will.” Layna and James made their way through the checkpoint and slowly down Myrtle Avenue, turning left onto Carlton Ave and left again into the alleyway behind the supermarket, continuing past it and finally parking behind her father’s pharmacy. She helped him walk down the stairs and through the back entrance that led down a narrow hallway. Several turns later they opened a locked door and then stepped inside the small basement room under the pharmacy, one light hanging from the ceiling — still powered by a backup generator licensed by the city because of the pharmacy. “Run upstairs and get these supplies and…several trash bags.”, James spoke quietly. Layna did as instructed and then followed her father’s written instructions from earlier, creating the clear preservative liquid in one of five empty glass jars. Then she placed trash bags on the floor of the entire small room. “You have to do it now.” James spoke urgently with the early signs of hoarseness in his voice. Layna returned to her true form as her hands formed into razor sharp edges… “Find your mother in the Hollow,” he spoke. And then Layna severed her father’s head from his body, her ‘hands’ moving outward in an “X” formation, like scissors. He collapsed with a thud, blood splattering onto the trash bags that lined the floor. Layna picked up his head and placed it in the jar, sealing the lid and carrying it over to the empty shelf. His eyes were open inside the jar as the preservative fluids began their chemical reactions, suspending James’ organic material indefinitely. “I love you, father,” she spoke with calm sincerity. Then she inhaled and exhaled through her nose and took on the form of…James Howard.
Like dominoes falling across the city, the lights went out and pandemonium crushed the surrounding area as darkness fell. Robberies and muggings became constant after sundown; the summer heat an oppressor during the day. Even in the most interior room of their Manhattan apartment, Layna could still smell so many collective emotions — inevitably triggering the ‘change’ as her father called it. For ten days, Layna changed between human forms almost constantly — huddled in the corner of her bedroom, shifting into the form of people most frightened by the chaos of the blackouts; shifting forms until she would pass out from exhaustion. Meanwhile, the energy-intensive equipment sustaining James Howard’s constant antibiotic infusions operated on backup battery power, licensed only for five days. And as the days without electricity stretched on, it became clear that he would not survive the blackout. “The infection has overtaken too much of my nervous system. I will not survive much longer,” he explained through labored breathing, “I cannot risk you bringing me to the hospital. You’d be tempted to change into everyone there, I think.” Slow, labored breathing. “And I cannot risk leaving you alone.” Leaning heavily on a makeshift laboratory table he’d setup in the family living room, James documented the specific chemical composition of the part steroid-part formalin liquid solution that would preserve his glands — the pituitary glands, to be specific — for at least five years after his death, inside a large glass jar. “It is important…”, he paused while coughing with increasing severity, “…to remove my head before the infection spreads into my throat.” He paused again as grief and pain coalesced in his chest. His daughter’s stare was unflinching as she reverted into true form — a ‘hideous’ grey-skinned, pointy-earned, sharp-toothed creature with piercing blue eyes and visible red vein lines. Her father was unmoved and unafraid. “Layna, you’ll have to sever my head before the infection spreads into my pituitary...” James and Layna Howard looked at each other for several moments without speaking. Then James spoke again, slowly and broken by fits of coughing, “In a few hours…it will be light outside…Take the form of Mrs. Littleton from next door…and drive me to the Pharmacy.” With detours and protests seemingly at every corner, the route went through Chinatown and then across the Manhattan bridge via single-lane traffic into Brooklyn. It took ninety-two minutes to cross the bridge. Even in Brooklyn, the signs of chaos were everywhere. Just south of Mrytle Ave, the IERA had overtaken Fort Greene Park with military vehicles and city-block generators…a rare sight. At a checkpoint, military police working alongside the IERA requested their identification and the purpose for their travel. Layna responded in a sweet and gentle voice, “I’m so sorry, sir, but with the power outages, I’ve misplaced my registration. You can check my DNA, though, right?” The military police officer confirmed it was possible, although not typical. But Layna persisted. “My name is Lenore Littleton and this is my neighbor, James Howard. He has a Pharmacy on Myrtle Avenue, just across the way,” she motioned down the street. “We are going there to check his store and make sure everything is alright. He’s too old to do it by himself,” she smiled. The military police officer looked at James and checked his registration. “You OK, sir?” James, looking quite pale, waved and coughed, “I’m alright. Just want to check my store and get back home.” Layna spoke again more urgently, “Sweetie, if you can check my DNA, then we’ll move through quickly while there is still daylight.” The military police officer’s attention returned to Layna and he held out a device connected to his belt with a small finger-sized receptacle. Layna placed her index finger in the device. After a few seconds and the quiet hum of the device whirring into action, her identity was confirmed, Lenore Littleton, 220 East 72nd Street, seventy-six years old, female, single, born in Rochester, NY. Resident of Manhattan since 2029. “OK. You’re clear.” he said. “Take care of your business but don’t stay past 4PM.“ “Thank you…I hope you get the bastards who caused this.” Layna quipped, in the same voice, but a bit out of character. The military officer turned his head sharply, but then spoke with gruff encouragement, “We will. Believe me, we will.” Layna and James made their way through the checkpoint and slowly down Myrtle Avenue, turning left onto Carlton Ave and left again into the alleyway behind the supermarket, continuing past it and finally parking behind her father’s pharmacy. She helped him walk down the stairs and through the back entrance that led down a narrow hallway. Several turns later they opened a locked door and then stepped inside the small basement room under the pharmacy, one light hanging from the ceiling — still powered by a backup generator licensed by the city because of the pharmacy. “Run upstairs and get these supplies and…several trash bags.”, James spoke quietly. Layna did as instructed and then followed her father’s written instructions from earlier, creating the clear preservative liquid in one of five empty glass jars. Then she placed trash bags on the floor of the entire small room. “You have to do it now.” James spoke urgently with the early signs of hoarseness in his voice. Layna returned to her true form as her hands formed into razor sharp edges… “Find your mother in the Hollow,” he spoke. And then Layna severed her father’s head from his body, her ‘hands’ moving outward in an “X” formation, like scissors. He collapsed with a thud, blood splattering onto the trash bags that lined the floor. Layna picked up his head and placed it in the jar, sealing the lid and carrying it over to the empty shelf. His eyes were open inside the jar as the preservative fluids began their chemical reactions, suspending James’ organic material indefinitely. “I love you, father,” she spoke with calm sincerity. Then she inhaled and exhaled through her nose and took on the form of…James Howard.
Howard’s Pharmacy
“It’s been two years,” she thought to herself. “What were those fools trying to prove?”
She walked quickly up the steps and past the Prison Ship Monument as she made her way toward Washington Park and then began to walk north on the sidewalk.
“Things were just fine. But those fucking elves just fucked up everything. EVERYTHING!”
She had been thinking to herself, but screamed the word, “EVERYTHING” out loud. A young couple walking nearby stopped and stared at her…she could sense their alarm, their excitement.
“I’m OK,” she spoke aloud to them as she waved.
Thankfully, they kept walking, as did she — now approaching Myrtle Ave, crossing the street and turning right.
Only a few steps and she was at her father’s pharmacy. She opened the door and stopped for a moment, deeply breathing in and out through her nose.
Smitty was behind the counter. Another young man was out back, probably rummaging through the trash. And maybe ten or twenty people were passing by the storefront at that very moment. She could smell them.
Smitty spoke up, “Uh…miss, we are about to close. You’ll need to hurry up and make your purchases.”
She almost cussed him, but then remembered she wasn’t in proper form. She thought to herself, “Shit, I would’ve had to go through the entire interview process all over again,”
“Sure thing man, I forgot my wallet anyways…” she lied and then walked quickly back out the door of the Pharmacy and around the alleyway, waiting a few minutes before returning again.
This time, when she opened the door, Smitty spoke again, “Hey Mr. Howard! Good to see you. It’s been a slow day. Since you’re here, are you OK if I leave early?”
She responded in a friendly deep baritone voice, “Sure thing Smitty. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yessir. Thanks Mr. Howard!” The young man answered quickly. “I’ve got a date tonight!”
The young man took his apron off, hung it on the wall and then quickly moved from behind the register — leaving the Pharmacy and walking down the same street from which Layna had come earlier.
She looked upward in the mirrors hanging at an angle from the ceiling — her father’s face looked back at her.
Flipping the OPEN sign to CLOSED, she turned off the lights and locked the front doors. Then, she walked back, through the EMPLOYEES ONLY door, and down into the basement. Right turn, left turn, hallway, then locked door. She took out her key and opened it, walking in slowly. A single light hanging from the ceiling was enough to illuminate a small room with a table, a bed, a small kitchenette, a bathroom, and a row of shelves lined with jars — each containing one human head floating in a special preservative fluid.
She stepped in front of each jar and inhaled deeply. One after another. Mrs. Littleton. [Inhale/exhale] Pausing, she moved to the next jar and inhaled. Mr. Johnston. And the next jar, inhale/exhale. Samantha Rosen. And then the final jar, containing her father’s head. James Howard.
“Father would want me to blend in.” She thought to herself.
She sat down at the table and began to prepare a small meal. Then, she put away the dishes, removed her clothes, and then reached upward to pull the chain that turned out the light.
Walking over to the bed against the wall, she lied down and began to think,
“Tomorrow I will kill one of the men who killed my father. Father wouldn’t want me to do that, of course, but I think Mother would…“
And then she fell asleep.
