Zlaw’s Echo

Alek est enfin chez lui, au sens propre comme figuré. Plus de prisonniers, ni à la cave, ni à l’étage. Plus d’extraterrestre précédemment tueur en série, enchaîné à un mur par des liens qui ne le retenaient pas vraiment. Plus de généticien, à la liberté de mouvement seulement apparente. Plus non plus de soldats à faire des tractions sur les escaliers ou des pompes dans la salle à manger ou le salon, ni à aiguiser des lames dans la cuisine. Plus de hackers pour semer une pagaille même gentille dans toute la maison. Plus de technologie non-sanctionnée dans son laboratoire, aussi bien mécanique que biologique. Bref, Alek est chez lui. Dans son foyer. Où la seule compagnie attendue est celle de ses autres membres, et les seules possessions sont soit strictement nécessaires soit à valeur sentimentale. Après avoir passé la journée à superviser le transport de ses instruments et son matériel, l’ingénieur savoure désormais un vide qu’il considère comme positif. Ce qui le touche le plus est sa...

Si Mae n’a pas insisté pour traîner Ellen en dehors du lycée pour le déjeuner, lorsque la météo ne semblait pas l’inspirer pour une telle excursion, c’est parce que l’idée d’un détour lui est venue à ce moment-là. Un détour qu’elle ne pourrait pas faire avec sa meilleure copine à bonnet. C’est vrai à la fois parce qu’elle n’a pas connaissance de la situation sur laquelle elle souhaite se renseigner, mais aussi parce que, même si c’était le cas, lui apporter plus d’informations ne ferait qu’empirer sa paranoïa. Elle est particulièrement territoriale, ces derniers temps. C’est plutôt pratique pour rester alerte aux dangers bien réels qui pourraient la guetter, mais ça n’est pas une raison pour vouloir en abuser. Et puis, Mae apprécie l’idée de toujours être en position de prendre en charge la protection de ses amis, après qu’ils aient autant pris à cœur la sienne depuis qu’ils savent ce qui se passe. — Oncle Sam ! elle appelle le frère de son père en atteignant le haut des escalier...

“Don’t move! Don’t you move a muscle, or she dies!” There we five thugs surrounding him, one of them holding a knife to his wife’s throat, the rest pointing their own weapon at him. He had to hand it to their adversary in this quest: the guy was resourceful. Where did he keep finding goons to send their way? None of them ever looked very bright, but that alone could not explain why they kept agreeing to do this job. Word to mouth should be a thing regardless of intellect. Surely their reputation preceded them, by now, and anyone remotely connected to the treasure seeking business knew how they dealt with people standing in their way. Surely every mercenary or dive bar patron had a story about them, from firsthand experience or through a friend or an acquaintance. “Hand over the bag,” ordered another one of the miscreants. “I’m confused: do you want me to move, or stay still?” “Don’t try to be a smart arse. Set it down slowly, and kick it towards me.” He sighed. His eyes locked wi...

Après sa visite des fondations des premiers locaux de l’entreprise de Jack, et son cœur-à-cœur avec lui, Caesar a tout de même réussi à suivre un cours en fin de matinée. Ça ne l’a pas transcendé, mais ça lui a bien changé les idées avant la pause de midi. Seul à ce moment-là, il choisit de rentrer à la maison. Il n’y trouvera peut-être pas beaucoup de monde voire personne, si son père est encore en train de déballer ce qu’il a envoyé à la ferme, puisque Markus mange à l’hôpital et Mae autour de Walter Payton. Néanmoins, il préfère tout de même déjeuner seul chez lui que seul au réfectoire de l’université. Il sourit au souvenir de la dernière fois où il était seul à table en public, mais il n’a pas besoin d’un nouvel ami ; il a déjà bien assez de mal avec celui qu’il obtenu ce jour-là. Lorsqu’il tourne au coin de la rue qui mène à son domicile, le grand adolescent remarque une silhouette dans leur allée. En s’approchant, il distingue qu’il s’agit d’une jeune fille, et lorsqu’il ar...

“Here. Have a cookie.” She put down a tiny plate in front of him, on which was laid out a single big beautiful cookie. It was well-rounded, it smelled of chocolate and cinnamon, and other that the enormous chocolate chips which were a deep brown, it had a really nice mahogany colour. It truly looked and smelled appetising. He however leaned back in his chair and eyed it suspiciously. “Not a chance I’m ever accepting any food from you, Clara.” He looked back up at the woman who had brought the biscuit with just as much suspicion as he had looked at her baked good. “Why is that?” She had the gull to seem genuinely offended by his caution. “You mean other than the fact that you have tried to kill me four times in as many weeks?” he reminded her, assuming she would easily be able to infer the answer to her own question from that memory. She grunted, shook her head, and crossed her arms. “Come on. A poisoned cookie is not really my style,” she argued. “I’ll admit that trying to ru...

“Tusks”. That’s what their enemies called them. Or rather, that was the translation of what their enemies called them, but the meaning remained. This designation was easily explained by the beasts they rode into battle. The biggest and strongest of them were saddled onto woolly mammoths, whereas their more lightweight brothers and sisters in arms sat on warthogs. They had elite archers riding on overgrown vampire deer, and when the need arose, their marine troops had domesticated narwhals for their purposes. To summarise, every single animal they had ever befriended happened to have very special teeth hanging out of their mouth. If there was an explanation for it, it had been lost to the ages, but that did not matter to them, because they truly enjoyed how fearsome they looked, on top of their companions being genuinely loyal and caring. That was probably the biggest cultural shock tourists experienced when visiting them: the vast difference between how their creatures behaved in a f...

Standing in front of the king in his throne, the knight had his sword pointed at the sovereign’s throat. The warrior was panting so heavily that his shoulder rose up and down with every breath, but his blade stayed true. His light armour was banged up in places, and there were a few tears in what was visible of his chain mail. There was blood on the tunic he wore underneath, and cuts and bruises barred his face. His voice however rose loud and clear within the great hall. “I do not want your trophy, usurper. I have no use for it. I fought this tournament for the sole purpose of getting the opportunity to confront you, and finally bring justice to this realm. Your tin cup means nothing to me. Nor do the accolades of your consort, whom I hold in nearly as little esteem as you.” The chalice he was speaking of was on the ground at their feet, and the king’s court was gathered around them, frozen in place, fearing for their ruler’s life. None of them had ever imagined for a second, durin...

Siegfried et Vladas se sont disputés toute la matinée, mais sans savoir comment conclure. C’est bien là le problème (qui jusqu’ici n’en avait pas été un) de ne jamais l’avoir fait. Pour la première fois depuis leur rencontre, ils ne pouvaient pas se regarder dans les yeux. Ils ont eu des haussements de ton aussi bien que des moments de silence. Ils n’en sont pas venus aux mains, même s’ils ne sont pas passés loin. Sans le savoir, en faisant irruption dans l’appartement quand elle l’a fait, Jena leur a permis d’évacuer une partie de leur agressivité. La plupart des gens, à leur place, aurait claqué la porte au nez de l’autre bien avant le moment où ils ont enfin compris que c’était la seule chose à faire pour l’heure. Se tourner le dos n’est pas dans leurs habitudes, pas pour autre chose que de couvrir leurs arrières respectifs. Maintenant, contre toute attente, le Scandinave est sur le seuil du lieu de résidence des Homiens. Il a d’abord erré en ville, dans l’espoir de peut-être s’épu...

Gerard and Ernest were sitting face to face, at a table outside a fast food restaurant. The former had chips and a burger in front of him, while the latter was poking at a slice of pizza, deep in thought. “Ger’, am I dumb?” Ernest asked eventually. “Of course not. I can hear you just fine.” “You know what I mean…” Gerard’s shoulders slumped. He sighed and wiped the salt of his hands by rubbing them against each other. “Where is this coming from?” “My entire life so far?” This answer made Ger’ clench his jaws; he hated the way the world treated his best friend. “Ern’, as hard as it is to remember sometimes, we are not the way people see us. And even if we were, I don’t think you’re dumb, so there.” “I do dumb things.” “So do I. Everybody does. That doesn’t necessarily make us intrinsically stupid.” “But I’m not smart, either.” “Neither am I! We’re each clever in our own way, that’s all there is to it. We literally run a private investigation business together; I wouldn’t do...

“Zip me up, please?” the wife asked her husband. Holding the strapless dress she had just put on to her chest, she was peaking out from the bathroom into the bedroom, where he was tying his bow tie. He looked over his shoulder, away from the mirror and towards her, ogled her up and down, and smiled. “Hm. I had rather zip you down…” he commented cheekily. She rolled her eyes and laughed. “I know. Maybe later, but not right now, or we’re going to be late. A little help, please?” “Fine!” he finally conceded. Dropping the narrow band of fabric around his neck, he covered the short distance that separated them, and she turned around so he could access the little slider currently resting in the small of her back. His smile widened as he slowly made it glide up, along her spine. Without even needing to look at him, she could feel him enjoying the task. It was as flattering as it was infuriating. “Are you done?” she asked, unsure that he had interlocked the tiny hooks at the top of the...

A sturdy man was sitting on an examination table, looking around him and dangling his legs like a little kid, unbothered by his surroundings that would make most people at least uneasy. A woman in a lab coat then came to him, going through the privacy curtain to reach him. “Good morning, Mister… Argyle?” “That’s right. Like the socks,” he confirmed. “My name is Doctor Durant, I’m an orthopaedist,” the woman introduced herself. He could not help but notice how pretty she was. He usually dealt with older male Doctors, so that was nice. “No offense, but aren’t health checks a bit above your pay grade?” he asked mischievously. “Well, I’m a physician first and foremost, regardless of the specialty I chose to pursue. Also, in this instance, my colleague insisted I be the one to take a look at you today.” Her patient nodded, and then took a deep breath that he let out in a sigh. “Look, Doc, I know my own chart. I was there for all of it. Granted, my first broken bone I was an infant,...

“Hey, dude, why is interrogation room four locked up and guarded?” “Oh, that’s because someone’s baking in there.” “Don’t you mean ‘stewing’?” “Nah. Because you see, stewing implies adding spices, a little something something to the secret sauce, before turning on the heat, whereas baking is slightly different; you just let the oven do its job all on its own.” “Is this the distinction you make between stewing and baking? Do you even know how to cook?” “Look, it’s a metaphor, it doesn’t have to be perfect, all right? The point is: it’s similar, but not exactly the same.” “Let’s say I see what you mean, what do you expect to happen without having added anything to the pot?” “This is a case of pre-made dough.” “Could we maybe drop the analogy for a second, please?” “Nope, because I don’t see any better way of explaining it to you.” “You literally haven’t explained anything since this conversation started! I’m beginning to think you’re the one who is baked!” “First off, that’s ...

Ce midi, Ellen se retrouve bien esseulée. Nelson n’a pas pu esquiver une invitation de Soledad, à court d’excuses crédibles. Quant à Mae, elle est toujours aussi mal à l’aise avec l’idée de manger au réfectoire. À la fois parce qu’elle ne peut pas vraiment manger, justement, en dehors de quelques rares ersatz de barres énergétiques confectionnées par son mystérieux soigneur, et à la fois à cause de l’incident qui s’y est produit un jour. La blondinette n’a pas voulu entrer dans les détails, mais elle a admis qu’elle en avait été secouée dans sa confiance en elle et son contrôle de ses symptômes. Elle a bien tenté d’emmener sa camarade déjeuner à l’extérieur, mais la météo n’avait pas emballé la marginale. Et finalement, Mae avait décidé d’en profiter pour enchaîner sa pause méridienne avec autre chose. — Hey. Cette place est prise ? interpelle une voix masculine alors qu’Ellen torture ses rondelles de carottes du bout de sa fourchette. — Oh, Nash. Salut. Maintenant oui, je suppos...

Three young men were walking down the street, chewing gum, sometimes spitting. Swaying their shoulders from side to side as they went, they wore sneakers and baggy clothes, and looked around them with a disturbing smirk which more often than not made people passing them by in the other direction change pavement. At one point, one of them threw the wrapping for his gum to the ground, without even looking at it. About a metre further down, the soft but distinct sound of metal rubbing against leather stopped them dead in their tracks. The one leading the group looked down in bewilderment at the long and narrow blade that now blocked his way. “Please, pick it up,” a male voice said. It came from the owner of the sword, who was sitting at a table on a café’s terrace, his back turned to them. He wasn’t even looking at them yet, because he was still busy silently apologising for the interruption to the person sitting in front of him. The other man did not seem to mind, and simply nodded i...