Saint Joseph School

The Rikti paused for a moment, as if in thought.

The Alien then hoisted the blade more upright, Michael sliding further backwars upon the massive alien blade. He made a small "gluk" sound.

"Waa, little missy. Ah reckon ah've got something you want. An' you got that little piece ah need right there in tha pocket u'yers. So, let's trade, you little flat-backer, or ah reckon I'll cut yer little boy here right in two. Waaa-haaa."

The alien soldier laughed then, something untranslatable and full of scorn. It shook the blade experimentally, and Michael made another noise, shifting further down the weapon.

Franky's eyes narrowed.

"Now, don't do anything stupid, you use them powers o'yers on me, you'll blast yer boyfriend too. Reckon ah got you by the short hairs..." The commander seemed to be getting impatient.

Franky clenched her fists, eyes narrowing further as she glanced from the alien to Michael. He gave her the thumbs up, and winked.

"You bastard," she said. The alien mistook this for acquiescence.

Francis stood on the sidewalk for a moment longer, contemplating. It was an interesting crossroads and one that she had, on occasion, found herself on before. She had an enemy before her, and a solution that would, invariably, make the situation worse. The Rikti commander was growing more impatient by the moment and it was simply a matter of minutes before Michael was neatly in two.

On the other hand, anything she lobbed at them would likely hurt Mis just as much as the Rikti.

She caught the 'thumbs up' from the corner of her eye. She mentally shook her head...only him. Get her out of the store, get in trouble, get impaled by an alien John Wayne in the middle of downtown, smile and wave....yep...that was Mis.

Well....this was going to hurt.

Francis remembered Misericorde's mention of the fast healing and his overall confidence in dealing with pain made Franky feel slightly more confidence in her own plan. She only hoped this worked, and that she hadn't sorely misjudged everything thus far.

The Rikti was not amused by the momentary silence and he once again shook the blade causing it to emit another skin-crawling 'glurp' sound.

"That's it..." Francis snarled. "Welcome to Earth, asshole."

The first movement was unexpected by the alien as Francis yelled out something he couldn't seem to translate and with a sickening whirling sensation and a flash, he was no longer standing in front of the decimated store. Instead, he now stood not three feet from the small Catholic school-girl.

His moment of confusion was all Francis needed. The lightening bolts crackled into life and the smell of ozone filled the air. There was a surprisingly loud *pop* and then a heavy crash as the first of three consecutive lightening bolts struck the lone Rikti full in the chest.

"Harggg....*cough*" The Rikti began to stand but Franky had no intention of allowing that to happen.

"How many times," She bit out, "Do I have to tell you people....stop....trying...to kill....my...BOYFRIEND!"

The strength of the following blast knocked the Rikti clear off of his feet and was finally enough to dislodge Michael from the blade, sending him sprawling as the Commander hit the ground shoulders first.

Francis ran over to Misericorde, a part of her still needing to be sure he was still breathing. It was the only time she could think of when that sickening gurgling sound massive chest wounds made, was a good thing.

The Rikti snarled a string of unintelligle words and was quickly back on his feet, but even now, he was becoming unsteady; the electrical charges wreaking havoc on his system and nearly burning out all of his devices. Small tendrils of smoke rose lazily up from his skin.

Francis smiled.

"Sorry buddy" She said, "Visiting hours are over."

Francis remained on her knees as the Rikti shook the cobwebs out of his head and growled. He pointed at the two of them and barked out an angry word. Francis remained still, eyes focused, a wicked smile playing at her lips. The Rikti steadied himself and then charged.

The street shuddered under the heavy footfalls and Francis began to mumble quick latin words under her breath. She brought her shoulders back and her arms went up before her face, almost as though she was trying to hold back the charging alien. The lightening began to coalesce once again, snapping and curling over her hands in a desperate effort to get free, building in strength more and more as she refused it release.

The Rikti did not stop, did not pause, but was bent only upon the complete destruction of the humans who stood in his way.

The blast was so powerful that for a moment, no sound could be heard. The very air itself seemed momentarily on fire as the impossibly huge arch of blue energy twisted from Francis' grasp, leaped nearly 40 feet across the street, and then met with the oncoming Rikti in a fantastic explosion of purple sparks.

When the air cleared the street was quiet. The Rikti Commander lay some 70 feet away, nearly back inside the destroyed store front. He was still.

Francis allowed herself the smile that had tugged at her mouth.

She laughed. "Thank You....Come again."

Michael stirred after a moment, rolling slowly over onto his back.

"I'll never eat shish-kebab again," he utters, staring into the bright blue sky.

Michael's body took on a surreal green glow, heating the air and pavement around him, distorting the air around him. There is very little blood; even now, the seams of the wound closed as though an invisible zipper were being drawn along it. Michael turns his head to regard Franky.

"You ok?" she asks, concern drawing her brows together beneath that crazy pink hair. She's breathing hard,probably from the exertion of the spell.

Michael stretches, feeling his ribs and bones of his sternum pop and align in the process. "Feeling better by the second." He props himself up on his elbows, inspecting his torso.

Franky flashes him a shy smile, then suddenly slaps him on the side of the head. She stands up, crossing her arms and turning her back to him. "Michael, you are such an idiot! What the HELL were you thinking? Great, I get a boyfriend, and the first day...hell, within half an HOUR, he goes and tries to get himself killed by ALIENS! I can just see how this is gonna go..."

He laughs, drawing himself up while rubbing the side of his face. After a moment, Michael speaks, laying a hand upon her shoulder.

"C'mon, let's go file an incident report with the cops and pay for that widget for Annie, ok?"

Frankie didn't turn around, but she ran the back of her hand across her nose with a sniffle and shrugged, then placed a hand to the device in her pocket. "Yeah, guess we ought to pay for this."

Michael slowly coiled his arms about her. He leaned in close, lips almost brushing her ear, words lost to the wail of sirens and the murmur of the gathering crowd.

Francis smiled at the words that passed between them.

The wail of sirens was becoming a far too familiar sound these days but she found that today, she didn't seem to mind so much. She looped one arm through Michael's giving an amused smirk to the disheveled and torn state of his uniform. She checked to see that the translator part was still secure in her pocket, one last time.

"Alright," She sighed,"Let's do this, it's about time to head back to the quad. That Aristotelian Chaos paper isn't going to write itself."

"Besides," She whispered, "I look forward to explaining to Quad 1 precisely why you came back from a date with me with your clothes torn, tar in your hair, and blood on your face. I'm never gonna live this one down."

The two walked casually over to the arriving PPD cars. This was going to take awhile.

The incident reports took way too long, and both teens were thoroughly drained. Once the PPD reports were done, Vanguard had shown up and demanded they recount the story again...and again.

Once that was complete, the two attempted to slink away, only to be surrounded once more by the news media. Michael figured it was a slow news week, as he wrapped an arm about Franky; the swell of the reporters pushed them backwards into a ambulance stretcher that had been transformed into an improptu Rikti monkey morgue cart.

He looked down as Franky was jostled again and again by the crowds, saw her tired and desperate to just...go home. "Enough is enough," he said, and surreptitously sliced open several of the monkeys on the cart behind them with a claw.

The resulting nauseating cloud of monkey gas caused the crowd to disperse even more rapidly than the threat of a live Rikti. As Vanguard techs scrambled to disperse the fumes, Mis bundled up Franky tightly in his arms and carried them through the crowd, nose wrinkled against the stench.

They wasted several minutes giggling in front of the tram, and both solemnly vowed to watch the 11 o'clock news.

The tram ride home was uneventful. The odor of monkey gas clung to them throughout the train ride, and ensured they had the entire tram to themselves. Franky somehow managed to fall asleep on Michael's shoulder until their last stop. Descending the ramp from the station, it was nearly dark.

Their passage through the grounds through the school drew a few stares and giggles at Micheal's disheveled appearance and torn clothing, as well as Franky's extremely fatigued movements. They stopped at the entrance to the female dorm, framed by the lights there.

"So, your dates always this eventful?" he asks, with an infectious grin. Franky licks her thumb, and wipes a bit of dried blood from his cheek, scrubbing at it thoughtfully. "I was actually going to ask you the same thing..." she replied. "We should do this again...sometime...without all the villains, though. No more working lunches," she continued.

Michael answered her the best way he knew how. It took awhile.

"Franky! It is totally time for bed, and Mary Moltar is coming downstairs to do bed-checks!" Annie was leaning dangerously far out of the window to her quad to warn her friend. Mis waved at her. "Hi Mis! Franky, hurry!" Slowly, Franky began to ascend towards the window. Their hands lingered for a moment, then parted as Franky disappeared into the open window, hauled in enthusiastically by Annie with a pair of squeals and a thump.

Michael heard the voice of Mary Moltar in the room, and made his way across the courtyard to his own dorm, hands thrust in his pockets.

"Hey, queer, heard you had a date tonight with Freaky."

Mis paused mid-step, and looked up to see Biff leaning against the doorway, putting his cellphone away. "Heya, Biff."

Biff eyed Michael's torn clothing and bedraggled expression, then laughed. "You look like hell. Here, take these." Biff slapped a meaty palm into Michael's chest, pressing a small box there; Michael clumsily caught it with both hands.

The bigger boy slowly walked away. "I don't want you two freaks reproducing," Biff called over his shoulder.

Michael shook his head and smiled in spite of himself, then headed up to convince the other guys to turn the common room TV to the evening news.