Libertas OCT Audition

Young Eric’s Tavern was a small, hole-in-the-wall establishment, tucked away in the hustle and bustle of Chicago’s streets. It was cleaner than it had any right to be, with mugs and cups that were regularly washed, a non-scratched up pool table, and a row of bar stools that had somehow survived the several decades of Young Eric’s history.

And, for Jennifer Enburg, it was the perfect place to ignore the rest of the world and get blackout drunk.

She was already making progress, with a good heaping of bottles in front of her and her face down on the counter, covered by her arms and giving the appearance that she was sleeping. She just wanted the rest of the world to shut down for five minutes, to let her be in a single, alone space, where she could just drink cheap, highly alcoholic beer in peace.

The world, however, had other ideas.

”And with the continued clean-up effort at Navy Pier, authorities have yet to release a full account of the casualties from the bomb that exploded here only two days ago,” said the anchorwoman on the television, standing in front of the roped off entrance. ”Even after the attacks allegedly caused by Zachery Beaard, who went by the alias of “Red Reaper”, the police, FBI, and CIA are still attempting to piece together just what happened.”

What happened was I fucked up, thought Jennifer. “Cou….couldja tur’ the goddamn-damn TV DOWN or-or-or somfin?” she asked aloud, her voice slurred from the beer.

“Look lady, my bar, my television, my rules.” The bartender didn’t like Jennifer one bit. She had shown up out of the blue, plunked down a one hundred dollar bill, and ordered that the drinks keep coming. He had seen smaller people go through twice the amount she had so far without being so far gone. “I think you’ve had enough for tonight. Let me—“

“FUCKYOU I hevn’t!” Jennifer shouted. She slammed her hand down, knocking over two bottles and drawing attention to herself from the bar’s three other patrons. “One……one more.”

”Absolutely tragic,” said the anchorman on the television. ”Now, Liz, have there been any reports on Miss Shadow? Wasn’t she assisting and involved with fighting this ‘Reaper’ fellow?”

”That is correct, Tom. Multiple witnesses have stated that Miss Shadow helped escort several civilians out of the pier during the fighting, as well as ensuring the destruction of several bombs located around the area. However, sources I’ve spoken to, on the condition of anonymity, stated that they have not been able to get in contact with her, or vice versa. Needless to say, without her involvement, the whole situation would have turned out a lot worse.”

“Yeah…..yeah, fucking-fucking-fucking SAY that shi’ to…to the peopl’ who fuckin’ DIED.” Jennifer was close to her breaking point. “I’m SURE they’r happy it ain’t WORST.”

“Hey, fuck you lady,” a man said. “She saved my sister. You don’t get to talk shit about Miss Shadow, she’s a hero.”

“OH! O, thas, that’s, thaas fugging rich.” Jennifer turned around to the man who had spoken up. “An those peopl who died…..how many-how many-how many of them were sisisisisters, or brother, or sons daughtas fathes mothers….” She couldn’t continue. She broke down sobbing.

It was all her fault.

Even as Miss Shadow, even with all the people she had saved, the ass-kicking to the Red Reaper that she had so deservedly given to him, there were still so many more she could have, no, SHOULD have saved. If she hadn’t been so focused on taking him down, there wouldn’t have been any bodies, there wouldn’t have been any deaths or dismemberments or lives shattered or property destroyed or—

“Jen? Jen, baby? Let’s go.” There was only one person in the world who called her baby. She looked up and saw James, the love of her life, looking at her with eyes that spoke of love, care, and happiness that he had found her.

They also, Jen noticed, even in her inebriated state, full of disappointment.

James turned to the bartender. “Has all of this been paid for?” When the bartender nodded in the affirmative, James placed a hand on Jennifer’s shoulder and pulled her up, mostly by the jacket that she was wearing rather than her actual shoulder. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you home.”

Jennifer didn’t try to resist. Fucked up again, she thought, as she and her fiancé exited the bar and made their way home.




“How’d….how’d you know—“

“That was the closest bar to our apartment,” James interrupted. “Figured that if I started there, I’d find you.” He unlocked the door to their home and turned the doorknob, opening it. As he flipped on the lights, he swore. “Jesus Christ, Jen. I thought you were going to stay clean.”

“You can’t—can’t tell m’ what tado,” Jennifer mumbled as James half-carried her towards the small living room area and laid her down on the couch. “Yarn’t my mother.”

“Jen, baby, I love you, but this is NOT the thing you should be doing!” James went back and slammed the door shut. “If you want to talk, I’m here for you. I’m always here for you, just tell me what you—“

“TELL ya? Shit, do…do…do…do you fucking UNDASTEND what kind….kinda shit I del witf?” Jen drunkenly asked. “Yur not a guddamn superhero. Your nota person respon….respen…..who has to protect the city! You don’ know SHIT!”

“So go talk to Jack! Or Harry, or anyone else in the Titan Program! They’re superheroes too!” James was close to tearing his own hair out. The last time he had seen Jen breakdown like this, it had been months before she was properly functional again. Chicago didn’t need that. He didn’t need that. Most importantly, SHE didn’t need that. “What are you even upset about?”

“Fifteen dead, at least.”

“And none of that was your fault, Jen.” James bent down so that she could look straight at him without having to move her head. “You aren’t Miss Perfect, you’re Jennifer Enburg.”

Jennifer could somewhat, in her booze-induced haze, understand where James was coming from. The other ninety-nine percent of her brain, however, quickly drowned it out. She simply turned around in the couch silently, waiting to just fall asleep.

James stood back up and made his way to the bedroom, but not before draping the blanket over his fiancé and calling her sponsor.




Jennifer’s dream was almost perfect; everything about it seemed so real, so lifelike, the same as it had been two days ago. She had finally tracked down the Red Reaper, Zachery Beaard, hiding out in the Children’s Museum. The police and various other armed government forces were operating at a standstill, engaging in some kind of firefight with all of Beaard’s cult of personality. It always amazed Jennifer how many of these showed up; you could just make your hair appear a new color and people would worship the ground you walked on.

She was hiding out in a far corner, watching Beaard, immediately seeing why he was called the “Red Reaper”. He covered his face in some kind of idiotic red skull mask that he probably picked up in a costume store bargain bin. As he spoke into some sort of earpiece, she took the opportunity to manipulate the shadows around her, forming large, solid blocks of mass. By the time Beaard had noticed something in his peripheral vision, he was slammed against a wall by one of her blocks.

It didn’t prevent him from getting back up after a few seconds. “Miss Shadow,” he said, almost giving a polite bow. “An honor, I assure you.”

“Oh, will you just give it a rest?” That should have knocked him out. Heightened endurance and stamina. He’s a super, all right, she thought. She didn’t bother with her normal, high-pitched taunting voice. “This whole place is surrounded by guns with orders to kill you. If you surrender now Zach, you might be able to avoid getting your ass sent to some CIA hellhole and just spend the rest of your life in ULTRAMax.”

“I AM THE RED REAPER!” Beaard shouted, enraged and shocked that Miss Shadow had somehow figured out his name. “HOW DARE YOU—YOU think that YOU can issue demands to me?” He reached into his red trench coat (Good God, he’s just being stupid with this red stuff, thought Jennifer) and pulled out some kind of remote control. “This pier, this whole place, if it can’t be a paradise, it shall be my funeral pyre! And you shall join me in it!”

“Oh no, he’s going to blow us up, whatever shall I do?” Jennifer muttered, rolling the blue lights that were her eyes in “Shadow State”. “Is that ALL you do? Blow stuff up? Because really, it’s getting boring.”

Zachery screamed in defiance and pushed the button.

Nothing happened. He pushed it again. Nothing continued to happen. He repeatedly pushed it, mashing it until the button broke off. And still, nothing happened.

“Yeah, I already got the bombs, and the people you had crowded around them, out. So I hope you weren’t expecting any explosions. Granted, it’s still possible if that thing has a range of…” She pretended to do some math with her fingers. “How far is it from here to Wyoming?”

Beaard pulled out seven more remotes, each one proving to be non-responsive. He threw the last one to the ground, causing it to shatter into several electronic pieces. “Give up yet?” Miss Shadow asked, a smile visible on her face of darkness.

Instead of immediately replying, Beaard pulled out….pencils. Several pencils from his two pockets, and held them between his fingers. “No. I’m only getting started.” The pencils then began to glow.

What is he…..oh no. No, no, no he isn’t. He can’t be, that would just be stupid. He wouldn’t DARE, thought Jennifer. When the Red Reaper threw the pencils, she easily dodged out of the way, as they continued on to explode against the wall behind her. Oh my God, he is.

He’s a Kimblee knock-off.

Jennifer shadow-ported forward, punched the Red Reaper right in the gut and knocked the wind out of him. Before he could respond, she made three shadow tentacles appear and slapped him silly.

“This is getting really sad, Zach.” Miss Shadow pulled the tentacles away and let him have a chance to recover a bit. “You lose. All eight of your bombs around the Pier are gone, the civilians were evacuated, and…” she briefly looked out the window, “it seems that the boys in blue are on their way. What do you have to—“ She stopped talking and stared at what had appeared in his hand.

A ninth detonator.

“Nine…was always a lucky number for me,” he said. “Hope you…hope you got the ones in the Ferris Wheel too.”

He pushed the button.

The explosion rocked Jennifer to the ground.

After a few seconds, she got back up and looked behind her. The Ferris Wheel had tumbled down out of sight, into a broken mess. Smoke was visible from where she stood and stared in horror. Nine….there was nine. Why didn’t I know there were nine?

The Red Reaper quickly shouted and lunged at her, but she was able to turn around in the last second and block it. She grabbed hold of him, tears visibly streaming from her eyes, and shadow-ported them both outside, to the police blockade. She threw Zach straight at the nearest command center vehicle, then quickly shadow-ported back home before anyone could say something to her. She exited Shadow State, and eventually collapsed onto the floor, crying.




When she woke up, Jennifer noted two things. First, she had one of the worst hangovers she had ever had.

The second was she wasn’t in her apartment anymore. She had no IDEA where she was.

She tried to get up, but stumbled and fell off of the concrete slab that she had been on, onto the ground. She was outside, with both clouds covering the sky, but a strange odd redness seemed to emanate from them, giving an ominous and dark tone. On a half-collapsed wall in front of her was some sort of strange symbols that looked to be painted on haphazardly.

The building that the wall was connected to looked in even worse shape. Blood smears were splattered on the walls, most incredibly old, but a few recent, and the whole building seemed in danger of collapsing. Wheelchairs and hospital beds seemed to be left everywhere, tipped over and left abandoned.

“What in the…..how did…..where…” She was stunned. She had a horrible headache. She felt sick, both from the hangover and from the confusion.

That’s when the device started buzzing.

It took Jennifer by surprise, but she found it, a small device that looked like some sort of smartphone with a touchscreen. It had a message saying “Mail’s here!” on it, in plain English. She tapped the screen, and the message appeared before her.

Find someplace hidden before reading this. There are wild animals and hostile patrols in the area. Be quiet. Be careful. Be safe.

Welcome to Eos City. I am sorry you have found yourself here. There is something about this planet that draws people from all worlds, times, and places to drop them here with no warning.

This world was abandoned by its people. We don't know why for sure, but whatever it was, it was sudden. Rainbow distortions we’ve named Warp Storms still plague the planet. If you see one, get underground immediately and pray to the Eos goddesses that you don't turn into one of the Warped.

The Warped were once people like you or I, but the storms changed them into monsters. Avoid them. They will try to kill or change you too.

Just a warning, the sun does not set and the clouds don't clear. Not everyone is trustworthy, but if this message still sends, then there are still good people surviving on this world, whether me or someone else.

I wish you the best of luck. Find safety. We will find you.

-Apollo Stardust, formerly of the Fountain community”

Jennifer read the thing twice, once silently, the other aloud. Neither time answered any of her questions and in fact raised more. She pocketed the strange device into her jacket pocket, and sat down onto the slab, trying to figure out just what had happened, and what she should do next.