Those Which Hold The Universe
JP with Jaxx, Redsword, Trustno1 and Cindy
Prue’s leather jacket gleamed under the ethereal light, her stance exuding a confidence that was equal parts defiance and allure. She looked exactly as Alyssa remembered her from the strange and brief meeting months ago: strong, sharp, and beautiful, with an edge that dared anyone to cross her.
“Well, look who finally got her hands dirty,” Prue drawled, her voice laced with sardonic amusement. “Nice toss, by the way. You’ve got better aim than I expected. Guess all those nights with Sartre gave you some practice in—what do the kids call it? Handling the payload?”
Alyssa flushed, heat rushing to her cheeks.
Oh, don’t pretend to be shy with me now,” Prue said, crossing her arms. “I saw the way you two looked at each other back then, all that smoldering tension like you were ready to rip each other’s clothes off right there in the middle of a mission. I bet when it finally happened, it was explosive. Probably even knocked a few pictures off the wall, huh?”
Alyssa’s blush deepened, her words catching in her throat.
“Oh, don’t ‘I was not enjoying ’ me,” Prue interrupted with a wicked grin. “I hope you at least let him cuff you to the bedpost once or twice. I mean, profiler instincts? The man probably knows all your weak spots, physically and emotionally. And you—” Prue’s smirk turned downright devilish—“you don’t strike me as vanilla, Alyssa. Tell me, does he still call you ‘Agent’ in bed?”
Alyssa’s jaw dropped, her face now a brilliant shade of crimson
What?” Prue shrugged, feigning innocence. “I’m dead. I’ve got nothing but time to think about all the fun I’m missing. Just saying, life’s too short not to get creative. And if you’re not taking full advantage of Sartre, you’re doing it wrong.”
Alyssa could barely breathe, her mortification threatening to swallow her whole.
You’re adorable,” Prue teased, her smirk softening. “But seriously, don’t let guilt or fear hold you back. If you’ve got something good, hold onto it. Fight for it. Even if it feels messy or complicated.”
Before Alyssa could respond, the vision shifted.
She was in a dimly lit room now, the heavy scent of candle wax and parchment filling the air. At a weathered wooden table sat Paige Halliwell, her shaved head crowned by a soft halo of regrowth. Opposite her was Kirsten Geary, the Illuminati’s iron-willed puppet master, her sharp features illuminated by the flickering glow of a chessboard.
“You play like a mystic,” Paige quipped, moving her rook with calculated precision.
Kirsten smirked, sliding her queen into position. “And you play like someone trying to rewrite the rules.”
The chessboard blurred, the pieces melting into the shadows.
Suddenly, Alyssa stood in a sunlit room, but the air was heavy with grief. Piper Halliwell was screaming, her voice raw and guttural as she lashed out at Leo Wyatt, her husband and guardian angel.
“How could you let this happen again?” Piper sobbed, her fists pounding against Leo’s chest. “She’s gone, Leo. Gone! I can’t—I can’t do this again!”
“Piper, please—” Leo began, but Piper’s rage cut him off.
“Don’t you ‘please’ me! Don’t you dare! You’re supposed to protect us! Protect her! And you failed!” Her voice cracked, her anger giving way to despair. “I can’t do this, Leo. I can’t keep losing the people I love. Maybe—maybe I can’t even stay married to someone who lets it happen.”
She collapsed to the floor, her sobs echoing through the room as Leo knelt beside her, his own tears falling silently.
The vision dissolved, and Alyssa was back in the boiler room, her breath ragged. Her hand trembled as she realized something was floating toward her, carried by an unseen force. From the molten remains of the Infernal Maw came a fiery amulet, its blood-red surface pulsating with an infernal glow.
The Talisman of the Demon settled gently into her outstretched hand. It bore the stylized visage of a snarling demon, its forked tongue seeming to writhe as though alive.
The moment she touched it, a surge of power coursed through her veins, primal and unrelenting. Whispers filled her ears, urging her to “embrace the fire,” to wield this newfound strength without fear. She felt a kinship with the amulet, as though it was an extension of herself—or of Prue.
Staring at the talisman, Alyssa stood frozen, her mind racing. Had she inherited Prue’s power? Or was this something darker, something that would consume her if she let it?
The team’s voices pulled her back to reality, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the talisman had chosen her for a reason.
Now, she had all four, not completely sure what that meant for herself, the team or the world at large.
The last one went safely into her pocket. She would have to figure things help, but, as the hacker that looked around at those with her in the room, maybe she didn't have to figure it out alone. The hacker walked back over to Peter and took his hand. "I have a feeling we'll have to kill Elias, eventually, but we won't get him tonight." So what now?
The stage was set—not by mortal hands, but by the trembling fabric of the universe itself. Alyssa Wilson stood amidst the ruins of the spinal monstrosity, her breath heaving as she reached instinctively into her pocket. Her fingers grazed the talismans, and an almost imperceptible pulse coursed through them, harmonizing into a resonance that she could feel in her bones. Her heart skipped, then thundered, as the talismans blazed with a synchronized, luminous energy.
Behind her, Peter Sartre shouted something, his voice swallowed by a sudden, deafening roar. From the shadows emerged Robert Elias, his face a mask of incandescent rage, eyes burning with hatred—and fear. “You insolent fools! You have no idea what you’ve unleashed!” he bellowed, clutching the Black Dahlia like a talisman of his own.
Alyssa’s fingers tightened around her pocketed relics. A thunderclap of light and sound erupted, engulfing everyone in the room. Time unraveled. Space bent inward. Then the world—the mundane, grounded world—was gone.
They stood now in a cosmic amphitheater, an expanse so vast it seemed to stretch into infinity, where constellations danced in the distant abyss. A colossal stage loomed before them, draped in shadows and radiating an otherworldly presence. Towering amplifiers, as high as skyscrapers, hummed with latent power. Lights flared and spiraled, forming patterns that defied comprehension. A tremor coursed through the air, resonating like a bassline in the marrow of their bones.
Then, the voice. Disembodied and omnipresent, it surged like a wave across the cosmic expanse. “All right, agents of the Secret World, YOU WANTED THE BEST! YOU GOT THE BEST! THE HOTTEST BAND IN THE COSMOS! KISS!!!”
A massive tapestry unfurled from the heavens, revealing the Elder Gods. Their forms defied human comprehension, teetering on the precipice of sanity. Each figure bore the unmistakable visage of KISS, yet magnified to a cosmic scale—both awe-inspiring and terrifying. Alyssa felt her knees weaken, the primal part of her mind struggling to comprehend their grandeur.
The Demon stepped forward, his crimson-tinged skin glowing faintly in the ambient light. The ground beneath them turned green, as if reality itself were infected by his aura. His glowing amber eyes fixed on the mortals below as he spread his arms wide and bellowed, “OH YEAH? OH YEAH? WELL, ALRIGHT…” Then, with a guttural roar, he spewed torrents of blood into the air, a macabre baptism of their audience. The amphitheater erupted into a cacophony of sound as the band launched into an ear-shattering rendition of “Black Diamond.”
The music was seismic, each note a tsunami of raw power. As the song crescendoed, the Master of Beasts ascended on a platform of flame, his whip-like staff glowing with spectral light. Sparks flew in all directions, their trajectories forming impossible geometries. The Celestial swayed drunkenly, his silver robes shimmering as he clutched his cosmic teddy bear like a talisman. His eyes gleamed with a drunken wisdom that seemed to pierce the veil of reality itself.
As the final chords reverberated through the amphitheater, the Catman’s drum platform erupted into the sky, launching fountains of sparks and pyro that engulfed Robert Elias. The Black Dahlia in his hand shattered into a thousand fragments, each one disintegrating into nothingness. Elias’s scream was lost in the maelstrom, his form consumed by the cascading light.
The music faded, leaving an ethereal silence. The Star Bearer stepped forward, his obsidian-like skin glistening with the reflected constellations. He raised his gaze to the heavens, his voice resonating with a profound melancholy.
“It has been 16 years,” he began, his words trembling with an unseen weight. “Sixteen years since we lost you.” His finger pointed skyward, higher than the stars, higher than the cosmos itself. “You liked things with your name in them. This has your name in it. We will never forget you. Sometimes we see you in our dreams.”
He paused, turning his piercing gaze directly to Alyssa seeing if she could pick up on something. “And Vincent have you seen Braveheart yet? You’re old enough now. But Soror Cassandra…” He chuckled, his voice tinged with nostalgia of a memory of at least thirty years in the past. “She’d say, ‘What the hell are you doing letting Vincent watch Braveheart?!’” The Star Bearer’s face broke into a wistful grin. “Ah, well. Maybe Seven. Or The Thing. Perfect movies for five-year-olds!”
His tone shifted, the humor melting into solemnity. “We’ve given you some answers. We inspired those four mortals from New York to form a band, to carry our likeness. They saw us in their dreams, and we’ve been here long before any of you.” He extended a hand, gesturing to the vast, incomprehensible expanse around them. “We’ll see you in your dreams.”
The band turned their collective gaze to Alyssa, their eyes shimmering with cosmic understanding. A knowing look passed between them and her, a silent acknowledgment of truths yet to be spoken.
The Star Bearer’s voice echoed once more, cutting through the silence. “There’s only one thing left for us to do. This crime scene, this evidence of the Secret World, cannot remain.” He stepped closer, his gaze penetrating Alyssa’s very soul. “What exactly is left for us to do, Agent Wilson?”
Alyssa’s lips parted, her voice trembling as she spoke the answer they all knew was coming.