The Adventures of Agent Sot; Chapter 9: The Kleindog

By: Zachary Rosen '16

      The Victor-wolf has brown fur with black streaks running through it. He creeps around and leaps, but Sot jumps and kicks him in the throat, landing with a backwards barrel roll. She never realized she’d be using Krav Maga to fight oversized dogs. “Now would be a good time to fire at them. If we keep kicking them, their parents will sue us.”

      “It takes a minute for it to warm up. Keep them at bay,” Klein replies.

       The assumed Jordan-wolf, with sand colored fur and red spots, starts to creep forward. Sot picks up a chair and starts beating his head with it. He yelps and jumps back. “I would like, just once, to have a normal day here,” Sot sighs. Klein snorts.

       Klein’s cure gun finishes warming and he begins firing. Victor and Jordan go down. Their bodies start convulsing as their bones shift and bodies twist. In seconds, they are once again teenagers, dressed in maroon singlets. Two down, one to go.

       Perreten leaps onto the figure of Klein before he can fire a third time. His jaws clamp around his arm and Klein grunts, trying to force him off. He twists the gun around and fires, catching the Tyler-beast on the back of his head. He detaches, collapsing on the floor, slowly transforming. Klein drops the gun and falls onto the floor. Sot runs to him. “Klein! Klein! Josh?!” She shakes him but he doesn’t move. Darkness spreads in veins from his wounded arm up the rest of his body. Klein convulses, throwing Sot ten feet. She sees stars and blinks, looking back at her infected friend. In his place is a jet black Pomeranian, growling violently. Sot notices someone running towards her out the corner of her eye. The Kleindog leaps, but is kicked to the side with a yelp by the unknown being. Sot crawls towards the cure-gun and shoots at the tiny animal, breathing a sigh of relief.

       She looks back and gasps. It is the image of Howes, one of the many sad ghosts doomed to walk the haunted halls of Severn for eternity. He smiles wanly and fades into oblivion.

                                                                              ---

       The school is empty as the clock strikes midnight. Faint moonlight filters through the window into the otherwise dark Creeden Commons. Slowly, steadily, a figure lowers from the ceiling suspended by steel wire. His shiny baldness glimmers in the moon’s rays. He swabs a small dab of blood from the carpet. Gvozden chuckles, returning to the ceiling.

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The Life and Times of Agent Sot; Chapter 8: The Dog Days

By: Zachary Rosen '16

      “What do you mean that was Victor Martinez?!” Ms. Sot tears some fabric from her sleeve and makes a tourniquet with it. In a few moments the bleeding stops. 

      Klein hands her a vial and a needle. “He didn’t bite you or anything?” Sot shakes her head. “This will prevent you from getting rabies or anything like what infected him.” Gritting her teeth, Sot stabs into her stomach and breathes in. She looks at Klein expectantly. “There is an unexplainable rash of outbreaks amongst the wrestling team. They’re all turning into werewolves. We think it’s pathogenic. That vial should prevent you from being infected.”

      “How is that even possible?"

      “It’s probably a top secret, fast acting retro-viral enhancement created by the French Secret Service for biological warfare. An unnamed agent passed it along to us during the French Exchange. It’s been hidden in a high security refrigeration unit in the Chemistry department for use during the Severn-Saints game. The unit was compromised and passed onto a member of the wrestling team, who in turn spread it from person to person. There were seven infected total. Using an emergency cure, we’ve been able to secretly take out four of them. Victor, Tyler Perreten, and Jordan Leiken are still out roaming the halls.” Klein takes out his cellphone, which starts to beep. “I got a tracking device on Victor. He’s in the Creeden Commons. We better head out.

      “Is it really safe that there is a trio of werewolves roaming the halls and the students don’t know?”

      “They didn’t know when the History and English departments accidentally started a nuclear war, but that turned out ok.”

      “Isn’t that what really happened at Chernobyl!?” 

     “Touché. Let’s go.” The two start sprinting and in minutes they are in the Creeden Commons, all but abandoned except for a violent canine thrashing in the center. Klein pulls a fog gun out of his coat and the barrel starts to spin.

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The Life and Times of Agent Sot; Chapter 7: Puppy Problems

By: Zachary Rosen '16

         Codename Sot hears a terrible growling noise coming from the stairwell. Slowly, she opens the door and looks in. The light flickers and the growling intensifies. Steadily, she takes a step in, looking up. A figure is hunched over, tearing at a trash can. Sotiropoulos takes out her pen and clicks it; the buzzing noise of a taser pierces the room.

        “Get away from the trash can!” The creature raises its head, catching the light. Black fur shines in the fluorescence, outlining a toothy maw. Drool drips from canines sharper than knives. “You have got to be kidding me?” The beast lunges at her and she ducks, lashing out her fist and catching it on the shoulder. She plunges the taser into the center of his chest and the creature makes a whimpering noise before clawing at her shoulder. They crash into the wall and collapse, rolling around on the ground. Sot throws it off and it takes a protective stance on the stairs.

       “This is why I told my wife we can’t get a dog...,” Sot whispers under her breath. It slowly starts to creep forward and Sot backs up. She pulls at the door handle but the frame broke in the struggle; she needs to find a new way out. “I can’t outrun this thing...” she thinks to herself. 

       An earsplitting whistle pierces the air. Sot covers her ears and the furry mongrel goes running down the stairwell. She stands up, applying pressure to her bleeding arm. She hears someone stepping down the stairwell and looks up. Mr. Klein is standing up there holding a giant whistle.                “What the hell was that?!” Sot asks.

       Klein shakes his head. “Victor Martinez.”

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The Life and Times of Agent Sot; Chapter 6: A Murder of Crows

By: Zachary Rosen '16

       Sot and Kaberline run as fast as they can towards the source of the chaos, which happens to be the cafeteria/nuclear bunker. Standing on a blood red table in the center of the space is a spectral figure, surrounded in a tornado of black feathers. The cawing is so loud it's deafening.

       “Hey!” Sot shouts, sliding her stapler/sub-machine gun out of her back pocket. “Release the birds!” The figure turns to reveal the smiling face of Julian Bartholomee. His shadowed face outlines the evil curl of his lips. He flips his wrist and a way word fowl goes careening into Sot, stealing the weapon before she can fire a shot. Kaberline lifts his hands as if in prayer and begins whispering some of the collected works of Lord Byron he had committed to memory. Another black missile goes careening into his head, shattering his glasses/scrying-lenses and he collapses onto the ground, unconscious. 

       “Welcome, Sotiropoulos. So glad you could come to see me. Don’t you think the students look much more fashionable this way?” He begins laughing maniacally.

       “How are you doing this?! This is much more power then any member of the society of crows possess. Kaberline said he never taught any of you transformation magic!”

       “He didn’t, the fool.” Julian glances down at Kaberline’s unconscious body with scorn in his eyes. “He was weak. We would have never risen to prominence if he was allowed to continue with his dull instruction. We would have been nothing.” Julian slips something out of the inside of his robe. He raises it in the air, a deep black obsidian stone that sparkles in the sunlight. The crows begin to caw more loudly, flying faster. “I found an instrument of grand power, one of a half dozen transformation tools on the planet!”

       “How! Where could you find something like that?!”

       “On my trip to Antarctica! I sold my soul to a man who was also a polar bear!” Julian lifts the stone towards Sot and suddenly she feels a terrible pain. Her skin begins to bubble and she sees her life flash before her eyes. She begins to pray to Poseidon when she notices something out of the corner of her eye. 

       A new crow, but three feet tall, flies into the room and lands at her feet. The figure twists and elongates like candle wax until it reveals the figure of Michael Burns, clothed in a boa of black feathers. “YOU!” Julian screams, “YOU ABANDONED US! WHY DO YOU RETURN!” 

      “I heard the pained screams of my brothers and sisters and I had to fly back.” Michael’s voice is calm, even, but tinged with sadness and remorse.

      “You left us the moment you graduated. You were our king!”

      “I went to the black forest to study the true art of the crow. I’m so sorry, my old friend. But it was always my intention to return, to lead us into the light. Stop this madness. Please, Julian. It isn’t too late to turn back from this path.”

      “I will never stop! I will not rest until the entire planet is one with the great Crow!” Julian flings his hands forward. The crows amass into a great column, a spear of darkness. Burns raises his hand and they stop in midair. 

      “You have an instrument of great power, but you are too young and too ignorant to know how to use it. I’m sorry, my child. But I did warn you.” He bends his ring finger and the crows leap backwards, descending on Julian. He lets out a guttural scream before he disappears from view. A few seconds pass and they scatter, revealing nothing left but a torn uniform.

---

      Sot and Burns walk across the beach along the Severn. “Thank you.”

      “Do not thank me,” Burns whispers, “I am only sorry we couldn’t have saved him.” He hands Sot the stone, glowing and pulsing with a cold warmth. “You must throw it into the river. It is too great a power for any man to have.”

      “You can stay with us. Guard it. Teach them the art of the Crow.”

      Burns smiles. “I still have much training to undergo. The stone shall corrupt me.”

      Shaking her head, Sot throws the cursed object into the water. They walk away.

---

      A bald head wearing a pink and green snorkeling mask erupts from the murky, midnight waters. A pale hand rises with it, holding a stone, sparkling in the moonlight. Gvozden chuckles.

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The Adventures of Agent Sot; Chapter 5: Yelling At Kaberline

By: Zachary Rosen '16

         Sotiropoulos storms into Mage Kaberline’s room without even knocking on the door. The councilor/level three sorcerer looks up with shock to see the history teacher carrying a crow. “Are you here to join our sacred society?” he asks, a smile breaking out over his face.

         “This is William Fung.” 

         Kaberline twists his head and then reaches his hand out, making a vaguely "Y" shaped formation with his fingers. He closes his eyes and speaks a few words of Aramaic. He opens his eyes and opens his mouth in awe. “You’re right. I can sense his presence.”

         Sotiropoulos’ foot shoots out and reaches behind Kaberline’s head, pulling him forward and down onto the desk. Disturbed, William flies across the room to roost on a gaggle of Victorian Spy novels/classified government memos. With Kaberline incapacitated, Sot’s foot prepared to snap his neck in a moment, the angry woman shouts, “How can you be teaching your students transformation magic?! This is far beyond anything Lagarde allows and anything I will tolerate. Now turn him back this instant!”

         “I didn’t do this!” Kaberline replies, breath taxed, hands held on his desk, “I teach them various telekinetic and physical abilities. Poetic magic, derived from the works of Poe and the dark transcendentalists. Occasionally a little necromancy. Never anything like this. I can’t even do any transformation spells myself.”

           Sot relaxes her held and the man sits up at his desk, gasping. “Then who could be doing this? Spiegel?”

           Kaberline shakes his head. “He’s in the gym trying to turn lead into gold and feeding the Speagle. No. This has to be a student.”

           “Could you speak to William? Ask him who did it? You speak crow, correct”

           “I do. But he doesn’t. He’ll just be stuck trying to make human sounds, which he can’t. I could bond with him telepathically, but since he is now a bird I might end up just erasing his soul from existence.”

            Suddenly, there is a horrible screaming sound, and a collection of students begins to run across the hall and outside as fast as they can. A few crows begin to follow, equally hysterical.

Agent Sot points. “Or we could just go that way?”

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The Adventures of Agent Sot; Chapter 4: A Fowl Development

By: Zachary Rosen '16

       There were black feathers scattered along the pavement, caught in the folds of a white oxford, red tie, and blue backpack. Sotiropoulos came upon the seemingly abandoned clothing and tapped it with her foot. It was cold outside, the winter chill making the hair on her arms rise. The last thing any student needed was to be walking around naked. Think of the paperwork.

        She felt eyes on her and looked up, examining each of the windows of the Creeden facade. Somewhere, on the third floor, there was someone looking. But the figure moved as soon as she began to look, and she could only make out a shock of black hair. English?

        Suddenly, the mess of clothing moved and a small, black creature squirmed out. It ruffled its feathers and looked around. “What are you doing here?” Sot asked. The crow looked at her with eyes clouded by doubt, uncertainty, fear, and confusion.

        “Caw!” it shouted. It turned its head, as if listening to itself. “CAW! CAW! CAW!” The crow seemed incredibly distressed by now, flapping and dancing as if in a seizure. Sot knew it might be rabid or attack a student. She tried to shoe it away with her foot, but then it stopped. It went back to the pile of clothing and began to rifle through the pants it had just climbed out of. With its long beak, it reached into a pocket and pulled out a wallet. Carefully, the crow slipped the maroon card of a Severn ID, and held it up to Sotiropoulos. She examined the card. It had the name William Fung on it, with the picture of the pasty Asian boy plastered underneath. 

        Sot looked at the creature at her feet and sighed. “This is not my department.” She reached her arm out and the bird flew gracefully onto her outstretched wrist. She walked into Creeden, looking for the only person she knew could deal with this. And then she'd yell at him.

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The Life and Times of Agent Sot; Chapter 3: A Crazed Brit

By: Zak Rosen '16

Chapter 3: A Crazed Bit

       The two women woke up tied on opposite sides of a thick doric column, a small lantern to the side of them. Though equally dark, this room was obviously much bigger than the chamber Sanders had taken Sot to. The light didn’t even reach the ceiling, and it felt like they were sitting under a starless sky. The air was so cold they could almost believe they were outdoors.

       “It seems that whoever we’re looking for didn’t wait for us to come to them,” Sot panted.

       “Give me a moment. I can cut us out.” Sanders slipped the small pearl bracelet she wore of her left wrist. It had nominally been a gift from Tyler; it actually contained a small knife and some C4. A few flicks of her finger and the rope fell away. The two women got up, brushing dust from their pants.

        A noise began to emanate from their right. Glancing at each other silently, the women nodded their heads. They began to walk, silently, taking protective stances. Whoever the attacker was had gotten the better of them once. It would not be allowed to happen again.

         As the darkness encroached behind them, a new light, diffuse and green, starts to glow in front of them. Eventually, the pair came upon a set of over a dozen gigantic computer monitors with a chair situated in front of them. Some of the monitors showed images from classes, students moving about and teachers lecturing. One focused on Cirillo, his unconscious body lying prostrate on the nurse’s cot. There was no noise, only the images playing out silently.

         “Show yourself. Maybe you’ll be spared. That’s more than you deserve considering all the trouble you’ve caused,” Sanders yelled, brandishing her pearl bracelet knife.

        “Oh, how quaint,” a distinctly British voice chuckled. The chair turned around to reveal the pale figure of Dr. Norledge, stroking a snow white cat. “You’re too late.”

         The two gasped. “Norledge,” Sot whispered, “I thought we killed you in Berlin.”

         “Oh you tried. And succeeded. This school has a remarkable distaste for loose ends. Luckily, I was able to build myself a doppleganger and implant my consciousness. And here we are.”

         “What have you done?” Sanders shouted.

         “I’ve unbalanced the space time continuum around the school. In a matter of minutes, we’ll all be sucked into an alternate dimension.” The crazed Brit began to laugh maniacally.

         Sanders leaped and pinned him to the ground. Sotiropolous lounged at the key board, furiously typing command after command to override the destruction module. The screens lit up with the words, “Please say the password.”

         “You’ll never guess,” screamed Norledge, his head squished onto the floor.

          Sotiropolous thought. Carefully, with tears in her eyes, fearful of the end, in the most British voice she could muster, she said, “Tea and Crumpets.”

          The screens all turned off. “NOOOO!!!!,” cried Norledge. Sanders promptly punched him in the face.

                                                                              ----

          Norledge’s clonebot was dismantled, the computer apparatus stored in another secret chamber, and Cirillo was given an antidote. Sanders and Sot shook hands. This wouldn’t be the last conflict, but the school had been saved for now. That was what was important.

                                                                              ----

          Somewhere, in a dusty closet in subbasement 9, where the computers were stored, the door opened. A young man with black glasses and a shiny bald head took his seat at the console. The lights flicked on. Gvozden smiled.

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The Life and Times of Agent Sot; Chapter 2: A Torturous Teacher

By: Zak Rosen '16

       CHAPTER 2: A Torturous Teacher

        The sound of a chainsaw wakes Sotiropolous up. Her hands are bound with sailing rope. The words of dark romantic poetry are scrawled on the walls, illuminated with the light of a single candle. Looking around, her eyes fall upon Ms. Sanders, wearing a cloak as black as night and brandishing a running chainsaw.

       “A little birdy told me that you were studying space-time,” she chuckled.

       “Sandra this isn’t what you want. Let me go. It doesn’t matter what you did, I can help you.”

       “No talking except to answer my question. Now...” she absentmindedly waved around the spinning blade. “How have you been causing these space-time events? And why?”

        Sotiropolous didn’t understand. She began to shake her head. “I’m not creating them. I’m studying them, for god’s sake. That’s why I went to Cirillo. To ask him what they were.”

        Sanders paused for a moment. “Cirillo was just found in a coma-- poisoned. You’re lying.”

        Sot shook her head furiously. “I didn’t do anything. I swear by the power of Doug Lagarde.” This was not a statement made lightly. Any untruthful oath taken in the name of Lagarde wreaks dire consequences on whoever makes it. “I’m afraid that it’s another power, someone intent on destroying the uneasy peace that has been established within the school. If the English and History departments go to war, it’s only a matter of time before everyone follows suit.”

         Sot saw the wheels begin to turn inside the English teachers mind. Her eyes squinted and she looked at Sotiropolous. With a great heave, she held the chainsaw high and brought it downwards. Sotiropolous looked away, fearing it was the end. Instead, she felt the manacles on her wrists and feet fall away. Sanders didn’t even scratch her wrists. That woman could handle a chainsaw.

         “Let’s go. We may not have a lot of time. My contacts in the mathematics department have noticed an exponential increase in the spatio-temporal activity. It might culminate soon, and we have to stop it. Do you have any idea who could be doing this?”

         “No idea. But Cirillo did notice that the epicenter of the activity seemed to be located in sub-basement number 7. Where are we now?”

         “In a secret antechamber off of a closet in Creeden. You’ll have to put on a blindfold before exiting. We can’t have you learning the secret haven of the English department.”

          Sot agreed, but just as she was about to put on a blindfold given to her by Sanders, the two heard a strange hissing noise. The room, dim as it was, grew darker with a thick green fog. The miasma filled the two women’s lungs and they crashed onto the cold ground, unconscious.

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The Life and Times of Agent Sot; Chapter 1: A Strange Discovery

By: Zak Rosen '16

CHAPTER 1: A STRANGE DISCOVERY

       “These readings are very strange. Some sort of space-time anomaly,” Cirillo said, staring confusedly at the computer screen.

       “Any idea what it could mean?” Agent Sotirpolous asks, gently stroking her chin.

       “Nope. Now your end of the bargain?”

        Sighing, Sotiropolous handed Cirillo a folder. Contained with in its manilla boundaries were the access codes to the underground nuclear weapons laboratory. It pained her to do so, but the History apartment agreed. Sacrifices had to be made in order to get to the bottom of this. In this school, secrets must be given for information to be obtained.

         Now walking down the carpeted Creeden hall, avoiding students like mines, Sotiropolous was lost in thought. The strange noises and light flashings and other odd events had been plaguing the various faculty for some time. The science department was ruled out; the teachers were brilliant but after the various cybernetic attacks carried about by the math department, there is no way they were unified enough to carry out such an assault. As a result, most of the History department pointed at the English (or possibly the Fine Arts) teachers. But that rang false for Sot, and Codename Buckley agreed with her. 

         The English teachers might have been a fan of surrealism and fantasy, but they in no way had the resources to make those goals a reality. And it wasn’t doing much to weaken the History department so much as make them angry. Almost motivating a war. The same reasoning stood true for the Fine Arts. Though it was possible Agent Giddings was using his tech for the subversive attacks, it wouldn’t really gain him anything. There was something strange going on, and Sot had to find out before war broke out.

          Sot was alone by this time, when she felt a sudden pain in her neck. Hand slapping at the skin of her throat, she felt a lump. She pulled it away and saw in her hand a blowdart. There was only one person, she knew, who used such a weapon. Sanders.

          The room started to spin. Sot had to get out. In Creeden commons now, she tried to knock over tables, get attention. She noticed a student standing by, Tricia Oxford. “Help me,” Sot whispered. Tricia smiled and shook her head, pulling from her pocket a camera that is also a dart gun. Just before blacking out, Sot saw a figure enter from around the corner, to stand beside Tricia. A shock of blond hair and the telltale laugh of that English witch, and everything went black.

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