Word: Stymie

 

stymie

Sometimes sty·my

[stahy-mee]

verb (used with object)

stymied, stymieing 

1. to hinder, block, or thwart.

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               As far as Stigma was concerned, there were only two types of heroes. Those he liked, and those he didn’t. Oh sure, there were many different classifications of heroes, and dozens of individuals in each one. But he found his classification worked perfectly for his purposes.

               The former type he welcomed. Oh, they would try an stop whatever plan he had. Many times they even succeeded. Or at least, that’s what he let them believe. The heroes he liked were so easy to manipulate that even being defeated by them furthered one of his larger goals. And it was usually the hero’s own actions that caused this to happen. Really, they were a huge boon to Stigma’s operations.

               Unfortunately, he was currently dealing with the second type of hero. This was very obvious from the way the man actually paid attention to what Stigma was doing, and was figuring out what was actually important.

               Like the very important computer terminal containing crucial targeting data. The one that had been disguised as an out-of-date junker computer. The one that had just been reduced to slag by the hero’s energy blast.

               “Do you have any idea what you just destroyed?” Stigma shouted.

               “No, but from the way you’re acting, I’m guessing it was important.” The hero replied as he jetted around the villain’s current base.

               “The data on that computer took me years to accumulate!”

               “Well then, you probably shouldn’t have left it out in the open. I mean, you were practically begging it to be broken.”

               Stigma did not dignify that with a response. He wished he could have hidden that particular machine. Unfortunately, he needed it hooked up to a wider network, which meant he had to leave it out. Not that the hero would care. Instead of saying anything, Stigma launched his own attack. A nano cloud that would be able to do some serious damage to the cursed hero.

               Normally, this was the attack Stigma used to end a fight. Depending on how he used it, it could capture, cripple, or even kill. The only heroes who had come out unscathed were the ones that he wanted to. So it was with immense frustration that this hero did not succumb. He used his infuriating energy blasts to disrupt and disperse the nano cloud, even to the point where Stigma lost control over most of it.

               “Gonna have to try harder than that.”

               Stigma growled. This was the reason he hated this kind of hero. They not only genuinely foiled his plans, but they couldn’t help but taunt him about it. He released a barrage of nano clouds, hoping that if one was not enough, several would do the trick. And, sure enough, the multiple angles of attack seemed to give the hero a hard time.

               That is, until he paused in front of some very sensitive equipment. Equipment that normally, Stigma would not care if it was destroyed. But, of course, this was the one time where it was all actually important. And so it was that he saw an almost comical scene.

               The hero stopped right in front of the equipment. The nano clouds were headed right for him. Stigma slowed them down as much as he could, trying to make them change directions before it was too late. But momentum and sheer numbers go the better of him. A few of the clouds managed to veer off. But others? The hero dodged down. The clouds kept going. Right into the equipment.

               “Oo. That looked expensive.” The hero said as he surveyed the damage. “Hope none of it was important.”

               Stigma felt his eye twitch. He really hated this kind of hero. And this one individual in particular.

              ******************************

Just a quick little thing here. Nothing much to say about it. 

Word: Etiolate

 

etiolate

[ee-tee-uh-leyt]

verb (used with object)

etiolated, etiolating 

1. to cause (a plant) to whiten or grow pale by excluding light.

   to etiolate celery.

2. to cause to become weakened or sickly; drain of color or vigor.

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                Detective Weisman watched as one of the officers on duty yawned. The detective clicked his tongue at the poor showing. So what if nobody else was around to see it? An officer of the law should be held to higher standards. He did not say anything though. There were more important things to worry about than some beat cop not getting enough sleep.

                “So, what’ve we got?” He asked as he walked into the apartment. One of the CSI boys approached.

                “We’re not sure, detective.”

                “No sure?”

                “Nope. This has got to be the weirdest crime scene we’ve ever seen. Two dead, but we can’t tell what killed them. No wounds, no signs of struggle. Nothing. It looks like they just kind of decided to die.”

                “I’ll take a look and see if I can spot something.” Weisman said.

                The scene was crawling with people trying to find even the tiniest scrap of evidence, and apparently coming up empty. That along was odd. CSI in this town was quite good. They should be able to find something, even if it was just a stray hair. As he walked around the room, everything did indeed seem normal. With the exception of the two bodies on the couch. They sat slumped over, like they had just gone to sleep and not woken up.

                He did take note of the plants though. The CSI boys had tagged them, of course. They were the only other thing odd. They were bone white and withered, like something had sucked all the life out of them. Upon closer inspection, the bodies were the same way. Deathly white, like something had drained them completely.

                He heard someone yawn. A quick glance told him it was one of the CSI boys. One of the officers in the areas sat slumped in a chair, like he wanted to go to sleep. Weisman’s eyes narrowed. This was not normal. He examined the people closer. Some were normal, while others looked lethargic. One even seemed like he was being drained of color.

                “Everybody out.” The detective said loudly. “Now.”

                “Something wrong detective?”

                “Yes. Seems like we’re dealing with some unknown weapon. Chemical or biological. I can’t be sure, but it looks like whatever happened to the victims may be happening to us. So get everyone out and call in a quarantine of the building. Them get someone to test the air, every surface and everyone in this room for anything unusual. Everyone stays out of this room, but stays inside the building. Is that understood?”

                The response was not nearly as enthusiastic or quick as he would have liked, but everyone did eventually shuffle out of the apartment. Someone was already calling the precinct to get the quarantine set up properly. Once that was done, Detective Weisman leaned against a wall. Once the lab boys could figure out what had done the killing, his job could really begin. But until then, all he could do was wait. Wait to solve the strangest murder of his career.

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Of course it's not something simple. Of course it's going to be something really weird and out of the ordinary. What is it? I have no idea. But it's definitely weird stuff. 

Word: Arenaceous

 

arenaceous

[ar-uh-ney-shuhs]

adjective

1. Geology, Petrology.,  (of rocks) sandlike; sandy.

2. Botany.,  growing in sand.

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                   The desert was all around them. Endless sand spread out, and the sun beat down hard. Luckily, the wind was still, which meant so was the sand. This did mean that there was no relief from the sun, save for what was brought into the inhospitable place.

                   “You know, we don’t have to be here. We could just turn around and head back to town. Get a hotel with AC and free breakfast.” Nick said. He sat on his ATV as his partner scanned the horizon with a pair of binoculars.

                   “Yes, I know.” George replied. “You’ve brought up the option a few times now.”

                   “And yet, I notice we’re still here. And you’re still looking at sand.”

                   “I’m not looking at sand. I’m searching the desert.”

                   “Might as well be the same thing out here. Look, I know you’re hoping to find some plants or something, but that’s not going to happen. Not in this place.”

                   “Desert plants are well known and well respected.”

                   “Wrong kind of desert, buddy. Deserts with plants tend to have dirt, not sand.”

                   George lowered his binoculars and headed to the second ATV. There was nothing within his current line of sight, but that just meant they needed to find a different place to search.

                   “That we know of.” He said as he got behind the steering bar. He heard Nick groan. “Look, plants are hardy things. And yes, I know sand isn’t all that hospitable for them. It’s dry, nearly devoid of nutrients, and is easily blown by the wind. But we know there are plants that can grow in sand.”

                   “Sure, but not in desert sand. Nobody has ever found plants growing here.”

                   “That just means nobody’s looked hard enough. I know most people think life can’t exist out here. But we know that’s not true. Animals have been found living in this very desert. And where there’s animals, there are plants. Plants are hardy. They’ll always find a way to live in just about any environment. I don’t see why this place should be any different.”

                   “I can think of a bunch of reasons why plants won’t grow out here. And those animals you mentioned? They tend to stick near water sources. And the desert plants that do live around here do the same. If you really want to study that sort of thing, we can head to an oasis or something.”

                   “That’s not what I’m looking for, and you know it. I’m looking for the real survivors of the plant world. The ones that can make a living out in the middle of the desert. Now come on, let’s get a move on. I want to try a few more locations before sundown.”

                   George did not let Nick get anymore words in. He started up his ATV and started driving. Nick grumbled under his breath, but followed. As much as he hated it, leaving his friend to die in the desert would leave an even worse taste in his mouth. Hopefully George would get sick of the search sooner rather than later.

   ********************************

   Cue Jeff Goldblum talking about life finding a way here.