What should have been a 45 min project turned into 8 hours of frustration. My project was to add an outlet to my pantry for a light. Easy enough. I'll just branch off of the fridge outlet 3 feet away. A few holes in the wall to patch but not a big deal. But wait, even easier would be to pull power from a light switch on the other side of the closet, no holes other than what I'll fill with a couple old work boxes. I'm feeling so smart. I'm getting ready to wire when I realize its a 3 way switch and I don't have a constant hot... shit. Already having the holes cut on what is now the wrong side of the closet, I doubled down and spent the next 6 or so hours in my basement crawlspace and attic attempting to find a way to get power to that side of the closet to no avail. In the end I just threw some blank covers over the extra holes, punched a few more holes and pulled power 3 feet from the fridge outlet as originally planned. That part took me 45 min.

Nicholas Mattison bumped his shoulder as he stretched his arms over his head, pulled back the soft pink curtain that draped over his bed like a canopy, and rubbed the sleep out of his green eyes as his bare feet met the plush carpeting of his bedroom.
If Nicholas was any more alert than his still-sleepy, bedheaded current self, he might have astutely recognized that the bed was a little too small for his lanky frame, or recalled that the bed in his freshman dorm definitely didn't have lacy, rose-hued canopy curtains.
The unlikely array of unfamiliar accoutrements in Nicholas' room only properly crystallized once he squinted and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, glancing around a space that resolutely wasn't his. Gone were the haphazard textbooks splayed across his desk, the guitar that had been propped against the mirror hanging on his closet door, and the laundry basket he promised himself he'd get to on Saturday morning, first thing.
Instead, Nicholas' field of view was met with walls painted a garish shade of bubblegum pink, a neat row of posters advertising pop stars he'd never heard of before, and an ornate door with a sign that read "Nick's Room" in bubble-letter script.
With a surge of panic, he pulled open the closet door, biting his lower lip with a brow-furrowing frown when he saw a walk-in selection of elegant ball gowns and starchy-frilled ballerina tutus.
Where WAS he?
**
Hello! Thanks for reading a silly prompt. I wanted to leave it mysterious so we can fill in some blanks together, but the gist of the prompt is this: Our protagonist discovers that, one way or another, he's found himself living in (read: trapped) a dollhouse. Like the post's title says, a daring escape ensues!
And that brings us to your character: Who is she? A fellow college student who found herself plucked from her normal life and brought to the dollhouse? Is she a brought-to-life doll who already lives there? Is she the supervillainess/mad scientist/crazy gal who owns the dollhouse and is gleeful to have a new plaything in Nicholas? It's your call!
If you're interested, please send a message my way! I ask that you be at least 20 as well, with a knack for descriptive, detailed posts that are at least 200 words or so long. (I break Discord's character limit like it's my job, so there's no shame there!) Let me know what you think of the idea, any concepts you might have, and who you may write as a character opposite Nicholas. See you in the dollhouse soon!

I joined a carpool once. There were four of us.
Four mid-level managers who worked at the same real estate development company, and every one of us had tough commutes to work. There was me, and there was Ken, Pete, and Ryan. Before I joined the carpool, my commute was well over an hour. My sunrises were spent alone, an aggravating and mindless stop-and-go monotony fueled by caffeine. And my sunsets were a blinking red lightshow of aggravation the entire way home. Constant traffic. I remember I used to turn off my phone, turn off the radio, and drive in silence. I don’t do that anymore, but when I did, I remember liking the quiet. Driving that commute every day gave me time. Time to think about the things you’re doing, the things you’re going to do, and the things you’ve done. I am especially used to thinking about the things I’ve done. How I once had power over them, but now I don’t. They are permanently gouged in time; they leave marks. You better make peace with that. Because everything we do, we do not do alone. It is shared. Shared with others. With a God? With Fate? I don’t know. But I now know what I never thought about… that what we do, everything we do, is witnessed.
Ken Hallwell had the carpool idea and persuaded me to sign up. He spouted calculations about gas mileage, time saved, who would drive when, and all the other little details of starting a carpool group. Ken did not talk much, but when he talked about this carpool idea, he did. Maybe he wasn’t like me. Maybe he didn’t want to drive alone. We each took our turns driving, picking up the other three, weaving our way to work, sipping coffee, and talking sports, politics, office drama, project deadlines, and the varied minutiae that make up the forty-hour work week. It worked well, the way managers like things to work well. Especially Ken. He kept us on time. Doing the right things. He was one of those guys. Every group needs one. A likable guy. Organized. I always meant to invite Ken Halwell over to my house to meet my family. He was my age, and I knew he lived alone, had no kids, and never married. He had this scar that ran down the left side of his scalp to the top of his ear. You could see it because hair wouldn’t or couldn’t grow there. Something must have really gouged him.
I always meant to get to know more about Ken. But I never did.
It was a Thursday. I remember because it was Halloween. And because the next morning was a Friday, and it would have been my turn to drive. And Friday mornings are easy. Well, easier. But that night was Thursday, the drive from work to home. Pete spent most of the commute talking from the back seat about how Legal had grilled him on the land deal. Pete claimed to hate being grilled by legal, but I think he liked it because he loved telling lawyers how little they knew about land deals. Pete was dropped off first, and his kids met him at the curb, tugging at him to hurry up so they could trick or treat. Next was Ryan. Ken usually had to wake him up. Ryan was a napper. I’ve always been jealous of nappers. People who can just fall asleep anywhere. Kids fighting, game on, wife yapping on the phone, and nappers like Ryan pay no mind, dozing away through it all. It’s never been me. I’ve always been a light sleeper, noticing any sound or noise at night. Noises, which were always nothing, but left me lying in bed thinking of worst-case scenarios—horrible thoughts. Eventually, sleep would return. I have never slept great, and now I probably never will.
Ryan stepped out of the car, and Ken eased us back into the drive and onto the freeway for the seven miles to my place and then another four to his. By this time, the sun had set and been lost from view for over an hour. We sat quietly for a few minutes, and I stared up at the late evening sky. From a freeway, a packed freeway, the evening sky always has this color that changes, and I remember hating it. I used to watch it when I drove alone. It is a darkening grey like a giant ash cloud falling over the day. That night it crept past the sun, trying to take the sky into darkness. Maybe it was impatient for Halloween, that one night when the line between the living and the dead blurs and breaks. I remember feeling glad to be riding in that car, among those thousands of headlights and thousands of brake lights, thinking, what could happen here?
Traffic was stopped. Five rows of cars, trucks, and buses stretched ahead to the horizon, brake lights arcing on and off as we all inched forward. I was beginning to tell Ken about the costume my son and I made, ruined, and finally purchased when we suddenly lurched forward hard. Ken had hit the brakes to avoid a station wagon moving into our lane. A station wagon? I remember thinking you don’t see many of those anymore. Hardly any at all. It came from our left and either didn’t see us or didn’t care. I had never heard Ken swear, but I expected him to. If it were me, I would have. I probably would have even honked at that station wagon. But to my surprise, Ken just stared at it. The station wagon was pale white with fake wood paneling on the sides and back. It had one of those large rear windows facing us, the kind the driver could roll up or down to let anything in or out. The license plate was black. One of those black California plates I thought they had discontinued a long time ago, like station wagons. Traffic started moving again, slowly. But the station wagon didn’t move. It just sat there, brake lights shining red. When it moved, it seemed to roll, not roll, but glide. It glided forward, and we followed it.
“Jerk”, I said. But Ken was silent.
Eventually, he sighed, “Yeah….Jerk.”
I remember thinking that Ken was getting quiet. Ken had always been a quiet guy, but not this quiet. He was always looking at you, nodding, letting out a laugh or a short reply, and always following a conversation. Listening. But he wasn’t doing that now; he was staring at that car in front of us like he knew something. Like he knew the car. Or the driver. Something.
“Ken, you know this guy?” I asked.
He answered me, but I remember his voice cracking as he replied, “I — I think I do.”
He stared straight ahead, focusing. Traffic was still slow, but it was starting to pick up now and then. Whenever it did, the distance between our car and the station wagon widened, leaving space for a car to merge in. Still, whenever that happened, Ken would rev up the minivan and close the distance like he didn’t want any other car to get between us and that station wagon. We never seemed to be more than a few feet from the back of it, with Ken continuing to stare at it. Our lane stopped. The station wagon stopped, and we stopped. Then, in front of us, that long rear window started to roll down, inch by inch, like a glass curtain. I seem to remember wishing it wouldn’t, but it was. It was rolling down, and it stopped, and we could see inside. Nothing. There was nothing inside. Not nothing as in it was empty, but nothing as in it was a deep black. Devoid of light. You couldn’t see in the car; you couldn’t see through the car, to the front window, or the driver, or the traffic beyond. There was just nothing.
HONK. Traffic had started to move a little. Cars on both lanes on either side were passing us, and a couple of the cars behind us started to honk, their drivers aggravated. But we didn’t move. Ken didn’t move. I pulled my eyes away from the window to him. He was craning forward, glaring into that car, into that open window. “Ken?” I said. He gasped like he had forgotten to breathe and then slowly turned his head to me. There were tears welling up in his eyes, and he was shaking like he was cold and like he couldn’t stop shaking if he tried.
His head turned to me, but his eyes stayed tuned on that car when he broke a whisper, stuttering as he asked me, “Can you — Can you see them?” I followed his gaze back to that open window and saw nothing but that curtain of black in the middle of that station wagon, in the middle of our lane, in the middle of this freeway. A freeway that was starting to open up to move. Cars passed us, honking, picking up speed. “See what?” I asked, staring deep into that window in case I missed something. I peered at it intently. I remember having a feeling wash over me like I was not sitting in Ken’s minivan but standing at the edge of a hole, staring into emptiness. The hole seemed empty, but I knew something was in it, something that maybe I put down there.
“They found me,” Ken said, his voice cracking.
HONNKKKK. I jumped at the sound of the cars behind us, around us. They were really moving now, speeding by on each side. Then Ken opened his door. “Ken!” He seemed not even to know I was there. “Ken! Close the door!” He stepped out, and a moving van careened past him, less than a foot away, wind gusting into our car, horn blaring. “Ken!!” He leaned further out, and that’s when I reached for him; I reached for him, grabbed his wrist, and we locked eyes. As soon as we touched, in that very instant, I felt pain. Pain within me, inside me. Pain that was all mine, that had been there my entire life. My body ached from the outline of my skin to the organs inside me. I gasped and felt I would cry because I could now see into the back window of that car and see what Ken could see. Two small faces of two children were suddenly there, looking at me, each of them glaring at me. Two eyeless pale-white children whose tiny lipless mouths gaped open, forming holes of skin that cried forever. Behind them were two shadowy forms, one male and one female. The forms were reaching for the children with elongated limbs that contorted and stretched in ungodly ways, making sickening snapping sounds as they moved and reached. They seemed to be reaching for these child-things but could not touch them no matter how much they strained.
I screamed and felt Ken wrench away from me. He stepped outside the car into the rushing traffic and walked towards that station wagon. But I don’t think he walked; I think he was pulled. I called for him again, screaming into the rush and wind of the freeway and the cars when one clipped his driver's side door and snapped it off in a loud cracking metal sound, brakes screaming as it veered away onto the shoulder. I saw Ken stop at the driver's side window of the station wagon. He leaned forward, looked inside, and seemed to recognize whatever he saw in that car because his eyes glazed with tears. He slowly stood straight up, and in that instant, Ken Hallwell was struck by a passing charter bus, struck in a thunder of glass, teeth, blood, and metal that sprayed into the night air. I watched Ken’s body fly and thud into the road yards away. For just a second, it seemed his blank eyes met mine — -Then a sedan, avoiding the bus, braked hard and rear-ended the minivan I was in. I remember hearing adults screaming and children crying. Then, everything went dark.
Sixteen days later, I was in a hospital, and I was told two things: There was no station wagon that night. It was only a stalled car with a scared teenager inside. And the other thing was that Ken Hallwell was actually Keith Havers.
Ken/Keith was a suspect in a hit-and-run crash twenty-three years ago and five states away. The crash killed a husband, his wife, and their twin girls. The impact sent their vehicle off the road into a small creek, flipping it twice and crushing the two adults in their seats. An ignition cable had ignited a pool of gasoline, and the car — a pale white station wagon with wood paneling — began to burn in the creek bed with the family inside. Deputies found blood stains that didn’t belong to the family and one set of adult footprints near the crash site. The prints led away from that station wagon, from that family, and a second vehicle, a severely damaged pickup truck found on the road, idling, abandoned, and alone.
Now you know the two things I was told, but you should also know the two things I learned. Things the man I knew as Ken Hallwell held in his heart his entire tormented life.
We do not do anything alone.
What we do leaves a mark.

PART 1

“Don’t touch!” Abe commanded, slapping Max’s hand away. They were both bent over at the waist, admiring.
“Sorry, it’s just… so… what is it?”
“I call it the Alchemic Thaumaturgator.”
“Of course you do. Is that because you couldn’t think of anything simpler, or you just liked the way it rolls off the tongue?” Max smirked.
“Mmm, it’s a work in progress.” He flung a sideways glare at him.
“Sure. So what is one of these?”
“It’s complicated and delicate and to be honest it’s a bit of a mystery, even to me.”
“Right.” There was a moment of silence as they continued scrutinising.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Abe murmured, almost to himself.
“I mean, yeah, of course….”
“Don’t look at me like that, I can’t tell you what I don’t know!” Abe stood up and let out a disgruntled huff.
“Hmm. Well, it’s confusing enough to give you nausea just looking at it so I’m sure they’d love it as an offering for the Nobel Prize, especially with a name like ‘Alcomic Thordy-whatsit.’”
“Well, maybe, if it gets that far. I nearly broke it last week, which is why I’m telling you,” Abe stood up straighter, one hand on his hip and the other pointed firmly at Max, “to strictly to keep your curious hands to yourself, ok? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary.”
“Ok ok, I won’t touch it. But really, it looks like it should be in a museum somewhere. Or a Cabinet of Curiosities...”
“Little good would it do in either of those places.” Abe turned to Max and clasped both his hands in his own. “Listen, you are my closest friend and this thing is very important to me. I wouldn’t leave it with you if I didn’t think you were perfectly capable of safeguarding it, so please don’t worry, I know it’s in good hands.”
“If you really think I’m up to it?”
“I do.”
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment!” Max threw his arms in the air in a sarcastic show of tah-dah! “Go forth, oh Knight of Overly-Complex Science, go do what you have to do and I’ll keep an eye on this beast for you. Shove it on the table and I’ll look after it and Will Not Touch It.”
Abe looked put out, but comically so. “Is that really what you think I sound like?” He laughed. “I’ll put it over here, then. Get in touch if you need me, any time. You have my contacts?”
“I do…” Max fumbled around his pockets. “They’re… here. Got them right here.”
“Good. In which case I’ll leave you to your own devices. See you soon, and thank you.”
“See you soon.”
“Take care. Oh, one more thing. If you talk to it, it talks back.” Abe shut the door behind himself.

***

“So, you’re an Alchronic Thormome… grater? Doesn’t sound right… So tell me, what is one of them?” Max stared at the thing, perplexed.
It reminded him of what the love-child would be between a glass roller coaster and a steampunk jellyfish, though it bore absolutely no resemblance at all to a jellyfish, and fascinated him far more than that nature documentary he had been watching last week ever could. Jellyfish bobbing around and being brainless and boring, and when they weren’t they were stinging people to death and getting eaten by turtles. Even the name is boring. Jelly. Fish. Like those squidgy, dry-goo kids toys that you’re supposed to throw at the window but gets hair stuck to it when it falls on the carpet. Yuck.
Which was weird, considering this monstrosity he had been tasked with looking after was definitely the most interesting and intricate and pretty thing he had probably ever clapped eyes on. It had a heaviness to it, a purpose. And it felt like it was watching him.
Better steer clear for a while. It looks weird, he had been told things that absolutely made it sound weird and to be honest, it frightened him a little.
He wasn’t usually one to be afraid. Hell, he’d always been the brawn of his sturdy group of friends, right since he was a kid. He had worked his way up the proverbial ladder and had been widely recognised as the guy you don’t screw with at his school, though he wasn’t particularly proud of how he got there, (there had been a lot of fights behind the bike sheds and nicked sandwiches under the threat of blackmail at lunch). But he had forgotten all that and settled himself into being the relatively good-looking, popular, flirtatious guy who did a moderately average job in the eyes of his colleagues and had a moderate measure of success with the ladies.
Made no sense then that this contraption he had been lumbered with for a stint had shaken him by its sheer solidness on his front room table. It seemed to be unmovable in its presence, though it was light as a feather when it had been brought in and that fact in itself threw him because how can something that looked so substantial weigh that little? His bloody breakfast weighed more!
“What the hell are you?” Max wondered out loud.
He sat and stared at the thing for the longest time, watching to see if it would move. Only the sparkly inner swirled. Nothing more. It gave him the feeling of lying on the bottom of the ocean, staring at the sun beams though the surface until it started to fade. His eyes stared to fade. His mind went blank. He was being sucked down a long, dark tunnel of still water by his chest, he was sinking and swimming and becoming the empty space around him, it seemed he could feel the particles in the air as they vibrated and resounded in his ears, felt himself being blinded…
Max blinked and snapped back into the room, found himself standing in front of the machine. The studded brass bands holding the tubes together rotated slowly, silently.
Yeah, there’s something not right about that thing. Something unnatural.
Slowly backing out of the room and trying very hard not to show the Alcolic Thormatador… Thermanter… the thing that it was making him uncomfortable, he sidled through the doorway and into the hall. Yeah, that thing is just plain wrong.
In the corridor he paused, tried to laugh at himself.
This thing is just metal and glass and sparkly water, he thought. It doesn’t have the brainpower to understand that I feel some kind of way about it and even if it did, what is it going to do? It’s an invention, a machine and nothing more and machines are made by people, made by my friend, so what the hell is there to be afraid of?
He reached the kitchen, surprised at his own existential awareness that seemed to come quite fluidly, which was most unlike him. Maybe he was getting soft in the head. He heard that happened at a certain time of life but that phenomenon would be a bit premature. He wasn’t much past his third decade, thank you very much!
Max filled a mug from the water boiler and threw in a teabag and a few sugars. He squeezed the bag against the side of the mug until the dregs started dropping, plapped it in the sink and poured in milk. He stirred his tea well, just as always, but now the clinking of the mug took on an added layer of comfort when he knew what was in the front room. He wasn’t in a dark tunnel where he couldn’t do anything but watch, he was in his own kitchen that he had had rebuilt last year. He picked out the worktops and cupboards, he chose the shiny silver appliances, he bought the gourmet herbs and put them on the window sill, slightly over-watered and flooding their drip trays until they almost overflowed. He was in his own kitchen, familiar down to the millimetre, and solid. Nothing could touch him here.
No, he thought, it’s just an invention. A thing.
He put the spoon down with certainty on the worktop and squared his shoulders: he marched down the hall towards the front room with his tea in his left hand and the right balled up into a fist. He paused for a second outside the door. No sound.
This is my house, I won’t be intimidated in my own damned house.
He rounded the corner, planted his feet wide and glared hard at the thing.
“Look, I don’t know what you are,” he said to the machine, “but you don’t look dangerous. And seeing as we’re going to be spending some time together, I’m just going to ignore you and you can ignore me, ok? No making me feel like I’m being watched, no making me feel like I’m swimming around somewhere in space, no more weird stuff and I won’t put you in the loft. We’ll coexist in blissful harmony, like water and jellyfish.”
The Alchemic Thaumaturgator just sat there, glistening.
“Ok. Good. Fine.”
He grabbed the fern and the shamefully stunted lucky bamboo (that damned plant his cat was always rubbing his face on) that were perched next to the door and shoved them onto the table in front of the machine, mostly obscuring it from view. Better.
Max backed up and sat on the couch under the window, across the room from the table and that freakish unicorn turd of a contraption. He wrenched his eyes away for just long enough to put on the television and throw one final look over at the thing on his table, searching for it amongst the foliage. It hadn’t moved. It just sat there. He gestured at it rudely with a slightly shaking hand.
The soothing sound of the narrator drew him back into his TV and another nature documentary, this time about the great apes of the rainforests of Western Africa. This was much more interesting. He swivelled sideways in his chair to face the screen directly, sipping away at his tea.
“See,” he said towards the table, “this is exactly what…”
He glanced back and promptly fell out of his chair. His tea went flying as his mug thudded to the floor in an all too under-dramatic fashion compared to what his adrenaline was doing.
The thing was lighting up! It was glowing! Only a little bit but it was actually putting out light!
“Jeez!” Max shouted at it from the floor. “What is that? How is that happening? What is it doing? Stop it! Stop it!”
He scrambled around, on his hands and knees and still on the floor, trying to shut off the sounds of viciously shaken branches and primates howling at each other. The screen mercifully emitted a heavy click and fell into blackness as the remote fell to the floor. In the resounding silence of the room it was just Max, his adrenaline-fuelled breathing and the glass machine.
He stared at it. It absolutely was staring at him, even from between the leaves, there was no doubt, the liquid in the middle was pooling and somehow gathering at the front of the tubes facing the room. The glowing light had already started to fade and the liquid lost concentration and dispersed again, slowly swirling around in all its glittery glory, just as it had before.
Max was still splayed out on the floor, his breathing struggling to return to normal. He stood up and flattened himself shakily against the wall.
“What just happened?” he muttered under his breath. “What the hell was that…”
The thing looked at him, ‘nothing to see here,’ it said, feigning innocence.
“Whatever you are, just stay the hell away from me!” Max shouted at the machine as skirted around the walls until he got to the doorway. The door was ajar but, because his eyes were fixed in horror at the fragments of the machine that were exposed from within the plants, he bumped backwards into the door, nudging it closed and clicking it shut. Fumbling for the handle he tried to wrench it open, only to find the handle in his hand, horrifyingly detached.
He was stuck in there with it.
Panic flooded his body. A sharp twist in his gut and sweat poured from every millimetre of his skin and a faint whine emitted from his mouth.
Deep breaths, he told himself. Deep breaths, you can figure this out. It can’t hurt you, so just sit down and figure it out.
He sat himself back on the sofa, pushing it further back and rucking up the rug into waves in front of him with his feet. Never had he been so afraid of an inanimate object before. Spiders, yes. The open ocean, yes. Heights, yes. But this?
He sat staring at it, filtering his brain through his usual coping processes. He couldn’t beat it, like he had done in school. He couldn’t charm it, like he had done at the office…
“It’s an elaborate Newton’s Cradle, for Christ’s sake! A fancy-man’s Rubik’s cube!” he told himself. “Some science experiment that a five year old could have done. Yeah, I bet he just put some glow stick stuff in the water and mixed it up and told me it’s real to scare me. It doesn’t even look that bad.” He stood up and took a hesitant half step towards it on quavering knees and reluctant feet, fighting the ‘flight’. “See? Can’t hurt me.”
Max blinked. The thing hadn’t even moved. What was so scary about it anyway? The glowing? It was probably the reflection off the TV. He moved the plants from in front of it with outstretched arms and stepped back as far as he could go.
“I’m going to call you Ruth,” he said, getting bold and pointing at it, “because Alcoholic Thermo… whatever is just ridiculous. Ok? And Ruth was my grandma’s name, and I liked her, she was safe as houses.” Sure, his grandma had died of an embolism nearly ten years ago, but he wasn’t going to admit that to this thing that he didn’t even know what an embolism was. Ruth was a safe name and the familiarity was comforting.
He felt the liquid moving towards the front of the glass again, shimmering and pulling him in. He felt his fear spike, then dissolve. It couldn’t hurt him. He was safe. He was in control.
“I think it was mean of him to call you something so ridiculous. But I suppose if he’s going to go for the Nobel Prize they like that kind of thing, don’t they?” He half laughed, took another step towards it. “Those competitions are always stupid though, nobody ever comes up with anything really new, it’s not like they’ve invented hovercraft cars or machines that can take you on holidays to the afterlife, is it?” He had nearly reached the table now. The tubes were glowing a little still and he could see something moving in there. His curiosity peaked over the top of his fear and had a good look at the prospect of getting closer. Curiosity decided to get closer.
Max leaned down, hands on knees, and stared into the ever-moving swirls that flowed through the glass tubing. Arms extended to their full defensive stance, he gently nudged the plants out of the way and took a good look at Ruth. He remembered his friend saying something about studs and elements.
“Hey, there they are! I didn’t see these before! So those… those are elements? Are they elements?” He asked the glass, dumbfoundedly pointing at the stuff he had assumed was glitter but now wasn’t half as sure. He had never seen elements before…
Ripples glowed in the liquid: it had heard him. They moved closer and were warming now, somehow.
“No way!” Max exclaimed, his mouth hanging open. So this is what Abe had meant! “It’s not possible! It’s not real! Is it real? Are you real?” He asked. “Of course you’re real, you’re sitting on my table! Ha! What a stupid question Max. So, if I ask you a question, are you gonna answer me, huh?”
The glass glittered at him, but nothing else.
“Ok, are you alive?”
Nothing.
“Hmph. Maybe it was a trick of the light.”
No answer.
Max flopped into the sofa, his brows furrowed at Ruth.
He found himself talking to himself, trying to dispel the weird energy that his friend’s invention had brought with it.
“This thing is strange. He said if I talk to it then it responds, but I asked it a question and it doesn’t do anything, but when I was watching that monkey progr…”
He stopped short.
“Yeah! Let’s shove that chimp documentary back on, shall we?”
Click, the screen shot into life of every colour of the rainforest, the howls echoing around the room. But Max didn’t watch the TV, he had his eyes firmly fixed on Ruth, remote still in hand in front of her, waiting expectantly.
Nothing. Dammit. Just the glittery same as glittery before.
Max tried not to let the tidal wave of disappointment wash him away. Maybe it wasn’t the show. Maybe it was a prank, a trick of the light after all.
Max bent to put the remote on the arm of the sofa. The light from the TV shone onto the table and Ruth crescendoed into life and started throwing out beams of light that looked like the solar flares he had seen on that awful show about space and rocks and stuff he wasn’t in the least bit interested in but had watched anyway.
But he had figured out the key: he was standing in between Ruth and the screen and his shadow had been overcasting the table! Ruth needed a full view to do… that thing… whatever it was that she was doing with the light.
Ping, pong, ping, pong, his eyes went between Ruth and the monkeys sailing through the trees by their ridiculously long arms, right up until the credits started rolling and she faded to a faint glow again. She still glittered but it wasn’t the same. She definitely needed encouragement. Inspiration, if you will.
Max flicked across through each channel, watching Ruth closely for any changes (of which there were none,) tock, tock, tock went the remote until he found a different channel, one that was obviously designed for people with limited imagination, because wow, even he can outpace the monotonous nasal narrator and he didn’t consider himself a particularly clever man! He wasn’t stupid either, but on the last one when they started to explain what a bacteria is he had lost his rag and shouted at the screen a bit.
“Everyone knows what a bloody bacteria is!” he had yelled. “Tell me something I don’t know, yeesh! Whoever said these documentaries were supposed to be informative obviously hadn’t got two brain cells to run together.” But the cinematography was nice. Lots of nature-looking things to watch, the natural world an’ all.
This time it was about walruses. All flopping around on the sea shore, getting sunburned and jabbing at each other with their overgrown chompers. He had seen this one before, it wasn’t as patronising as the others. Predictably narrated, yes, but not patronising.
He turned up the volume and spun round to look at Ruth.
She was throwing out flares again, hundreds of short wisps!
And just to test the theory, he tocked across onto the menu screen and selected a random game show that he had never heard of. True to form, Ruth dimmed back to her uninspired state of simple glitteritude.
“AHA! I knew it! You’re a sucker for the nature channel too! Aha! Ahahaha!”
Max threw up his arms in celebration, the remote going flying, cheering into the emptiness of the room. Empty, except for him and this thing which apparently had a liking for chimps and sunburnt sea mammals.
Damn, this thing is incredible, he thought. Why the hell, how the hell does it…?
He sat, flabbergasted, mouth agape.
Suddenly he jumped up, scrabbling around behind the sofa trying to find the remote again, where is it where is it where is it…
He flicked the volume up and down and Ruth still put out light. She shone and shone, the beauty!
He started singing to her, “shine on, you crazy diamond!”
She seemed to like that, too.

Link to original nosleep post:
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/1bml3v0/i_found_a_set_of_blank_cassette_tapes_at_the_junk/
The journey to discovering the first body was even more exhausting than I anticipated. And according to the tapes that I'd found in the junk store, there were still seven more out there... somewhere in the marsh.
Who knows how far we'll have to go, just to find the next one? I wondered, as I waited for the second cassette's audio to begin playing.
"If you're listening to this, you found the first body in the marsh. To find the second, simply take five steps north." The narrator began, his voice playing back from the cassette player and into my headphones.
But upon waiting for further instructions, I only heard silence.
Wait... What? I thought to myself, before the man continued.
"You're probably wondering how that could be possible. Well, the truth is, the body that you just found... is part of a pair. A couple, to be precise. In this case, a very old couple, guilty of buying into a false dream. That, of lifelong companionship. An illusion of eternal love, knowing full well, that we're all born alone... and die alone. When you're ready to find the next body, switch over to the third tape."
CLICK.
I pressed pause on the cassette player. There are two bodies here?
That's when I remembered that Jess and Mike were still digging in the mud, a few feet from where we found the first body, in an attempt to find its clue, and completely unaware that there was another corpse beneath their feet.
"Wait! Stop!" I called out to them.
But it was too late.
Seeing the remains of the second body, Jess screamed and stumbled back, while Mike, having just pulled a small wooden box out of the ground, suddenly dropped it and closed his eyes.
"Another one?" He yelled out to me.
"Yeah. According to the tapes, it was a couple." I explained.
"Well thanks for warning us!" Jess added.
"I just played it now!"I replied.
"Well did it say their names?" Mike asked.
"Their names? No. But it said they were very old."
"Ah, okay."
"Why do you ask?"
"No reason." Mike replied, defensively.
"So what was the clue?" Jess interjected.
Mike picked up the wooden box that he had just unearthed from the burial site, opened it, and revealed a piece of paper, with nothing but the letter "J" written on it.
"What do you think it means?" I asked.
"It's just one clue, idiot." Mike scoffed. "It's too soon to say. More the reason we get to finding the others. What are the next instructions?"
I switched tape "2" for tape "3" and pressed play.
CLICK.
"You've made it to tape three. Which means you've discovered the first two bodies. To find the next one, keep heading in the same direction you've been walking, and don't stop until you find the wreckage of an old boat, lodged in the mud. Not far from it, you'll find the third body. When you do, switch to tape four."
CLICK.
—
We'd been trudging through the marsh, navigating the fog with just a single flashlight, for what must have been another twenty minutes or so, when Jess and Mike's banter began to wear on me.
"You know, with the election coming up in just a few days, I really wish I could vote." Jess said to Mike.
"Why?" He asked.
"'Cause then I could help change the world."
"That's not how it works. You'd vote for Clinton in an already blue state, so it would basically mean nothing."
"You're both wrong!" I interrupted. "The world doesn't change overnight, and her vote would matter. But none of us are old enough to vote anyway, so can we just drop-"
But before I could continue, Jess interjected, calling back to Mike and I from up ahead.
"Hey guys..."
We both looked over, to find her pointing to, of all things, a thick mist that was enveloping everything ahead of us, and rapidly closing in.
"Maybe we should head back after all." Jess backtracked.
"Yeah, you already found a second body, Mike. Now can we just go home?" I insisted.
But Mike wasn't having it.
"Sorry losers. We gotta keep going. A vote's a vote. But we're almost there. And don't worry, a little fog's not gonna hurt nobody."
That's when it hit me.
"Mike, back at the last couple we found. You had asked me if the tape had said their names?"
"Yeah. So what?" He replied.
"Why is that?"
"I told you. No reason."
"Just be honest."
"Alright fine..." He said, before pausing for a moment, and then looking me in the eyes. "...I thought that maybe my dad was one of them."
"I knew it!" I exclaimed, frantically pacing around the grass. "Mike, are you kidding me? That's why you're dragging us along with you?"
"Now that I know there are all these missing people out here, it just got me thinking... Maybe that's where he ended up." He replied.
"Dude," I began, "Hate to break it ya, but your dad was a drunk, who went to the packie one day, and never came back. I don't know where he is. But one thing I do know is... he sure as heck ain't out here."
"What did you just say, Tyler?" Mike growled, his face growing red with anger, as he stormed over to me.
But Jess jumped between us. "Hey, stop!"
"Fine. You know what. I don't need you guys. I'll find the rest of the bodies myself." Mike said defiantly, as he turned around and walked away.
"But what about the mist? We only have one flashlight." I yelled out to him.
"Keep it! I don't need it!" He called back to us, without looking back, as he disappeared into the fog.
—
Jess and I must have been walking in circles for a good thirty minutes, disoriented by the mist, before we finally got our bearings, and continued on our way back home.
"It's just funny is all. Pahk the cah." Jess said, doing her best impression of a Boston accent, while careful not to trip in the grass.
"That's your impression of me?" I asked, my boots splashing in the mud.
"Yeah, is it wicked pissah, kid?" She answered playfully.
"Good one." I replied. "Easy for you transplants to joke about our accents, after you move to our town, with your fancy homes, your fancy cars, and your Long Island accents. Well, you know what? Maybe I find your accent funny too."
"Do you now?"
I paused for a moment.
"Nah, it's cute." I replied.
"Cute?" Jess asked.
"Oh, I mean uh... totally not cute at all, I swear."
She stopped and gave me a cheeky smile.
"Tyler, are you flirting with me?"
"No..." I said, as she took a step closer.
"'Cause you know, out here in the marsh, surrounded by a sinister fog and all these dead corpses, might be..."
"An inappropriate time?" I interjected, my face beginning to blush.
Jess leaned in even closer, her face just an inch from mine, and smiled. "...Romantic."
As she was about to kiss me, I saw her close her eyes, but couldn't seem to close mine, completely in shock that this moment was finally happening.
But just before her lips touched mine, I felt my boots sinking into the mud, and tilted my head down, leaving her hanging there, confused.
"What's wrong?" Jess asked, opening her eyes, a look of disappointment washing over her face.
"Um... We have a bit of a problem." I said, gesturing to the ground, where both of our legs were now almost completely submerged in the mud.
"Oh no!" Jess said, before attempting to pull herself out of the ground, and realizing that she was stuck. I followed suit, also to no avail.
Then we looked at each other, and both began to laugh at the awkward situation we'd gotten ourselves into... until we continued to sink deeper and deeper into the mud.
Jess' eyes suddenly turned from jovial to concerned, and she began yelling, "Help! Help!"
I joined in, but after a few minutes of shouting, began to lose hope, accepting our inevitable demise, and the irony of two more bodies being added to the marshy graveyard.
But just when the mud reached our necks, as we each shot each other one last look of affection, suddenly someone came stomping over, and ripped us out of the ground.
"What on earth are you two kids doing out here at this hour?" Our rescuer exclaimed, as he dropped us onto a more stable patch of grassy marshland a few feet away.
He was an old man with a white beard, wearing a pair of rubber wading pants, that were completely covered in mud.
The serial killer! I thought to myself, before realizing that his voice sounded nothing like the tape's narrator, and that he could have easily killed us when we were stuck in the marsh, but didn't.
"We got lost." I replied, careful not to offer up too much information.
"Thanks for saving us." Jess added.
"You two are lucky I was out here."
"What were you doing out here?" I asked, suspicious of his why someone, besides us, would be out here in the marsh so late at night.
"Clammin.'" He replied.
"Clammin'?" Jess asked.
"I'm a clammer. Ain't nothin in the world that brings me as much solace as searching for clams at night. But anyways, you two better be getting back. I saw the man out there earlier."
"The man?" I asked.
"Yes, the man in the marsh." He replied.
"Who's... that?" Jess added.
"Us clammers and fishermen see him all the time, out there in the marsh. Always at night. And always digging away in the mud. Legend has it, he's the captain of that submerged boat out there, forever trying to free it."
Jess and I both looked at each other, our eyes wide with fear.
"Anyways, I'd better be getting back. Low tide's upon us and there's clams to be clammed. You kids get home safe now."
And like that, he was gone, disappearing into the fog like a ghost in the night.
But Jess and I were much more concerned with what he'd told us, than with the old man himself.
"We've gotta find Mike!" Jess said frantically, as she turned to me, a look of panic in her eyes.
"Are you serious?" I replied. "But we agreed to head back. Mike made his choice to stay."
"You heard the old man. There's someone else out there. We've gotta save him."
"But-" I began to say, before Jess grabbed me by the collar and interrupted.
"No buts, Tyler! These tapes found their way to you, not us. They chose you. You were the one who was meant to get us into this mess, and you are the one who's meant to get us out of it. So please, for crying out loud, put on your big boy pants, turn around, and be a hero for once in your life."
I didn't know whether to feel hurt or flattered. All I knew was that she was right. I'd never really had much of a purpose in life before finding the tapes, and in a weird way, they gave me one. So I dusted off the dried mud from my clothes, took Jess by the hand, and set off into the foggy marshland.
—
When we finally arrived at the wreckage of the old boat, we found the nearby burial site completely excavated, the tape's third body protruding from the ground, and a box with what presumably was the next clue lying beside it.
And not far away, just lying there in the grass...
...Was Mike. Half alive, his body caught in an old bear trap, its rusty jaws clamping down into his torso, blood pouring out everywhere.
"I found the body." He mumbled to Jess and I, as he noticed us approaching, blood dripping from his mouth.
"Mike!" Jess screamed, as she started to run towards him, before I stopped her and crouched down to help him.
But no matter how hard I tried and tried... no matter how much force I put into it... the trap wouldn't release Mike from its grip.
Eventually, I stood up and took a few steps back, knowing that my friend would soon die from his wounds, as my own blood was now pouring from my arm.
Jess and I both knelt down by his side.
"I'm sorry... For what I said." I whispered to him, as a tear rolled down my cheek.
"I'm sorry too." He replied.
"Did someone do this to you?" Jess asked.
"No." Mike replied. "I had just found the body, but couldn't see well, and accidentally stepped in the trap. But then a little while later, I did see him."
"Who?" Jess asked.
"The man from the tapes. He walked by and stood there for a minute, right where you were just standing. He looked at me for a moment, then just walked away and left me here to die."
"The man in the marsh." Jess said.
"Tell me something, Tyler." Mike began, gesturing to the body. "Is it him? Is it my dad?"
I sat there for a minute, not sure what to say, then moved the headphones from around my neck to my head, switched tape "3" for tape "4" and pressed play.
CLICK.
"If you're listening to this, you've found the third body. A widow, guilty of investing her entire life in that of another. Her husband, who, after sharing her life, her time, and her memories with, simply passed away one day. She should have known, as we've learned from the first two bodies, that love is not forever. And investing in it, a fool's errand. When you're ready for the directions to the next bodies, switch to the fifth tape."
CLICK.
I looked at Mike as he lay there, dying in the grass, a hopeful look in his eye.
"It was him. It was your dad, Mike." I said, unable to tell him the truth, and hoping the lie would bring him some sense of closure, some sense of solace, in his final moments.
He probably knew I was lying, but nevertheless... it brought a smile to his face.
"Thank you." He mumbled, before his eyes eventually closed, and he passed on from this life.
Jess and I both began to cry our eyes out, as we sat there in the mud, our warm embrace counterpoint to the cold body that lay beside us.
"Maybe we should go back... and get help." Jess said, sniffling, a sense of defeat in her voice.
"No," I replied, wiping the tears from my face. "It's too late. We've gotta keep going. We've gotta find the bodies, and make this guy pay for what he's done."
Jess reached over and helped me wrap my plaid shirt around my arm, in an effort to clot the wound, as I stared down at the ground, still processing what had just happened.
"Mike hated this shirt." I said, unable to stop myself from letting out a laugh.
"He really did." Jess replied, fighting a tearful chuckle of her own.
That's when I remembered the wooden box that I'd seen earlier, its structure identical to the one we'd found by the first two bodies.
I picked it up and opened it, revealing a piece of paper, with nothing but the letter "A" written on it.
"Another letter. "A."" I said.
"'J" and "A"." Jess replied, "What do you think it's spelling?"
"I have no idea."
"Well, we'd better find the next one then."
As the mist began to clear, and Jess looked out at the immense stretch of marshland that still lay before us, I switched tape "4" for tape "5" and pressed play.
CLICK.

Link to original nosleep post:
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/1bgxwgm/i_found_a_set_of_blank_cassette_tapes_at_the_junk/
Growing up as a young kid in the late 1980s, I was always terrified by the stories I'd hear of people who'd go to the grocery store, take a hike in the woods, or even a trip to a crowded beach, and would disappear, never to be seen again.
Whenever I'd see their faces memorialized on the back of milk cartons, their last photographs forever immortalized in the macabre medium of ink on cardboard, it would send shivers down my spine.
But the truth is, by the mid 1990s, I had overcome my fears, too preoccupied by the distractions of an adolescent life.
That is, until one day, in 1996, when, at the age of fourteen, a mere freshman in high school, during my weekly pilgrimage to the junk store, I made a discovery in the cassette pile that would change my life forever.
"You're still listening to tapes?" My best friend Jess asked, rolling her eyes, a nerd in the truest sense. "Get with it, dude. CDs are the future. Higher dynamic range, superior sound quality. It's not even a question."
"Yeah, yeah." I replied, ignoring her criticism, as I rummaged through the store's now mound of cassettes, its collection having significantly accumulated since the dawn of the compact disc just a few years prior.
"Look at that thing. It just looks... not cool." My friend Mike added, as he pointed to my cassette player, which was clipped onto my belt, its black plastic headphones draped around my neck. "I swear, if you wear that to school, and the football team asks, I'm denying that we're friends."
Somewhere between elementary school and high school, he'd been converted to an athlete and, by association, became popular. But I didn't care about being cool. Or acting cool. Or dressing cool. I just liked what I liked, and to me, cassettes were functional, and cheap. And that, to me, was really cool.
"Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never-" I began to say to them, before something caught my eye at the bottom of the box.
It was a stack of eight homemade cassette tapes, each with a number scribbled onto it, bundled together by a flimsy old rubber band, that looked like it would break at any moment.
There was just something about them. Something so nondescript, so unapologetic, so mysterious, that I felt compelled to buy them, without even knowing what was recorded onto their magnetic tape.
"What are you guys doing later?" I asked Jess and Mike, as we left the store, and began our walk home, the ocean's waves showering us with mist, as they crashed along the seawall of our small South Shore town.
"First game of the season tonight." Mike replied, "Wouldn't miss it."
"You should check it out. Even I'm watching," Jess added, "We signed Walker in the draft. I just have a feeling about this season."
"No thanks." I declined, "I just can't get into sports. Despite my blue collar dad's continued attempts to convert me."
"Your loss." Mike replied, as we parted ways, each of us heading off in different directions.
—
Later that night, I was lying in bed, fantasizing about a world where Jess confessed her undying love for me, when I suddenly remembered that I'd bought the cassette tapes earlier that day.
So, I found the one labeled "1," popped it into my cassette player, and hit the rewind button.
After a minute, I heard it stop, and pressed play...
CLICK.
...Expecting to hear some grunge, britpop, or maybe even ska music. But what came out of the speakers was something... else.
"If you're listening to this..." A man said, his ominous voice crackling over the magnetic tape, "...You've found my instructions on where to find the bodies in the marsh."
What the heck? I thought to myself, nearly spitting out my soda. This must be some kind of prank. But for some reason, I couldn't stop listening.
"Bodies that, if discovered in the correct order, will provide clues to who I am. And why I did what I did."
Okay, maybe it's some sort of audio game? Like a detective thing, Yes, that must be it.
"As this is the first cassette in the set of eight, for this tape I'll be providing step by step instructions on how to find the first body. So, when you're ready, please proceed to the marshes on 139, where the bend of the road meets the sharp turn sign. You'll want to pause the tape now, until you get there."
CLICK.
I did just as he instructed, and paused the tape.
139. That's an actual street, not far away. Wait a minute. Could this be... real?
I wasted no time, picking up the plastic rotary telephone that I'd begged my parents to let me keep in my room, and called Jess' house.
"What the heck, dude!" She answered, "You just booted me offline. I've been downloading this song all day, and it was at 95%."
"Sorry," I replied, "But there's something I need to tell you."
I proceeded to tell her about the tape, and its instructions, and asked her to skip school with me the next day, to accompany me on my search for the bodies. Naturally, she laughed off the request, citing a presentation she had to give at school the next day, but offered up going right then and there.
"At night? Are you crazy?" I asked.
"I mean it's not real. So what's the worst that could happen?" She reasoned.
"Okay, let me call Mike."
I would have bet a million dollars that Mike would have declined the invite, and called me an idiot for even entertaining the idea, but when he picked up the phone, he was so upset that the boys in green, as he called them, had lost, that he jumped at the chance to get out of the house.
"Really?" I replied.
"Yeah, I can't listen to my old man make up excuses for them anymore. It's much too early in the season."
—
About an hour later, Jess, Mike, and I met at the marshes on 139, where the bend of the road meets the sharp turn sign, just as the narrator, as I'll call him, had described.
"Where to now, genius?" Mike asked, gesturing to the immense stretch of marshland that lay before us. A stretch of marshland that was so expansive, in fact, that our town was even named for it.
"One second." I said, before putting on my headphones and pressing play on the cassette player.
CLICK.
"If you're listening now, it means you made it to the starting point. Next, you'll want to turn to the marsh, and scan the horizon for an old scarecrow. Once you find it, walk across the top of the marsh, careful not to fall into its trenches, until you reach the scarecrow. Until then, pause the tape."
Once again, I did just as he instructed, and paused the tape, before returning my headphones to my neck, and looking off into the distance.
Sure enough, about a football field's distance away, was the scarecrow, its body illuminated by the moonlight, its arms open wide, as if calling us over to join it.
"Follow me." I said to my friends.
—
A few minutes later, I was trudging through the grassy surface of the marshlands, my flashlight in hand, as Jess and Mike lagged behind me, bantering away as usual.
"It's up, up, down, down, right, left, right, left, A, B, and start." Mike said.
"No, you idiot, it's up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, and start." Jess corrected.
"Will you two shut up already?" I called out, as I forged ahead, too annoyed to look back at them.
"You know what, Tyler? I'm really starting to worry about you, dude." Mike said.
"Oh yeah? Why's that?" I replied, rolling my eyes.
"You're really changing. Hanging out at the comic book store. Listening to metal. And worst of all, wearing those flannels around your waist."
I stopped in my tracks, and turned back to him.
"Me change? Dude, I saw you bullying Shea in the locker room, with the other football players."
"So what? The kid deserved it."
"Did he? Why?"
"For being a nerd. That's why. And you know what?"
"What?"
"Maybe you deserve to be bullied too."
I dropped my flashlight and stormed over to him, before we both locked eyes, fists clenched.
That's when we heard Jess, call back to us from up ahead.
"Hey guys..." She said.
We both looked over to her.
Jess simply pointed a few feet away, where we saw...
...A giant scarecrow, towering above the marsh, its wooden body barely keeping it standing, nearly all of its hay having fallen off.
—
CLICK.
"If you're listening now, it means you made it to the scarecrow. Next, you'll want to look out at the Y-shaped ravine before you, separating you from two different patches of marsh. Jump to the one on the left, take about five steps, and dig there. That's where you'll find the first body, and a clue. After you find it, you'll want to switch to the second tape."
CLICK.
I relayed the recording to my friends, who had very different reactions.
"I'm not jumping-" Jess said.
"Stand back." Mike interrupted, as he took a few steps back, crouched down, ran...
...And cleared the ravine, his boots splashing into the muddy marsh on the other side.
Jess and I simply looked at each other, then over at Mike, then down at the ravine, and finally back at each other.
—
A few minutes later, Jess was helping me up from the ravine, she too, having just crawled up from it after falling in.
Meanwhile, Mike was laughing so hard at us, that he stumbled backwards and tripped over something.
Seeing that Mike, too, was now covered in mud, Jess and I joined in on the laughter, and before we knew it, all three of us were all uncontrollably howling under the moonlight, all three of us, dirt caked onto all of our clothes.
But then Mike stopped laughing.
"Hey guys..." He said.
Jess and I looked over at him.
"...What the heck is that?" He continued, pointing to an object that was protruding from the marsh.
I turned on my flashlight, shined it onto the object, and was shocked to find...
...A human hand, long decomposed, its digits collapsed into the mud, its wrist bones sticking up through the grass.
Jess screamed at the top of her lungs.
Mike, having just stood up, fell back to the ground, his eyes wide in horror.
And I, I took it the worst of all, immediately turning to the ravine and gagging into it, as if that was the polite place to do it.
"But wait," Jess began, "That means..."
"...They're real. The tapes are real. And there are seven more bodies out here." I muttered, my body beginning to tremble.
"Cool." Jess said, before taking a closer look.
"We've gotta go tell someone. The cops. Let's get out of here." I said, still in shock.
"Are you kidding, dude? We have a once in a lifetime chance here, to find these bodies. Now let's find the clue and play the other tape." Mike said, his voice excited, but his body shaking.
"He does have a point, as disgusting as it is." Jess added.
"You can't be serious?" I yelled out to them both.
"Hey, you're the one that found the tapes. And wanted to come out here." Jess replied.
"The way I see it, there's only one way to decide." Mike called out.
"Oh yeah? What's that?" I asked.
"We vote." He said, with a smile.
—
A few minutes later, Mike and Jess were digging through the mud, searching for the clue, as I watched on in horror, switched tape "1" for tape "2", and pressed play.
CLICK.

First: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/14vo5lb/troublemakers_deaths_pity/
*previous:* https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/1cqxbp3/troublemakers_triple_cross/
......
Caz didn't remember blacking out as she smashed through the wall, Valkyrie armor absorbing most of the blow. All she knew is that when she opened her eyes, she was moving faster than ever, throwing herself over obstacles and around corners as that massive emitter slung blinding pulses of light at her, but she wasn't stupid, it could hit her anytime it chose; They were herding her like livestock. Caz kicked off one wall of an alleyway, then the other and landed on the roof, never breaking stride as she leapt from crumbling rooftop to crumbling rooftop like she had wings, one arm protectively clutched to her chest to protect the remote. Jumping down a level she sprinted across the lower roofs, circling back around to try and retrieve her Huntress, When a Block-90 sailed through the air towards her. She caught it, Barely registering the name Dahlia engraved on the slide. She didn't need to see the troublemaker's guardian specter as a weighted chain sailed through the air from nothing to knock aside the emitter of a Geknosian spec ops' laser rifle. Caz instinctually aimed, and fired Dahlia, The soldier reeling back as a .30 caliber Durasteel slug slammed through their faceplate.
A soldier appeared in front of her, swinging a war gauntlet at her face. Sliding between their legs she put a round through their taint at point blank range to bring them to their knees before putting another round in the back of their helmet as she stood, never breaking stride.
Her muscles stung like hornets and her breath burned like fire, but she couldn't help but let loose a feral laugh as she slid, jumped, and vaulted through the rubble of the ruined village. The Dahlia barked, a spec ops soldier crumpling or flinching to swing their rifle from the shimmer in the air right in front of them so Cassius could drive a Kama into their throat. She didn't see charlotte anywhere, and despite the betrayal and stabbing of Remin, she couldn't help but be concerned for the girl. Another spec ops appeared in front of her, she slid around them, putting five rounds in their back armor, only for them to turn around and deliver a haymaker straight into her mask.
She felt her nose break as she slammed into the roof, momentum halted by the brutal hit as the remote flew from her hand. He reyes watched it sail through the air and fall.
Fall.
Fall into the waiting, ring bedecked hand of Drake. A shiver ran through the air as Drake pocketed the remote, a black, tattered spartan's cape flowing about his shoulders. But unlike every other time he'd lost consciousness and returned, it was like he had lost power this time, in a matter of fact, it was like he'd been drained of it. But the way he held himself was so much different, there was a sparkle in his eyes as he drew his sword, helmet flying into his palm as he snugged it on. The rings glimmered even as they absorbed so much of the light that hit them that they appeared as silhouettes.
There was a sudden change in the spec ops as they focused on Drake, she watched them gather into small groups, forming fire teams as the metal buzzards above turned to focus on the lone man. The words that fell from Drake's lips were like the first rumbles of thunder before a deadly monsoon.
"I haven't felt this scared since I was in the arena... And you have no idea how excited that makes me!"
...
Charlotte would not let the darkness of her mind claim her again. She tugged and pulled at the threads of her consciousness, fighting her older sister for control of her own body. But her older sister pulled back harder, tugging the knife taut against someone's throat. A shock of pain, a shock of cold and she was forced to let go. For a moment, she and her older sister were one. She could feel her older sister's fear, fear of punishment and reprisal. A tough mask hid the fragile being beneath that so desperately cried for freedom but feared what it could mean. All charlotte could do, was push in her determination to be free again to her older sister before they separated again.
But this time she was not alone in the darkness, The soft sound of penny whistles and old war drums followed a man in furs and carrying an odd metal tube attached to a stock. His presence felt like an open field under a night full of stars that stretched on forever, or an endless calm ocean where you stood on a steady boat, the world as your oyster. But there was also something scary about it, like the ability to do anything was both curse and blessing. But when the man softly set himself down beside her, he also sat with her sister, letting them face each other, speaking with a soft twang she could only describe as old country, the man chuckled.
"I reckon you girls both want the same thing, and with the lord as my witness, I'm here to grant you that wish."
He held out his hands to either of us.
"Let us pray to the lord our god that he may deliver you from the lands of egypt and into the promised land."
They both took his hand, and bowed their heads as he recited a few ancient prayers. Charlotte felt a burning in her soul, a lightness that replaced the oppressive dark with a field of beautiful flowers, just like home. Looking to big sister sylva, she could see the fearful, broken look in her eyes, but also a spark of determination as the man picked up his percussion cap rifle and walked away, the sound of pennywhistles and drums following him as she tearfully, but strongly took her older sisters hand.
"Do the right thing."
As she pulled her hands away, the remote was left in her hand. Charlotte could feel the smile behind Sylva's mask as she tossed the remote, watching it turn into a swallow that flitted off as fast as it could.
...
Death slammed a palm against the wooden doors, bursting them open like they were old and rotten as he stormed into Conquest's throne room, scythe slamming against the stony floor as Drake stood off to the side. He felt an odd sensation, like he was only as strong as a human could be, like he had no power left.
And it was like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He moved slower, hit softer, and got hit harder now, he knew that, but it excited him to actually be able to fight!
Death stopped a few paces from conquest, who was lacksadaisically sipping from a clear goblet as servants played soft music from a corner and served her wine, either chained to their instruments, or dragging a heavy weight by their ankle or equivalent. Drake looked on in grinning anger, teeth grinding together as he observed the degrading spectacle. Death collected himself slightly, no expression visible on his skull face as he spoke in a voice like nails on a chalkboard.
"I heard that you used a soultrap, Conquest. Those were banned during the eight thousandth pantheonal convention, but I heard you used one on my chosen here."
Conquest snorted into her goblet before spotting drake and tensing so hard the goblet shattered.
"So what?! your little monster breaks more rules than I could dream of breaking!"
Death glanced back at Drake as the swordsman leaned casually against a pillar, gripping two rings menacingly with a manic grin of rage directed at conquest. The god couldn't look the mere mortal in the eyes as Death raised a calming skeletal hand.
"He breaks universal rules, supposedly unbreakable ones... and admittedly, I'm not sure how the fuck he does it. But we all agreed that soul traps are both inhumane, unfair, and straight up bullshit. It says that in the fuckin rulebook, Verbatim. If you want to fight my chosen, you'll do it in Yovun's arena, per the five thousandth convention. I don't want a war amongst the gods Gul'vak, but it seems you do..."
Conquest straightened upon the utterance of her true name, a low growl coming from her throat.
"You know nothing about what you speak of Human! Do not lecture me about rules!"
Heat mirage appeared around Death before he took a deep breath and simply said.
"Drake, if Conquest wants to break agreed upon rules... I guess I can turn a blind eye just this once. Go wild."
The room rumbled as two rings hit the ground, disappearing into black smoke so they could be summoned back without issue. Conquest stood, grabbing her hammer from thin air. But then two more rings clinked against the ground as Drake exploded with power, surging forth on black wings wreathed in pale flame. Conquest flinched and screamed.
"ALRIGHT!"
Drake stopped the lethal thrust inches away from Conquests fearful face, the hammer tumbling to the ground as Drake summoned the rings back onto his hands. He'd wanted to drive alexandros through her heart. But he could wait, as he turned around, rage broiling in his heart as he forcefully cooled it, this was not his world, it was the world of gods and primordials. It would be wise to follow their rules. Conquests voice was faux-strong as she shakily snarled.
"I'll follow the godsdamned rules... just keep that Thing away from me."
Drake felt a smile come to his face, pride swelling in his chest, this was a different kind of power he felt as he joined Death's side fearlessly. At the drop of a hat, he could make the greatest enemy of his people grovel at his feet. But, taking a deep breath, he pushed the feeling away, knowing now how the high priest felt every time he cracked that whip against a young Drake's raw back. How dangerous getting addicted to that feeling could be. He'd enjoy it for now, but he also made a solemn promise to hold back any chance he could. To show the mercy he never received.
Death swept around, beckoning Drake.
"Come, young warrior, I sense that your friends need you."
Drake was shaken from his thoughts as he rapidly joined Death's side.
"How do you know?"
"Old john brown has finally selected a chosen. For a god of liberty he has a lot of deference to the big G."
"Who's the big G?"
"God, used to be kind of a pompous bastard really, but he's grown on me."
"Nothing you just said makes sense to me."
"To You."
Death clarified confusingly.
...
Drake looked over the gathered Geknosian spec ops, noticing Charlotte's pummeled form leaning against a pile of rubble, chest weakly rising and falling. Cataclysmic rage burned in his heart as a blaster bolt burnt across his chest with his first step forward. He wouldn't need to remove a ring for this, he wanted to kick ass old school style. He took each bolt as they came his way, burning his flesh and charring his armor. But the pain was like a drug, his blood running hot with battle-lust as he called out.
"Take a breather guys! they're all mine!"
Drake picked up speed, charging through the flashes of laser bolts even as they burned his skin and charred his flesh. As his foot hit the ground, he felt them running with him, the warriors that made up the liquid iron in his blood. From the first Hoplite to his father the Warmonger. A million souls crying out for revenge as he planted a flying double footed kick to a spec ops soldier's breastplate, bringing them to the ground and sliding the blade of his sword into the gap between their neck and chest armor, purple blood spilling out as he brought the sweeping cut up, striking the chin of another's helmet before driving the point of his sword directly into their throat. He dove out of the way as a laser bolt obliterated the ground where he'd been standing, herding him into a ring of the spec ops.
Good, just where he wanted to be, up close and personal. He danced through the circle of death, blaster bolts intended to harm or kill splashing against other Geknosians in blinding flashes as Drake carried himself through the barrage on dancer's feet, the steps he'd practice with Cassius allowing him to strike freely. Each strike flowing into another, seamlessly switching between single handed and two handed grips as he leapt up, monkeying onto a spec ops soldier and stabbing his sword's blade into the gap between neck and shoulder all the way to the hilt. Leaping towards another with a manic grin as he saw fear in the eyes behind the visor before the helmet went flying with the head still inside it. Suddenly a Geknosian in ornate armor appeared in front of him, thrusting a saber for his throat.
Drake let the blade skitter off his helmet's faceplate, returning a slash that was parried with a strong low block. Steel rang, clashing and clamoring as the two danced back and forth. One thinking they were meeting their prey in honorable battle, the other fighting like a rabid, enraged beast that had been backed into a corner. The saber snapped under a particularly vicious blow, the Geknosian general just able to register surprise before Drake separated his head from his shoulders. Blood pumping, skin burning as the headless corpse slumped down by his feet. He looked around at the spec ops who still had their guns raised and trained on Drake.
"Grack this! I don't wanna die here!"
One shouted, Drawing Drake's attention as they threw their blaster to the ground and slammed down on their knees, putting their hands on the back of their heads. Drake looked around at the clearly hesitating spec ops and through his manic, uncontrollable grin he called out.
"Anyone else not want to die?!"
Slowly, ever so slowly the remaining blasters were lowered, then tossed to the ground as the two metal buzzards hummed frantically away. Seeing Caz limp to his side with her railgun, he put his hand on her forearm as she tried to raise it to point at the fleeing aircraft.
"Let em go."
"But they just tried to-"
"Some must live to spread the word."
Caz looked up at him for a moment, confused, before a spark of realization lit up her pain filled crystalline eyes as she looked at the surrendering spec ops.
"Prisoners..."
Drake nodded and flicked the blood from his swordblade before wiping it clean on the dead general's crotch flap.
"Prisoners."
He confirmed, looking to charlotte as she slowly clambered to her feet, swaying weekly as she clutched her head. Drake let his smile fall and fade before saying.
"who else needs medical attention."
"everybody but Cassius and Destrier as far as I know, including yourself dumbass."
Drake chuckled and nodded, getting an odd look from Caz as he stated.
"I'll be fine, I'll just pop off a pinkie ring for an hour when we get home."
Caz sighed and helped Drake support the badly wounded Charlotte to the forge building.
"somethings changed about you, and it's not the lack of power."
Drake chuckled and simply responded.
"I don't know, I just feel... better, all of a sudden. Fightings fun again."
"I'm not sure that's a good thing, Drake."
Drake chuckled softly and helped get Charlotte into the forge building without responding.
......
Part 107: will be linked here upon release.

Me and Lila always carved dozens of jack o’ lanterns every October, so they’d absolutely saturate our lawn on Halloween night. It was our thing. But looking back on it, now that I’ve lost her, I just feel bad for the pumpkins. I almost relate to them, somehow. The way they were carved up, had everything of substance inside of them torn out, and left as hollow, rotting shells with forced smiles.
Needless to say, I didn’t cope with her death well. I didn’t want to cope with it. I wanted the world to drown in the black sludge of my grief. I loathed the people I saw going about their lives, unaware that the world had already ended the moment Lila died. The Earth shouldn’t keep spinning. Life shouldn’t go on. Not without her.
Even my relatives bringing me along on a trip to Kauai only made it worse. The most gorgeous place on Earth, and it made me sick with hatred. Nothing that beautiful deserved to exist if Lila wasn’t ever going to get to see it. It wasn’t fair.
I thought I’d never enjoy or care about anything again. Then I discovered media preservation.
It started with taking some of Lila’s old VHS tapes to a video repair place to fix some issues with the footage before it’s digitized. The job fascinated me. In a universe based on entropy, where everything inevitably fades away and is forgotten… restoring something lost is like snatching it from the jaws of death, right? Like flipping the bird to the universe and its so-called ‘natural order’. People die, but information doesn’t have to.
Now, it doesn’t matter how small — be it some god-awful plug-and-play licensed game, or a cereal commercial from 80’s — it’s my mission to recover it in as high a quality as I’m able, and make sure it’s freely available online for as long as possible.
A couple weeks ago, I came across a big haul. Four boxes of old VHS tapes offered up on E-Bay for dirt cheap. Most of the tapes were just recordings of Cheers episodes already preserved in higher qualities, but one Maxell E-240 caught my interest.
First of all, I’d never seen one so melted. Sure, sometimes they were left in an attic too long, and the colors and audio start to degrade. But this one looked like it had survived a house fire. It was covered in soot and the smell of smoke, and had the overall shape of a chocolate bar left out in the sun a little too long.
Second was the label, which read in neat sharpie: ᴇᴘɪꜱᴏᴅᴇ 4,679,329 ᴍᴀʀ 8 2035.
The casing was so disfigured, I had to bust it apart just pull out the tapes and respool them in a fresh cassette. I tried to iron out the creases in the tape as best I could, but I had no illusions about it accomplishing much — the mylar surface had been irreparably warped in places by whatever fire had half-melted the thing.
Imagine my despair at the sight of that dreaded ‘ɴᴏ ꜱɪɢɴᴀʟ’. I could clearly see the tape wasn’t blank, yet no amount of adjusting the tracking or trying different TVs or VCRs accomplished anything. Just as I was about to give up, though, the thing just suddenly started playing properly at the exact instant the clock struck 3 AM, as if it had only now decided to work. My all-nighter had paid off.
I didn’t dwell on the fact that this ‘miracle fix’ had been impossible. If I’d had any sense, I’d have torn the horrid thing out of my VCR and buried it beneath holy ground. Instead, fool I was, I sat down and watched.
At first, the thing seemed unwatchable. The audio was so distorted that the show’s theme song emerged as a low, crackling, staticky wail that made my head throb, and the logo was completely indistinguishable through the flickering and interference. I thought it was a lost cause for a moment. But then a figure appeared and cleared away the static, like Noah parting the Red Sea.
It was the sight of the show’s host that hooked me. He was just… perfect. Perfect in every way. I knew it just looking at him. Infinitely handsome and likable and charismatic, and he always said the exact perfect thing. The only issue is, I don’t remember a single thing about him now, in the same way you can’t remember a dream that seemed so clear to you while you were experiencing it. He just appears in my memory as this abstract blur in a sharp suit. Yet at the time, I was awestruck, even before he said a single word.
I can’t even remember a word he said. It was like he was speaking another language, one I felt as opposed to heard. I’ll try and transcribe it as best I can into words, but know that it’s only a pathetic imitation.
“... for another night of laughs, prizes, and fun for the whole family, with your host, #####!” I noticed that the audio and visual distortion seemed to suddenly intensify the instant he said his name, rendering it completely illegible. Idiot I was, I figured that was a coincidence. “Tonight is a night of celebration, folks, because thanks to the support of loyal viewers like you, we have just been approved for, get this: two hundred thousand more seasons!”
The “live studio audience” went wild with applause. I put that in scare quotes because, as far as I could tell, besides the host, the studio seemed completely empty. As if he was standing on a plain white stage that extended outwards into infinite darkness on all sides.
“For those just joining us, the game here is simple…” He explained that this was some sort of a trivia show. Every time a guest got an answer wrong, it brought them a little closer to some sort of unspecified ‘punishment’. And if they got it right? He smirked. “Well, they get to delay the inevitable.”
I wondered what he meant by ‘inevitable’. I didn’t have to wonder long.
The host gestured to a curtain that hadn’t been there moments ago, which raised to reveal a middle-aged man. You know the type — bushy mustache, gray hair, round-rimmed glasses. Kind of guy you’d have doing your plumbing. He couldn’t look any more out of place stood up and restrained in that — what the hell is that?
I recognized that metal coffin-looking thing from a medieval torture museum I went to once. The iron maiden. The lid hung open, countless long, needle-like blades poking inwards, threaten to poke a million new holes in him if it was shut.
His situation was not lost on him. “Where… where am I? What the hell is this!?”
“Oh, lucky guess!” The host ‘joked’. More canned laughter. “I know you always loved watching those trivia shows, Malcolm? Weren’t you always sitting there, grinding your teeth, seething that it wasn’t fair? That you should be the one up on stage, winning big?”
The man paused. Even he seemed mesmerized by the unreal perfection of the host before him. “I… this is a… game show?”
“All you have to do is answer a few questions! Think you can handle that, Malcolm?” He pulled out a cue card without waiting for an answer. “And our first question! What were you doing the night of February 18th, 1998?”
The man seemed baffled. “Just… sat on my couch watching the NFL, I think? I’m not sure how I’m supposed to remember —“
He let out a startled squeal as a horrid buzzer sounded. On cue, the lid slid a third of the way closed, making him flinch. “Oooh, I’m afraid that’s the wrong answer, Frank! But you know what? I’ll give you one more chance. What were you —“
“Following a girl home!” The man cried out. “F-from the bar. There, are you happy?”
“Cor-rect!” The canned audience began cheering! “Such honesty! Now, our second question: just what were you carrying while you followed her?”
He hesitated for a little too long. And then the buzzer sounded again, and the lid slid so near to closing that its blades began poking uncomfortably against his skin. He tried to press himself against the back of the maiden as well as his restraints would allow. “Jesus! Okay! A knife, a knife!”
“Awww, if only you’d said that just a second earlier!” Another big question. “Our third question: why, Malcolm? Why did you do it?”
That set Malcolm off. He started thrashing, clawing, screaming. “Let me out of this thing, you maniac! You can’t do this to me! Do you know who I am? Is this some sort of sick joke? My lawyers will have your head for this, you—“
And then the buzzer. All of a sudden, the lid slammed shut full-force, and the man was utterly silenced save for an unnatural, drawn-out wheeze. “Another wrong answer, Malcolm! I’m afraid I was looking for: ‘because if I can’t have her, no one can’!”
I admit it. I laughed. Out of shock more than anything. How was this allowed on TV? I took it as some sort of dark comedy show, and it was kind of satisfying to see that freaky character get his comeuppance. Still, there was something unnerving to me, seeing the man’s eyes through the openings in the maiden. Wide and red and terrified. They just looked a little… too real.
But the maiden disappeared as quickly as it came, before I could dwell on it too much. “Oh, envy! Definitely one of my favorite sins.” More laughter. “Stay tuned, folks! We’ve still got a night of fun and games in store for you! But first… how’s about a word from our sponsors?”
Cut to a corporate logo which I again couldn't recognize.
“This segment was made possible by Buer Health, which has recently announced a brilliant new initiative to protect our citizens from skin cancer by removing their skin completely.”
The camera cut to a massive industrial building, resembling a solid concrete cube around 50 meters in width and height. Its surface bore arcane symbols etched using carvings of wailing, tormented faces. The host would occasionally be rendered inaudible by a deafening metallic scraping from within, though he didn’t seem to notice. The only protrusion from the building’s cubic shape was a single smokestack, belching a scarlet red smoke into the atmosphere. A queue of gaunt figures waited at the entrance, herded and coerced by their grim overseers, and there were no words to describe the procession of scarlet ghouls limping out the building’s other end.
“Owing to the nonlinearity of time, the brand new Grand Skinpeeling Machine has spontaneously appeared several years before construction deadlines, and indeed, before it was even conceived of by anyone in our timeline. People have rushed all the way from Malebolge just to try this miracle of technology out on opening day, and so far, the reviews have been stellar!”
He shoved his microphone in the face of a shambling thing that could only scarcely be called a human. Tatters of flesh clung to its exposed musculature, blowing in the wind. Its eyes were the only hint of color in that sea of bloody red, and they were wide, white and terrified. The thing screamed and wailed for as long as it could before the last tendons connecting its jaw to its face snapped, and it was left to choke and gurgle.
“An amazing wail! The results speak for themselves, folks. The Grand Skinpeeling Machine is a hit!”
So far, I was still laughing along and having a good time. The sight of the next ‘guest’, however, started making me nervous.
It was an old lady.
She couldn’t be a day younger than sixty, the sort of sweet elderly woman who in a just world would be cooking chocolate chip cookies for her grandchildren in a comfy cottage somewhere. But here she was, tied to a metal chair, eyes wide, shaking like a leaf. Unlike the last contestant, she seemed to know exactly what was happening.
“In exchange for our loving endorsement, they’ve agreed to loan us one of their star employees. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for: the Liqisma!”
Something slunk from the darkness far behind her — or perhaps it’d be more apt to say that the darkness birthed it whole-cloth. It was like a living shadow, and it took my eyes a moment to register what I was even seeing.
How do I even begin describing this creature? I could say it looked almost human, or at least like something that may have been human long ago. Or I could start with its skin, which was all black and shiny as latex and seemingly smooth on first glance, but if you looked closer you’d realize it was covered in a million tiny reptilian scales, almost like a shark. Its head was a bald man’s, utterly devoid of any distinguishing features, like the basic stock template for a human being. It was notable only for a complete lack of pupils and irises, its eyes a pure white.
Its body defied basic biology in so many key ways, I had to stare it at for what felt like an eternity just to wrap my mind around its physiology. It was at least five or six meters long, by my estimate, composed of multiple human torsos stacked one on top of the other like segments of a centipede, each melding with the ones around it at the waist and shoulders. Each torso sported a pair of short, stubby arms that propelled it with terrifying grace. It ended with a pair of human legs, perpetually bent on their knees, beneath a ‘tail’ that looked more like its coccyx was poking free from its body.
The old last could clearly hear it, and kept futilely trying to turn her head around enough to get a peek at what stood behind her. I mouthed uselessly, don’t. You don’t want to know.
“Glad you could join us again, Miss Wethersby! Judging by our ratings last week, you seemed to have been a fan favorite!”
Her voice was so soft, I could barely hear it below the static. “Oh, God. Please, why won’t you people let me go? I’ve told you, I’ve never done anything, never hurt anybody. There must be some sort of—”
He waved a hand over her, and it seemed to forcefully snap her mouth shut. “Please, Miss Wethersby, save your breath for our questions!” Another cue card. “Your first question, my friend: where did you and your husband buy your first home?”
She had to think about it for a long time. Eventually, she cried out, “Alabama! Tuscaloosa, Alabama!”
“Ding ding ding! Why, you’re already doing better than our first contestant! Next question: what breed of dog was your childhood pet?”
She had a pained look on her face as she thought. Eventually, a timer started ticking down. It wasn’t visible, so it wasn’t clear how much time she had left exactly, but the sound it made got more shrill and high-pitched with every second. “Miss Wethersby, need I remind you that we have a time limit on this show?”
A tear ran down her cheek. “I… I keep telling you people, I don’t know. I have dementia, I can’t remember, please—”
That buzzer again. “I’m afraid that was the wrong answer! Liqisma?” The old lady shuddered at the sounds of hundreds of feet drawing a little closer to her. “Now, your first grandchild. What did he look like? What color were his eyes? His hair?”
She was crying harder now, like it hurt her that she couldn’t remember something so dear to her. “I told you I can’t remember! Why are you doing this to me!?”
“If you don’t remember them, why would they remember you?” The host mocked as the buzzer sounded, and the beast drew a little closer. “Really, do you believe they still even think about you? Or do you think they’re glad that the old bag of bones isn’t there sucking up their inheritance?”
This went on for… God, it could have been an hour. I was glued to the screen all the while, frozen with terror, praying for this nightmare to just end, for her to make it out okay somehow. He poured over every little detail of the life she lived and the people she loved, delighting in how little of it she could still recall.
And the thing grew closer, and closer… until she finally felt multiple pairs of hands resting upon her shoulders. The thing was looming over her now, and a long, black tongue a few feet in length emerged from its mouth and ran trails of dark saliva over the back of her head. She looked broken down, eyes raw from crying, and I could tell by the dampness of her dress that she’d wet herself.
“Now, Miss Wethersby, our time here has been fun, but I do believe it is time for our final question. Tell me, what is the name… of your only son?”
She couldn’t even answer anymore. She just stared ahead, like her mind was a million miles away. He cackled as the buzzer sounded one final time, and threw his cue cards aside. “Thank you for playing, Miss Wethersby. Better luck next time.”
I would say the thing unhinged its jaw like a snake, but that’d be an understatement. The way the thing’s face malformed and wrinkled and stretched as it opened its maw, it no longer looked even remotely human. Its jaws must have parted at least thirty centimeters apart, revealing a second, pharyngeal pair of jaws that lashed out and gripped the woman’s skull, pulling her headlong into that darkness.
I could hear bones crunching and snapping as its throat constricted down around her body, peristaltic muscles compacting her into a meat slurry, bit by bit. Yet she just wouldn’t die. Even as her skull and upper body were already crushed and compacted, organs and muscles pressed into mulch, she still kicked her legs, twitched her fingers, let out a gurgling that must have been some attempt at screaming. She was squirming even as the beast snapped its jaw shut around the last of her, condemning her to whatever torments awaited her inside the creature.
And all the while, that horrible laughter. “Don’t worry, folks! She’ll be back next week! And the next. And the next…”
Needless to say, I wasn’t having fun anymore. In fact, I had to turn away and fight the urge to throw up. I stood, about to turn the TV off and —
“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t touch that dial, now!” I froze. There was something chilling about the way he said that, staring right into the screen as if reacting to what I was doing. I hated that grin on his face. “The real show is just beginning.”
And with the barely restrained excitement of a child on Christmas morning, he yanked back another curtain, and I recognized everything.
I recognized that crappy bootleg knockoff Always Sunny in Philadelphia jacket that was so gaudy and terrible it instantly became her favorite thing in her wardrobe. I recognized those subtle hints of slight acne she disguised as fake freckles. I recognized the way her gray eyes would remind me of those overcast mornings at the beach at Hilton Head and pointing out all the cannonball jellyfish washed up on the sands. I recognized that tattoo of the name ʀᴏᴄᴋʏ, how I’d held her all night long as she cried into my shirt after her childhood cat had died.
It was Lila.
I shuddered, gasped, fell from my seat as if I’d been punched in the stomach and the air had been knocked out of me. I couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be real. I was dreaming right now. I must be. I just had to wake up.
But I couldn’t wake up. Nothing I could do dispelled the sight of her curled up in that… that thing. That bronze statue of a bull, horns jutting on either side of a head that roaring silently up at the heavens, all while the love of my life was locked in its hollowed out belly, visible only through a pane of glass. I could hear her cry out in shock at where she’d found herself, and every whimper felt like it drove a knife through my chest.
The host soaked in the moment. It was ecstasy for him, the suffering of it all. He stared dead into the camera like he was looking right at me as she called, “What is this? Where am I?”
“Why, I have good news, my dear Lila! You’re exactly where every American dreams of being: you’re on TV.” He pointed to the camera. “And we have a very special guest in the audience tonight. Your very own beloved Jackson!”
I shuddered, hearing my own name ooze from his fetid lips. His façade of perfection was slipping, and there was something so profoundly ugly beneath it. Her eyes snapped to the camera, confused, despairing. “Jackson? Baby? What — what’s happening? What is this?”
I don’t know, I thought, gripping the sides of the TV so hard my knuckles turned white, but I’m going to get you out of there, baby. I’m going to find whoever did this and I’m going to bury them all so far beneath that studio that they’ll never-
“I’m afraid Jackson hasn’t joined us quite yet, my dear. But if you truly love him, surely you’ll give him a show to remember, won’t you?” He taunted her. “All I want, after all, is to ask you a few questions! In fact, I’ll offer you a special deal: get even a single answer right, and I’ll let you go free! But get one wrong and, well…”
On cue, a fire was lit beneath her. Small, smoldering for now, but she whimpered as she noticed the heat. We both realized in that instant what this was. By now, I was screaming things I can’t repeat here, and slamming my hands against the TV screen as if I could reach through and save her.
She bit her lip and acquiesced. Not like she had any room to argue. The host grinned and readied a cue card. “Your first question: where are you, Lila?”
“I… I don’t know. How am I supposed to know?”
“You do know, Lila. You know exactly where you are.” He smirked at her. “Here’s a free hint: what’s the last thing you remember, before you woke up here?
She thought about it… and choked back a sob, visibly shaking as the realization slowly settled in. “But… but why? I… I…”
The horrible wail of the buzzer cut her off. “Oooh, too bad! I’m afraid you’ve run out of time!”
Seemingly as if on its own, the fire doubled in size. Sparks licked the belly of the bronze bull, and began to ever-so-slowly heat the surface. She pawed around in the tight confines, searching for any reprieve from the scalding heat all around her as the metal grew hot like it’d been left out in the sun on a summer’s day. “Please! Oh, God, let me out of this thing! It hurts! It hurts!”
The host seemed to breathe in her pain as if stealing a moment’s indulgence. “Now that there is no doubt about where you are, my dear, let us proceed to the second question.” He switched to his next card. “Did you believe in God, in the end?”
“O-of course!” She pled her case as if she was being tried in court. “My entire life… every day I gave to the poor, helped the sick, did whatever I could to honor Hi-“
“I’m afraid you misunderstood my question. I asked, did you believe in him at the end? The very moment your pitiful little life was snuffed out?”
“I always believed! I’d never forsake Him!”
“Yes, yes, I know. You lived a good and holy life, didn’t you?” He cackled. “But what of the very end? You and your little husband were so excited to deliver your first little baby boy. But o, tragedy! It all went wrong, didn’t it? Your precious little boy didn’t make it through childbirth… and you followed closely behind.”
“That whole business with the botched pregnancy, it was… what do you call it? Ah, yes. A ‘test of faith’. And I’m afraid you failed. In your final moments, you watched the light fade from your child’s eyes, and you assumed — wisely, in my humble opinion — that no ‘kind’ and ‘loving’ God would allow something like that to happen.” He laughed. “Funny how after a lifetime of dutiful service, all it takes is one little mistake at the end… to bring you here. To us.”
I’d never seen such depths of despair in a person’s eyes. Such emptiness. Like with every word, he’d been scooping out another piece of her until she was hollow. And then that buzzer roared again, more shrill than ever, and I could barely see her little window through the smoke and flames. The belly of the bull was turning orange in places, and I could hear her flesh start to sizzle like meat on a grill. There are no words for the noises she made. No words at all.
“And our last, final question,” he continued. “What were your last words to your poor, beloved Jackson?”
“I love you!” I called out the answer. Bloody fingerprints stained the TV screen from my slamming my hands against it, as I screamed the answer over and over. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” At some point, I forgot that there was ever a question. I was just screaming it at her as if hoping that she could hear it, that it could bring her a modicum of comfort in that place.
The buzzer sounded again. I couldn't bring myself to look. All I could hear was the roaring of the bull, and the steam rising from its bronze nostrils.
The curtain fell. Silence drowned the sound. The host dropped all pretense that he hadn’t been speaking directly to me. “Now, Jackson. You just might be one of my new favorite audience members this show had ever had. I know this must have been hard for you. But if you’ll just stay tuned, I have one more show I know you’re certain to love!”
I didn’t bother to touch the remote. After all, nothing could be worse than what I’d just seen, right?
Wrong. Horror wracked me as the curtain rose, and I saw the man chained to a chair. I pulled away like a caveman witnessing fire, cringing and stuttering, face wet with sweat. It was the sort of fear that worked its way into your bones like a bad chill, that left you shaking, teeth chattering.
It was me.
An older me, sure. But not by much. Ten years, maybe. A gaunt and hollow version of me, one twisted by ten years of depression and hard drugs. But it was unmistakable.
His eyes widened as he recognized the host. “Oh — oh God, God please no! It can’t be — oh Christ, let me out of this chair, you —“
“Come, now! We wouldn’t want to use the lord’s name in vain, would we? I mean, that would be a sin!” The host laid a hand on the other me’s shoulder. “It may have been a few years since you watched our program, but I’m sure you remember the rules, don’t you, old friend?”
The other me was wordless, on the verge of hyperventilating, just as I was. The host was giddy with delight. “Now! Our first and only question is one I’m sure our viewer will be very interested in: what sins, exactly, do you think landed you here?”
The other me tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. I could see it in his eyes. The years of self-destruction, the bitter hopelessness, the whirlpool of nihilism and vice and decay. The suffocating depths of a man. The darkness. How could he put it into words?
The sound of the buzzer was like a pig’s squeal. “Mmm, I’m afraid that our viewer is going to have to figure that out for himself! In the meantime, your punishment? Well, we wouldn’t want to spoil anything…”
The curtains slowly began to fall just as a couple other of those black, grotesque monstrosities emerged from the darkness. The curtain covered them all before I could get a good look at their obscene, twisted, asymmetrical figures. All I could hear was the crunching, the sound of skin tearing like paper, the screaming that went on for longer and louder than a human throat or vocal chords could endure.
The image and audio were beginning to distort, glitch, burn away. The tapes were physically melting as they played. My VCR was starting to overheat, sparks pouring from its front panel. The host voice jumped around in tone, his voice fading into the static blur as the tapes bubbled and boiled and distorted. “But, my friends, I’m afraid that concludes tonight’s episode of our show! So, with a final farewell to our dear, beloved viewer, Jackson…”
Just before the image melted away, the camera seemed to jump forward until his face filled the screen, his eyes piercing into mine as he cackled in that singsong voice.
“See you sooooon~”

FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
The plot thickens!
Previous First [Next](link)
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
The Rundi pilot maneuvered his ship around a chunk of space debris, cutting low as he watched the slow and leisurely path of the rocket as it began on its trajectory towards the moon. Radar was almost impossible to use in the deadly debris field these humans called an orbit, so it was up to his eyes to make out any incoming hostiles.
They circled low and then wide around the slow-moving rocket, keeping their distance while also keeping an eye out. It was easy enough, as the drone was covered in cameras and sensors, which allowed them to see from almost every angle. A human might have been better at this, but right now they were the only ones they could trust.
[…]
A green folder rested atop the lectern as the President of the UN gave her halting, and to the chairwoman it seemed, unenthusiastic speech. The humans down below didn't seem to notice, making her wonder if she was simply imagining things, though a part of her said that was not the case.
She had been suspicious of the UN president from the very beginning, the very beginning when she was given power after the first launch of the enterprise, and they had been forced to deal with her during treaty negotiations. At every step there seemed to be some sort of obstacle, something wrong, some reason that the humans could just not accept. It went on behind closed doors and in quiet whispered conversations. But luckily for them, people like Adam Vir and Admiral Kelly had been there to smooth things over between the two factions.
The chairwoman knew better than most, that there were only a few humans in the galaxy holding everything together.
And the last thing she wanted was bad relations, or to go to war with this species. It would be a nightmare.
She shifted in her seat as she listened to the speech. The valley below her still had traces of smoke let off by burning so much fossil fuel at once. She imagined that such a stunt wasn't entirely great for the atmosphere of the planet, though as far as she knew humans tended to run on sustainable clean energy these days.
The Chairwoman stepped down from the little podium and into the back where she could not be seen, leaning in so she could hear the words whispered from her assistant,
"The drones are deployed, and so far we have not met any resistance.”
She nodded slowly,
"Good work, keep an eye out."
[…]
The UN president felt her fingers digging into the soft paper of the green folder. The red one was lying discarded under the lectern, and she was having trouble concentrating, forcing herself to remember that this wasn't over. She glanced into the crowd, expecting to see that strange white face staring up at her from the throng of people, but there was nothing.
Had she seen it as in her imagination, or did she really see an alien face staring back at her?
She glanced upwards, towards where the rocket had vanished, only half paying attention to the practiced words that dribbled from her mouth. She finished her speech and the people below clapped and cheered heartily, though she didn't much feel like clapping with them.
She turned on her heel and walked down to the back of the stage to where her entourage was waiting for her. Admiral Massie was sitting on one end and Admiral Kelly was sitting at the other, the two of them doing their damndest to ignore each other at all costs.
She sat down next to Admiral Massie, arms crossed over her chest as he leaned in to speak with her.
"That didn't exactly go as planned."
He muttered softly.
"It will if your men are ready."
She snapped back, her palms cold and sweaty.
Admiral Massie nodded,
"Of course, they should come out when they reach the densest part of the debris field, that way we can make it look like some unexpected collision."
He glanced towards the lectern,
"So I would keep a hold of that red folder of yours."
On the other set of chairs, Admiral Kelly was giving them a sidelong glance. Everyone knew that she was in Admiral Vir's camp, licking his boots at every opportunity. It would be within their best interest to keep silent when she was around.
The UN president leaned back in her seat,
"You should be on your way, Admiral. We will have time to talk later."
He stood and nodded slowly,
"Of course madame president."
He turned to walk away, catching the eye of Admiral Kelly as he stepped past. The two of them didn't much like each other, though as the head of the OGI (Office of Galactic intelligence) Admiral Massie had enough pull to keep Kelly in her place.
The UN president turned her head away. Not wanting to draw attention to herself.
[…]
Admiral Kelly glanced over at the UN president as Admiral Massie passed by. There was something about those two spending time together that she didn't like. Granted it was more than likely the two of them were having some sweaty, wrinkly liaisons out of hours which she didn't really want to think about, but if that was the case then he could easily be pressing his planetary isolationist views off on her.
Kelly did not think highly of the UN presidency. Right now, it seemed mostly concerned with power and political favors with the people, rather than doing the right thing. Plus, she found the president herself to be superficially charming, but easily manipulated by the wrong people. Fear mongering worked the best on her, which is why she worried about Massie and his effect on her to begin with.
She found herself digging her nails into her palms as she thought about it.
”Please help us.”
Admiral Kelly shot up in her seat looking around as she tried to find the source of the noise, or the voice. She turned in her seat expecting to find someone whispering in her ear, but there was nothing. She pressed at the implant along the side of her neck wondering if someone had called her and she just hadn't noticed?
”Look up.”
Jolted again, lifting her eyes towards the sky and the burning sun. She threw up a hand to block her vision, and as she did, she thought she saw a shape floating there against the backdrop of the sun.
She squinted hard trying to make it out but was having trouble.
”Now look into the crowd.”
She turned her head down, still not sure where the sound could be coming from, but as she looked into the crowd, she saw a strange sight. One of the people was wearing a dark hoodie, and was turned away from the direction which the rest of the crowd was facing. Their hood was pulled low, but ever so subtly, they lifted their head to reveal a porcelain white face, with large dark eyes.
Admiral Kelly went very still as she stared at the starborn.
“Not a starborn, a halfbreed. My name is Eris, I am Admiral Vir's... daughter”
Oh... oh, yes she had heard about the starborn hybrid from one of his reports.
"What do you want."
She mouthed quietly.
“We need your help, the UN president is planning to have Admiral Vir Killed, and Admiral Massie is on his way to make the order, please, you have to do something."
Admiral Kelly jolted to her feet, very quickly glancing at the UN president in shock and horror before she was able to capture her emotions. The UN president looked up to her sudden movement, and Admiral Kelly had to fight to keep her face neutral as the woman looked up at her.
"Are you feeling well Admiral?”
She could feel the sweat dripping down her face and the nape of her neck, but she remained as calm as possible as she took a deep breath,
"I... Am suddenly very dizzy. I think it's the heat."
"You should sit down, have someone bring you some water."
The woman said, her voice calm and clear as if she hadn't just ordered the murder of Adam Vir.
"No I... I think I need to walk for a minute and find some shade. You will excuse me?"
The UN president shrugged and turned back to staring at the sky, giving Admiral Kelly time to step forward and hurry after General Massi's retreating figure.
[…]
General Massie stepped into mission control and walked down the blank empty corridors. No one was here, they were all either in the control room or out celebrating the successful launch. It had been a sight to see, two-thousand-year-old technology working for one more time, but personally General Massie saw it as completely obsolete and a useless waste of government capital.
That was something they could have been using to help fortify earth's defense nexus. Out of all the useless things Admiral Vir had supported, at least he had agreed that they needed SOME form of defense against extraterrestrial attack.
General Massie made a face…
Though he wouldn't doubt Admiral Vir would have been totally fine leaving their planet with its pants down in order to let those Xenos fuck them over.
Everyone and their dog knew that Admiral Vir preferred alien cock over his own kind.
The thought made Admiral Massie cringe.
It was a well-kept secret among the UNSC, but the man wasn't nearly as secretive as he liked to think he was. Rumors of his infatuation with the stupid blue beetle alien had reached command almost as soon as it began. The only reason they didn't allow it to leak was that it would make the UNSC look bad to the rest of earth.
And Jupiter how he hated that man.
Stupid, juvenile egotistical xeno fucker!
Today was the day all of that came to an end!
He cut right, just before the doors to mission control and walked down two more hallways, finally opening a small side door into, what might have looked from the outside, like an equipment closet. He stepped over a mop and bucket and sat down at an old console, which he fired up with the flick of a button.
"Flight 1 this is Earth 1 over."
"Roger earth one this if slight one, in position over."
He turned on the screen, giving himself time to look the radar over, as twenty dots appeared on screen. Those were twenty Thunderhawks they had slowly appropriated over the intervening year.
With a place as big as the universe to cover, it was pretty easy to lose a few jets in the shuffle. He could see them now, illuminated as little green dots on his screen, hiding in the debris.
"Flight one this is Earth one, Operation “After Apollo” is go. Now remember boys and girls, make it look like an accident. Over."
*"Roger that Earth one. Over and out."
[…]
"You TRAITOR!"
Admiral Massie spun in his seat, eyes wide and wild as Admiral Kelly stood in the doorway. She could feel her skin growing hot with absolute rage as she stalked forward over the open floor. In one hand she held up the small recording device Conn had handed to her outside the building, and on it held proof of this man's order. On the screen behind him twenty little dots burst to life.
She was too late.
The man slowly got to his feet as Kelly aimed her handgun at him, her grip steady, her aim true.
"Call off your dogs."
She snarled,
Admiral Massie slowly lifted his hands, before slowly leaning forward in his seat towards the intercom button. She stepped forward, watching him intently as he leaned over the console pressing down on the button.
"Flight one this is earth one..."
Her eyes flickered up to the screen waiting to see them pause.
But before she knew what was happening an elbow came up striking her on the hand and causing the gun to spin out of her grip. Admiral Massie turned and tackled her to the floor, his nearly 300 lb body crushing her to the floor.
The wind was knocked out of her and she gasped as he struggled to pin her to the ground.
Her hat had flown off and her bun became undone as he drew back a fist to punch her. She was able to block it with her forearms as he raged and went for her face. The blows rained down on her from above with an onslaught of power she wasn't expecting but should have.
She took another gasping breath, and then with a surge of adrenaline she bucked, throwing him forward where she grabbed one of his arms and bucked again, forcing him to his side and onto his back. Still gripping his arm, she threw herself sideways, throwing her legs over his chest and struggling with his arm to pull it flat.
He kicked and grabbed at her legs with his other hand painfully gripping her calves as his nails dug into her skin and drew blood. The pain was incredible, but she finally got his arm down tucked tight to her chest, her legs across his chest, and then she jerked her hips sharply upward.
Admiral Massie screamed as his elbow snapped backwards.
She let go of him and scrambled towards the console, but at the last moment he grabbed her by the foot and hauled her back to the ground, one arm hanging limp and useless at his side. He clawed at her with one hand, and she rolled onto her back, kicking up at his face with her boot catching him square in the chin.
He staggered back as she crawled to the console and reached to adjust the frequency, ready to call in lunar support.
There was a sharp click behind her, and she froze, turning in her seat to find Admiral Massie standing behind her gun held in his good hand.
Blood leaked from his nose and down onto the front of his uniform, staining the grey fabric red,
"Nice try, Kelly."
[…]
Donovan Red waited, spinning slowly as he watched the progress of the distant rocket. Inside his helmet his breathing was cold and calm as, ranging all around him, his other men and women waited as well. Their ships had been outfitted with proper weapons as they had ridden here in the cargo hold of the Omen. The group of them weren't soldiers or trained fighter pilots, so he didn't imagine this would be easy, but it was going to have to do.
"Red, this is Apollo 11 do you copy?”
"Yeah Cinderella, I copy."
"See anything?"
"Nope not a..."
He paused,
"Wait..."
There was something, something he thought he saw detach itself from another piece of space junk,
"Hold that thought Apollo."
He detached from his own bit of space junk and inched forward.
A thunderhawk? What would one of those be doing here?
It began to accelerate.
He accelerated after it.
Up ahead the rocket was growing larger and larger in his view.
“Thunderhawk has made lock.”
The cool female voice said from his console.
"Oh shit, Admiral r-“
He didn't have time to finish his sentence as a small ball-like-silver ship came pelting down from nowhere, blasting the Thunderhawk in the wing with a sharp burst of laser fire. It's wing exploded and it went careening in the opposite direction as the silver ball whizzed past.
"What the fuck!?"
He turned to fly after it, but was stopped.
"Red, this is Wendy, stand down that's a Rundi UAV."
"Rundi? I thought it was the Rundi we were worried about!?”
He called in confusion.
"Yeah, but that thunderhawk had locked in on Apollo 11. It looks like the Rundi are helping."
He grunted and cursed under his breath,
"Boys and girls, if you see a silver ball stand down, those are on our side."
Just then another Thunderhawk shot over his head. He cursed again and pulled himself into a sharp upward turn cutting after the Thunderhawk and locking on. His lock cut off their attempts to shoot down the rocket, and they were forced to dive under as he followed after. He followed, spinning right and left around debris as the Thunderhawk attempted to escape.
It cut upward, just in time for a bright pink jet with graffiti words on the side to shoot out of nowhere.
The Thunderhawk exploded in a cloud of debris as Wendy roared by.
"Good shot, girl!”
He said over his radio.
"Thanks boss. Now let’s give them hell!"
[…]
Admiral Vir floated before the console, knuckles white and unable to do anything. A silent explosion flashed in his vision to the right as quickly as it had begun. Richards and Chavez started with wide eyes and dropped mouths.
"Admiral what the hell is going on!?”
Adam took a deep breath,
"It seems as if we are under attack."
The two of them exchanged glances,
"From who? What the fuck!?!"
Adam turned where he stood to look at the two of them,
"I am sorry I got you two into this mess, but the isolationists have been gunning for me for a few months now, and it seems as if now things have come to a head.”
"What are we going to do!"
"Radio Houston."
Chavez hurried to do as ordered, but when she did, they heard only static,
"Shit... Something is jamming our coms."
Adam took a deep breath,
"Well I guess all we have is Donovan to protect us. Lets' hope they do it right."
[…]
Admiral Massie laughed,
"You're as dumb as you look Kelly."
She stood, slowly wiping blood from her cheek as she turned to look down the barrel of the gun. Her own gun.
She didn't generally tend to agree with Massie, but this time he did have a point. Surprisingly though she was very calm,
"You aren't going to get away with this."
She glanced over to where the little silver recording device lay in the shadows under one of the chairs.
Massie was too amped to notice.
"Doesn't matter. I will have done my duty to my planet and my people, saving them from alien lovers like you and that bastard Vir."
"Whose Idea was this, the President or yours?"
She held her hands out to the side.
"Do you think that dipshit was smart enough to come up with a plan like mine?"
Kelly raised an eyebrow,
"Is it wise to incriminate your friends along with you?"
"That bitch? Heh, I could care less. And if I am going down, she is going down with me. The president may think it was all her idea, but it was mine all along, she was following my orders, whether she believes it or not, and once Adam Vir and YOU are dead, then it doesn't matter what we did, because diplomatic relations will dissolve, and it will be all over."
He lifted the gun to her face,
"Goodbye Kelly."
She remained very still as the shadow fell over him from behind,
"May I say one last thing?”
He paused.
"Turn around."
"Very funny!”
He lifted the gun again and pulled the trigger.
There was a sharp crack and thud as metal hit metal. Kelly flinched and held up her hands, but opened her eye after a moment as no pain came.
Admiral Massie lay on the floor face down.
Kelly reached down quickly to grab her gun, looking up to where Sunny was standing in the doorway holding her pearlescent white spear. Behind her floated the starborn Conn and the hybrid.
She took a deep breath,
"Great timing you three.”
Sunny nodded,
"Anytime."
Admiral Kelly turned and lunged for the comms, switching the frequency to the lunar station only to find she couldn't get through,
"Damn it."
She cursed, turning to look at Sunny and the others,
"I was too late, the ships have already been deployed."
She paused and looked down, grabbing the recording device from off the floor tossing it to the hybrid who caught it with some difficulty,
"Run that to one of the media outlets, convince them it is important and leak it as soon as you can. We don't want her to have time to cover her own ass."
Eris nodded and shot off in the other direction.
Sunny knelt down to help her restrain Admiral Massie.
Just then the sound of feet came thundering up the hall and they looked up to see the Chairwoman of the GA and her assistants skid around a corner. Sunny's eyes narrowed as she crouched low leveling her spear.
"Did you catch him?"
The Chairwoman asked,
"No thanks to you."
Sunny snarled, but the chairwoman waved her off,
"I lost contact with my drones, but they should be out helping to protect Admiral Vir. I am sorry I couldn't do more, but it was all I could do not to show my hand too early."
Admiral Kelly stood slowly,
"You knew about this?"
The charwoman shook her head,
"Not this specifically, but I have been trying to find the source of the assassination attempts on Admiral Vir's life. I've had discreet escorts on him for the past few months while I tried getting in contact with my people in the criminal underworld and I called the hit on him with those pirates, knowing who Captain Kell was, hoping that he could get more information out of the pirates that I could."
Sunny stared at her rage flickering across her face,
"You called a hit on him!"
The charwoman did not seem perturbed,
"Those pirates couldn't have... How do the humans say... Hit their way out of a paper bag. I have been attempting to come in contact with the leader of the anti-alliance for the past few months. I have been trying to convince them I am on their side, and that was part of my ruse, as well as knowing Admiral Vir was captain Kell. During my investigation it became clear that someone within the UN was involved though I couldn't have said who."
"And why should we believe you aren't just covering your own ass?”
The chairwoman hissed,
”Do you really think I want to make an enemy out of the strongest species in the galaxy!? Not on your life! I am not stupid. Besides, I owe Admiral Vir my life. I admit I have done some irreparable things in order to keep the alliance going, but those moves were calculated, and Vir was always protected.”
[…]
One of the silver UAV's exploded and Red had to dodge to the side to avoid the flying debris. He cut right and then left keeping as fast as he could possibly go as he cut up through the chunks of metal and locked onto the back of a Thunderhawk. There was a sharp click and then a silent explosion which he rolled out of the way to avoid. He had sent one of his men off to make contact with earths forces for backup.
They were good, but these men and women were made for combat, and despite their best work only four out of twenty of them had been destroyed, and their numbers were dwindling fast. He cut right before one of the Thunderhawk’s, forcing it to turn away from the rocket and cut down in another direction. He could only imagine the fear of those inside the rocket as they watched helplessly at the fight raging on around them.
He spun down and under, cutting off another Thunderhawk coming in the opposite direction.
There was no way they were going to keep up with this for long.
Their only chance was earths forces reacting quickly.
Previous First [Next](link)
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.

First: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/14vo5lb/troublemakers_deaths_pity/
*previous:* https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/1cnuyl1/troublemakers_the_son_of_witch_and_warrio
......
Drake tossed the last shovelful of soil over his shoulder, looking over the massive circular bunker elevator that had been buried beneath rubble and dirt. Destrier and Caz were consulting the map for any kind of clue as to how it could be opened up. Cassius and Remin both kept an eye on Charlotte and the younger of the two was playing patty-cake with the small woman. Drake paused for a moment, looking at the display with an odd trembling in his heart. It was clear charlotte was at least a teenager, but she acted like a small child, her wide eyed wonder evident in the freely smiling face and glittering eyes as she happily patted her hands against Cassius'. His stomach roiled and he almost doubled over as he spit out a mouthful of bile that sizzled on the ground ominously. Truth be told, since he'd been thrown into that strange void he'd felt sick, the tingling, electrical power in his veins only intensifying even as he dug out the massive hundred foot in diameter elevator. Chucking the shovel to the side halfheartedly, he looked up at the tree of hung corpses as the shovel clanged against a wall several paces away. His heart began to pound angrily and the feeling of nausea and static intensified exponentially, He doubled over and vomited, a pink slurry of blood and oatmeal splattering on the ground. He fell to one knee as the edges of his vision darkened for a moment, an overwhelming weakness turning his limbs to lead. Cassius appeared at his side, a look of fearful concern on his face as he went to grab Drake by the shoulders.
Drake didn't understand where the knowledge came from, but Cassius absolutely could not touch him. Drake shoved a hand out, launching Cassius back a few feet where he landed on his back. Sitting up, Drake saw the rapidly cooling red-hot handprint on the chest of his nano-mesh Gambeson at the same time Cassius did. They shared a look of startled panic and realization before Drake slumped forward, his last thought before the void took him was one of confusion.
"What's happening to me?!"
...
Charlotte saw the man named Drake tumble forward after shoving his friend, Heat mirage rising off his prone back as the soil around him began to melt into magma. She hurried to her feet when the old man in lamellar held her back, a look of confusion and fear on his face.
"Why aren't you helping him?!"
She cried trying to push past the old man's iron strength. Her hand still smudged with soot where the man currently laying in a puddle of molten soil had reattached her finger like magic. The man looked down at her, anxiously shouting.
"Do you not see the godsdamned lava?! I don't think we can even get close!"
Charlotte stopped pushing, a feeling of stark impotency falling like a pall over her mind as the ground bubbled around Drake's still form. She didn't know much about her new world, but she knew that man was a good one, and seeing him lay lifeless and still made her skin crawl with the desire to help. But then she heard a sound that chilled her to the bone.
The dull thrum of propulsor engines reached her over the wind and she whipped around to scan the sky. She could see them against the soft brown midday sky, dark shapes that hurtled through the air like birds of prey. She could see them now in her mind, loaded to the gills with Spec ops and bio-engineered soldiers, Artillery class emitters charged to full, engines thrumming under a full combat load of rockets and bombs. Charlotte wildly looked around, spotting a mostly intact, low forge building she shouted.
"If you want to live get inside!!!!"
The woman and large black man who'd been pouring over the maps looked up confusedly as Charlotte began shoving Remin towards the building. The panic she felt made her nerves burn with the need to run, but she couldn't abandon them she couldn't just let the-
An earplitting screech came from inside her skull forcing her to her knees as she clutched the aching sides of her head, a horrifyingly familiar voice speaking to her from within her very being.
"Ooooooooh Sylva my dear?~ Did my little cuckoo lose her collar?~ Ah, no matter, would you kindly clear the landing area for the buzzards?~"
Her arms fell limp as her viewpoint shrank away, leaving her floating in the darkness as she saw her body move of its own accord. Drawing a long bayonet from the thigh scabbard on the old man's leg and driving it right between his ribs, the blade expertly slipping between lamellar plates. She wanted to scream as the old man jolted back, clutching at where the knife had slipped through his armor, falling to the ground as she rotated to face the other three. Her hair swayed in front of her face, the dark brown draining upwards, leaving it a stark silver with a purple stripe. The hum of the buzzards was only growing louder as she reached for the small of her back, clawing at the veil between her body and her as a pen-flare came into view, pointed at the sky.
She silently screamed as a purple flair rose into the sky, the cold void swallowing her like it had all those years ago.
...
Nothingness surrounded Drake, a deep, endless, colorless world devoid of meaning or substance. But he wasn't alone here, something moved within the emptiness, pure, flavorless power roiling off it like the heat of his village's forge.
And it was angry.
He could feel it as it beheld him with a sort of bestial curiosity born out of its anger. Invisible tendrils snaked into his body like hot pieces of iron, molding themselves around his bones and sinews like it was searching for something. Crawling through his veins and into his heart, making him feel as though he was burning alive. His heart seized and stopped bringing a cold stillness to his body. But he didn't die as the tendrils slowly withdrew, heart pounding back to life like a bright orange flame had been ignited in his chest. The thing's viewpoint changed, looking down on him from above as it touched the glowing sigil over his heart with that same rageful curiosity, then a tendril of power touched the scythe on his wrist with something akin to fondness. He could feel hard crystalline bands forming around his fingers as the thing rumbled with amusement, the feeling of molten iron filling his body before fading as each band slowly reached completion. Then it hurled him ass over head through a wooden door.
Death jumped out of his chair, falling hard without his prosthetics and careful not to spill the yellowish water inside the odd glassware in his slender hand. The two stared at each other with similar levels of bewilderment as Drake rubbed his face before looking at the set of ten obsidian bands that encircled the base of each finger and thumb.
"How in the fuck did you get here?"
Death asked calmly, stump-walking back to his chair and taking a long burbling pull from the glassware in his hand.
Drake clambered into one of the smoky chairs death had casually summoned.
"I... uh... I got thrown through your door by... something... I don't exactly know what. It seemed... angry at me, though."
Death looked up with a blank expression, oily smoke rising from his nostrils as he said.
"Beg pardon? what do you mean you don't exactly know what did it? wait..."
A look of concern etched itself into Death's face as he grabbed one of Drakes hands, looking at the black rings with ever widening eyes. Slowly he made eye contact with Drake, holding up the jewelry bedecked hand urgently.
"Do you even know what these are?!?!"
Drake shook his head.
"Obviously fuckin not."
Death took a deep breath, taking a long burbling hit from the piece of glassware with palpable stress as he set Drakes hand down, letting his chosen look at the rings curiously and experimentally take one off. The moment the pinky ring stopped touching his flesh Death leapt back exclaiming.
"Jesus fucking christ kid!! Put it back on! put it back on!"
Drake slipped the ring back on, he'd felt a small boost to his energy but hadn't noticed anything that would elicit such a reaction from the harvester of souls.
"Who's Jesus christ?"
Drake asked as Death took another calming breath before replying.
"Probably one of the most famous demigods known to humankind, but that isn't important..."
Death folded his hands and leaned across the desk with a twitching eyelid.
"What is important, is how you managed to acquire ten heart of the umbra crystals for rings. I can count on one hand the amount of people who have acquired exactly one of these rings."
Drake looked at the dull black crystal rings curiously.
"Do they give me extra power?"
Death shook his head, slowly revealing an arm encased in the black bands.
"Quite the opposite... They typically completely restrain your power so you don't burn up and turn into a walking, talking nuclear weapon. And they're specifically given to those who have touched the Umbra and survived, typically just experiencing the primordial soup that makes reality results in a cataclysmic leap in power... but even then... it's only ever been one ring. Three humans have owned one of these rings, Archibald Sunshine, Roxanne Richards, and Bagelious Braveheart. How the Bagel god's chosen got one I'm at a loss. But of those three, One died using the power the ring held back, The other lives inside a mechanical body locked away from her powers permanently, and Bagelius? he's... He's just unhinged."
Drake gazed at his hands, the rings glittering dully in the flickering firelight. He held them up curiously.
"So... what does it mean if I have ten?"
Death took another deep breath, letting it out in an exasperated sigh. He didn't look drake in the eye as he stared at a wall.
"I... I don't know... If I had to guess..."
Death looked at Drake with no small amount of curiosity and fear for his life.
"You didn't just survive the umbra... You fought it... and lived to tell the tale... I don't even think you're human anymore Drake..."
Drake furrowed his brow, clenching and relaxing his fist, feeling the rings click together.
"Then what am I?"
Death shook his head before simply stating.
"Something I and those before me, have never seen..."
He looked into Drakes eyes, a soft glimmer in the endless, silvery pools as he rolled his sleeve back down to hide the bands around his own arm.
"You defy every law and command of the universe, just by existing."
Drake slowly nodded before standing back up.
"That explains why conquest looked so afraid. Bitch kidnapped my soul and tried to fight me on her own turf and still lost."
"Im sorry..."
Drake glanced over at Death's coldly calm words, the primordial exploding with power as he roared.
"She did WHAT!?!?!"
Drake looked at death with wide eyes, shocked at the sudden outburst, the primordial literally steaming with rampant power as he clicked his legs on. Drake was about to step through the door and back to his body when death stopped him with a snarled.
"No, you're coming with me. I need to know what she's playing at... and what better way than to bring the one person she's actually afraid of."
...
Caz had barely taken a running step towards Charlotte, blindsided by the sudden betrayal as the small woman lifted a pen flare to the sky and launched it with a Pop! Snatching her Huntress she broke it open, cocking the striker and slamming a fresh flechette into the electrically insulated chamber. A massive shadow loomed over her and she froze in her tracks, looking up at the massive metal machine as it hovered over the ruined village, her heart pounding in her throat as dark silhouettes leapt from the sides of the propulsor driven aircraft. They landed hard on the ground, Grey, patterned armor shifting to blend in with the bombed out village as their cold visors regarded her emotionlessly. Caz drew a bead on the first one, about to fire when the cold steel of a bayonet was pressed against her throat from behind. She'd forgotten about charlotte. A soft chuckle came from within the group of organized soldiers and they parted to reveal a geknosian in similar but far more ornate armor. Golden medals bedecking every available surface including a fabric crotch flap weighed down with stamped precious metals. They pulled an ornately forged helmet from their head, a dark grin on the general's face as he looked around at the general disarray the five troublemakers found themselves in.
Cassius held a chest seal to the wet gash between Remin's ribs. The old man looking pale and shaky as he weekly held his shotgun in the general direction of the soldiers. Destrier slowly folded up the map and tucked it into the pouch at the small of his back, dark eyes gliding studiously over the Geknosian forces. Caz adjusted her crosshair onto the General and felt the bayonet press harder against her throat.
"Drop it... Bitch~"
The small woman holding the knife cooed. Caz snarled and threw her Huntress to the ground, raising her hands in surrender as the blade of the bayonet relaxed against her throat. She wanted to spare Drake a glance, but she dared not turn her head lest she slit her own throat on the keen blade of Remin's long bayonet. The Geknosian General sauntered forward, attempting to take her chin in his hand.
"ARRRGH!"
The General cried out, leaping back as a burst of cold frost froze his war gauntlet into a brick of ice. Caz's eyes lit up as she backed into Charlotte, the woman crying out in pain and jerking the blade away as a brick of frosted ice formed around her chest. The Geknosian general grabbed for the blaster pistol at his hip and she kicked him in the chest, freezing his chestplate and sending him reeling back in shock. She got a glimpse of Destrier sprinting to Remin and Cassius's side, helping Drag the old man into the low forge building as Caz dove for her Huntress. A heavy armored boot slammed into her mask, throwing her disorientingly on her side even as the boot froze over. Caz slowly got back to her feet as the soldiers bore their guns down on her, wiping the blood from her split lip through her mask, she growled, glancing back at Drake's still form, the ground around him having cooled and solidified into hard stone. Charlotte slowly joined the generals side, the frost around her chest quickly melting as she leaned in to whisper in the general's ear, eliciting a smile.
"Thank you Sylva, the information is much appreciated. A little cuckoo bird tells me that you all came here looking for the human bunker. How pitiful you don't have an access remote, like this one?"
The general held out a hand, a piece of blocky, olive drab green plastic falling into his outstretched, thawing palm. Clicking a button, nothing happened and he purred.
"But, alas we're at an impasse, for only someone of human genome may access the bunkers... oh wait~"
He held the remote out to Charlotte, Who stared at it blankly, eyes glimmering dully for a second. Then they dulled again as she looked up at Caz with an odd expression.
The remote sailed through the air and Caz instinctually caught it as Charlotte monotonely stated.
"Run, Keep it away from them."
Caz didn't need to be told twice as she turned on her heel and sprinted through a small alleyway between two buildings that leaned on each other, blaster bolts ablating the stony surfaces in puffs of loud smoke and blinding flashes. Grabbing the hook at her belt, she threw it and slung herself onto the crumbling rooftops, one of the metal buzzards turning where it hovered in the air to focus a glowing emitter on her. She leapt off the crumbling rooftop just as the powerful laser ablated the spot she'd just been standing with a blinding flash and a pressure wave that launched her much farther through the air than she intended. The last thing she saw before blacking out was a crumbling wall rushing at her as she fell face first towards it, clutching the remote to her chest.
......
Part 106: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/1cr3pct/troublemakers_adrenaline_is_a_superpower_in_itself/

A few days ago, I received a file from a journalist friend who teaches at a private university in Montevideo. I known this person for years now and the exchange with her on our countless bar nights basically made me want to try to study journalism. After I started my career we became even closer and we shared concerns about the evolution of information, social media and the infamous cerebral callosity we acquired to endure the tragedy.
My friend, let's call her Valeria, was part of a public competition to accompany a minor scientific expedition to the Uruguayan Antarctic base. Her thesis was about investigating how information reception behaves in remote and isolated areas.
I barely read it , but basically tries to show that information circulates and is received in a particular way in these circumstances by a group of unfamiliar people living under extreme climatic and isolation conditions, having as an example, life in submarines and in military bases in Siberia. The Antarctic base gave her the chance to observe some of her postulates up close.
Finally, she was chosen and traveled with this scientific group in a commercial flight Montevideo - Santiago de Chile to later arrive at Punta Arenas and fly to the Antarctic base.
The last communication I had with her before she sent me the almost 90 photographic captures of the Journal, was on March 15, 2024.
We talked over the phone about how the weather was in Montevideo, that it does not stop raining and the cars are practically floating on the streets. She told me that the transport that was going to take them back was having mechanical problems and they would probably have to order spare parts for the plane from Punta Arenas. Then She told me that it is freaking cold down there and his colleagues are all very boring. Nobody has whisky for the evenings. We laughed about that part because I told her to bring at least one bottle of Grappa in her purse.
Before saying goodbye, she told me they had spotted some old metal structures south of the base. The soldiers told her that it was safe to go near that part so she was going to explore them. It wasn't there when they first arrived and that the recent and atypical heat wave probably must have exposed it. I told her to be careful and we said goodbyes.
Three days later I received an email. “Valeria shared a file with you.” As I start to see what it was about she calls me.
“Mauro? MAURO!, can you hear me?” She said in a nervous and excited voice.
“I can barely hear you, what happened?”I asked half asleep, while still lying on my bed.
“Listen to me carefully, don't talk, just listen” I could tell by her agitation that she was walking fast or maybe running. The creaking footsteps in the snow could be heard in the background. in the distance, a catastrophe-type siren was blaring.
“Are you alright? What happened? What's that noise?” I said, now sitting on the edge of my bed.
“I sent you a file. Transfer it to a flash drive, delete history and reset your cell phone, the computer and your email address. I'll explain everything later, it'll be worth it.”
“What? What are you talking about Vale?, what for? Tell me what's going on - I started to yell at her, in slide panic.
“Listen, I found something that is not supposed to exist. In the diary he explains everything. I'm going back to the base, I think someone is following me, I set off an alarm or something. Save that file for me until I get there and remember that... “
There were two loud booms and the sound of water invading the transmission. A choked bubbling and cracking sound reminded me of ice collapsing. My friend had fallen into the water, in Antarctica.
“HEY, are you OK?! What happened?!” - I kept screaming hysterically until the call was cut off.
I looked at my cell phone for a second. My hands were shaking, I tried calling several times but the phone went dead. I looked at the compressed file. I jumped up and ran to the dining room furniture, frantically looking for a white flash drive that had to be in a drawer somewhere. I couldn't find it, so I went back to my desk. I pulled the drawer so hard that it came off the rail and fell to the floor. I started to dig through my belongings on the floor, coins, papers, cards, nothing.
I thought, I struggled to remember where I had fucking put it. Finally I saw my backpack peeking out from behind the desk chair, I jumped on it and in the second small pocket from the inside, there was a cheap white 16G flash drive. I put it in the pc, downloaded the file directly there, took it out and fabric restored the entire system on the computer. I do the same with my cell phone as Valeria said.
At the time I didn't even question if those measures really prevented me from being tracked, and the idea that that was the reason made panic run through my body like lightning. Sitting on the floor of my room next to the mess, my body was numb with tension. After a few seconds, I rebooted my cell phone to try to call Lucia, her sister.
“Hello?”
“Lucia, it's that you? I think something bad happened to Vale, I hear her over the phone as if she fell into the water, and some rumbling. I don't know what I heard, I think she got into some trouble or some place she shouldn't have been - I realized that I was mumble and not saying anything clear. For some reason, I didn't mention the file.
“It can't be Mauro, I just spoke to her on the phone. She was at the airport in Santiago de Chile at the boarding lounge, we talked for about half an hour, she told me she was bringing a fancy bourbon to share and…”
I stopped listening, it didn't make sense, how could it be? what the fuck is going on!
“Mauro, are you ok? Is something wrong? it's too early, are you sure you didn't dream it?”
“Did you talk to her? half an hour ago? But...,” I exclaimed without being able to hide my confusion.
“Are you... sure it was her?”
“Yes, of course you moron, it's my sister! Did you smoke pot again on an empty stomach?”
“No, you're right, nevermind, thanks Lucia, talk to you soon.” I ended the call without letting her say goodbye.
Had I dreamt about it? I erased everything now, how will I know if I dreamt it? I hesitated absurdly.
This is surreal, I thought to myself as I looked at the flash drive in my hand. I refocused my attention and went to the attic looking for my brother's old laptop he left me before going to live in Spain. It was practically useless, but it was enough to see the file. I turned it on, waited for the decrepit Windows XP to load, and put the flashdisk in, opened the compressed folder and found two files.
“LabNotes.pdf”
“PersonalDiary.pdf”
I decided to open the journal first. From what I interpreted from the loading order of the screenshots, after reading it, I opened the image of the last page.
I transcribe as is.
Day 243 of the 2nd mission 10: 40 am. March 12, 2019.
I am the head researcher of the Psychological Area at the UN Antarctic base; I'm currently assigned to Project Sisyphus categorized as the highest classified rank.
This is going to sound crazy, but the person living with my family is my clone.
It still surprises me when I say it out loud, but after being able to replicate the brain-muscular history (a perfect copy of our memory) of any person and having mastered replicating every cell of our bodies at any age, it was only a matter of time before the development of social biotechnology would emerge. Now and by worldwide agreement, as a complete secret.
There is absolutely no shame or a shred of ethics in what we do, there is no longer any constraint on what we can do to the subjects for the sake of research. That haunts me every day.
It all went to shit so fast, I doubt anyone will come to our rescue. The protocol says so, the base in the face of an imminent security risk will erase itself. The structure was designed to collapse methodically following a protocol of incineration and sinking. The immediate perimeter has underwater mines that make the ice collapse almost imperceptibly, but deadly to anyone who tries to leave.
No one can escape from the base, neither the research staff nor the subjects. Our place in the world is already taken.
I only hope that this journal along with my lab notes will be found at some point. I managed to construct a small insulating gasket for it so I trust it will survive in case this part of the building collapses as well.
Please use this data to let the world know what happened here and don't let perversity define us once again.
To my family: I love you and miss you every minute.
B.
At the exact moment I ended the reading I received a video call that made me jump with fright, it is...
Valeria.
With my pulse shaking, I answered the call.
“Hi you! The flight was delayed, can you believe it? This one is absolutely in my top three, worst trips of my life. I'm really hungry and everything is so expensive here. What are you up to? Tell me something, please, I'm soooo bored!”
I looked at her with confusion and I couldn't manage to pronounce words. When I was about to modulate an answer she interrupted me.
“What's the matter Mauro?, are you on pause? Is the signal OK? HELLO! Can you hear me? Can you see me?” She started to walk through the boarding lounge looking for better signal
“Yes yes, Valeria I can hear you.”
She laughed and looked at me with a face between sensual and serious, and continued.
“Do you miss me?” while raising the phone jokingly as she typically does in her selfie pose.
“Valeria, don't you remember calling me earlier today?”
“I? called you? Nop. Why? Ah! By the way, did you know there are penguins in Tierra del Fuego? I would have liked to go and see them.” She continued his verbose conversation in a carefree tone, with her typical hand gestures and playing with his hair.
“Well, at last!” She interrupted herself and shouted, jumping up from her chair.
“We are being called to board, see you in a couple hours!” She said goodbye with a smiling sonority, and began to walk towards the boarding gate.
But at the last second, before ending the call, her gesture changed. She looked directly at the camera with a hardened and emotionless face and almost mechanically, she whispered.
“(I'm going to retrieve that diary).”
My stomach dropped to the floor and I could feel as if my blood was running cold with fear. I could not shake the awful and eerie feeling that this person, who was returning, whom I had never in my life called by her full name, was not my friend.
So, the next couple of hours I put everything in to transcribe the rest of important passages of the diary. Something was compelling me to do it, i can't explain it, Some mix between moral duty, and morbid curiosity. Here is my selection of it.
Lab notes. day 96 of 1st mission 08:00 am December 22, 2016.
Subject JON X012:
First physical assessments: Normal, alert and inquisitive, exhibits some alteration to screens.
We place 100 cc of sedative in room air. The subject attentively follows the narrative of scenario B5 “The last mission”.
The subject responds positively to the premises of the story, where he is asked to address an audience threatened by a natural disaster, convincing them to choose a certain path out of the city.
He offers to collaborate but fails to articulate the message with the power to overcome the simulation.
We resort to pouring 125cc of concentrated Psilocybin into the air as stipulated in the protocol sheet.
The vocal frequency and body language reading receptors in the observation room are activated. The subject manages to formulate a series of premises articulately and with discursive power, circulating around the observation room.
Successful reaction.
We move on to the next stage.
Case is filed under the label “Jobs Project.”
Diary entry: Day 96 of the 1st mission 21:30 pm. December 22, 2016.
Today they transferred subject JON X0012 for psychological evaluation, several in the lab were very anxious about this arrival. I was never the religious type, but I can understand why. Truth be told,
I always imagined Jesus would be taller.
*********
Day 106 of the 1st mission 08:00 am January 02, 2017
Today we received a new lab assistant for the night shift. Much needed as I was covering these shifts myself and am really burned out. The underground operates at full power at those hours, the hum of the machinery becomes unbearable. This must be why the rooms have an insulating structure.
********
Day 112 of the 1st mission 19:00 pm January 08, 2017.
The new integration is not very bright. He labeled the transcripts wrong again yesterday and doesn't seem to fully understand the importance of these. I'm going to have to go through the whole method with him again. I don't have much patience lately, it's not his fault, he seems like a nice guy and it's real that I need a second of confidence. Better train him from now on. Maybe start a sketch of a short explanatory document.
*******
Small introductory guide.
When the subjects conclude the incubation and breeding process (pages 19 to 52 of the manual), that is to say, that they have at least remembered speech and with it, depending on the time in which they lived, reading and writing, they generally begin to perceive themselves. Just before situational curiosity is when the psychology department comes into action. Either to run the “stand by” simulation or the main tests.
In each subject's file is the target of their cloning, the era in which they lived, and the recommended scenarios to trigger the desired response. If the file has X amount on the cover, this corresponds to the generation of the subject, whether it is the first or 10th time it is incubated.
Generally, it takes between 2 and 5 attempts to generate the correct simulation, and administer the appropriate drugs.
It took 5 attempts to come up with the correct amount of methamphetamine that subject AH X005 (Hitler) needed to function in the scenario, as the correct amount bordered on overdose.
Simulations are much easier since the implementation of multisensor AI. We managed to generate almost any scenario including temperature, smells, lights and sounds. We tried not to use familiar ones, as human smells are impossible to replicate. We found this out in a complicated way. We tried to recreate a conversation between RR subject X003 (Reagan) and his mother, but he recognized the fakery by the absence of body odor. His mind collapsed and we had to move him to the Underground. The people in Area C (Private Clients) almost lost a very large Chinese account.
After calibrating the subject, we ran both psychological and behavioral tests, scanned retinas, analyzed blood, as well as vocal and body language. But what has really yielded surprising results are the free interviews. It is amazing what some minds are capable of with the right environmental and chemical stimulation. That's why transcription is vital (!!)
Our area develops BC (Behavioral Algorithms) which are then bought by the private sector, and some government agencies.
To give you some examples: Twitter was an idea of subject JO X008 (Orwell).
Bots in social media and the use of big data was an idea of JG X002 (Goebbels) and KM X014`s worst nightmare (Marx) was bought by Amazon.
It is an arduous process and the success rate is low, but when we achieve the goal per subject, well, these results are a mein part of the latest revolutions of mankind.
So follow the lab rules, never refer to subjects by their actual historical name, and always remember, they are assets, not people.
***********
Day 117 of the 1st mission 16:30 am January 12, 2017.
Today is a rest day all over area D. I miss many things from the old world that I thought I would never miss, taking a bus, standing in line with strangers, and today I miss Sundays. We only have one on the month. So as usual we gather in the rest area to listen to a liberated jukebox that tries to lighten the mood. I know, right? Why I wrote about this “Saturday” photocopy, well besides the same nostalgic drunks, I was approached by a person I didn't recognize.
From what I understood he was a rehabilitated alcoholic, maybe that's why I didn't see him on “Saturdays”. He must be in his 50's, he was portly and wore thick black-rimmed glasses, he seemed to have a slight limp, I noticed it when he went to refill my beer.
I am a very reserved person and find it hard to talk to people. Truth be told, I've lost the desire to talk to people here. What can you actualy fucking talk about here, if it's not about the same thing. Everything revolves around work and some inter-area gossip, which never escalates much.
But yesterday was Clara's birthday and to hide the remorse and sadness of only having shared with her the first 3 years of her life, I had a few too many beers.
We chatted about banal aspects of life in isolation, and the things we miss. For him it was going to the stadium to watch soccer with his grandchildren. I think it was loneliness and nostalgia that brought us together that night.
His name was Sigfried, I don't know if I spelled it right, but it was clearly Nordic, i notice because of some of the words he mixed up with English. He works as the underground level security manager. We all know that it is one of the most restricted areas and what we have learned in these almost 10 years in the project, is that the more restricted, the less questions you should ask.
But that day, I think I felt the urge to hurt myself, to go off the rails, so I asked what we all suspected but no one knew for sure. I asked about the blenders. I wish I hadn't.
************
Day 126 of the 1st mission 08:00 am January 21, 2017.
I almost can't express how furious I am today, but I'm going to try because if I don't, I'm going to punch the new assistant in the face. He has nothing to do with this, he's just mildly irritating.
Anyway, in Genetic Mapping or area A, they approved the incubation of another Anomaly. It seems to be an express request from a major shareholder and there is not much to say. Anomalies are very risky to reproduce, nature is wise, and for some reason it placed them in history moments where they had their limitations.
It seems that after the crisis of 2010 with “The Russian Devil” it is no longer scary enough. New school morons... If they had been there they wouldn't even dare to think about it. I AM FURIOUS.
The arguments are that this case lived longer, that the clone would be in his 70s, and that he possessed noticeably more “civilized” traits. As if the court of the last Zar had not been somewhat civilized.
Personally I think this is a big mistake. Since the discovery that some people possess unknown DNA components and with the 2010 background, they should draw the line. There are certain things, still beyond our ability to understand. But it is delusional of me to think that there are limits, someday the absence of them will consume us all.
************
Lab notes day 142 of 1st mission 08:00 am February 06, 2017.
Final free interview with JON subject X012
Scenario B-24 or “The Dinner Party” Result: Normal.
Notes: Subject is grateful, positive, docile and hopeful for the future. Offers to cook next time by asking for spices and ingredients of typical Hindu dishes.
The subject is directed to the Underground area.
Attached audio for transcription.
Case is filed under the label “Jobs Project”.
**********
Day 142 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 06, 2017.
Today was the last session with subject JON X012, I managed to extract the last retinal and body language readings, as usual before sending them to Underground level. We ran the dinner scenario, the truth is that is one of the best simulations we have achieved. The subjects are relaxed resulting in the best free interview environment. This one was no exception, I must say I understand the charm of the “messiah” turned out to be quite an entertaining subject. I hope his next generation will be similar.
**********
Day 152 of the 1st mission 19:00 pm February 16, 2017.
I was tasked with the continuous monitoring of subject NT X004. I am not at all happy with this transfer. First of all, I know nothing about area B of engineering and technology. Secondly, I still think this is a really bad idea.
One of the laboratories has been set up with the essential simulation equipment and personnel. Tomorrow we start with the calibration.
**********
Lab notes day 153 of the 1st mission 08:00 am February 17, 2017.
First interview with subject NT X004, we run simulation scenario 54-A, “Signal from another planet.”
Subject is observed to be receptive at first but quickly changes to paranoid. We administer 300cc of MDMA via air, according to protocol.
We introduce the reconstructed figure of a colleague in a cry for help speech.
The Subject laughs and doesn't believe a word, we move to a physical approach plane,
I volunteer myself with a room operator from the engineering area, we show him unfinished plans of an experimental vacuum propulsion engine.
He laughs again and tells us that we are not who we say we are.
We administer 50cc of DMT and move on to the next scenario.
From the screen an astronaut with non-human features sends a distress signal and intergalactic coordinates.
The subject looks thoughtful, reassesses, picks up the blueprints and begins to shout out values and what appears to be mathematical and physical formulas.
Air is charged with percentages of absolute sedation.
Audio recording is attached.
It is filed under the name “Project SpaceX.”
**********
Day 153 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 17, 2017.
I'm not sure what happened today, this is the first time in 10 years that a subject overcame the deception of 3 simulations. We had to place absolute sedation in the air, as risky as we know it is. I recommended that we restart the process from scratch, but it was a resounding no, the client is in a hurry.
I need to get more involved in this case to recalibrate the subject. I don't know if I want to. The words before full sedation still resonate with me. “are you still using DC current? interesting...”
**********
Day 154 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 18, 2017.
Something happened, I don't quite know what. The rooms have an emergency lockdown active. Outside hear security personnel mobilizing. I tried the intercom but it didn't work. The insulation prevents my screams from being heard from the outside. If this goes on another day I'm going to break the lock. I'm going to set my backpack to the bare minimum.
**********
Day 157 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 21, 2017.
Yesterday I heard explosions in the B area. I couldn't take it anymore and broke the lock. Whatever it was I had to go out and see. The corridors were dark, and the underground buzzer went on, at least that worked.
I went right to the north staircase, down the 4 floors in near darkness, the power was failing. The entrance to the underground area was barricaded but I managed to see a figure peeking out from inside as they felt me making noises.
It was Sigfried, he pointed me in the doors direction and I entered through a heavily armored side door. I was surprised by the immensity of this section, it encompassed a large hall below almost all the sectors of the base. In front of us there were 4 large industrial pipes with switches and multiple smaller pipes coming out of their bases. These were repeated like mosaics throughout the area until they disappeared into the distance in the darkness.
Leaning against one of them were 3 officers in formerly white coats and a nearly dead guard bloodied on the floor. Poor guy, his legs were crushed with his flesh in the open. He was lying in a pool of his own blood.
He had a blank stare and was panting, it seemed from the pale of his skin, that his fate was imminent. My asthma began to pound in my chest sharply, so I reached into my bag looking for my inhaler. I told them between visible gasps of bad breath to please tell me what's happened.
One of the doctors had a badge from area B and another from area E which corresponds to bio-armamentistics. The latter burst into tears and said “We deserve it, every one of us, we deserve it”.
I knew the other guy, he is an engineer in area B. I could hear him babbling almost nonsensically about, as why they never thought about it, an issue with electrical power.
He looked at me carefully as if recognizing me and grabbed me tightly by my jacket pulling me close to his face transformed for the panic.
“He let them out, all of them!” but not only that, no no no no... he told them the truth. Nikola fucking Tesla hacked us and told them the truth.”
He began to laugh frantically with a face of absurdity until he burst into a choked cry. At that moment everything went dark. The emergency lights activated, and from far away and getting closer, along with the emergency sirens that began to sound, we heard a large mass of people screaming and running through the corridors outside.
Sigfried looked at me as they started to pound on the shielded door and said.
“We're fucked.”
**************
Day xx of the second mission, month xx of 2017
“()The industrial sounds of spinning blades, the cries for mercy followed by the thunderous, liquid crack, down that big pipe, into the green barrels, with the Monsanto logo, dripped down one side an elongated drop of pink paste ending in the letter E on the chemical label. FERTILIZER.”
**********
After finishing the transcription, my whole body began to want to flee, the walls of my house were tinged with a faint blue light as the cloudy dusk came through the window, the lights turned off by my abstraction at the computer gave way to the dark corridors that began to feel alien. As I gently closed the pc my ears began to ring as if under pressure, my breathing became more present and the vibration of my cell phone interrupted my trance.
A call from the office. It was to tell me that I had a vacation week pending, that by schedule, I had to take it starting today.
Sons of bitches, now they even choose your time off - I thought at first, but at the same time I found the voice on the phone very strange, and to tell the truth, the procedure itself.
The anger turned into confusion that only added to the paranoia. The sounds in the street began to seem erratic, a chaotic and strangely familiar feeling came over me. My senses seemed increasingly acute, and they screamed:
Go away.
I grabbed the old laptop, the flash drive and headed for the bus station. The short trip from my house seemed like a long journey. People on the street looked at me with strange faces, the cell phone kept ringing with unknown numbers on the screen and a strange idea began to formulate in my head that whispered “Them, Valeria is one of Them”.
Already on the platforms I rummaged through my backpack where I confirmed that I had the key to the family beach house in San Luis, 60 km to the east of Montevideo. I turned off my cell phone, got on a bus heading to another and much far away town called Treinta y Tres. Sat near the last seat and slipped my cell phone in my front pocket of the seat in front of me, got off and commented to the driver with a clueless face, “I got confused, I'm going to the coast”.
I almost jumped onto the steps of the correct bus to where I was heading, unable to avoid the gazes of the passengers questioning me for the last minute drop in. I sat in my numbered seat and defragmented in dissociation, trying to understand what I was doing, I was running away, but from what?
The images of the last transcriptions were engraved in my mind, the last paragraph was repeated over and over again making me shake my head from time to time trying to get them away from my thoughts. The road was dark and I lost track of time, the digital clock within sight of the passengers jingling since we left, reading 10:40.
“San Luis Station!” - I heard the guard's shout in low volume.
I staggered to my feet, hurried to get off and with the same impulse I entered the dirt roads.
I zig-zagged through the dark, cold and silent beach town. The moonless night and the smell of the sea calmed me.
When I turned the corner to the gabled beach house of my family, on the steps of the front door lit by a white light, was her. Sitting, waiting for me. I stopped dead in my tracks and a chilling vertigo ran down my torso to my throat. We looked at each other for a short two seconds, until she stopped and started walking in sliding steps towards me, smiling and playing with her hands, crossing and uncrossing her arms. The growing sound of the wind through the trees covered us.
“Darling, how are you? How nice is the summer house, I don't think we ever came here, did we? Is it the one your grandmother left you?”
I felt the adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream, how could such a familiar attitude from such a familiar person transmit such panic to me? I had to answer something.
“Yes, this is it. I came to clear my head for a while, they gave me a few days at work and I wanted to take advantage of it.” I tried to excuse myself with failed dissimulation, since I stuttered in the middle of the words.
“Yes, I know! We arranged it with them, so you can be more relaxed and as a gesture for taking care of the file. Ah! and another thing. I think someone stole your cell phone at the bus station.” She looked at me with a smart-ass smile.
“Anyway, don't worry, they already found it on a bus on the way to “Treinta y tres”. You can get it back later.”
At this point I opened my mouth to ask for explanations, but as terrified as I was I only mumbled a “thank you”.
All this dialogue let us half a body length away, Valeria looked at me now a little more serious and stood at my side. She took my arm petrified and I could feel how a strong smell of neutral soap invaded me, as if she had rubbed herself in it too much.
“Shall we go inside? it's getting cold,” She said, finishing the sentence with a sweet gesture of pleading.
“Emm, shure.” I said.
My trembling hands managed to hit the lock on the 3rd attempt, we entered, turned on the lights and from his backpack she took out a red wine. Our favorite.
“Bring me some glasses, Mauro”. - She said to me as she sat down on the armchair against the window overlooking the gentle hills outside.
She poured wine until he almost filled the ex-cottage cheese glass, looked at me and in a toast gesture said.
“To... Dr. B?”
I slid a little smile and raised my eyebrows. Then I took half a glass in one sip.
“Well!” - She exclaimed, leaning over and resting the glass on the coffee table, and continued.
"You must be very confused, I understand, I saw it many times, the mind trying to adapt to a new, unsuspected reality and in your case all at once. It is not easy. First, make sure that no one is going to hurt you or anyone you know, second, what you read in that file, as you may have noticed, is not intended for public knowledge. Also to tell you”. I couldn't take the stress anymore, I exploded.
“You're not Vale. Who are you?! You're almost identical, but....”
“Ah yes, that one it's a tricky one to explain. Let's try, let's see:
“I'm a version of Valeria that she accidentally gendered when entered the lab. In one of the incubation rooms she touched a scan button that photographs her mind for 48 hours. It contains a micro needle that took her blood and thus generated me.”
“The thing is that we were in a situation of self-destruction of the systems, and that part of the programming code of the protocol was also copied in Valeria's mind.”
“And Valeria? She 's... dead?”
“Well, yes and no. If she tried to leave the base she's probably dead. if she's still there, she's probably frozen to death or killed by the cleanup command, but basically, if I'm here, she's not anymore.”
the coldness with which she answered me made me lose the little calm I had, I got up from the armchair and started to back away with my hands on my head, I couldn't stop repeating,
“this can't be happening, this can't be happening”.
“Hey! Mauro, calm down, it's going to be alright. I'm Valeria too. In every way, I'm still your friend, I know who you are and everything we went through, really, it's me, and when I finish managing the leak, the code, it won't work anymore, it will be erased from my mind and I'll be me. So don't worry. You only have to give me the flash disc and this issue ends here. We go back to normal life and nobody will know about anything.
“I'm not going to pretend that my friend didn't die! Alone, fucking freezing to death, I'm not going to let you take her place, I'm not going to let you!” - She interrupted me.
“Mauro, listen to me” - She came closer to me and grabbed my hands, her big, lined eyes looking at me with sweetness, like so many times before.
“I AM Valeria, I have the same fingerprints, the same blood, the same DNA, the same memories, the same scars, absolutely everything. Are you going to tell my mother that I died? to my sister? Are you going to report me? Nobody is going to believe you at all. If anyone even wants to believe you, how would you prove it? I am an exact copy”. - she told me, smiling with real sweetness and empathy.
I could only cry, for my friend, for the helplessness of the conclusion that she was right. I collapsed on the couch, and watched as the hills swayed in the night.
“Let's have the last glass and I'm leaving.”- she said to me.
“After I give you this, and that part of you disappears, will you remember that you are not... really Valeria?
“No, there is already a simulation on pause about Valeria's last week, she won't remember anything about this situation when she wakes up, because the memory is simply overwritten.”
“So I'm going to be the only one to know about this?”
“Take it as a gift Mauro, a glimpse behind the veil. And if you keep it that way, everything will be fine” - The threatening tone was soft but evident.
“Okay, hand me your PC and the flash drive.”
I looked at her evaluating all possible actions and if this decision was the right one, she stretched out her hand and smiled sympathetically. I gave her the old computer and the black 16G flash drive with the file. She inserted it, typed mechanically fast until the screen went black.
“Perfect, That would be all - She took out the flash drive, threw it on the floor and stepped on it violently with the heel of her shoe, put on his backpack and headed for the door.
“Stop,” I said.
“The things that Dr. B wrote... about the underground…
“Yes, they are true, it was the only way to be self-sustainable and to be able to isolate the complex from the rest of the world. Even the most morally flexible scientists would question the work if they knew where the subjects ended up, and what we were doing with their bodies... Anyway, I'm going home, Lucia called me 5 times already. Talk to you tomorrow.
“Love you,.” - She smiled at me and closed the door behind her. I felt a car slowly drive away from the house.
From my pocket I took out the white flash drive and looked at it. Now I had a decision to make.

21F,PMDD I have a severe TBI so I apologize if this jumps around a bit. TLDR- looking for how to get my hormones tested and to hopefully get on a bc to regulate my PMDD symptoms
Hello all, I started Yaz a few months ago as a form of birth control and as a treatment for my PMDD. The first 2 months were fantastic, suicidal ideation and luteal rage were gone.
I've realized though, in the past few weeks I've been very anhedonic, and lazy. Nothing brings me joy, on a good day I feel on the better side of neutral. I feel blank; no thoughts just a lazy semi anxious irritated.
Everything feels like it takes so much effort for no sense of reward. And I had a constant urge to eat (no hunger, just the urge to stuff my face)
My acne has also been worse too, but it's nothing compared to the crazy water retention I've had in my face and feet.
I've been told I should get a Dutch test but I don't know what doctor could interpret those results or use them to help me make a treatment plan with a medication. Does anyone have any further advice or additional information as to how to proceed with getting my hormonal balanced so I can leave this weight gain/ Sexual dysfunction/ PMDD nightmare behind?

For a preface I don’t remember much about the webcomic or even which site I saw it on. It had an Adam and Eve theme. Okay so here’s all I remember! The story revolves around a girl she wakes up in a blank white empty world! She discovers the dirt under her feet is magical and she’s able to bring any dirt creation she sculpts into life! She sculpts a duck/goose creature it comes to life! She decides to sculpt a humanoid figure during the process a speck of dirt accordingly gets lodged between the legs in the groin and thus she created a male human! I don’t remember the rest except that the goose creature becomes psychotic and attacks and kills another animal she created out of the magical dirt. If this rings a bell in anybody’s head PLEASE report back to me! I wanna revisit this webcomic so bad!

Some low level criminals want to buy some equipment just to make their next job easier. Others want to become a full on supervillain and have the ideas for their suit, but lack the ability to create it themselves. And some established supervillains just want an upgrade to help with their constant battles against the heroes of the world. All of them make their way to an unassuming fix-it shop in New York to employ the genius of the Terrible Tinkerer, who either for cash upfront or a cut of their profits will make whatever they wish. While Phineas Mason may often work in the background, that doesn't stop him from sometimes having to face superheroes himself, with Spider-Man being his most frequent adversary.

Legend

Creations

Notable Supervillain Clients

Suits - Upgrading

• Repaired the Grizzly's suit after he was let out from prison^Web#58
  • The Grizzly RT
• Upgraded Whirlwind's suit with sawblades within an hour of him first arriving^CA-1#324
• Upgraded the suits and/or weapons of the Vulture, Boomerang, Shocker, Beetle, and Whiplash^Sp-2#300
  • Vulture RT
  • Boomerang RT
  • Shocker RT
  • Beetle RT
• Fixes the Scorpion's tail, with it not being as powerful due to the extra modifications he made as requested^AF#79
  • Later modified it to have further offensive abilities^ASM#370
  • Allows him to control his suit using his mouth^IA#2
  • Scorpion RT

Suits - Creating

• Makes a power-enhancing exosuit for Hammerhead^FF#233
  • Hammerhead RT
• Using his client's knowledge, made the Binary Bug suit^MM#11
  • Binary Bug RT
• Creates a new suit for the original Beetle, according to his blueprints^DF#1
• Created suits for Stilt-Man and Blizzard^She#59
  • Stilt-Man RT
  • Blizzard RT
• Made equipment for Clash^CW#3
• Duplicated the Vulture's suit after being sent the plans^NM#86
  • Vulture RT

Weapons

• Made throwing diamonds for Diamondback^CA-1#369
  • Diamondback RT
• Works with Hobgoblin's weapons, recognizing them as Oscorp tech^ASM#651
  • Hobgoblin RT
• Created Stinger's weapons^Av-1#180
  • Stinger RT
• Arcade outsourced at least a claw machine trap to him, if not more, though he refused to pay for the Tinkerer's work^Sp-1#53
  • Arcade RT

Vehicles

• Made Jack O'Lantern's flying platform^She#59
• Created Rocket Racer's equipment, going on the designs they gave him^ASM#182
  • Rocket Racer RT
• Created the original Big Wheel by repurposing another potential client's equipment^ASM#182
  • Big Wheel RT
• Follows given designs to make Goldbug's ship using advanced equipment, noting its intreguing circuitry concepts and that it only had enough fuel for a couple hours as designed^IH#238
  • Goldbug RT

Other

• S.H.I.E.L.D. has intelligence that he worked on equipment for Jester, Scorcher, and Grim Reaper^SW#1
  • Scorcher RT
  • Grim Reaper RT
• Initially worked with Mysterio, though it's unclear how much gear he made for him^Sp-1#51
• Has a working relationship with the Trapster, though it's unclear if he made any of his equipment^CA-1#324
  • Trapster RT
• Has also done work for the Enclave^DMH and the Maggia

Weaponry

Exo-Suit

• A tank-like suit of armour activated through a watch-like device on his wrist, which Phineas floats in the middle of^Sp-2#3
• Grabs Spider-Man and shoves him through the ceiling^Sp-2#4
• Grabs and throws cars^Sp-2#4
• Drives out of a high floor of a building, crashing to the ground without damage^Sp-2#4
• Fires an explosive projectile^Sp-2#4
• Creates a holographic decoy of Phineas while the real Tinkerer escapes^Sp-2#4

Other Mechs / Mech Suits

• Created a robotic suit which he used to pretend to be his own brother as he fixed gear for superheroes^Sp-2#299
  • This suit is bulletproof and can change into a larger combat form, bursting through a wall and cratering the following one^Sp-2#300
  • This combat form is undamaged from having a car thrown on it by Spider-Man^Sp-2#300
  • Appears to shock Spider-Man or otherwise force him back, allowing the Tinkerer to escape^Sp-2#300
• Modified a giant Spider-Slayer for his purposes, which he dubs the Hero-Slayer^Sp-2#299
  • Slams Spider-Man into the ground, damaging it^Sp-2#299
  • Deactivates Vision as well as Falcon's, Black Panther's, and Ironheart's suits. While he had been fixing superheroes suits for a period, with Falcon explicitly being shown, he never touched Ironheart's armour, meaning while this may have been partially planning ahead there was also a general kill order released by the Hero-Slayer^Sp-2#299
• Uses a mech suit that seemingly grows back an arm that Spider-Man tears off, though it's unclear if he made it or the robotic species he was on the ship of at the time^Sp-2#306
  • Takes a punch from Spider-Man which sends him flying back before growing tendrils from its back to grab the superhero^Sp-2#306
  • Releases a unibeam from its chest, breaking a metal wall^Sp-2#306
• Gives a person a wingsuit to fly with as well as two energy pistols^Sp-2#3
  • Shoots electric bolts to take people out^Sp-2#3
  • Shoots Tinkerer's Exo-Suit, freezing its arm over^Sp-2#4
• Created exo-suits that people wear while Scorpion's testing out his new tail^ASM#370

Other

• Makes a beam weapon which could kill a normal person (though it only stuns Spider-Man) and another which destroys a machine's control panel^ASM#2
  • Finishes destroying a robot which had just been fighting Luke Cage^Cage#13
  • Destroys his robot assistant Toy, which Spider-Man described as being virtually invulnerable outside of certain stress points^Sp-1#53
  • Implied to have caused the destruction on a street, including breaking and overturning cars^IA#2
• Energy cannons which can fell trees with their shots^Av-2#27
• A gauntlet which shoots energy beams^CA-2#6
• Gave his son micro-bombs^Rick
• A mine which creates an iono-magnetic wave in an area, momentarily stopping vehicles and knocking people out for several hours^Snap
• Made 'tech-enabled trick arrows' for Hawkeye^Sp-2#300
• Used a jack-in-the-box to spray gas on a person who triggered it, which causes a woman to see everyone as a living toy^Sp-1#53
• Created a claw machine death trap which he used against Spider-Man^Sp-1#53
• Creates an add-on which uses phantom electrons to allow certain weapons to fire at double or triple speed^ASM#310

Robots

• Made a robot assistant named Toy who could lift the Spider-Mobile's engine with one hand^ASM#159
  • Tosses Spider-Man with one hand before getting punched back, having a brick wall crumble on top of him^ASM#160
  • Turns his head before Spider-Man's web-shooters hit it at point-blank range, is described as being as far above Spider-Man's strength as the hero's strength is above the Tinkerer's, and is said by Spider-Man to be virtually invulnerable outside of certain stress points^Sp-1#53
  • Used a propeller backpack to fly away without need for an external power source^Sp-1#53
• Made a robot which could fight Luke Cage while mimicking other villain's powers, setting fire to itself and releasing a thick tendril of wires from its arm^Cage#13
  • Releases a fire beam to send Luke Cage flying back before being largely unaffected by a car's explosion^Cage#13
  • Sprouts a tail like Scorpion's which fires a beam^Cage#13
• Made a robot which sprays acid to take down buildings, using this to burn through bedrock and escape^Cable#65
  • Topples a building through its acid on its foundations^Cable#65
  • No-sells a dropkick from Cable^Cable#65
• Creates a giant robot named the Alternator Bug-Bot, which can grow to three times its size, strike Thor away hard enough to break the top off a clock tower, and be deactivated through a control room in its head^DC#1
  • Quickly grows a hammer in place of its severed arm, using it to tear into the ground^DC#1
  • Turns into a small car^DC#1
• Invents androids to act as armed guards^Web#79
• Glass automatons which punch Wolverine down a road, knocking a taxi into the air^WA
• Army toys which fired actual ammunition, one shot blowing chunks off a brick wall^Sp-1#53
• Used a toy zeppelin to let off a flare, blinding Spider-Man^Sp-1

Transport

Spider-Mobile

• Repaired Spider-Man's lost Spider-Mobile^ASM#159
• Uses a web cannon to catch a falling Spider-Man, bundle him up, and yank him into the back seat^ASM#160
• Fires two web lines to make a bridge between buildings^ASM#160
• Can drive up walls^ASM#160
• It could be remote controlled^ASM#160
• He's said to have installed an autopilot in it, with Spider-Man using it at a later date to run into Hobgoblin^AR#1

Other

• Created a tank which blows a hole in a jail wall with a blast and rams into the Hulk hard enough to break him through a brick wall^IH#208
• Rocket boots^Sp-2#300
• Modified his wheelchair to handle stairs^WJ#16
  • Can also be rocket propelled^IM#7
• Constructs a teleportation device^DMH

Bases

• Has what Whirlwind believes is a scanner before dropping a client into his lair^CA-1#324
• Protects a base with electronic bolas, which release on a verbal command^NM#86
• Had approximately 250 weapons trained on a person from the moment they walked into a warehouse which could be triggers from two blinks in his left eye^CA-1#425
• A dome made of resisto-glass which traps Spider-Man inside before sucking all the air out^ASM#2

Other Wearables

• While in an interrogation room, his glasses hack Ironheart's suit after she removed its AI, allowing him to control it completely^Sp-2#306
• Power gloves which allows a person to telekinetically carry an ATM^Snap
• Used a waist-bound device to disguise his appearance^D#4
  • The device in use, where he also says it would be damaged by the rain^D#2
• Made earrings that interact with the wearer's inner ear to act as 'balance compensators', allowing Black Cat can always land on her feet^ASM#370
• Mass produces badges based on what Doctor Octopus discovered in Spider-Man's trackers^YO#4 which overload his spider-sense when activated^YO#5

Other

• His son uses gear the Tinkerer made to survive a large explosion with only two seconds notice^Ms#37
• An energy blade which he uses while gardening^D#4
• Installs spy cameras in radios while fixing them^ASM#2
  • These could be remotely destroyed all at once^ASM#2
• Sells a supervillain surveillance equipment and traps for their base^CA-1#385
• Uses a device to open a metal gas-filled canister containing Nitro^NM#86
• Used a device to unlock a door^D#4
• Gives Black Cat audio implants which allows her to hear distant whispers^Web#84
• Makes a pacemaker-like device out of carbonadium to keep a person encased with adamantium alive^WO#15
• A pocket-sized device which turns someone invisible for two minutes^Ms#33
• Invented a gas which prevented Spider-Man from wall-crawling or using his web-shooters^ASM#160
  • These work by clogging his pores and web-shooters^ASM#160
  • The effect wears off after a period^ASM#160
• Creates a device which removes Spider-Man's powers^ASM#341
  • The device was intended to only incapacitate Spider-Man for a period, and only supresses his powers with them returning on him using the device on himself again^ASM#343
• Creates a mind-control device which affects a large amount of college students at once^SVU#18
• Invented a device which allows Ghost to use his powers over a cellular network, arriving anywhere he calls a phone at^IM#21
• Hacked Starktech phones to make them untraceable and gave them to criminals around the world, with each one holding a unique AI to attract an alien species which judges civilizations depending on how they treat their AI^Sp-2#300
  • Starktech phones are meant to be unhackable, with Ironheart being the only other one to have done so^Sp-2#2
  • Ironheart is unable to trace any hacked phones, despite having one to work with, though she can track the environments around the phones^Sp-2#2
• Created a non-obtrusive waterproofing agent which functions as realistic looking skin for robots^UG#9

Other

Repairs

• Identifies Spider-Man's new web mode was hindering his web-shooters' performance, giving them a clear coating to fix the issue^Sp-2#1
• Fixed Falcon's wings and repairs Scott Lang's helmet when it wouldn't allow him to grow back to full height, setting his 'base' height to one inch taller than normal^Sp-2#1
• Fixes a device which disguises the wearer as another person, though it can't be worn in the rain without breaking^D#2
• Quickly repairs a wingsuit while he and its wearer are falling from a great height^Sp-2#5
• Is shown to have done repairs for and potentially upgraded the equipment of a number of heroes while in disguise, including Vision and Black Panther, having also put in a kill command he later uses. However, as Ironheart hasn't interacted with him before, it's possible that these specific heroes were just caught in a general kill command released by his mech^Sp-2#299
• Repairs Reed Richard's transporter to bring the building they were in back from the Negative Zone^SI#3

Other Business Offerings

• Sometimes buys in equipment as opposed to making it himself, doing so with Super-Patriot's Captain America shield^CA-1#425
• Runs a respected auction for supervillains, selling reputable gear^MK#6
• Forges an identity for the Gibbon^WJ#16
• Bonded adamantium to Cyber's skin^WO#14
• Grafts portions of the Muramasa blade into Daken's arms, using Adamantium sheathes to account for their anti-biological effects^WO#36

Business Attitude

• Has a code phrase to determine if a customer is there for his villainous dealings, and accepts both cash and a cut of any resulting profits^ASM#183
• Provides his customers with a warranty and care instructions for their new equipment^CA-1#324
• Checks his client's bank accounts to tell how much they can afford^Web#58
• Is sometimes willing to sell gear allowing criminals to use a specific villain's moniker, such as Stilt-Man^WJ#26
• Will sabotage his own creations if he feels that his client will attempt to blackmail him into giving them over before full payment is received^ASM#310

Other

• Vulture is able to identify he's the one who recreated his wings based on the liberties taken in its construction^NM#84
• Recognizes Spider-Man's tracking device on sight^Sp-1#53
• Understands how Nitro died after he disintegrated while fighting a mutant^NM#86
• Isn't intimidated by Wolverine^WO#15
• Wore a mask to hide his true identity in his initial appearance^ASM#2
• Isn't Spider-Man's archenemy, but is "on the top of (his) thwip-list"^Sp-2#1
• Is anti-mutant^UG#9

IN THESE STREETS SLOWED AND REVERB

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UYJZJEYiWbY
in these streets
lord protect me in these streets
stay woke in these streets
jeezy church in these streets songs
in these streets lyrics
in these streets meaning
jeezy church in these streets
walking in my joy in these streets
deep in these streets kodak
bus in these streets
in these streets song
in the street art
asmita in these streets real name
ashanti in these streets
ain't no love in these streets lyrics
ain't no love in these streets ishowspeed
a secret in these streets
it ain't safe in these streets
these streets are very famous in french
on the street background
on the street band
on the street book
on the street bar
in the back street
in the baker street
in the bourbon street
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This review is NOT related to recent community Drama with Sony sign-ups etc. This is a rant but a collection of moans of bugs.
Being a working father I have limited time for games and I can say the last few months through all the drama I've enjoyed playing this game.
I've been playing this game from launch and have near 400 hours into the game and currently sitting on level 88. I often play level 7 missions with Randoms to help out as I like the fantasy of being able to drop in and support lower level players (yes somehow I regularly find level 5-13 players doing level 7 missions) and help them get accustomed to the game. I tend to play level 9 helldives with my friends a few times a week as its more fun with a co-ordinated group.
The game was great. The game was fun. The game respected players time. The game gave a fun challenge. The game provided a power fantasy.
The game has gone from being Fantastic to gradually worse and worse quality. There were bugs and smaller issues, but they have been mounting over time and detracting from the fun and entertainment of the game.
The game design at this point feels as though there is little respect for the players time. The amount of issues in the game while alot of them are "small" issues have been creeping and growing in scope.

• EVAC points not spawning at the end of games.
• Players unable to respawn randomly and must either sit on their hands or abandon the game and their progress.
• Consistent weapon nerfs some of them make sense but I'll echo the sentiment that far too many primary weapons are just nerfed into the ground.
  
• The value of the battle passes seems to have diminished from having a small handful of useful items to the latest battlepass not being worth it. 1000 Super credits of £8 and there is nothing in this latest battlepass that stands out as a "great" or must-have or even a nice item. The weapons and grenades are all terrible and either broken and missing their extra effects or have been nerfed since the release/traileteaser video.
  
• Bile Titan corpses are an absolute hazard to get near as there appears to be several issues which result in collision issues around the body and can either block your movement, cause rubber banding like lag effects, or even catapult you to the opposite end of the map and kill you.
  
• Fighting bots seems to still suffer from the same issue of hive-mind mentality in which bots can see and engage you from extreme distances accurately or even in conditions where it would be impossible to see the targets. Being tracked by rocket devestators behind a small mountain to have them accurately fire at you once out of cover sucks my enjoyment away from fighting bots.
  
• Auto Cannon Sentry's have a tendency to prefer smaller targets to larger targets, often performing a 180 degree turn to engage a smaller target further away (75meters +) than larger and closer targets (50 meters).
  
• The Scythe rifle is practically useless at this stage now thanks to the nerfs.
  
• Tesla weapons are massively inconsistent with the application and registration of damage, firing point blank into a large group of scavengers or regular bots results in no kills regardless of range, to randomly hit and arc onto multiple targets killing them, however this is less the case and is a rarity.
  
• The Walker with rocket pods and minigun is practically useless at this point in the game with two deployments and an excessively long cooldown time. Rockets which were a rare resource now fire off-centre and do not fly to where the reticle aims but rather "somewhere near it"
  
• There are so many primary weapons which are simply trash and not worth bringing on a mission and will prove a detriment as all primary weapons have been nerfed over time or were never fit for purpose. The only viable weapons at this point in the game are flame based weapons applying Damage over time which are the real damage dealers until fire damage is "corrected"
  
• The Spear is extremely frustrating as the entire strategem is deemed useless if there is a rock, bush, box or blade of grass in the same post code as your enemy.
  

There is no sense of role-play for your character. While I appreciate not having classes, there is no way to roleplay as a particular role - Want to be a heavy weapons specialist taking out heavy enemies. Well too bad as the only thing that will do damage to those are Disposable rockets, Rocket backpack or the Quasar cannon with a long cooldown. Well have fun scrambling for a moment to reload as you'll just be running away 90% of the time hoping to find 2-3 seconds to reload your weapon or get help from a team reload.

• Want to play a stealthy sniper ? Well that is ruined as all "sniper" like weapons have been nerfed into the floor with their armor penetration meaning next to nothing and the hive mind mentality of 1 guy finding you EVERYONE on the map knows where you are now. Oh you were laying down prone, in the snow, during a blizzard and 40-50 meters away from an enemy ? Nope doesn't matter they'll all still see you and target you. You happen to not be detected and are on a bot planet ? Guess what Flying aircraft will spawn knowing your position along with the artillery base, both of which will actively fire and fly towards you.

The game is a simple grind of - Land - Call down supplies / Fight off enemy waves as 1-3 patrols happened to intersect where you dropped despite the map saying that area was clear of enemies. - Hit Multiple objectives / Suddenly find yourself facing the BIGGEST onslaught of enemy waves and patrols. - Extract : Somewhere between quietest and most relaxed extract to -> The longest continual onslaught of enemies with constant high level enemy troops being dropped ontop of you sometimes with 4-13 Bile Titans / Tanks or Hulks spawning.
The Spawn system has improved and minimized the cases of having enemy patrols spawn RIGHT INFRONT OF ME OR ONTOP OF ME, however I still run into a frustration of looking over an area, making sure its clear, doing a 360 turn within 5 seconds only to find that somehow in the vast open field that I observed with unobstructed field of view for 150+ meters there are now several HEAVY patrols in my path.
Playing a level 7,8 or 9 Defence missions and having the 2nd and third gate closed and suddenly a bug breach spawns on the last game with not 1, not 2 but 3 Bile Titans all coming out of the ground with several chargers to spare aftewhile dealing with the 7 bile titans at the first game is just plain stupid. At that point I might as well leave the mission as somehow the elevation of the stairs makes them immune to the 500kg bombs landing right at their feet.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a challenge and I've loved having the "oh sh*t" moments in the game, it was fantastic, but to play and do everything right, have a plan, work together and use your equipment to see it do nothing, what is the point then?
The game is starting to feel like your playing pretend super heros / soldiers with that one kid who says "oh no I've got a super bullet proof shield and bomb proof and everything proof" it just leaves you deflated and makes you not want to play.
The game is now a grind. The game is frustrating with its growing issues. (Death by a Thousand paper cuts) The game does not feel like it respects the players time anymore.
There is a fun game in here, and I keep seeing glimpses of it now and then, but my word is it hard to stand it now.
I don't feel like I have respect for the game anymore.

My son graduates HS today. He thinks he's all grown up, but.. You know those "free hug" coupons kids give their parents when they were little? I bought him a blank one from Amazon and trying to fill it. (30 pages/coupons). Even though he will still be living with his mom until he lands in his feet, I'm gearing it for when he is on his own and a "big boy". So far I have: Full shopping cart from grocery store. Advice (unlimited). Listen without giving advice (limit one). One month rent if he falls behind. Unlimited meals at my house. Room at my house forever. Ice cream for him and his sister (unlimited). And of course, free hugs. I'm running out is ideas! Please help come up with other ideas to complete the book! Thanks!

I'm from a relatively small town on the border of Myanmar and China. Lush green mountains surround us on all sides and most people have lived their whole life here. I always saw it as a peaceful farming town, one of thousands like it all over China.
Nothing really special about it looking from the outside in but those who lived here long enough hear whispers of a ghost town.
It doesn't exist on any map, and goes by many names, Hei Shi, Gui Dong, and of course Hei An. Legends say its a town full of cannibals that pick off anyone who gets too close, some say its just an endless field of graves that never lets you leave, and others say its home to the gates to Hell.
They could all be real or all could be fake. Very few people are willing to talk about it but I know one thing.
Hei An exists.
A few years ago I started a job working with the newly built railway station. We have one high speed rail that connects us to the rest of the country and it only has a few stops a day. My job is just making sure people don't wander off where they aren’t supposed to go but one day I was asked to work the night shift next week.
The person who worked the night shift before recently retired and they haven't found anyone to replace him yet. Probably due to not looking if i'm honest. We aren't a large city but people still need work, and this job is pretty cushy.
At the time, I had no reservations about taking up the night shift as it's basically playing your phone and making sure no one breaks in or so I thought.
I arrived for my normal shift around 8 in the morning. It was pretty empty minus a handful of people. A teller who sold the tickets, a younger female coworker who works the metal detector. Lets call her Sandy, and a few passengers waiting on the last train. Some of them seemed familiar but I can't say I know them.
"Hey Sandy, anyone give you any trouble?" I asked half joking
"Same old same old."
"How many chickens did they try to snuck aboard today?"
"Too many," she said, putting her hands to her temples.
For those who aren't familiar with the railway system, certain things aren't allowed to be carried on to the train. Some obvious stuff like knives, explosives, chemicals, and live animals. Though people tend to overlook the live animal part.
To be honest the chickens are probably less troublesome than most children..But rules are rules.
The first thirty minutes of my shift were uneventful till I saw this scruffy guy with a thin leather jacket and a small travel suitcase approach the security desk.
I didn't see him when I walked in and before I could see what he wanted, he swerved and went to the center of the station.
He stared up at the list of departures. A large electronic board over the entrance to the platform where people can see to check for updates. He stood there for several minutes, eyes never looking away from the board.
"Can I help you sir ?" I asked him.
no response.
I stood there a moment before waving my hand in front of his face.
He didn't react.
It was like he was in a trance. I wasn't sure what to do, if this was some kinda stroke or a mentally ill individual?
I put my hand on his shoulder.
Then he started screaming. His face beet red as I stepped back.
"Sir? Sir?! Calm down!".
He didn't even look at me as he tried to rip out one of the chairs bolted to the ground. His screams were incoherent and his movements frantic.
I looked over at Sandy who was on the phone with the police.
"Sir! Sir! Calm down so I can help you."
His blood red eyes looked at made, and he whispered one word
"Hei An"
before bolting and jumping the turnstile out onto the train platform.
"Sir?!" I went out to follow him but he vanished. He wasn't on the tracks, we only had two of them. No train had arrived, it's possible he ran off into the mountains that surrounded the station but he would have to run faster than the train for me not to see where he went.
"Is he gone?" Sandy asked me as I came in.
"I don't see him anywhere"
Sandy went back to talking to the police, and basically what they said was that due to the attack on the Kunming station a few years ago, they advised us to evacuate do to the possibility of a planted bomb and abandoned luggage.
We did just that.
For three days no trains stopped by our local station. They did a sweep of the building, the nearby tracks, woods, and found nothing. The luggage left behind, from what I heard, was just clothes and other normal things.
That kinda makes sense as it was able to get through the scanner but I also wouldn't be surprised if some details were left out. He was definitely mentally unsound, and I even told the state police that.
One weird thing that got me suspicious is when I mentioned he said HeiAn they turned to look at each other like they heard that before. I might be looking at things too deeply, one case in a billion and it just happened here. A not mentally sound individual spooked even more out of his mind by a local ghost story.
Nothing I needed to worry about. Nothing I get paid to worry about.
Things went on as normal and eventually I was scheduled for the night shift.
When I say no one was there, I mean no one. The front door wasn't locked and all the lights were on. The list of departures was empty so it was made since no one was waiting but at least someone who works here can stay so I can come and lock up. Hesh. The younger generation.
I locked up and made my rounds, patrolled around the platform and nothing. It all looked pretty normal lit only by flashlight on a cold windy night. Deep down I felt a sense of uncertainty, maybe even a hint of dread.
Toughing it out and quickly returning inside to see that it was just as empty as before.
A few hours passed and I started to feel at ease. I was just being silly, even if that guy came back. He Is just a man and I'm behind a locked door with a direct line to the police.
I chuckled at myself, I'm a grown man. I can handle myself.
As I told myself those very words the lights flickered. I was in near total darkness for just seconds but the ease I once felt washed away.
When the lights came back on I noticed an arrangement of flowers at the security desk. I walked a few steps forward and swore I heard for a brief moment the echoing laughter of children behind me.
No one was there.
The flowers were still sitting on the desk with a message attached. The message was in Mandarin for obvious reasons, but it was basically a love note addressed to someone I will call Lisa. I don't know any Lisa, and nobody who works here has that name.
The lights flickered three times before turning off completely. My flashlight refuses to turn on leaving me with only the dim moonlight coming through station windows.
Dead silence till a familiar click sounds. The bulletin board of departures and arrivals came back to life with only one city listed in bright red
HeiAn.
The board began to glitch and the words darted across the screen and broke apart. I just stared at it clutching the bouquet in my hands.
The sliding doors to the platform opened by themselves as a distorted voice came over the PA. I couldn't really understand what it said but I heard it. The sounds of the train pulling into the station.
I wasn't sure if I was just losing my mind or stuck in a nightmare I can't wake up from.
The front door slammed open and through the murky darkness I saw several shadowy figures by the door. They poured in one by one like they were waiting in line.
I stood frozen as I watched them shuffle by as if they were undisturbed by my presence. They looked like rotting corpses up close with tattered clothes and blank white eyes.
Almost didn't notice the hand on my shoulder.
I didn't look back. His grip tighten and a deep voice said
"Ticket?"
"huh?"
"Ticket, sir. Where's your ticket?"
I turned to face him. He looked almost normal, a young man in an old train station uniform. His skin was a pale white and his eyes unblinking as he waited for my response.
"I...I don't have a ticket"
His smile stared to waver as he asked "You don't have a ticket?"
"Yeah, I just work here..."
His eyes filled with rage as the skin around his eyes, once smooth, had dozens of crows feet and wrinkles.
"WHY ARE YOU EVER HERE?!" His voice boomed throughout the station.
"I..I work..."
He cut me off "Security!".
From over the door but one, giant jet black dogs with bloodshot eyes came out and snarled. A blood red liquid dripping from their mouths.
"We don't like dead weight here," the man said.
Before I could say anything he whistled and the hounds went loose trembling the walking corpses in their way.
I booked for the only exit. The train platform with the black as night bullet train. It has red stained windows and went on forever in both directions. The doors were open but I ran down the platform hoping to lose these hounds in the mountains.
One hound stood between me and the end of the platform staring me down as the rest ran closer and closer from behind me.
"Train now leaving for..." followed by a ding sound as the door to my right started to close.
I throw my hand in the door to hold it open just enough to squeeze my fat self through without being ripped to shreds. The door quickly slid on the hound's mouth.
The whispering sound it made almost made me feel sorry for it as it fell off from the train.
The train car was filled with empty seats and It was indistinguishable from a normal one. Except, the door leading to the car had a cartoonishly large lock and chain wrapped around it.
"Clearly not going that way" I murmured to myself.
Luckily, the.door to the previous car was wide open.
Peering my head through only to see nothing but another empty car but the door on the opposite side was open.
Slowly walking down the aisle like tip toeing over egg shells. I expected the worse but I found nothing.
one idea managed to creep into my mind.
"Is it endless?"
No... No. I couldn't panic if I start to panic, everything will get worse.
I took a seat as I clutched the bouquet in my hands.
One deep breath, two deep breaths, and three deep breaths as I listened to the shuffling of the train.
I pulled out my cell phone but it wouldn't turn on, neither would my radio. Panic creeped on the edges of my mind but I pushed it back.
Someone must be controlling the train. I couldn't decide if finding the person was suicide or not considering what happened at the station but waiting for whatever happens at HeiAn didn't sound much better.
I tried to get up from my seat but something was pulling at my arm.
the train was engulfed in darkness as a hand came over my mouth.
Struggling was no use as I felt like a fly trapped in a web. A whispering murmur played in my ear.
"sssshhhh".
I stopped and saw red glowing eyes from the window. one pair of eyes quickly became two, four, and then dozens in every window.
"Don't look at them" I heard in a whispering voice.
The windows started to flex with their high pitch shrieks and wails. Sounds that left a scar on my conscience. Sometimes when I close my eyes I still see their piercing red eyes and their shrieks echoing in my head.
When it finally stopped I didn't notice. I heard nothing but them and saw nothing but total darkness clamping around me. Felt like death, maybe even worse than that.
"When did the lights come on?" I asked over a mumbling murmur.
A hand grabbed mine, firmly squeezing. "They are gone now."
"Gone" I repeated as the world around me started to lose its haze.
Sitting in the sit right next to mine was a woman in her early 20s. Incredibly pale, and almost paper thin.
"What were those things?"
Her eyes drifted down from my face to my chest.
"Those are lovely flowers," she said.
"Thanks, but what the hell are those, The HellHounds?"
She looked back up at my face "HellHounds?"
"HellHounds, like demon dogs, dogs from Hell..."
she nodded but her eyes fell back down to the flowers. "Where did you get such lovely flowers?"
"They aren't mine."I said while giving her the bouquet with the card.
She started reading silently to herself. I got to stretch my legs and peer down the empty corridor. Nothing but seemingly endless trains cars.
Looking back at the woman from before I saw that she was crying.
"Are you all.." she sprung up out of her sit and ducked under my arm running down the corridor. She said something through the tears that I didn't hear.
"..Wait" I called out, chasing the only somewhat sane person who knew anything about this place. No matter how fast I ran, the distance between us only lengthened. a few feet away quickly became dozens till she was outta my view completely. Almost like she dropped under the horizon all at once. I ran and ran but never caught up exhausting myself till I sat on a new row of sits.
Panting, and completely out of breath. "the only person that seemed... to know anything about anything gone into the wind"
The train cars disappeared off into the horizon. It was pitch black outside and I couldn't see even a couple of inches in front of my face like I was swallowed into a void.
Those train cars are truly endless, my watch is stuck at 2：13 AM so, I don't know how many hours I walked. I might as well just stand in place. Dehydration would probably kill me in 2 or 3 days if this goes on. I would rather take my chances jumping from a 400 kph train than to die like that. Quick and painless, though my mom always said I was stubborn and that quality of ours kept me going.
All the train car lights started to flicker as the train slowed to complete halt. Taking my chances I tried to pull open the train door but it didn't budge. I was so focused on opening the door that I didn't realize the lights were.off till a pair of red glowing eyes peered back at me.
A loud frenzy of screeches followed as hundreds of red eyes peered through the window. I was too afraid to breathe, let alone move.
The sound of cracking glass echoed from behind me.
"Shit"
They burst through flooding into the room and I never ran faster.
I felt their breath on my neck and their claws at my heels. Never looked back a single time but saw thousands trying to break the windows I ran past. And then my worst fear. A dead end.
"What, how?" It's like the end of a train car just appeared in front of me.
They were at every window and quickly swarming down the passage.
No escape.
I turned around.
These things, I saw them but I can't really describe them. My eyes didn't understand what they were looking at.
Readying my fists as a blinding light lit up the entirety of the train car. I couldn't see anything but I heard them wrath in pain with the clattering of their feet scurrying off.
When my eyes readjusted it was as if they vanished into thin air. All the broken windows were good as new, and no broken glass. The only proof they were here at all was a nasty gnash on my arm. Must have gotten me when I wasn't looking, but at least it wasn't my throat.
I wandered.forward till a hand gripped my shoulder.
"Are you okay?"
When I saw the women.from before I had a mix of spiraling relief,and anger
"Your arm?" she asked
She banadged me up as we sat together in silence. I had a million questions but I couldn't ask them, I guess it was the shock.of what I just went through.
"All done"
I pulled my arm back examining the bandages.
"You're really good at this," I told her.
”I should be, I'm a nurse"
"A train nurse?"
"Certified and everything" she replied, not hearing my dumb question.
I looked at her, really looked at her. Flowers clutched in her hands and not a speck of dirt or wrinkle on her clothes. She looked like she had just left home and got on the train just a few moments ago.
"How long have you been on this train?"
She looked back at me as if she was lost in thought. A few seconds passed before she leaned back and sat forward.
"Do you have a working phone or anything?"
She didn't answer.
"Hey, I just realized I don't know your name. Mine is Tobey. You?"
Her face lit up as she looked at me. "My name is Lisa"
"Well, Lisa...Something about this train isn't right, Lisa. I think we better find a way off but I need your help to do that."
"Okay", she says as the scent of flowers hit my nose.
"Lisa? Like the name on the card?"
"Yeah my boyfriend sent this to me, I guess he really does care. Thank you for delivering them, I was so...Like lost before."
"umm..Yeah no problem. Now we need..."
A familiar ringing sound echoed throughout the room.
"Next stop: Hei An"
At this point I forgot this train ever had an original destination at all. Wasn't sure to stay on the train or risk getting off into what could possibly be Hell on Earth.
Lisa's face was one of muted dread. "Should we hide?"
Hide? I thought. The only place I could think to hide is under the seats and no way am I fitting in 6 inches of space in the most obvious spot ever.
"Where?"
"Anywhere."
I refrained myself from any sarcastic retort as the train speed indicator began to descend.
I ducked behind the row of seats in front of me and Lisa soon crouched beside me. I almost told her maybe she should hide.behind a different row but having another person next to me give me comfort. Probably a false comfort.
The speed of the train dropped and dropped till leveling off at 70 kmh. Everything was silent, even the rustling of the train was barely a whisper. My heart didn't dare beat too loudly.
The silence was soon broken by a slapping sound from the train cars ahead of ours. I couldn't quite place it till Lisa said "Is that footsteps?"
They became louder and louder.till they were almost deafening then it just stopped.
A voice boomed from the front of the car.
"Tobey, it's your stop."
"How did he know my name?" I thought I tried to peek between the seats.
"Tobey, Tobey, Tobey... It's your time to go." smacking the top of a seat with a baton. "You've been marked, and they're waiting."
What's he talking about? Whatever, it was. I bet I rather not find out and with him checking every aisle we did the only thing we could.
Run.
Lisa was the first to burst into a full sprint right behind me. I heard him grumble but I couldn't make any of it out.
We ran and I kept checking behind but he wasn't chasing. Distance just gave comfort. A false comfort.
Lisa screamed and my head snapped back to look ahead. He was standing in the doorway in front of us.
"You can't run away"
The slamming of the door behind us cemented that fact.
"Who are you?" I asked.
He took a few menacing steps forward "The conductor, and my job is too remove the vermin like you"
A few moments of silence "Then talk us home, no way we are going to HeiAn."
His covered his eyes before slamming his heavy baton into the seat several times
"You can't go back!"
He took a few steps forward and he swung at us just missing my head.
Before I knew it his hand gripped around my wrist dragging me closer to the open door. No matter how I struggled he didn't slow down.
Lisa sprung up and kicked him in the back of his knee causing him to let go of both himself and his baton while falling out of the train car.
Lisa extended a hand while another hand gripped around the door frame. Without a second to spare, I bashed the conductor’s head in with his own baton dropping him out of the quickly closing door. He ran alongside the train pounding on the door but it was futile and then he was gone.
Not knowing what to do next and exhausted I took a seat and looked over at Lisa. Her exhausted face lost quickly to my blurring vision.
Everything went dark.
The chirping of birds stirred me awake and my eyes opened to the blue cloud patchy skies.
“Where am I?” I said as I stood up. I was alone and a few dozen feet from the tracks surrounded by empty fields.
With the warmth of sunlight on my skin “I made it back.”
Editor’s note:
I did some research and found out that there was a body found on the tracks on the opposite side of the country. A woman clutching a bouquet of flowers, her name was Lisa Chen.
The article was dated 2021.
I don’t know what to make of this. I couldn’t find any other article and my head has been hurting all day since I got home.
If you can share anything you find about her, I appreciate it and thank you all for hearing me out. I've been feeling tired all day, it's probably nothing but I’m gonna go to the doctor’s tomorrow.

It was exactly two weeks ago when my slight concerns evolved into genuine fear. I remember restlessly lying in bed, whimpering and crying, contemplating whom to blame for my senseless suffering. Despite the fact that it was my fourth consecutive night spent completely awake, I refused to fall asleep. Despite the fact that my body was literally breaking apart, I refused to fall asleep. Despite my itching eyes, despite my pulsing headache, despite my burning muscles, I refused to fall asleep.
The world seemed so incredibly cruel. I begged and pleaded, but nobody answered my calls. I felt like one of those spoiled kids in the supermarket, rolling around on the dirty floor. Only for me, there was no exhausted mother who would sooner or later cave in. My mother was destiny or God or whoever else chose to ignore my prayers.
I crashed back into my mattress, slowly descending into this trancelike state of consciousness, not quite awake but light-years away from actually drifting off. Until the sun let out its heinous laugh and reminded me that there was more pain to bear.
The next day was even worse. My vision was hazy. Points of light constantly lit up and disappeared again. The continuous sound of rustling leaves accompanied the noise of blabbering coworkers and concerned friends. Time flew by but remained still. Memories escaped my grasp like salmon in a roaming river. I was starving, dying, unable to reach for the food that sat right in front of my gaping maw.
Just let me sleep.
Day turned into night. And just like before, my soul refused to rest. I was at my wit's end. I felt death looming in the shadows and would have given everything to make the world come to an infinite halt. In a last desperate attempt, I decided to take drastic measures. If my body was unwilling to listen to me, I would force it to.
I took about eighty milligrams of doxepin and passed out shortly after.
The first things I noticed upon waking up were a raging headache and the cold air brushing against my skin. Still feeling drowsy and disoriented, I aimlessly walked through the unknown street I somehow woke up on. The millions of unanswered questions in my head slowly freed me from the pill's remaining chains. I distinctly remembered falling asleep on my couch. Yet, I ended up stumbling around a part of town that was more than ten miles away from my apartment.
During these moments of pure shame and confusion, the picturesque scenery in front of my eyes felt like utter hell. The fact that I apparently had no control over my body's actions struck me to my core. In a time where I believed to have peacefully slumbered off, I instead chose... chose to... chose to do... what exactly?
While waiting for the subway, a thought, as sharp as the blade of a guillotine, hovered over my head.
I could have killed someone today. I wouldn't even know.
When I came back, the sight that revealed itself upon opening the door seemed to confirm all of my darkest premonitions. Multiple vases and bowls lay shattered on the ground. My shelves and drawers were left opened and unorganized, cutlery and plates carelessly thrown onto the floor. Nothing stood where it once was placed. It looked like a tornado stormed through my home while I was gone. But a tiny part of me, carefully hidden away from logic and rationality, knew the real cause of the havoc.
It was me. I did that.
I frantically paced around my apartment, frightened of phenomena I couldn't comprehend. And again, this tiny but persistent whisper sounded:
I could have killed someone today. I wouldn't even know.
The second time I knocked myself out, I only really did it to soothe my paranoia-infested mind. I needed safety and control. I needed to know the extent of my damage. I needed to understand the being that mysteriously managed to hide from my memories.
I set up various video recordings and took my pills. In my last waking moments, I remember the sweat dripping down my hands and this deep sense of unease creeping up my spine. It was already too late.
As the view of my dirty gray carpet greeted me in the morning, a huge wave of relief washed over me. It was as if the sun learned to shine again, instantly covering my past incident in a different light. I didn't hurt people. I didn't kill people. I simply walked out of the house and somehow forgot about it.
I took a deep breath, believing at least one of my worries to have disappeared. When a stinging pain in my knuckles fired through my body and decimated my newfound hope. I let out a small wince of pain. Still feeling the high of my easement, I at first just stared at my bruised-up fingers as if they were mere hallucinations. Rows of sausages, maybe. Sausages, covered in blood.
This has to be a dream.
It was only after five or so motionless seconds had passed that the horror dared to truly sneak up on me. The weight of my realization hit me like a sledgehammer. I rushed towards my phone, my shaking fingers desperately searching for the recorded video, unable to look away from the mess that unfolded in front of me.
The recording started as soon as the tablets rolled down my throat. A worrisome expression remained on my face as I lay on the couch and drifted into sleep. Soon after that, a satisfied snore escaped my speakers. My initial angst transformed into a feeling of slight discomfort while I watched my own peaceful slumber. Almost bored, I half-heartedly followed the next uneventful twenty minutes.
Then, everything started changing all at once. Suddenly, the man... no, the thing in the video shot to its feet, stretching and wandering across the room. Trying to adjust to a life of thirty-three vertebrae and four extremities, the muscles in its suit of meat seemed tense and stuck in place. As it turned my home upside down, every single grunt, shake, and blink appeared unnatural and tiresome. Its gait eerily similar to a marionette's. My clone rummaged through the cupboard without any sort of fluency. If it moved, it moved rapidly. And if it didn't, it stopped for long periods of time, completely frozen and paralyzed. Its arms, tight like the branches of a tree, smashed up my fine china. A horrifying scream that sounded like a mix between the buzzing of bees and the bang of a nuclear explosion filled the narrow halls of my home.
"It looks like a spider trapped in a human body," I thought.
I was scared. Maybe more so than I ever had been before.
At 2:30 am, the individual that was supposedly me decided to slowly stride towards the door. To the quiet observer, it would appear as if I was trying to find my way across an active minefield. I chose to lift my legs high up into the air and put the entirety of my weight on my descending foot, flailing my arms around to keep my balance. The simple act of walking required meticulous concentration. Multiple times I fell flat on my face while attempting to take a step forward. It would have almost been funny if it weren't so tragically horrifying.
After a concerning amount of time, the humanoid printer on my screen reached its destination. When its hands grasped the key rack, it appeared unable to find what it was looking for.
Thank God, I remembered to hide my valuables.
The entity appeared confused, violently shaking the handle and pressing its body against the wooden barrier that separated it from the rest of the world. It needed to get out. No matter the cost. After thirty minutes of unsuccessful grunting and pushing, it decided to ball its hands up into fists and continuously punched at the door. There was no grace or technique in its strikes. Only raw unfiltered anger.
Fear turned into panic, while I quickly skipped through the rest of the video. It was just hour-long footage of myself banging at the gate. Never stopping. No matter the cost. At around 4 am, blood started splattering onto the walls. But I didn't stop. At around 6 am, splinters stuck to my fingers like porcupine quills, every strike further sinking them into my flesh. But I didn't stop. The constant rhythmic thump of my fists became an inevitable part of my life. But I didn't stop.
I could have killed someone. I wouldn't even know.
I couldn't bear to watch anymore. My hands still shaking, I closed the recording and looked up at the ceiling. The sound of joints crashing into timber echoed through my mind like vicious thunderbolts.
I don't know how long I remained in this trance, staring blankly into the air while anxiously trying to find fragments of the night inside my memories, when I finally stood up and went to the bathroom.
I have to see my face.
Upon inspecting my reflection, I felt the unexplainable need to vomit. The man in the mirror looked... strange, uncanny, almost AI-generated. I felt repulsed and sick. But what exactly was the problem? What about my eyes, nose, or ears was hideous enough to cause my legs to give out? I couldn't put it into words. Everything about me was wrong, and yet nothing was.
I immediately threw any and all of my pills away and vowed to never touch them again. I tried to distract myself from the inevitable fact that a deep and raw kind of terror persistently lingered in the air. Instead of facing the monster housed deep inside my pupils, I chose to bear the familiar agony of sleeplessness.
I thought that I could handle it. I thought the pains of insomnia would disappear over time. But they never truly did. These scattered days of slumber were enough to make me forget the horrors of fatigue. The raw reality of its effects hit me like a wrecking ball. I realized how puny pain becomes in mere memory and how humongous it appears when towering over you.
After three or four days, I thought I was gradually withering away. I longed for nothing more than the momentary liberation of sleep. Parts of my feeble soul constantly screamed and hammered at the walls of my abdomen.
All of this pain. All of this suffering. It could end. You just need to take your pills.
You just need to take your pills.
Every continuous day without rest made my problems appear smaller and smaller. Last night, while unbelievably sleep-deprived, they shrunk to the size of brittle snowflakes.
It was nothing but a bruised hand after all.
The third time felt decidedly different. I was slipping through different levels of consciousness, small shards and sequences of my dream appearing in front of my eyes like an infinite slideshow. In one of them, I was a vase, falling from the surface of the moon, gradually accelerating until becoming a glowing meteor of light. Inches before crashing into the surface, I was suddenly pulled back into reality.
Just for a second, the world seemed so painfully close to me. I sensed the blood dripping down my arm, the police sirens blaring in the distance, the sharp sting of urine shooting into my nostrils. And then there was this incoherent blend of colors around me. That's when I realized that I woke up while my head was in the middle of crashing towards the glass window, unable to stop the already created momentum. I would only be alert for the duration of a heartbeat, before my mind had to turn blank again. Knowing that the being inside of me would soon regain control, I tried to absorb everything in my immediate vicinity. The sign of the shop, only a blur in the corner of my eyes, forever burned itself into my memories.
"Ela's bakery."
The next time I regained authority over my body, just for the briefest of seconds, I thought I had landed in heaven. The street was bathed in a beautiful orange hue. The trees surrounding me shook their shiny green leaves around, and the subtle sound of chirping songbirds could be heard in the distance.
Then I dared to look up, and my blissful peace transformed into the soul-shattering realization that death was near. A boulder, about the size of a basketball, was inches away from crashing into my skull. My body moved on its own, leaping to the side and landing on the grassy field next to me. Moments after I jumped, the sharp hissing sound of the wind grazed my ears as the enormous rock crashed onto the ground. Unable to move, a scream escaped the deepest parts of my soul. I had enough. I couldn't continue any longer. Tears of frustration and relief simultaneously streamed down my face. After some time, they fused with the raw sensation of anger.
This thing tried to kill me.
When my eyes felt too tired to cry any longer and my vocal cords were hot and rigid, I stood up and examined my environment. My mind had only a few moments to adjust to the overwhelming nature of reality. As if the world had been anxiously waiting for my return, the waves of stimuli around me were immediately fighting for my attention.
I am outside again. I am alone. I almost died. My head feels like someone stuck a stake through it. There is an unbearable sour smell in the air. I almost died. My hands are streaked in dried-up blood. I almost died. My clothes are covered in dirt and grime. There is a corpse next to me.
There is a corpse next to me.
Anxiously trying to get my breath under control, I inspected the one thing my mind could focus on.
John Smith
01.01.1920 - 01.01.2020
I woke up in a local cemetery. Piles of dirt gathered besides an inconspicuous headstone. A casket, probably never thought to be opened again, lay before me like one half of a cracked eggshell. It presumably belonged to John Smith.
Even for a dead man, he looked incredibly thin and sick. A stature so small that he almost appeared childlike. Arms crossed. Face stuck in a constant frown. Hair and nails unnaturally long and discolored.
Inspecting his wrinkled face sent shivers down my spine. It felt like I was looking at something that merely pretended to be human.
I knew that this was my wrongdoing. This wasn't the anxiety speaking out of me anymore. It was obvious that whatever controlled my body chose to come here and used his bare hands to find this man. And before I could take over the reins, it heaved a boulder above its head and let go.
Not daring to stay there for even a single additional second, I dashed out of the cemetery and rushed back home. I had to find it, my one moment of clarity.
"Ela's bakery."
Faces, colors, worlds were passing by me like shadowy figures and shapes. The masses of people around me probably thought I was insane. Dirty and confused, the kind of man I would have scoffed at not too long ago.
When I recognized the shop's pink doors and gleaming welcome sign, I almost crashed into the teenage cashier standing in front of the fractured window.
"Hey," I shouted. "Please let me look at your security footage." I pointed at the tiny camera watching over the shop's entrance.
Not saying a word, he nervously looked me up and down.
"Uhh...are you...okay? You don't look too well." He answered with a touch of genuine concern.
My attention shifted towards the dark reflection on the window. Yes, I truly didn't look too well. A huge purple bruise stuck out of my forehead. My skin was covered in a million tiny cuts and scrapes. The delicate lines running like spiderwebs across the glass surface fractured my face into a million tiny pieces. The word "damage" was practically written all over me. The marker was permanent.
"Please... I'm begging you. I need to see this video."
As he led me to the computer, I once again waited for the world to show me sides of myself that never reached my consciousness. I couldn't sit still, my heart's thumping too fast for me to count. As my body finally appeared on the grainy footage, I was suddenly reminded of a thought that once sprung into my head when my mother died.
Everything changed, and life will never feel the same again.
The man in the recording had the same robotic walk and way of moving around. His long strides carried him in front of the bakery, where he waved his head in contemplation before violently smashing his face against the glass. A high-pitched explosion reverbated through the night. The faint sound of drunken screams soon followed.
I paused the video and rewound, frantically looking for the one frame that truly mattered.
Gotcha.
Just before a million transparent shards flew by my face, I saw the light fleeing back into my eyes. I recognized my panicked self for the fraction of a second until the explosive sound of the shattering window pulled me back into the ether. For a moment, it was me in that video. For a moment, the monster had to give up its power.
As if reminded of my pain, the wound on my forehead started throbbing again. It became impossible to think. I watched in horror as the man in the footage immediately got up to his feet and left the sight of the camera. The being returned to its old ways, slithering along the pavement, unfazed by the humongous swelling on its scalp.
The endless number of puzzle pieces in my head gradually assembled into a coherent image. I had found my truth.Whenever I passed out, this presence inside of me took over my body. But sooner or later, I would wake up. I would disrupt whatever it wanted to do in that grave. So hoping to remain in control forever, it tried to knock me out as soon as I awakened. It succeeded the first time. But the second time it sensed my return, it was too late, perhaps too preoccupied or simply too slow.
The desk in front of me was covered in a deep and oppressive fog. Nothing felt real because nothing was real. I was a humongous storm of questions, forced to accept the supernatural in its purest form.
"So that was you, huh?" a voice near my ear sounded.
I instantly bolted to my feet. The cashier looked at my trembling body and took a few steps back.
"Hey bro, I get it. Fuck the world. I'm not going to snitch, don't worry."
Knowing my airways have long abandoned me, I didn't say a word. I rushed out of the door and ran back home. His words spun around my head like a swarm of fireflies.
Fuck the world.
Upon reviewing the video on my phone, it confirmed what I basically already knew. As soon as I dozed off, something else awoke.When it failed to open the door, it instead decided to smash the window in my kitchen into pieces and crawled out.
I feel like all hope is lost. It is my fifth consecutive day spent awake. But sooner or later, I will be unable to resist the sweet lullabies of slumber. And what then? What will happen the next time I pass out? Will it try to make me stay unconscious forever? Will I ever wake up when I inevitably fall asleep again?