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Ignis Purgatorius
What's up guys! Happy Mother's Day! It's your friendly Genshin overthinker Inotia King. As always before we begin I just want to make sure new readers have checked out my first topic which is the basis for all my theories. So if you haven't checked that out yet please click here.
And what better time than Mother's Day to talk about a Father?
The Arlecchino Character Quest seems to be a continuation of both things I didn't enjoy about the Fontaine story so far and also things related to earlier regions that fall in line with my poetry theory. Let's talk about that.
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Easy stuff first. In the story we meet Clervie and her mother Crucabena. I think the Genshin wiki already noted this but these names are actually Irish or Welsh mythological figures. But it's just a reference for now likely because the real story is weird. Clervie is actually fine but Crucabena had a son Mordfran who was ugly so she decided to have slaves create a wisdom potion for him so he could rely on his intelligence over his looks. For some reason though her potion was mostly poison and only the first three drops of it were the wisdom potion. As it happens boiling liquids can spill over and that means the people working on the brew can get burned by random splatters. If you've ever cooked soup before you know what I mean. Anyway Crucabena didn't realize this and so it happened and the person to be burned was Gwion. What's most people's first instinct when they get burned by a little hot soup? Put the wound up to your mouth. Gwion did just that, drank the drops that had burned him and became smart. Crucabena then got pissed and chased him around and somehow wisdom potion meant shapeshifting powers in this story so they did that a bunch and then finally she caught him. The end.
I bring that up not just to say that the story we got only used their names but also that maybe one day we will in fact get a Mordfran or even a Gwion. Genshin tends not to use cultural references superficially and I mean all we know is that Arlecchino killed Clervie and then Crucabena. It's entirely possible to come up with a follow-up where Crucabena actually trained a previous "king" or maybe she actually did have a son and she showed favoritism to him thus sparing him from the House while bringing Clervie in. One day Mordfran could want to take revenge for his mother or maybe Pantalone and Pulcinella will use him to take revenge on Arlecchino since she said she'd deal with them if they took Project Stuzha too far. The sky's the limit on what they could do with this.
On the opposite end though is Arlecchino's own name. Peruere just means to consume by flame in Latin. So it's just a really simple reference to literally what Arlecchino's power is.
Side Note: There's another reference to Irish and Welsh mythology here. The location of the old House of the Hearth? It's on Mount Esus. Esus is the Celtic God of Power worshipped by Gaul and Brittania. Actually Esus has been likened to Ares or Mars. That's perfect for Arlecchino. It's also perfect for anything to do with the Fatui, the Tsaritsa and their eventual war against Celestia. There's also another Celtic god Teutates or the God of Tribes that has been related to Mercury. Both of these Roman gods are part of the Seven Classical Planets which I've theorized before as relating to Phanes and the shining shades.
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Which brings me to Project Stuzha. Stuzha or стужа is just Russian for severe cold. This is a one to one translation from Chinese 严冬计划 yandongjihua or "Operation Severe Cold."
Side Note: Cтужа actually comes from the old Russian for just cold which is really funny because it's spelled like "stud" lol. Even funnier when you find out this word came from the Proto-slavic "studen" just one letter off from student. That's essentially what Arlecchino's kids are to her. Also the Fatui themselves indoctrinate. Pierro enlisted Signora through indoctrination. Best to get 'em young lol
Now what is this operation and what are the connotations? Well as it involves Regrator or Pantalone I already had him pegged for a major operation. Now would that be it? I don't know. I highly doubt the Tsaritsa would condone a plan like this considering her as yet unrevealed contract with Morax. However, the Fatui aren't necessarily loyal to her. We already know for sure that Arlecchino isn't. Same goes for Scaramouche. Also with Snezhnaya's own chapter waiting in the wings it would be a good way to raise tensions and send the region into the downward spiral that would work thematically with the Russian Revolution that it's inspired by.
The next thing about this is that Pulcinella is involved and it's already shown that Arlecchino works under him despite being Fourth. In my old Fontaine predictions, that was a driving force for what I came up with. Back then Arlecchino was Tenth and Pulcinella was Fifth so I proposed that despite her promotion to Fourth that it was just for show to ingratiate her to him. That said the story showed that she is already antagonistic towards him and has shown herself to be far more intuitive to be manipulated by him.
Next there's this:
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Yeah hate to break it to you Lyney but they did already work together. Back in Sumeru, Arlecchino had a few House members stationed to help Dottore's Aranara scheme that didn't end up panning out. He didn't care about them at all of course but that doesn't discount Arlecchino of having directly supported his operation. And we know they weren't directly under Dottore because the only one that was was Oleg and he was trying to claim all the glory for himself, even going so far as to insult his fellow House member Trofin.
Speaking of which there's a really frightening implication this quest brought up isn't there? They still mentioned that Arlecchino and Dottore definitely worked together on another project. Who helped Arlecchino get her flames into a potion? That means there's not a chance in hell Dottore didn't hoard bottles of the stuff himself. I think it's a sure bet he's got those "searing pain" memory wipe potions and he'll definitely use them in the future. I wouldn't be surprised if some horribly maimed person shows up in the future and can't remember what happened to them and as we investigate it becomes clear who was responsible. Also there might be a far future event/quest where Dottore tries to use the potion on the Traveler and that'll expand on their Descender attributes as their memories can't be wiped away even with crazy Abyss-powered Archon Residue human experiment by-products. (I'll explain later.)
Three possible stories to spawn from this quest. That's the quality of miHoYo storytelling I'm more used to. We need more of this and definitely burn that Archon Quest in a fire, a memory-erasing Cinder of Two Worlds fire.
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The wiki is at it again now making the statement that Arlecchino's not Fontainian but actually Khaenri'ahn! Now of course we do know she isn't Fontainian but it's a stretch to state that she's suddenly Khaenri'ahn. The only reason and one which isn't even cited is that Arlecchino is afflicted with something that makes her dream of a crimson moon. As we knew from as far back as Dainsleif's reveal teaser from the end of the CBT era, Khaenri'ah was related to a crimson moon and a black sun where the moon would take revenge on the sun. (Black Sun was localized as Eclipse Dynasty but the new information revealed that to be another poor translation. New references keep referring to a black colored sun and not an eclipsed one.) Anyway it wasn't quite clear back then but thanks to the release of Perinheri we know the reason for the specific wording in the Dainsleif teaser. Essentially the Black Sun Dynasty usurped the Crimson Moon Dynasty so supposedly it will take its revenge one day. Now here's the part where Arlecchino doesn't have to be Khaenri'ahn just to have this curse. A "crimson moon" is the moon that was hanging over Khaenri'ah during the Cataclysm. This was when Rhinedottir created an army of Abyssal creatures on the order of the Sinner possibly in an attempt at freeing it. (It was also in service of the nigredo step of her attempt at the Magnum Opus.) All those signs point to the Abyss not Khaenri'ah. Khaenri'ah was just the dupe. So what is this moon really? Well according to Perinheri and one of Arlecchino's Voice-Overs it's actually some kind of creature but it could also be one of the moon sisters. Either way it's related again to the Abyss. It's the "Abyssal Moon" if you'd like.
Long story short, Arlecchino's Balemoon Bloodfire is likely just some other manifestation of the Abyss and has nothing to do with Khaenri'ah. The other much more obvious sign that she's not Khaenri'ahn is her eyes. Not sure how the wiki missed that but she's got unique X-eyes not the primogem eyes of every single Khaenri'ahn, pure blood or not. No primogem eyes, no Khaenri'ah. (But in terms of the Dainsleif prophecy X-eyes works well. Look at Arlecchino's drops. There's one where a red X is placed over a gray primogem shape. "The eclipse is swallowed by the crimson moon." This drop is also called "Denial and Judgment." There are several implications to draw from that.)
Side Note: Yes I realize Arlecchino has a Voice-Over where Pierro literally tells her she's of the "Crimson Moon bloodline" that he had thought should be extinct. Guess what guys? Bringing out my old friend, localization issues. Now this one I can't fault the localization team for. The term used was 血脉 and on the surface it does translate well to bloodlines. But there's a culture issue. When we think of bloodlines we just think of old timey genetics, that the blood flowing through your veins is that of your father's. There is some of that in China too but not in the same way. (except in say Hong Kong) Instead when 血脉 is used in a deeper sense, like say poetry or classical literature I'd say a better translation would be legacy. There are phrases like "our community is our bloodline" or "bloodlines flow like rivers, carrying with it all our memories and dreams." I think Pierro was also referring to it in this sense, given he advised Arlecchino to read Perinheri which is part of the legacy of the Crimson Moon era of Khaenri'ah including that they adopted non-Khaenri'ahns.
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Going back to her affliction though, it's curious right? This isn't the first time we've seen a fire that would burn its user if they lost control of it and fire taking the place of blood. Signora also had this problem. This exact problem. And as I had pointed out a long time ago, so did Collei. Isn't it also curious that the Character Quest brought up the Doctor and making deals with the orphanage? What was Collei again? Orphan. Why did she have that black fire ability again? Dottore experiments. So in the story who helped Arlecchino bottle up her Bloodfire? Dottore. And finally, though it might just be aesthetic if you look at Signora's pose in her Ember Witch form and then Arlecchino's Cinder form they are both facing the same way, same red motif, they have wings, open chest outfit and fire-related names ember and cinder.
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I have a sneaking suspicion this is miHoYo trying to beat us over the head that Arlecchino, Signora and Collei were all in the same boat. They are orphans that were tossed out by their families and experimented on by Dottore while he was still on his Delusion Project kick. Collei was probably his last "class" of experiments because her case got the attention of both Mondstadt and Sumeru and the Fatui couldn't be having that. The manhua itself showed the diplomatic repercussions Snezhnaya paid for Collei. But before that was Arlecchino and before her was Signora. (we can see Signora's already an adult by the time Perrie killed Crucabena) But wait, didn't Collei get her fire powers from the Archon Residue in Crystal Marrow? Well I have this theory right? Now if we take that theory and add it to this theory then the Abyss connection becomes clear. All you'd need is to use Archon Residue specific to those fallen during the Nibelung conflict and they'd be afflicted with the Abyss too.
Side Note 1: There's a little interesting note too between Arlecchino and Signora. I brought this up when I was theorizing about Arlecchino back in her first mention in The Very Special Fortune Slip World Quest. Signora is not a normal character in the commedia dell'arte. She was developed by combining the physicality of Capitano with the sex appeal of Columbina. (This is why I didn't predict that we'd get a Columbina Harbinger too and instead thought the final one would be Brighella. Scara is also a form of Capitano.) Anyway Arlecchino is supposed to be smitten with Columbina and who was the only Harbinger to feel bad for Signora's death? That's now expanded to be due to Arlecchino's sympathy for orphans but even so their many parallels are interesting. (this is furthered along by Arlecchino's Voice-Over that Signora was one of the first Harbingers she got to know, the other of course being Pierro and though superficial Signora appealed to the orphans at the House and Arlecchino sympathized with her)
Side Note 2: Another interesting connection between those two is that while they both have Delusions their true powers come from their experimental ones. Signora needed her Delusion to dampen her Pyro abilities and Arlecchino cherishes her Pyro Vision over her Delusion and is shown to be making use out of her Bloodfire curse instead of anything to do with her Delusion.
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Ok now for nitpicks!
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In my predictions (and then subsequently my Archon Quest revision) I had Pulcinella manipulate Arlecchino's hatred of the aristocracy and fear of the prophecy harming her home. So on the one hand I am really impressed. I honestly thought she was a Fontainian and the way they portrayed her desire to resolve the prophecy made it feel genuine (which it still technically was just not in relation to her herself) so I appreciate that level of subterfuge. Thinking this whole time that she was a Fontainian only for her to pull the wool over our eyes now after the whole story already ended would have been perfect for her character.
But just like so many other cool things miHoYo had with the Fontaine story they didn't have all their bases covered. It was great when we found out Fontaine had zero human people and everybody was actually an Oceanid. But then you run into the problem of how did people have normal human illnesses then? And how did they keep having those illnesses even after Neuvillette changed them from Oceanids to real humans. In the same way Arlecchino's lie wouldn't have worked in the context of Fontaine's story. Neuvillette's been in Fontaine for four hundred years. That's far longer than Arlecchino's been alive. If she wasn't a Fontainian and claimed to be one why wouldn't a dragon realize this? Yes we had the dialogue from him that he can't read Arlecchino's emotions. (also weird since he claimed to be attuned to emotions for some reason when even by Act II he didn't know Callas and Vacher's motivations which were brought on by the most primal of human emotions lol) But regardless of whether or not he can read her emotions there is not a single chance that he wouldn't have detected that she's not an Oceanid. He's told us he has full control over water including that of the Primordial Sea so when he was able to turn all Fontainians into real humans in one fell swoop he would have noticed she wasn't among those he changed. (That is also why I took serious issue with making Neuvillette a full dragon with full control over even the Primordial Sea. Either he purposely made the Fontainians with defects, kept their illnesses from back when they were elementals, purposely didn't inform us that Arlecchino was lying or he's just an incompetent dragon.)
Great idea. Not the best delivery. But in this case I call it a nitpick since most of this story was far and away better than the Fontaine Archon Quest.
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This is another little nitpick. I get what they were going for. They wanted a way to show that Arlecchino wasn't murdering her children. But holy coincidences Batman how many things had to play out just right for that to happen? I mean we had to have seen the Horrer mugshot meaning Lyney just had to happen to give us the stack of people with him in it. Otherwise if anybody else had that stack they would have just flipped through it without paying attention. Also in regards to paying attention, Paimon needed to take interest in that scar. Otherwise if she for example took interest in Lapouyade's name then say bye bye to that reveal. Out of all the times we've gone to the Palais Mermonia why today of all days at this time did we encounter Horrer? And also why was he a klutz? Also why was he a klutz and just happened to run straight into us out of all the other people there at the time? So many stars had to align just right to give us this clue about Arlecchino's endgame.
So like I tend to do, there was a way for miHoYo to have this reveal without needing this much Deus Ex Machina. Just have an insider working behind the scenes. We see by the end that Arlecchino was fine revealing her flame memory wipe potion thing. Given how there was an Execution List it should mean somebody was present for it. You could even just make Freminet that insider given what we see of him in the late stages of the quest. Let's say Arlecchino was trying to convey these secrets to both the Traveler and to Lyney, Lyney as more training to set him up as her replacement. Freminet would be more than willing to help with that so everything we see of him could still play out exactly the same (except that Lyney would eat his smug words about Freminet being bad at lying) and then it would be revealed that Freminet had coaxed Horrer to deliver papers around the Palais Mermonia at the right time and staged his and the Traveler's collision course. Boom, not only do you get the same reveal but Freminet gets some juicy character development on top!
Also, "O the Horrer!" Come on you know you were all thinking it when you saw that.
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Final nitpick. In this quest we're told that Arlecchino views losing memories as being no different than death. That's great. That really fits with how Genshin works as I've brought up many times already. But in the context of this story that's definitely not how it's played out. While Arlecchino states that she values memories as the same as a life what she actually uses it for is to save the lives of her disobedient children. We're shown this as her mercy and that she's allowing these kids to go off on their merry way and lead new lives. So problem. Yes it's nice that she's doing this. I'm sure all of us have seen this trope in fiction before. "I just cut off your ponytail. That ponytail represents the version of you that killed my family. Now that person is dead" that kind of nonsense to prop up a protagonist. But in the context of Genshin what she said is much more true. Memories include our experiences and under Gnosticism those experiences allow for the possibility of attaining gnosis one day. Removing those memories is actually like damning a person to death because it removes their progress. I brought up the hylic classification of people under Gnosticism before. These people are wholly physical and can't conceptualize anything meaning they can't ever attain gnosis. In Genshin those are the hilichurls, cursed to be "hill people" and unable to even return to the natural cycle of rebirth. Think about it from the opposite end too. Allogenes in this game represent the pneumatic people or those closest to attaining gnosis. In Inazuma we saw that once a Vision is stripped from these allogenes they lose their memories of what gave them that Vision, what gave them their chance at gnosis. So yeah, what this is is the same as my first nitpick with this story. It sounds nice on paper in any typical fiction but in Genshin it really is a horrible thing.
But on the flip side what this does is ruin Arlecchino's intimidating stature. The thing is she's a pushover. If you read her Character Stories there's one about how some of her kids grow up and want normal adolescent things like jewelry. Sometimes they screw up and get caught because their jewelry gets in the way. The story goes on to make it sound like Arlecchino would punish the kid but it turns out she just went out of her way to further train them to be careful of their jewelry on future missions. When you have stuff like that and what we saw in the story, it makes you wonder why anybody in the House would be afraid of her. Sure the youngest who had never seen her use her memory wipe potion thing might be under the impression she kills them but then what about the jewelry thing? It just wouldn't make sense for anybody to fear her to the extent we saw unless she had done something severe but then that might tarnish this protagonist image of her that miHoYo's fostered with the Archon Quest and this Character Quest not to mention her backstory anime. In this case I don't even think I could come up with a way for them to have their cake and eat it too. If she's meant to be fearsome then she needs to do fearsome things and if she doesn't then it doesn't make sense her kids would fear her as if she does.
Side Note: I suppose I should bring up my version then. Well she's much more antagonistic. While she lied when she said she only used Lyney and the children as tools she'd still be harsh on them and punish accordingly which produces their fear. Again my version of her is flawed; she honestly wants what's best for her kids but her methods are unusually cruel. This is based on her own experiences. It's like Batman (I keep going back to that example) and Robin. While any psychologist could tell you training up a ten year old to fight crime is a bad idea, Bruce Wayne saved his sanity by doing it so he believes it's a good way to nurture traumatized kids like himself. And we have Jason Todd when it comes to him. Therefore my Arlecchino would have had her own Jason Todds as well.
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So the last thing is taking Pierro's advice. I mean I referenced it already. Let's see what details Pierro was talking about with Perinheri.
The version of the name he went with is a reference to a real world story which is pretty much the whole thing of Vol.2. And remember how I've been talking about facts vs fiction? At the end of Vol.2 we find out that a writer came up with this ending and not the archaeologist on hand. So yes, the Angelica stuff is probably the part Pierro said was specious. The details come in Vol.1 where we get our titular characters.
Hleobrant is comprised of Proto-Germanic words hleo and brant which mean shelter and towering so Hleobrant could symbolize a defensive tower. So while accurate maybe Pierro was trying to say they were allegorically accurate. Remember why the gods got angry at humanity? They were questioning them and had started building a tower to reach the heavens just to see if it was there. That is one to one with our real world's Tower of Babel. This was when our real world's "unified human civilization" was broken apart into scattered nations. Hleobrant could be an allegory for the degenerate humans who defied the gods. And his rival would then be on the side of the gods, Perinheri. (not necessarily the Celestia gods or even the Archons but possibly the higher power of Ananke, the Imaginary Tree) I couldn't find the meaning of Perinheri though. I tried looking into the original Chinese and as far as I can tell the name might reference a Ming Dynasty official named 裴纶. Perinheri uses 裴伦 for the Perin part and 伦 is a homophone for 纶. 裴纶 was dissatisfied with the government and we might be able to relate that to the "world order" of the time. As such he wrote the "Seven Principles." That one caught my eye. Then the heri part of the name is 埃里 which on its own would actually be the Chinese transcription of the Hebrew name Eli which means ascended. Just like the issue of Vol.2 possibly being fictional, the names being inaccurate was also noted at the end of Vol.2. It could be that Perinheri is an intentional mistranslation in English to throw us off. (but let me know if you guys found anything about what Perinheri could be instead) If this is the real reference then for Khaenri'ah to be dissatisfied with the current world order it makes sense for "Perinheri" to just be a placeholder name for a Descender, an "ascended" child to defy Celestia. (I think there are already theories suggesting Perinheri is a stand-in for our sibling, a "false Descender.")
The revelation about a Crimson Moon Dynasty preceding the known Black Sun Dynasty could also imply something new about the Cataclysm. We're told that the Rifthounds, Rhinedottir's Rifthounds that up until this point were said to be accidental creations by her, were actually around since the Crimson Moon Dynasty and then fell out of favor by the time of the Black Sun Dynasty which preferred technology, tech like the "Field Tillers" Dainsleif told us about. King Irmin was the last king of that dynasty which means that Rhinedottir's group might have been a cult loyal to the previous regime. Rhinedottir herself could be even older than we were told previously or she could just be an avid follower of the old order. Thus the "crimson moon" that's supposed to swallow the black sun could just be the Abyss Order. This would also mean Dainsleif is even more justified for his disdain of the gods because his Khaenri'ahns had been trying to repel the cult yet were still cursed alongside them by Celestia.
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In Summary:

Crucabena and Clervie could be a launching point for miHoYo to create a Mordfran or Gwion enemy to Arlecchino.
Project Stuzha could be a way to raise the stakes as we get closer to the Snezhnaya Chapter. The Fatui might be running the Pantalone operation in Liyue.
Arlecchino and Dottore previously worked together in Sumeru. They are confirmed to have worked together to create Arlecchino's memory erasure potion which likely means Dottore has some as well. This opens up another path of stories for Dottore.
Arlecchino is not Khaenri'ahn. Even Black Sun Khaenri'ahns are almost extinct never mind some even older dynasty of yore.
Arlecchino, Signora and Collei likely gained their powers from the same source: Dottore. They all play out in similar ways as well with Arlecchino having the additional effect of burning memories.
It was interesting to have Arlecchino say she's not Fontainian but her reason for doing so before is undermined thanks to Neuvillette's presence. He would have known she was lying and given the stakes would have acted on it.
Too many coincidences had to occur to reveal that Arlecchino hadn't executed anyone. All that needed to be changed was to have Freminet in on the operation and helping Arlecchino the whole time which would also develop his character.
Arlecchino's non-lethal execution is played as a mercy but in the context of Genshin Arlecchino's stated opinion about it rather than her actual belief holds true. It really is an execution to destroy a person's memories. Those memories made them who they were on their path towards the gnosis.
However in context of general fiction this actually makes the imposing Knave look more like a pushover. She hasn't actually committed to any strict punishment despite all her talk about enforcing the rules of the House.
Perinheri could be an allegorical account of Khaenri'ah's tradition of waiting for and then following a Descender.
Rhinedottir could have been a survivor of the Crimson Moon Dynasty of Khaenri'ah or just a follower of the old traditions and the Abyss Order would then be the dynasty's indirect legacy and thus the "crimson moon" from the Dainsleif prophecy.
In this case it would mean Rhinedottir's forces were only a cult of extremists and the contemporary Khaenri'ahns would have all been opposed to them. Therefore it further justifies Dainsleif's anger at the gods for cursing all Khaenri'ahns indiscriminately.

Ahoy there Bastards! Time to get out your eye patches and brush up on swabbing the decks because we're about the hit the seas. I've lost count of how many people Locke and Jean have pissed off at this point, the political twists and turns are never-ending and I'm starting to think Sabetha was just a figment of my imagination (thanks u/tomesandtea for the suggestion).
You can find the full schedule here and the marginalia here. Chapter summaries are below (sorry they're so long, but SO much is happening) and discussion questions are in the comments.
Chapter Three – Warm Hospitality: Jean and Locke are taken to the Mon Magisteria on the Castellana, the home of the Archon. The Archon’s elite soldiers, called the Eyes, take the Bastards through the awesome waterfall that guards the entrance and shove them into a cell. Surprise! It’s a torture sauna and the Bastards are heated to near death before they are finally brought out and taken to see Maxilan Stragos, the Archon of Tal Verrar.
Stragos pretends like he never intended for Jean and Locke to be treated so cruelly and offers them some delicious pear cider, which they happily gulp down. They admire Stragos’ mechanical bug collection that lines his walls and Stragos reveals that’s not the only fake thing in the room. He knows the Bastards’ real identities, their background AND their plans with Requin. How? Those pesky Bondsmagi told him everything because they want to see the Bastards punished for what they did to the Falconer. And now, Stragos can use Jean and Locke however he wants because surprise #2! The cider was poisoned. And only Stragos knows what it is and has the antidote. As long as the Bastards do what Stragos wants, he’ll make sure the poison doesn’t kill them (or so he claims).
Locke is feisty as always, even though he really doesn’t have much ground to stand on. Stragos says they’re welcome to continue to try and rob Requin, since he doesn’t like the guy anyways. But they’ll also do whatever Stragos has planned because he knows how loyal Bastards are to each other so if they keep being rude jerks he’ll just kill one of them. With that decided, Jean and Locke are ‘escorted’ out of Mon Magisteria and they vow to get revenge on everyone. Jean points out that maybe the Bondsmagi don’t know everything about them and they can use that to their advantage.
Reminiscence – The Lady of the Glass Pylon: Jean goes to visit Azura Gallardine, one of the most famous Artificers (clockwork mechanics) in Tal Verrar. A woman of my own heart, she hates visitors and wants to be left alone so her house is far away on top of a high Elderglass pylon. She doesn’t like flattery but is a big fan of gifts so Jean tries to woo her with some fancy brandy. He tells Azura that he would like some help breaking into a vault, which isn’t technically legal, but Azura doesn’t mind bending the rules for the right price. But surprise surprise, it’s her own work he wants to foil as she designed Requin’s vault. Azura is like, “Are you insane? I’m not messing with Requin.”
We then learn how Selendri got her gold hand. An assassin put flesh eating alchemical powder in one of Requin’s suits but him and Selendri swapped clothes for funsies as part of the masquerade ball. Cue lots of screaming and seared flesh. Requin was determined to find out who dared to harm his beloved Selendri, so when no one came forward for monetary reward, he started murdering everyone in town until he found the man and turned him into a statue. So yeah, Azura doesn’t want to mess with him and instead opens up a trap door that sends Jean (and his brandy) back onto the streets. But no worries, Jean didn’t really expect her to agree to his proposition and instead was simply ‘planting a seed for the future.’
Chapter Four – Blind Alliances: Locke and Jean are visiting Pale Therese, their friendly poison expert. She sadly can’t do anything without knowing what Stragos gave them, but maybe the Bondsmagi could. Oh wait, that’s definitely not an option. So they’ll just have to go along with Stragos for now.
The Bastards decide to return to Sinspire where a man is having a cage match with over a hundred stiletto wasps. They bump into Maracosa Durenna who wants to make some friendly bets on whether the man will survive or not. Selendri appears and whisks Locke away to see Requin. They go via the ‘climbing closet’ and Locke takes advantage of the dark, cramped space to try and wage some psychological warfare on Selendri with a small side of flirting.
Requin tells Locke he’s done some investigating and has learned of Jean’s visit to Azura, as well as the Bastards’ other ‘scheming’ to break into his vault, confirming their story. He also knows they met with Stragos the other night, so Locke goes all in and claims Stragos is actually the one paying them to rob the Sinspire. This seems believable as it would put Requin out of business, piss of the Priori and give Stragos more control over Tal Verrar. Requin tells Locke that if he kills Stragos or gets him in his custody that he’ll give Locke a job, help cure the poison, and let him kill Jean. Selendri agrees to this and sends Locke back down to the cage match, where the wasps have won. Locke pretends to angrily throw his drink on the boy, but really says a prayer for him.
Locke and Jean leave the Sinspire and agree it’s time to give Requin ‘the chairs’. Before we can learn more about these mystery seats, the Bastards are attacked AGAIN by some people pretending to be beggars. They’re saved by Merrain, Stragos’ lady kidnapper, who has been ordered to watch over them and take them on another boat ride.
Reminiscence – The Amusement War: Locke visits Salon Corbeau, a demi-city that functions as a resort for the wealthy. He’s there to visit the Baumondains, a furniture making family, and request some…unique chairs. Locke wants four chairs in the Talathri Baroque style with some mystery mechanisms added on that may help someone if they were trapped in a room on fire (but I highly doubt that’s what it will be used for). He gives the chair maker a ton of money to only work on these chairs and get them done ASAP.
While waiting for the chairs to be made, Locke goes to check out the Amusement War, a twisted gamer that’s played in Salon Corbeau. It’s basically like living chess, except when a “piece” (aka a poor person) is taken, a gang of ‘Demons’ comes out and executes whatever messed up torture the rich people ‘playing’ can think of. Locke is disgusted by what these rich assholes are willing to do for fun and that people actually agree to be the pieces for the small chance of getting some money. We get a flashback to Chains who taught Locke they have two mandates: thieves prosper and the rich remember. Locke really wants to make these rich people remember and reign some Thorn of Camorr terror on them, but ultimately decides to focus on their scheme and returns to Tal Verrar with the mystery chairs.
Chapter Five – On a Clockwork River: Locke and Jean are taken back to Mon Magisteria to meet Stragos. No one knows who could have been trying to kill the Bastards down at the dock, but Stragos sends some of his men to investigate the bodies. Locke gets extra feisty with the Archon, including calling him a ‘goat-faced wad of slipskinner’s shit’, but it’s all bark and no bite. Stragos has a job for the Bastards and they’re going to do it unless they want the poison to slowly kill them.
The Archon takes them on a romantic boat ride through his garden and gives them a brief history lesson. Seven years ago, one of Stragos’ officers, Laurella Bonaire, turned coat and became a pirate. The Archon’s navy defeated her, but then the Priori feared Stragos becoming too popular, so severely limited his power. Now Stragos wants to plant the fear of another pirate invasion so that he can swoop in and save the day. But who will these fake pirates be? Locke and Jean of course! Stragos will give them an experienced sailing master who will make all the real decisions while the Bastards focus on their acting. They’ll also have to return to Tal Verrar every two months to check in with daddy Stragos and get some antidote.
Stragos claims he has a higher purpose behind all of this and shows the Bastards his clockwork garden complete with alchemical weather. If peace is achieved, people can focus on all the cool crafts like this and eventually become just as powerful (if not more so) than the Bondsmagi. Yes, Stragos also hates the Bondsmagi and feels they’re limiting human progress, so it’s time to take them down. Well, it will probably take centuries to do that, but Stragos wants to be the man who plants that seed. He promises to increase the Bastards reward if they’re successful in their mission, although Jean and Locke both think he’s lying. They’ll need to put their Requin plans on hold because they’ve only got a month to become the best pirates in all the land (*cue pirate Rocky training scene montage*).
After the Bastards leave, Stragos tells Merrain to let her master know that the plan is underway and they better be ready to face the consequences. Merrain responds by saying no one will be ready for how much blood is about to be shed. DUN DUN DUNNN

Chapter 1 People are so…. Social. I grew up in a small town in Arizona and I’ve always loved the peace and quiet. But as I aged, graduating high school and spending a restless summer trying to divine what a broke carpenters son could do with his life (and probably drinking and smoking too much.) the small town gossip really started to wear on me. I’ve never been a social butterfly, preferring to mind my own business and let others mind theirs. But in a small town that’s a luxury you can’t afford. Everyone there has watched you mature from a scrawny kid with a stutter to a quiet but confident young man and, as such, feel that they have some obligation to be sure that your life is going to go in the right direction. There’s only so many questions a 19 year old can take about a lack of college and girlfriends. Only so many conversations following the familiar lines of “well you know, college is there to prove to employers you can show up at the same time and place for 4 years.” Or “don’t rush it, I found my wife when I finally gave up on looking!” Or, most aggravating “God works in mysterious ways!” (No shit Barbara, he’s an unknowable, omnipotent entity and you sell Sephora.(Don’t you have a bland youth group sermon to give?) I guess this is my way of explaining why I left my hometown so hastily the beautiful autumn after graduation. My folks were pleased to see I was going to “find myself.” As my mother so romantically put it. They hoped I’d find some kind of inspiration out on life’s grand highway. My dad chuckled, his eyes full of memories from the days he was young and free, a youthful joy that even 25 years in construction couldn’t dampen. “Go sow your wild oats son! Just remember you’ll reap them in the end.” He said, a mischievousness that was rare for him lightening the words. That is how I came to be here, in Golden Meadow, Louisiana. “Arizona plates? Well ain’t you a long way from home?” The deep southern drawl, by now familiar to me after a week of driving through Louisiana, cut through a perfectly quiet morning. Great. A socialite. Why did I have to choose the south for this roadtrip? I forced a polite smile and turned to face dreaded small talk as I began pumping my gas. “That’s right!” As I spoke I sized up my new best friend. A short, profusely sweating man stood before me. He must have been about 5’ 5”, well below my respectable height of 6’. His hair, greasy but trimmed nicely, his sheriffs hat…. Fuck. This is a cop. “Sheriff E. Gore, pleased to meet you!” He drawled again, his accent, I noted, more Texas than Cajun. He extended a sweaty hand, which I took as a good sign. (The law usually isn’t so friendly to suspicious people.) I shook his hand, surprised by the strength that this somewhat rotund sheriff had, his grip strong but measured. I returned his introduction. “David Lawrence.” “What brings you down to our little town son?” I took a deliberate look around before I answered, my gaze sweeping over the small gas station, the almost empty street, the abandoned buildings, a liquor store and a dilapidated dollar general. “Just passing through.” It probably wouldn’t take long, I thought to myself. I could see most of town from where I was. My gaze returned to Sheriff Gore, and I realized he was staring at me hard, gauging me for something. “I’m on a bit of a roadtrip.” I added, trying to remove his focus from my arms. “Well built aren’t ya?” The Sheriff said. Jesus, what a way to start a conversation with a stranger. I forced through the awkwardness. “Yessir.” Forced grin, wishing my gas would pump faster. “I try to stay active.” The Sheriff’s attentive gaze and fixed smile never strayed from me. “How nice! You know, you should stick around town awhile, we’ve got lots to offer!” I decided to myself that I didn’t like the Sheriff, my earlier thought that he likely wasn’t suspicious since he was so friendly now giving way to the feeling that he was too friendly. I gritted my teeth. “I really would, but I’m trying to make it to New Orleans.” I said, maintaining my politely measured tone. I had no interest in staying in this town. “That’s such a shame.” The Sheriff said, his voice betraying disappointment. “It’s a lovely town, it really is.” I was saved from my own awkward response to his too-friendly, begging statement by his radio crackling loudly from his cruiser, parked outside the gas station convenience store. The words, unintelligible to me, evidently made sense to Gore, as he swung around and strolled back to his cruiser. He was oddly quick for a guy of his stature. “Well, good luck on the road Lawrence.” He shouted over his shoulder as he left. “Be careful on the roads and come visit us again real soon!” I shook off the bile-like aftertaste of Gore’s stare and went back to doing what I do best. Minding my own damn business. I wouldn’t be in town long. What I’d told the Sheriff was true. I was headed to New Orleans. My red ‘69 mustang and I were scheduled to enjoy a beautiful city, far from the normal tourist season, here in early October. The food, the music, the bars, all promised to be excellent and uncrowded, allowing a drifting 19 year old a place to breathe and make decisions. Maybe I’d find some work and stay awhile. Or I’d stay a week and then continue “Dave’s Grand Tour” as I’d taken to calling my trip. The idea of Dave’s Grand Tour was simple; find a place that speaks to me. I had no interest in college, as I’d found during high school that an enterprising young man could make a good bit of money just by taking opportunities when they come. I’d worked at a county fair, for the railroad and for local farmers and ranchers and I had found that there were lots of ways to make money. And I didn’t want to tie myself to a career. After all, my dad had built a pretty great life doing carpentry, something that didn’t take much time to learn. (Of course I’d already learned, from helping him.) I contemplated these things as I pulled out of the filling station and back onto the road. Not much farther to New Orleans. As I drove through town, past a small town mechanic, a diner and a tidy row of houses, I almost felt bad for leaving. This town was clearly dying. Empty buildings, boarded windows and beat up cars told the story of a town in decline. The coastal fishing village was picturesque though, and its people were friendly and polite. With the exception of Sheriff E. Gore. What the hell was that guys prob.. I was tore from my thoughts as the unmistakable sound of a popped tire hissed above the growl of my car. “Shit.” I muttered, pulling over to assess the damage. The damage, as it turned out, was extensive and likely expensive. The ‘stang was equipped with beautiful whitewall tires, painstakingly sourced by my grandfather during the restoration I had helped him with during his final years. Cancer is a bitch, especially when you’re 72. He had handled it well though, and had the car (as well as some of his savings) to me when he passed. Grandma had gone ahead of him some years before. I reiterate, cancer is a bitch. And now my beautiful car was down two tires, both passenger side whitewalls punctured by a myriad of screws and nails. I stared in disbelief. Wandering back down the road I found their source, an overturned coffee tin which was clearly some tradesman’s “spare shit” bin. Shaking my head and muttering expletives I strolled back to my car. Of course I had a spare in the trunk, and all the tools to change a tire, but who carts a second spare tire around? Still muttering words I could never let my mother hear, I searched on my phone for the number to the mechanic I had passed, finding an oddly polished website. JP’s machine and tire shop had someone tech savvy on the payroll. And they were punctual. Less than 15 minutes later I was standing on the concrete shop floor, watching JP himself remove my tires. “Lord, you’ve had some bad luck!” He boomed. I’d decided I liked JP. He was a big man, with a tanned face and forearms, betraying many days spent on the sun-soaked waters of the bay. “How in gods name did you manage to get this many holes in such nice tires?” I laughed. “I’m Gods strongest soldier I guess.” JP roared out a laugh. Laughter came easy to him it seemed. “There’s good news and bad news.” He said, awhile later. I’d quietly sat in a comfy chair in the shops waiting area, reading, while he focused on his work. “What’s the bad news?” I asked. “You’ve got to wait two days for new tires.” JP replied. I’d figured as much. What kind of small town auto shop would have whitewalls for a 1969 mustang just lying around. “Good news is, I got you a helluva deal on them. Buddy of mine runs a classics restoration shop in Orleans. He’ll send a truck to deliver your tires, but he’s short handed, thus the wait.” This was excellent (and intriguing) news. I’d expected the wait to be much longer, and the cost to be higher. As JP broke down my bill, explaining the pricing, I couldn’t help but feel pretty lucky, all things considered. I paid JP (thank you Grandpa) and wandered out into the Golden Meadow sunshine, my backpack slung over my shoulder.
Chapter 2 It was a damn fine evening on the bayou. I was paddling along between small islands overgrown with thick river reeds, in a kayak I’d rented from a local fishing guide named Sam. I’d spent the afternoon fishing from the kayak, with a breakdown rod I kept in my backpack. Now, as the sun was sinking low, turning the water orange and pink in the dying light, I paddled gently back to town. As I made it to the dock where Sam had told me to leave the kayak (very trusting fellow, Sam was) I heard faint music. It grew louder as I came closer to the dock. A myriad of fishing vessels, speedboats and jet skis obscured it as I drew close. But as I tied the kayak in place at Sam’s dock, I made out the lyrics. I recognized the song. Brown Haired Blue Eyed Baby, by JD Clayton. Excellent song. That was when I saw her. Standing on a tall fishing boat at the next dock over. She. Was. Breathtaking. With dark brown hair and a deep tan, she looked to be about my age. She was coiling a rope, faced away from me, singing along to the music. I suddenly realized I was staring, not saying anything, and she had no idea I was there. Realizing that this could be a bad look for me, I cast my eyes downward and dropped my backpack onto the dock, letting it fall heavily. I glanced up as she swung around, pretending I hadn’t seen her until now. “Oh, hey!” I said, a bit too loudly. After a pause she returned the greeting somewhat cautiously. “Hey.” Words failed me. She had turned to face me now and I saw her eyes for the first time. They were a vivid blue, that reflected the light from the water, even as the sun sank. I had a sudden burst of confidence, thinking to myself that worst case scenario, e.g. rejection, I could always just leave in two days and never see her again. “Hey, listen, this might be a little too bold, but you are incredibly pretty.” I said, the words rushing from my mouth. She seemed shocked, and for a second I thought she was disgusted. Then her cheeks flushed and I realized she was blushing. I pushed on. “Sorry, sorry, that was probably a little too much, I’m so..” she cut me off with a laugh. Damn, even her laugh was cute. “It’s okay!” She exclaimed, breathlessly. “you just surprised me, that’s all.” I smiled broadly. She returned the smile. “I’m Dave.” I said, somewhat sheepishly. Extending a hand upwards to her perch on the boat. Still smiling she took it and said “I’m Emmy Lou.” Emmy Lou and I ended up talking for almost an hour as the sun disappeared and the moon shone brightly upon us. She told me about her life, growing up a local in this small town, working on one of Sam’s guide boats. I told her about Arizona, the summer I spent restoring my mustang (I mostly just wanted her to know I had a cool car), and all about Dave’s Grand Tour. She was sweet, a good listener, but she seemed tough, a girl who knew how to handle herself, even at 18. She was still living with her parents, saving up to move out. “Where will you go?” I asked her. “When you move out I mean.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Haven’t really thought that far ahead. Maybe to Texas? I’ve always wanted to be a cowgirl.” I grinned. “You’d certainly make a good one.” I replied. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” She exclaimed in a joking manner. Her and I had fallen into a rhythm of teasing and joking very easily. I laughed as I replied in protest, “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that! You just seem to be naturally good at most things you try.” She blushed again. It was almost a familiar sight to me now. She broke eye contact. She generally had to be the first one to do so, since I seemed to be frozen every time I looked in her eyes. “Listen.” She said, standing up. “This has been a lot of fun, but I’ve gotta get home. My folks will be worried.” I stood as well. “Oh, alright.” I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “Hey, I’ll be around town tomorrow, since my tires won’t be in. Maybe I could see you around?” She looked down at her toes and said quietly “I’d like that.” We wished each other good night and went our separate ways, her to her parents place and me to a quiet motel room near the mechanic, a 20 minute walk away. I was almost to the motel when the light flashed across me. It was a flashlight beam, coming from the sidewalk in front of me. I froze. “Well hey there son!” Came a long southern drawl. “Decided to stay in town after all?” For some reason, the Sheriffs voice made my skin crawl. What made it worse was him shining the light in my face. It made it impossible to see him. I squinted hard. “Hey Sheriff. Yeah I’m in town for a couple days more.” Before I could continue (ask him to stop blinding me) he jumped in. “Now what’s held you up young fella. Car trouble?” He said. I paused. There was something about the way he asked the question that I didn’t like. Like he already knew the answer. “Yeah, how did you..” “Oh damn me!” He interrupted, not acknowledging my question at all. “I forgot!” He finally stopped shining the light in my eyes. (Hallelujah.) As my eyes readjusted to the dimly lit sidewalk, the flashlight now pointing down, the sheriff said “This here’s Mr. Wellers.” A deep new voice, clearly articulated “Hello Mr. Lawrence, the Sheriffs told me a lot about you.” I raised my eyes to meet this newcomers and was startled. In stark contrast to the Sheriff, Mr. Wellers was tall, well built and spoke with no accent. He had brown eyes, perfectly trimmed and combed blonde hair and was wearing… a lab coat? I blinked, my brain trying to process. All I could think to say was “Mister? Not….. doctor?” I thought it might be an offensive question at first, as the Sheriff looked at me reproachably and Mr. Wellers cast his eyes downward as if embarrassed. “I uhhhhh… used to be. My license was revoked.” Wow. There’s a rabbit hole I don’t need to go down within seconds of meeting this man. “Oh I’m so sorry” I said lamely. “That sucks.” “You’re damn right it does.” Growled out Gore. He seemed more offended over my apparent faux pa than his friend. “He was my personal doctor for many years. He’s a damned fine doctor too!” “E.” Mr. Wellers said quietly. “It’s alright.” This interaction had passed into the realm of the surreal. I had no idea why these two were out alone together after dark, and frankly I didn’t want to know. (Once again, minding my own business.) “Right… well it was good to see you, and nice meet you Dr. I mean… Mr. Wellers.” I cringed at my own words. God, just let me out of this conversation. “And a pleasure meeting you as well young man!” Said Mr. Wellers. I felt bad. He seemed like such a normal, reasonable guy when compared to Gore. “By the way.” His deep voice rang out again as I moved down the street. “What’s your blood type?” My brain malfunctioned. “My… uhm… what?” I struggled for words. “Blood type!” He exclaimed. Seeing the confusion in my eyes he elaborated. “We’re having a blood drive tomorrow.” (Oh hallelujah lord, thank god this guy doesn’t want to steal my blood.) “we could really use all we can get, you know. Being in a remote place like Golden Meadows it’s important we have a little extra on hand.” His tone put me at rest once more. “I’m O negative.” I said. “Universal donor. If I’ve got time tomorrow I’ll stop by.” I said it mostly to placate him and get out of the conversation faster. But his tone as he thanked me profusely, as well as the obvious gratitude in his doe brown eyes made me actually want to go help. I resolved myself to actually stop by and donate tomorrow. Might as well right? Not like I’ve got anything else to do. I finally made it to my hotel room and by the time I was cleaned up and in bed I had almost forgotten about the awkward demeanor of the pair. Although the Sheriff still made me hellishly uncomfortable. He had a way of staring at you like you were a snack he was about to eat. I shuddered, decided not to think about that anymore and rolled over, thinking of Emmy Lou and the possibilities of tomorrow.
Chapter 3 I was having some difficulty finding Emmy. I’d been down to the dock, had breakfast at the cafe, wandered the town and even hung out in the bait and tackle shop Sam run in conjunction with his guide business. No sign of her. I was checking out an enormous tarpon mounted above some fly rods when Sam’s voice floated over to me. “She’s out on the boat.” I heard the mirth in his voice and turned to face him. He was behind the counter, tying a huge streamer, round glasses perched precariously on the end of his long nose. He was an older man, maybe 50, with a bald head, strong hands and several old school tattoos, harkening back to his days in the navy. He looked over his glasses at me, his heavy eyebrows raised and a cheeky smile on his face. “She didn’t stop talking about you until they left.” He said. “Oh.” I blushed heavily. Looking back it must have been pretty obvious that I wasn’t there for hooks or spinning lures. “When will she be back?” I said, deciding not to hide my true motives. “Sunset.” He said. “Maybe sooner if they catch a big bait of red drum.” I nodded. “Thank you.” I said, and I meant it. I had been going crazy, cursing myself for not getting her number at least. But now my hope was restored. She’d be back. And then I could see her again. I headed towards the door. “Hey kid.” Sam called. I turned back to him. He had his glasses in his hand now, and he was looking at me with his full attention. “Yes sir?” “Don’t hurt her. She’s an angel and we’re all pretty protective of her.” I nodded. Sam was surely referring to his crew of fishermen and guides, a tough group of seamen, some of whom I’d met yesterday while they were gearing up for the afternoon. I definitely didn’t want to get on their bad side. Now it was Sam’s turn to nod. “Good.” Was all he said as he turned back to his work. I wandered back down the boardwalk into town, wondering how I would kill the long hours until sunset, when I saw the Sheriffs squad car. It was parked outside the small town hospital, and suddenly I remembered our awkward conversation last night. The blood drive! There’s a good way to kill an afternoon in the quietest town on the planet. I strolled across to the hospital, and walked through the sliding doors (the only set in town.) “Mr. Lawrence!” Mr. Wellers greeted me enthusiastically. “Glad to see you my boy!” People in this town sure get familiar fast. “Hey Mr. Wellers, where do I go for the blood drive?” The once-doctor directed me to his exam room. “I’ll just need to give you a checkup, make sure you’re in good shape to donate.” It seemed odd that he had an exam room, since he had no medical license. Come to think of it, I’ve never heard of getting a checkup before blood donation, but I shrugged it off as another oddity of Golden Meadows. Weird Sheriff, too-friendly strangers and the most beautiful girl (I believed.) in the south. This town was a trip. Mr. Wellers was talkative as he took my blood pressure, temperature, stared down my throat and peered into my eyes and ears, writing notes on his clipboard as he spoke. “You’re in damn fine health young man.” I knew I was. Years of physical activity and decent genetics (thanks dad.) kept me strong and healthy. I rarely got sick, played football through high school and never seemed bothered by sweltering Arizona heat, something that had benefited me greatly in the humid southern states. Mr. Wellers asked questions about all of these things. He seemed genuinely interested and I got the feeling he was asking more for his own curiosity than any official reason. “Well son,” he was saying now. “You’re the picture of health.” “Thanks.” I replied. “So where do I go to donate.” “Actually,” he said, a bit too quickly. “We’ve had a lot of donations today, far more than expected.” “Oh, so you don’t want me to donate?” I was confused. He’d made it seem like they seriously needed more donations. I brushed it off. Over-selling a problem did make sense. Sometimes it was the only way to get things done in a small town. “No no, we’d still love for you to donate!” He said, once again speaking quickly. “Just give me some time to make my preparations! He smiled, kindly. “Alright… “ I said, at a loss. This seemed so weird, I was beginning to get a bad feeling. Were Mr. Wellers motivations entirely… pure? He seemed to be trying to achieve something with his interactions with me, although I wasn’t sure what. “Well, I guess I’ll stop by later then.” I said, my voice laden with confusion. Mr. Wellers pretended not to notice, uttering vague complacencies as he sent me on my way. I stepped back out of the hospital, vaguely wondering why I hadn’t seen a single living soul inside besides Mr. Wellers. The reception desk had been empty since I came in, the intercom was quiet and I saw no nurses, doctors or patients. I’m starting to really hate the emptiness of this town. I wonder if my tires had come in…
Chapter 4 After a snack from the convenience store and a stop by JP’s to see my car I was wandering town again, aimlessly. The sheriff had driven past twice, smiling at me through his squad car window unblinkingly. I wondered what had happened to him in his life for his social behavior to be so odd. Maybe he had a bad childhood or was raised by an alligator or something. That would explain the toothy smiles and the never-blinking at least. It was about 2 o’clock. JP had assured me my tires would be in tomorrow, which suited me okay. I was almost hesitant to leave, since Emmy Lou was still in town and good lord knows I had an interest in her. Goodness she was fine. I was walking down the street, not really paying attention to anything going on, listening to in thoughts of Emmy. Her hair, her eyes, her walk, she walked… right behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey Dave!” I spun around, my mind returning guiltily from the gutter. “Emmy! Sam said you wouldn’t be off the boat until sundown!” “We limited out. What can I say, I’m just that good.” she spread her arms in a kind of proud shrug, a sarcastic-cocky smile on her face. I smiled too. She had that effect on me. “Hey, I realized I never got your number!” She looked surprised. “You want it?” Now I was surprised. “I… yeah, I really do. I mean, I think you’re great and I don’t want to lose contact when I…” the air around us suddenly felt heavier. I was suddenly nervous. Had I misjudged her interest? Did she see me as some passerby, a very temporary friend? A smile cautiously returned to her face. “You can have my number.” She said. “But if you move back to Arizona forever I’m not going to text you back.” Thank god. I thought I’d totally dropped the bag. “Deal.” I said, smiling once more. Emmy and I spent the afternoon talking as we saw the meager sights in town. We had an ice cream at the cafe, (rocky road for me, strawberry for her.) stopped by the mechanic (I really wanted to show off the car.) and then wandered out to the towns hiking path. Half a mile down the coast, down a dirt road, it was a great spot to be alone. I was promising Emmy a proper date once my car was running and she was laughing at me. “Sonic is not a real date.” She said through giggles. “Sonic is the perfect date. It’s like going to a restaurant but you don’t have to see any people.” I replied, playing up my anti-socialism to seem quirky, and praying it was working. As we reached the trailhead I heard the now familiar sound of the Sheriffs car on the road behind us. He wasn’t smiling this time. He watched us as we silently walked onto the trail. “Jesus, this dude is everywhere.” I muttered, as the trees began to obscure him from view. Emmys brow furrowed. (God she looked cute when she did that.) “What do you mean? He just sits at the cafe usually.” She said. “Wait, what?” Now my brow furrowed. “I’ve seen him all over town today. It’s like he’s following me.” “Maybe he thinks you’re trouble.” She teased. I shook my head. “Maybe. He’s been weirdly polite to me ever since we met.” Emmy shrugged. “Southern charm I guess. He’s a weird guy.” “Yeah he is. It feels like he’s” I made my voice as provocative as I could. “Checking me out.” I mocked a sexy stance. Emmy thought I was hilarious. She laughed and slapped my chest gently, her hand resting against me. Suddenly the air was heavy again. Her cheeks turned red but her hand stayed on my chest. My hands rested comfortably on her hips. This is as close as we’d been. Our eyes locked, her bright blue meeting my gentle brown. We stood there for a long time.
Chapter 5 The best part of road-tripping? Besides actually tripping, as I’d done in White Sands, New Mexico and a secluded beach in Texas. Sleeping in. My hotel room was perfect. I’d spent a lot of nights on Dave’s Grand Tour camping under the stars and it was amazing. But it wasn’t better than sleeping until noon on a thick mattress with the A/C blasting. I couldn’t have asked for a better night’s rest to end my trip in Golden Meadows. As I walked down to JP’s shop I reflected on the small towns impact on me. I was happy. JP was sitting in a rocking chair with his shop doors wide open. My car was next to him, four whitewall tires underneath. “Wondered when you’d be by.” Boomed JP. “Truck came this morning, she’s all ready for you.” His broad grin rippled across his face as he watched me inspect his work approvingly. “Thanks JP, this is amazing.” He nodded graciously as I tossed my backpack in the trunk. “Hey JP?” He noted my tone become more business-like and focused his eyes on me seriously. “Yessir?” He asked, his curiosity apparent. “That friend, the one with the restoration shop. Is he hiring?” JP’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Well son, I believe he is. You looking for work?” I nodded. “I’m thinking about settling down somewhere in the area, staying for a while.” JP grinned broadly again, his eyes betraying a secret. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with little miss Emmy Lou would it?” I blushed heavily. JP had watched Emmy and I as I showed her my car, explaining all the places I’d repaired and restored. He’d been grinning then too. “Well” JP’s voice returned to business and his eyebrows returned to their resting place. “Based on what I’ve seen of your work.” He gestured to the mustang. “I’d be willing to put in a good word with him.” “Thanks JP. I really do appreciate it.” And I did. The point of Dave’s Grand Tour was to find a place I could call home. And it was beginning to seem that I’d found it. I was on the road now, headed to New Orleans. JP had set up an interview for me with his friend and I was hopeful that it would work out. I’d been on the road about an hour, listening to music and texting Emmy, (don’t text and drive kids.) when I got the call. A blocked number. I didn’t answer the first three. But I finally decided it wasn’t scammers or something when the fourth call came, seconds after I’d sent the third to voicemail. “Hello?” I said. “Hello there Lawrence.” Came the Sheriffs voice, low and dripping with anger. “I have someone here who wants to talk to you.” “What the… what’s this all” I was cut off by Emmy’s voice. “Dave? Dave?!” There was panic in her tone and she sounded like she’d been crying. The brakes on the mustang squealed as my muscles responded on their own. I had turned around and was flying back to Golden Meadows as fast as the thought crossed my mind. “What is this?” I yelled. “Emmy what’s happening?!” Gores voice came crackling through the phone. “Meet me at Mr. Wellers office. Sundown.” And the line clicked off before I could answer. What was happening? “Oh god, oh god.” I said shakily as I pushed the mustang to new speeds. What was happening? What did the Sheriff want? Why did he have Emmy Lou?!
Chapter 6 GRAPHIC CONTENT. GRAPHIC CONTENT. DO NOT READ IF SQUEAMISH. I WARNED YOU. That was the longest drive of my life. I’d driven from Arizona to Louisiana, crossed Texas end to end in that car, but this drive was the worst. I was panicking. My tires slid easily as I gunned the engine, turning into the hospital parking lot. I stopped right in front of the doors and left the engine running as I sprinted headlong through them, barely giving them time to open. “GORE!” I yelled as I stepped into the lobby. “GORE WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” The lights were off, the air desperately still as I spun, looking every direction. Gore showed himself. He looked smug, his service pistol pressed against Emmys temple, her arm locked in his vice-like left hand. “There you are boy.” His thick accent dripped venom. “I didn’t find the perfect specimen just to let it slip away.” My mind reeled. Specimen? What was happening? And why did he have Emmy? What WAS this? Before I could collect my thoughts he spoke again, Emmy shaking in his grip, wordless, staring at me helplessly. “There’s a rag on the counter. Put it over your mouth and breathe in.” “What?” Why are you doing this?!” I said, the air in my lungs seemingly not enough to yell. “DO IT.” The Sheriff screamed, his face turning red. “DO IT OR I WILL SHOOT HER, SHOOT YOU AND HAUL YOUR LIFELESS BODY TO THE O.R.” His voice shook with rage, every syllable seeming to enrage him further. “Okay! Okay, I’ll do it.” I walked to the counter, my hands up, palms forward. I took the rag, placed it over my mouth and nose and breathed deeply. “Wake up Lawrence!” Came a singsong voice, breaking through my sleeping mind. “Waaaake upppp.” My eyelids were heavy. So heavy. I forced them up. Blue eyes stared down at me. Was that… Mr. Wellers? I tried to sit up, tried to speak, tried to move. I couldn’t. Mr. Wellers looked overjoyed. “Ahh the serum worked! Total paralysis, with a fully functioning mind!” His eyes. What was wrong with his eyes? Were they always… “I bet you’re wondering what’s happening to you.” Mr. Wellers said, his tone jovial. “You see Dave, I didn’t lie, we do desperately need donations. Just not blood.” He was holding… my eyes struggled to focus on the shining silver tool. A scalpel? “No no, we need far more precious donations.” A searing pain shot across my chest. Was he cutting into me?! He was staring at my chest as his hands worked, out of my view. The pain was unbearable. I couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, couldn’t even tense my body against the pain. Instead, my mind screamed, the searing feeling of a cold blade tracing below my ribs blocking all thought. “You know, I started the practice of organ transplants.” I heard Wellers speak as if underwater. “That was long before even your parents were born.” The cutting subsided, leaving a sharp ache that made me pray I’d black out. “I’ve been replacing parts as they get wore out ever since. A kidney here, a hand there. Much like you do with that car of yours.” His eyes met mine. Why were they… “of course, I need constant donations for this lifestyle.” He was speaking so calmly. “And you’ve got some shiny parts in here.” My stomach. What was he doing? “Like this lovely one here!” I felt a tugging sensation in my gut and Wellers voice faded away. Those eyes. My last thought made me wish I was dead. Those eyes. They weren’t his. They were Emmy’s. I don’t know how long it was before I awoke. But when I did I could move. I was in a stupor. All I saw were blurs. My body seemed to move on its own accord. I heard crying. I smelt something. Sweat. My mind was not working, but on some deep level my consciousness took hold. Sweaty pig. The thought slid across my delirious mind as my arms made contact with something solid but pliable. My lower consciousness took hold and I felt it give way beneath my strength. My hands felt wet. How odd. A voice. What a calming voice that is. Too bad. Such a shame. The thoughts slid across my mind, meaning nothing as my arms went about their task, levering some thing against something else. There was quite a bit of resistance. I felt it give way and a scream rippled across my absent mind. Hope I’m not breaking anything important. Another strange thought. Not mine. Whose? Why were my hands so wet? My chest too. What’s going…. I woke up for the second time. This time I could move and think both. Emmy Lou was beside my bed. I was in a hospital room. She was sleeping, a mask covering her eyes from the midday sun streaming through a window. I… remembered. “Emmy!” I yelled, tears coming to my eyes. I tried to stand but was held down by searing pain. Emmy rushed to my side, the mask still on her face. Wait. Not a mask. A bandage. “What happened?” I said, tears rolling down my face as I remembered everything that had happened. “Emmy? What happened?” She didn’t say anything. She was crying too, but no tears would come.
Epilogue That’s the story. What I can remember of it anyways. The cops told me the rest later. Mr. Wellers and Sheriff Gore had kidnapped Emmy and I. We were held in the hospital for days as everyone in town searched the river for our bodies. My mustang had been found submerged off the dock, and everyone thought Emmy and I were together in it. Her parents had cursed my name to a wordless ocean, screaming at the man who took their daughter, all while going to church with the Sheriff there to console them. The cops found us when Emmy Lou stumbled out into the street, screaming and blind. It had taken her hours to find her way out of the hospital. It’s hard to navigate when you can’t see. I had to hear the rest of the story from her. After our kidnapping they had operated on her. Removing her eyes, a third of her blood and one of her kidneys. Then they went to work on me. I’m still not entirely sure what they took from me. Everything seems to still be intact, my body healing from the meaningless surgeries well. Emmy says she pretended to pass out after hearing my screaming stop. The sheriff, receiving instructions from Wellers had then tried to move her to a different room. She managed to slip away from him, while blind and run to where she’d heard my screams. She found me, and a syringe. In a moment of madness she stabbed the syringe into my shoulder and empty its contents into me, hoping to kill me and end my suffering. Turns out the syringe had a potent mix of drugs, including pure adrenaline. The restraints that held me tore like paper. According to Emmy, all she heard from then on was me humming a tuneless song and Wellers and E. Gore screaming. She made her way out of the room and started trying to find the exit to the hospital. When she finally made it out and Sam called the state police they found me in the operating room, standing above the broken bodies of the malicious pair, humming and swaying back and forth. Yep, they tazed the shit out of me. When they noticed my injuries they rushed me to an actual hospital where I was remained for a week as my body worked through the drugs, the surgery recovery and the concussion I got after the cops tazed me and I fell into a medicine cabinet. Didn’t feel a thing. (Thank you drugs.) All of this happened five years ago. I wrote this story under the direction of my therapist. She thinks I need to let go. But I can’t. I found a record of Dr. Wellers license revocation. Only problem, it’s from the 1850s. I tried to learn anything I could about either Dr. Wellers or Sheriff E. Gore, but they were ghostlike. I can’t get over the questions I have. Questions like, why? And how? The police think they were selling organs on the black market, but I know what I saw. Wellers was wearing Emmy’s eyes. That’s why she’s blind. The cops don’t believe me, and in my drug stupor I destroyed any evidence there might have been. There wasn’t much left of either of my tormentors. I’m gonna stop writing now. These memories are painful. They are the reason I have a blind wife, a guilty conscience and a deeply scarred chest that’s painful to see in the mirror. They are the reason my hand bones are crooked, broken against a thick skull. I have many unanswered questions, and now I’m building a life on unsteady ground. But that’s enough now. I’m late for my meeting. I’ve got a client who wants me to restore a 78’ impala and then I have to pick Emmy up from her art studio. I hope my story helps someone out there. But for me, it just hurts.
Credits: The idea for the monster that is Wellers came from an episode of supernatural where they fight an organ stealing ancient doctor. This is also kind of an adaptation of the story of Frankensteins monster, with Dave playing the part of the monster at the end. I also leaned heavily on other creepy storys told on creepcast and I hope I didn’t step on any toes doing so. This is my first time writing something like this and I enjoyed it a lot, even if you guys don’t. Thank you for reading!

Need advice for a family vacation in Oct-Nov of this year. Flying out of CA.
Destination: prefer under 10 hrs ofTropical Vacation Suggestions for a Family of 4 in October-November total travel time, but willing to go as far as 20 hrs for bettecheaper destinations.
Duration: 10-20 days
Participants: My husband (40y.o.), daughter (4y.o.), mother (55y.o.) and I (34y.o.). 3 American passports and 1 Ukrainian (my mom) with current US tourist visa.
In this configuration we have vacationed 2x before:

2022 3 weeks trip to FL panhandle in August. The weather was perfect with 1 day of rain. We stayed at 2 different airbnbs and visited a different beach every day. My daughter was 2 at the time, so it was perfect since at this age there is not much more she could do besides playing in the sand. It was low key and relaxing. My husband named it “boring” though. Cooking our own food/eating out was not an issue. I actually preferred it compare to our next adventure.
2023 10 day cruise to Caribbeans. I generally didn’t like it because: 1. Didn’t like 4 ppl in a small cabin 2. On travel days there was almost nothing to do for my daughter 3. Way too much time spent in the boat’s restaurants waiting for mediocre food – there were only 2 restaurant options included in our tickets (others you had to pay extra for), service was incredibly slow (like at least 2 hrs for each meal – 6 hrs/day) unless you wanted to eat at the “café” (the 2nd option) which was incredibly crowded, noisy and smelly. “Free” food, but you pay with your time. This just killed it for me. As a subsequence – very limited times on the islands. Some of the islands we visited were amazing – St. Thomas, Antigua, St. Marteen; some, not so much – Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico. Bahamas was cancelled because of the weather. The highlight of the trip for my husband was snorkeling on some of those islands. I liked the variety, but the hassle of getting off the boat, finding a taxi, driving for 30 min to an hour to a good beach and hurrying back to the boat was just too much (one time we almost didn’t make it – the adrenaline of running to the boat while they are announcing our names is seared in my memory forever).

Budget: I don’t have a set budget, but I like the idea of vacationing longer at a cheaper place vs the opposite. I had an idea of renting an Airbnb for 1 month in FL (because you get a big discount if you rent the whole month), but the timing doesn’t work out.
Accommodations: I don’t care if its all-inclusive or not. I just don’t want to spend half my day in restaurants/waiting for food and if it is all inclusive, ideally I would like some variety. One time in the past I stayed at the adults only all-inclusive and the food was almost the same every day, but on the plus side, it took no time to get your food, so it was worth it to me. Out of all of us only I would partake in any alcohol beverages to a limited extend. So that’s not really a factor. I don’t mind airbnbs as its not a burden for me to take care of the food.
Things to do: my daughter, obviously, will still be very happy with just sand and beach, but it’s not too difficult to take her on different adventures now (like city tours, hikes etc.). All I care about is for everyone to forget I exist and leave me on a beach for 3 weeks (jk, but you get the idea). My husband is most difficult to satisfy – he gets bored on the beach pretty fast. He wants to have activities to occupy his time – like snorkeling, hiking, ziplining and everything else that’s offered.
Destination: I’ve looked at typical contenders: Mexico & Caribbeans and I am ok with both (except a little worried about consuming water in Mexico). If I go there, which place do you think best fits my criteria? Any specific recommendations?
Outside of that, I have gone on many reddit rabbit holes with destinations all around the world. Typically though, the threads I read were more focused (i.e. Zanzibar vs Seychelles). I have a hard time finding recommendations for a family friendly vacation that is not limited to a specific region. Am I being unreasonable? This is why no travel agent wants to work with me – they all want me to narrow down on a destination and dates etc. – at that point why get a travel agent if you are doing all the work yourself anyways? I am perfectly capable of clicking “book” myself.
Not interested in cruises or any man-made parks/entertainment (Disneyland etc) as a primary destination (ok if it occupies 1-2 days of the vacation). I do like the idea of a water park for my daughter (like the Atlantis in Bahamas). But she is too little for most slides.
I know I complain a lot and have high(er) standards. I just want to spend my money on things the crew and I are satisfied with. Hence, this post. This year I want to try to check all the boxes.
Please give me some ideas, share your experiences – good and bad, things to do and to avoid. Thank you everyone in advance.

Hello everyone!
I'm heading to Chicago for my birthday for the first time from Sat June 15th to Tue June 18th. I am coming with my girlfriend who has also never been here. Here's what we've booked so far:
Sat:
Arrive ORD morning
Drop bags off at hotel (Mag Mile)
Hit the Art Museum for Corporate Day
Wander around aimlessly, see the bean and the Chicago theater sign
Dinner at MJ Steakhouse (doing private bday dinner)
Wander over to Navy Pier for ferris wheel and fireworks
Sun:
Early tickets to Field (free due to employer)
Behind the scenes at Shedd (behind the scenes and shark tour)
Maybe MSI? Since we'll already have Metra passes that day
Chicago Hot Dog place or Pizza place? Maybe a rooftop like Cindy's or Londonhouse?
Mon:
Nothing yet, thinking Architecture tour, either by kayak or boat
Walk the Mag Mile
Maybe Lincoln Park Zoo?
Wrigley?
Thinking we'd like to see a good view, but heard Hancock Tower 95th floor closed, so I guess Sears observatory? Chicago 360?
Tue:
Nothing planned yet, but leaving late evening so plenty of time to do stuff
We tend to be low key and love to find random things to do and places to go, I usually end up finding a cool speakeasy to check out or the local Beef on Weck joint (I'm from Buffalo) when we travel
We're coming in from Phoenix, so we've eaten at Portillos and had Chicago deep dish (though likely not as good as in Chicago proper)
Anything on my list look like a big dud, or is there anything you think I am missing as a must add? We saw the Ice Cream Museum which looked cool, but some places are just amazing at marketing and the real experience ends up closer to Willy Wonka Scotland.
Thanks in advance for any help!

I’m trapped. I can hear that thing lumbering through the hallway. My God, what the hell is it?The soft scratching of my pencil sounds deafening in the quiet of this tiny closet. I’m almost certainly gonna die in this place. I just hope someone can find this, maybe it will do some good. Or maybe it already doesn’t matter. I’m not sure how long I have until that wheezing thing finds me. Oh Jesus, or that grey stuff might ooze under the door and dissolve me. Oh my God! What it did to Benny, Sammy, Jonesy and Donald! To all of them! Even if I don’t survive, the world needs to be warned!

Long story short, I was a cop but I got shot in the head. The doctors said I was lucky, that it went straight through without hitting anything vital. However, I still needed three steel plates to hold my skull together. Also ended up with permanent tremors in my right hand and a nasty scar just under my eye. So, it’s no surprise that my cop career didn’t thrive. Just a year later I was a “retired” 45-year-old cop, living off scraps. After a few months, I started to get desperate for work. One evening while out with my friend, Graham, he mentioned something about some private research institute in the Mojave Desert. “What, are they still blowing A-bombs out there?” I scoffed, eyebrows arched with bemused incredulity. Graham stared down at his beer, “Not sure what the hell they do. But they pay super well, so who cares,” he took a long sip of beer, foam clinging to his lips, “I think it would be a good fit for you”.

Turns out this facility, and it really is known as the “Facility”, was located in the middle of nowhere. When I looked it up I couldn’t find any information at all. Later that week I called the number that Graham had scrawled down for me on a beer stained napkin. My right hand wasn’t good with delicate tasks so when I dialed the number I had to use my left hand. The phone rang twice before a metallic voice answered and said to hold for an operator. After a few seconds of muted elevator music, I spoke to a soft voiced woman who told me my skill set was perfect for their current vacancy: a security management position. Her voice was soothing, “Your credentials are excellent. If you like I can fax some forms and a draft contract over, and we can pay for you to fly on up to see us in person. I’m certain you’ll get offered the job.”

She was right. One flight and several NDAs later, I was employed again! By the time I started my new job I realized I had no idea what research went on down here. During the interviews my duties as a security manager had been discussed but any mention of their actual research interests had been carefully omitted. On my first day I asked others about the nature of the Facility’s research, but no one had any interest. “Just stick to your contract. No point in rockin’ the boat,” my new boss, Sammy, said to me curtly. I’ve not discussed it since.

The part of the Facility which I managed was section B.15. This area was located several hundred feet below the sun scorched surface of the Mojave Desert. It comprised many green corridors peppered with tall wide doors made from dark, stainless steel. The rooms inside were large and sterile. Of course, whether or not we wanted to know the nature of the research, after patrolling some of the research labs for weeks, it wasn’t hard to figure out that the scientists were mostly archeologists. Or maybe paleontologists. I often found different objects lying around in various states of cleanliness. Some looked like ancient amphoras, or large stone bird baths or even fossilized remains. Others were less identifiable: a melted lump of some glimmering metal or large chunks of a glass-like material. I found this all extremely curious because, as far as I knew, the Mojave Desert didn’t have much in the way of ancient architecture. At least of any ancient civilization that I know.

As the months went by I started to get friendly with the other guards, most of them ex-cops too, and we played cards and drank Irish coffee in the evenings. My two main colleagues consisted of a jovial, short man with orange hair named Jonesy and a much older much grumpier and much balder man, Donald. They were good men and we had a lot of laughs together. My stomach twists when I think about where they are now. Though I grew fonder of my fellow guards, I found myself developing a severe dislike for the researchers. Most of them were mean and arrogant. The only scientist my security buddies liked was a scrawny guy named Benny. Our favorite thing about Benny was that he never talked about his work.

It was earlier, at 1400h, when all the scientists were running from their rooms. They must have received some message a few minutes before and we watched them from the surveillance monitors as they got all excited, their lab coats flapping and flowing as they made for the stairs. Soon after this, the large red landline phone near my desk began to ring. Expecting the call, I picked up the receiver before the first ring finished, “Hey boss, what’s all the excitement about?” Sammy’s voice was uncharacteristically anxious, “The diggers have found a friggin’ huge object out here! The biggest thing they’ve ever dug up. They want to bring it to B.15 so I need you to organize the logistics and security”. My brow furrowed, “I guess it’s too big for the main entrance? Maybe we could bring it in via the big doors of the auxiliary hangar?” she grunted with agreement, “Yea, we’ll have to improvise a bit but should be manageable. I’ll get some of the boys from B.10 and B.14 to help you out.” I nodded, “Thanks, see you soon”

Donald, Jonesy, some interns and I had coffee in the office and called the guards at the hangar doors to arrange clearance. About an hour later we met the guards from B.10. and B.14, together we climbed the many stairs to the hangar and waited for the cargo to arrive. The massive metal hangar doors had been opened, which was rare. What was more irregular was that nearly every staff member from sections B.09 to B.18 were all gathered together in a silent knot of people. Despite the silence the air sizzled with anticipation, as well as the searing heat. I stood transfixed from curiosity, waiting in the shade of the doorway as the relentless sun beat down outside. I squinted. In the distance I saw a black speck grow larger against the bright blue sky. Slowly it took the form of a helicopter with an enormous rectangular shaped mass dangling below it.

Within less than a minute the helicopter made its cacophonous approach toward the hangar and gently lowered the object onto a wide wooden scaffold. I barked orders and signed forms as the guards rushed about. The air was blaring with the sound of helicopter blades and sand rocketed into my face, forcing me to splutter. “Alright, let’s get this thing processed!” I yelled over the sound of the helicopter as its engines powered down. My colleagues and I wiped dirt from our faces. Sammy emerged swiftly from the chopper and shook my hand. Her hair was in its characteristic librarian-bun but her eyes were glassy. Had she been drinking? We quickly reviewed the paper work she gave me and then she made her way back downstairs to her office in section B.1. She was keen to get away for some reason.

As my colleagues cleared away most of the staff and the excitement died down I was finally able to take a moment to inspect the object. It had been lowered onto a wooden scaffold fitted with wheels and had been pushed slowly into the center of the hangar. The few aircraft in this hangar were all currently under repairs, leaving plenty of space for the object.

The object was a wall. It was rectangular and about twenty-five feet long, ten feet thick and twelve feet high. The wall first appeared made from boring grey stone. I even remember thinking, “It’s not even that big”. However, when I looked closer it was, alive. I barely noticed the helicopter take off and leave as I saw the wall’s surface bubble. The hangar doors began to close as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A bead of sweat ran down my cheek and I thought I heard something. It sounded like someone far away calling my name. I felt a strange pressure around my head. A sudden invasive thought dug into my mind: throw yourself into the wall. I shuddered and held myself back despite the sudden strong desire. I heard the faint voice of Benny and crashed back to reality. My eyes snapped open and I found my nose an inch away from the wall. It radiated cold like an open freezer and it smelled like rotten clay. The surface of the wall simmered ever so slightly. It reminded me of the fizz of some grey effervescent medicine. I paled as I took a large step backward, “I.. uh, what is this?” I turned to face Benny who stood with another scientist. He glanced at her briefly before he approached the wall, “Honestly, we have no idea”.

I got Donald and Jonesy to help Benny transport the wall down to room 278B via the service elevator. Donald grumbled, “Guh, this thing smells like something my dog puked up”. Meanwhile Jonesy stared with eyes as large as saucers, “It looks so cool!” Once downstairs, I told Donald and Jonesy to take some forms to the admin department and I returned alone to my office to get some more coffee and file away the rest of the paperwork. I tried to put the strangeness of the wall out of my mind, but it had truly unnerved me. I felt so tired. As I sat at my desk facing the surveillance monitors I was unable to fight the force fusing my eyelids together.

I’ve been hungover a lot, but when I woke up at my desk I’d never felt quite so singularlyawful. My clothes were soaked with sweat and my whole body felt exhausted. My arms felt like molasses. My forehead throbbed and I was bruised. I also felt a weird pressure squeezing my head from all sides. I sat back in my seat and rubbed my eyes.

Then I froze.

A hand was lying motionless on the floor just behind the table at the center of the room. I leapt to my feet and rushed forward. I gasped from horror as I saw Donald lying there, his chest sliced to ribbons. Gallons of dark scarlet stained his blue uniform. His eyes stared up empty and terrified. Pallid and shaking I ran to my landline to call for backup immediately. As the receiver met my ear my stomach dropped into my feet.

The line was dead.

I was so confused. We had lots of fail safes to ensure communication remained enabled, but the line was dead and there was no sign of any response. I rushed back to the monitors. The cameras were all operating normally. I started to breathe heavily. I couldn’t see anyone. The corridors were green and bare. I looked at the clock. It was 1817h. I had slept for about two hours. But where was everyone? Where were the janitors? My heart was hammering in my chest and my head was throbbing. My eyes narrowed with a sudden thought. Where was that wall?

I searched for the wall and found it was back in the hangar! It sat upon the bare ground right by the massive doors. However, the doors were sealed. The wall itself looked different. It was absolutely enormous! Just over two times longer and taller and wider. Just then, I realized that the titanium blast doors had been sealed as well. My heart rate doubled as I noticed large dents, scorch marks and scratches all over the doors. The hangar floor was covered in blood. My God, I even saw a rocket-launcher lying blackened and fractured near the doors. What the hell had happened?

I spun my head to look at the security panel on the wall to my left. My heart, already racing, felt like it leapt out of my mouth. My eyes grew wide as I realized Donald must have activated a quarantine procedure. This meant that the entire Facility would be sealed airtight. The only way to open any doors now was from the outside. My God! Why had he done this? Where was everyone? Did I really sleep through all this? Where was Jonesy? I looked back at Donald, my heart still racing from seeing his dead eyes stare into mine. I sighed sadly and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was now 1831h. I returned to the monitors and began to rewind the security footage.

Surveying the screens, I watched my past-self enter the security office at around 1600h. By 1610h I had passed-out on my chair, drool dangling from my mouth. “Ok, so let’s see where the wall was at that time. Should be room 278B.” I thought to myself aloud as I clicked on the button that displayed the footage of room 278B and the surrounding corridors. The screens were black as the footage loaded and I was about to hit the play button but hesitated. Did I really want to see this? I closed my eyes and took a few slow breaths. I have to know. I hit play.

The camera was located opposite the door giving a full view of the room. At first everything was normal. It was 1623h when they were unstrapping the wall. A loud popping sound was heard and the researchers spun around. The lights in the room dimmed and flickered. Suddenly something long and slimy exploded from the flesh of the wall. It wrapped around Benny and pulled him in. He screamed in terror as he vanished, his cries immediately silenced.

Without realizing it I was instantly on my feet, shaking my head in pure denial. My heart burst. What the hell was that? What the hell? What the hell? My head was full of static. I felt tears in my eyes as I watched guards and researchers rush into the room. The wall shimmered, it’s simmering surface began to boil and bubble and it grew a few inches higher. I saw it reshape itself so that intricately carved figures appeared on the wall’s edge. I leant in closer and gasped. One of those figures looked just like Benny, his mouth stretched into a permanent scream. The guards and researchers were horrified by what they saw. Suddenly, without warning, their body postures relaxed, their eyes grew glassy, and their arms fell slack at their sides. Those within the room moved as if sleepwalking. Some stayed still while others left the room. Brow furrowed from confusion and fear, my eyes swiveled to the footage of the corridors outside. The guards and researchers that had just exited 278B immediately began attacking and grappling those around them. I yelped as a vacant-eyed guard lazily shot another man in the leg. The thrall then dragged the wounded guard into room 278B. The mad guard held the wounded guard’s leg fast as he casually walked into the grey wall, pulling the struggling man in behind him. During this altercation I noticed Donald, he was hiding behind the corner of the corridor at the far end and was firing his gun at the thralls. He didn’t manage to hit anyone though. He then ran over to help a stray research intern to her feet and then they both ran down the corridor and out of view.

I could still hear the pleas for mercy as those who fell victim to the thralls were dragged into that horrifying wall. With every person it swallowed, the wall wriggled and grew. More ghastly decorations began to bloom on its surface, all of them made from the bones or likenesses of those absorbed. The bigger it got the stronger its psychic influence became until it reached everyone in the Facility. I looked on in horror as one by one, all janitors, researchers, guards, diggers, admin staff, everyone stopped what they were doing, mid conversation, their eyes emptying. The janitors dropped their mops and buckets. Researchers dropped precious materials and equipment without care, letting them smash to pieces. In unison, with vacant expressions, they moved toward room 278B. Among the horde of thralls, I saw Sammy and Jonesy, and so many others I knew. A guy who’d held the door for me once, a researcher who always slurped her coffee at lunch. Hundreds of people! What filled me with an unnamable dread was that I knew what was gonna happen. I knew what was coming. I tried to shout at the monitors, “Stop! Wait!” I grabbed the monitors and shook them with frustration.

A terror began to fill my stomach, deep and cold and aching. Suddenly I noticed Donald reappear on the screen. He was trying to hold back the intern he’d helped earlier, but it was useless. I saw Donald stare with incredulity as he sat defeated on the ground. Everyone else around him stumbled dreamily toward their doom. But Donald refused to give up. I saw him run from corridor to corridor, trying desperately to stop them. He threw chairs and tables in their way but they simply pushed them aside or jumped over them. I saw him run toward this office. I saw him enter, saw myself slumped on my chair still completely unconscious. I saw Donald try to shake me awake, he slapped me a few times and was yelling in frustration. He gave up with me eventually and ran over to activate the quarantine lockdown. I saw him tear down the hall back toward room 278B, pistol in hand.

As soon as Donald got close to 278B a long pale tendril burst through the door directly into his chest. The tentacle had a hooked end and it slashed him. I saw blood spurt out of him, saw him stumble and fall to the ground. However, he still managed to get a hold of his gun and fired multiple shots at the tendril. It writhed and flailed. Donald took this opportunity to climb to his feet. He grimaced and clasped his chest as crimson leaked to the floor. He moved back down the corridor. Eventually he got back to the office. He locked the door and, still fumbling with his keys, attempted to open the ammunitions cupboard. Before he could find the right key, he cursed and then collapsed. I cried out in frustration. That whole time I was completely useless!

My mind felt like static again for a few seconds. I couldn’t work out what my next move should be. A thought hit me hard. Why had Donald and I not been psychically affected by the wall? Everyone had been enslaved. Why not Donald? And me? My eyebrows shot up into my receding hairline with sudden realization. “Shit, the steel plates in my head!” And Donald had a steel plate in his skull too because of a rock-climbing accident he had in his 20s. When I got close to the wall, had it sensed my resistance? Had it tried to incapacitate me? If so, it meant the thing possesses sentience.

While I pondered this, I noticed some thralls re-strap the wall in room 278B. They transported it to the elevator and back up to the hangar. Once there, the thralls moved the wall off the scaffold onto the floor and began to beat heavily on the large metal doors with bare fists. Some even shot at the doors with their handguns. The ricochets killed a few of them but not one single person even noticed. Some of the guards even used a rocket launcher! I yelled with shock as they fired at deadly close range, lazily blowing themselves up, leaving the doors scorched. After this proved futile, the thralls all grew rigid. Next, they all formed a line in front of the wall and one shambling step after another, all the remaining employees were - assimilated. Even the dead and wounded were not spared. Those still alive carried the corpses of their fellow thralls into the wall.

It was 1735h when the last employee disappeared forever into the grey horror, and the wall expanded to its current size. Without warning, a large mass of twisted limbs emerged from the wall. I gasped from horror. Its silhouette was about seven feet tall and thin and stretched. It had too many legs and it didn’t appear to have a head. This thing lumbered over to the doors and began to strike them with a strength and ferocity found only in a starving polar bear. I could tell that the doors were taking strain, and they began to bend, but even then, they did not yield. After just over half an hour of smashing the door, the creature stopped and slowly shambled toward the stairs. My heart froze. It was coming here! Or was it here already? I sat still for a moment and tried not to lose my mind completely. I swear I could hear Woody the woodpecker laughing somewhere in the distance. I needed to keep it together. I took a long deep breath and tried to think of a way out.

Summarizing the details of my predicament, I realized I was trapped alone inside the Facility with an otherworldly force. Also, even if I found a way out, I’d potentially be letting an evil into the world that could destroy all life. My eyes grew even wider and I grabbed at my hair, “But my God, if this thing gets out. If it gets into the minds of other people. If it gets larger and larger. Could it swallow the world?” I was talking aloud now; the sound of my voice gave a new clarity to my situation that made me shudder. I turned back to the monitor. It seems I was all caught up. I stared blankly into the screen while I watched my past-self wake and wince from pain. I switched the monitor off and saw my reflection in the blackness of the screen. I was pale and my eyes were sunken and unblinking. “What do I do now?” I turned in my chair to look at Donald’s body. “Poor Donald, he didn’t deserve this”, I muttered softly. My eyes moved from his body up to the ammunition’s cupboard just above. “Wait, was he trying to get into the cupboard earlier?”, I gasped with realization. “Holy crap, he was trying to get the bomb! Me and Donald were gonna use a left-over bomb from the excavation site to blow some random shit up!”

I stood up quickly and walked up to the cupboard. I opened the cupboard with little effort and found the twenty pounds of plastic explosive inside. It had already been set up with a sixty second timer and a remote detonator. I sat at the table with the explosive, a vague plan forming in my broken mind. “Maybe if I somehow get this wall-thing to eat this bomb then...”

Before I could formulate my thoughts fully, the lights flickered, and the entire Facility was plunged into darkness unceremoniously. My nerves burned with fear. What had happened? Had that thing knocked the power out somehow? The next few seconds that past were the longest I’d ever experienced. Eventually dim green light bloomed to life and the reserve power kicked in. Then I heard slow, shuffling footsteps in the corridor just outside the office. I froze once again, my insides turning to mush. My mind raced. Had I remembered to lock the door? My stomach leapt into my feet as I heard the shuffling get louder and louder. I heard hoarse, wheezing breaths, as if the thing struggled to breathe. I jumped from fright but remained absolutely silent as whatever the thing was banged on the door with a deafening blow.

BANG!

The door shook and bent slightly.

BANG!

Silence.

BANG!

My heart was hammering in my ears and I sat deathly still. I could hear that thing breathing louder. After a few moments I heard it shuffle away. My entire body was shaking as relief washed over me. I turned to look at the screens. Dare I turn them on and check what it was? After a few seconds I turned to the monitors and switched them on. I waited in nervous anticipation as they flickered to life showing me that all the corridors between me and the wall were currently empty. I didn’t bother checking the corridor I suspected the shambling thingwas in. I didn’t want to see it unless I needed to. I’d had just about all the stress and terror I could take and by this stage I felt weirdly calm. It must be shock. A thin sigh escaped me as I stood. The fear in my blood began to feed a furnace of anger in my heart. I thought about all those who I had lost. I felt my expression turn to granite, “It’s time to kill this thing.”

I opened the door slowly, my fully loaded gun in my good hand. Spare ammo along with the explosive and a sawed-off shotgun was stashed in my backpack, and the remote detonator was tied to my belt. I held a heavy-duty flashlight in my shaky right hand. I moved cautiously through the dark green corridors. I’d never thought of how creepy this place could be until this moment. Gooseflesh crept up my arms and neck as I continued. All I could hear were my soft footfalls and shallow anxious breaths. I cleared the corridors one by one until I made it to the stairs. I walked up the stairs carefully. I took one step. Then another. Slowly, I climbed. After many minutes, I was near the hangar. Then I heard the soft sound of crying.

Someone was crying. No. Many people were crying.

I stopped dead in my tracks. My entire body shook from the adrenaline surging through me. Once my head peeked over the top of the landing, I froze. The wall loomed gigantic before me. Its edges were now framed intricately with the skeletons of hundreds of people, all twisted and screaming in agony; tortured souls bound together. I could hear them all. They were all screaming. Screaming for me to join them. I felt that pressure squeeze against my skull tighter and tighter. I shook my head in defiance. “No! You bastard! NO! I will not join you!” All at once the moans and wails stopped. I suddenly found myself at the top of the stairs without knowing when I’d finished climbing them. “But you will” came the sound of hundreds of twisted voices fused into one. “We are them. We are all. We can be all. We will be all. All and all and more than all.”
A deafening blast came from the wall and slithering, tangled human limbs emerged. It had four legs and several arms. It looked like the bodies of eight or more people shuffled and glued into an otherworldly horror. Its multiple mouths screamed a high pitched roar that was pure torment, and its sharp pointed teeth gnashed and chomped. I only had a second to dodge. I leapt to the side and fired multiple shots at the thing’s center of mass. Its horrifying body of fused torsos wriggled and bled black ichor. It screamed with pain and jumped at me, grabbing my leg. It tossed me into the air and I slammed into the floor a few feet away. As I hit the ground I yelled in pain and heard something metallic smash. Before I could catch my breath, it was upon me again. From the ground I fired several shots at it. This made it jump away and scuttle down the stairs. I noticed immediately that the remote detonator had been smashed beyond repair. With the creature momentarily out of sight, I kneeled and took off my backpack as fast as I could. “Only one way then”, I said quietly as I pulled out the bomb and started the timer manually. I also got the shotgun out. I needed to do this now or never.
As the final shell clicked into place I heard a roar coming from the stairs. The thing was back. Before I could react, it leapt at me and knocked me to the ground. The bomb flew from my grasp. It bared down on me, grabbing at my throat ready to tear me apart. My reflexes saved me and I managed to use my shotgun to hold the thing at bay, but it was way too strong. Desperate, I kicked it hard in the chest and it let go. I used this moment to grab the bomb that lay behind me; only 37 seconds to go! Terrified and crazed, sweat pouring down my face, my mind in pieces, I rammed the bomb into one of the creature’s mouths and kicked it back again as hard as I could. I heard it yelp like a wounded dog and it lost its footing. It fell sideways and in that second, I took my shotgun and fired at it in the chest. The force of the close-range blast sent me flying. At the same time the creature was hurled back into the wall where it was enveloped quickly.
My head was fuzzy. I was dizzy and the wind had been knocked out of me. Was the bomb going to work? I felt something warm and wet drip into my ear and touched the side of my head. My fingertips came away soaked in blood. My head was spinning. With a foggy mind I grabbed my bag, collecting my weapons and flashlight. As I stood up I heard a low rumbling sound. The ground beneath my feet shook and for a moment I was confused. Then I looked up at the wall. Its surface was boiling like I’d never seen before. It was shaking and growing. I turned to run when suddenly there was a massive blast, and the entire wall exploded into hundreds of grey chunks. These rained down all around the hangar, smashing several aircrafts. The blast knocked me off my feet.
When I awoke I could see early morning light through the tiny cracks in the blast door. Where the wall had once been now stood a small blackened crater. I coughed and lifted my head to inspect the wall pieces and found that they – my mouth opened. They were melting. I watched in dumbfounded horror as the pieces began to merge, just like that scene from Terminator 2. It was rebuilding itself.
As I stood to run I heard a groan. My blood became ice.

I turned slowly in terror to find the shambling, wheezing monstrosity behind me. Like the creature I’d shot, this one seemed made from bits and pieces of human limbs knitted together randomly. This one had six legs which came out of its mouth, its head positioned within its torso where the bellybutton should be, and it wheezed in pain. I almost puked from fright but my feet were already carrying me away. I sprinted down the corridors, ignoring all the pain and fear and exhaustion and anger and frustration inside me. Without thinking, I leapt into the first janitor’s closet I found and locked the door. After catching my breath, I found this notepad and pencil, and have been writing this report in the sterile glow of my flashlight. Hopefully, I have left some useful information for anyone who may find this.

Now I lie in wait. What is that thing? If it can survive a bomb like that, what hope do we have? It’s no wall at all. It’s a membrane. An interface. Somewhere very different is pressing up against us. It has torn a small hole, and was now prying it open further.

So here I wait, hoping to be saved, but even as I write this I can hear that thing walking past the door. With a soft click I turn off my flashlight. I try not to breathe. I can hear the snuffling, it’s right outside!

Shit! Shit! I hear keys. The door is unlocking! How? How?

Oh God! The doorknob is turning...

I have a Jackson JS32-7Q incoming - a 7 to 6 string conversion ("I like wide nuts and I cannot lie").
I'm considering swapping out the 2 passive "Jackson® High Output 7 String Humbucking" pickups for something better. I assume since this is a 7 to 6 string conversion. (26.5” scale) that blade-style (rather than individual pole pieces) make sense. I may use it as a semi-baritone, or for lower and/or altered tunings (e.g. CGDGAD, DADGAD), given the scale length.
Tonally, versatility is welcome. As someone chronically indecisive, things like coil splttining in particular (possibly also series/parallel switching etc) appeal. Mostly clean, crunch and distortion in a jazz/rock/alt rock/grunge/trip hop/rnb etc vibe - rather than metal/djent. If going active, the Fishmans make a lot of sense to me in terms of flexibility. But I'm a little suspicious of active pickups in this situation: battery faff and a much bigger install job. I'm also quite a light touch player, and not into high gain, so sensitivity to nuance would be good.
I'd be ok with up to about £250 plus install, though there's some flexibility if it'd be worthwhile pushing the boat out in the scheme of things /long term, especially given install costs/hassle, etc.
Whilst I'm open to suggestions I'm currently considering (skim through - I've included the manufacturers' blurbs for context):
Lace Alumitone Humbucker 7 (c. £115 each)). Passive. High output. Look cool AF. Also appealing as they seem tonally up my strasse. These are currently my top-spot. "The world's first passive, high output, high definition pickup for extended range guitars has arrived! Designed for extended range guitars, the Alumitone Humbucker 7 pickups have a broad, sensitive, wide band tone with loads of warmth, clarity and headroom. The articulate low end is tight, but not bassy and keeps your tone out of the "mud zone". The attack is smooth when playing both rhythms, riffs and leads and the liquid crystal tone shines through for large chords. They are extremely versatile and excel at everything from jazz to metal and all points in between!"
DiMarzio DP 705 D X2N 7 BK: £103 each. Passive. Unsure whether they're genuine blade/soapbar or just covered up pole pieces. Blurb doesn't seem on point for me (pretty metal!): "What’s the story with 7-string guitarists? They always want more: more strings, more bass response, more notes to play with and — of course — more power. Okay, we got the message. The X2N® 7 is the answer. If you’re looking for pretty sound, don’t go here. If you’re looking for pretty crazy, this is it. Like the original 6-string model, the X2N® 7 is ridiculously loud, but we’ve totally re-designed the coils to capture the entire frequency response of all seven strings. And for players who experience occasional moments of sanity, the parallel humbucking and split coil modes are available for cleaner and quieter sounds."
Fishman Fluence Modern v2, Open Core or Matt Heafy (c. £220/pair). Appealing as they "offer multiple voicings, including options suitable for clean and mild-overdrive tones. The pickups provide clarity, warmth, and versatility, making them ideal for a range of musical genres, including jazz, blues, R&B, and rock." Unappealing as active. But maybe worth the hassle, given the versatility.
Seymour Duncan Blackout (have a line on a used pair for c. £120). Appealing as cheap! But ... active and seemingly geared at the metal market. "The original Blackouts high-output active bridge humbucker delivers all of the power and full-bodied punch that today’s metal players demand from an active pickup. You get the high-output signal level of an active pickup, with a more organic feel and open tonal response that allows the true character of your guitar to come through. The treble and bass response is extended beyond the range of traditional active pickups and has been carefully balanced with a slightly scooped midrange for the perfect crunch. This pickup excels at screaming pinched harmonics and is articulate enough for hyper-speed riffage, with responsive dynamics across the entire fretboard. Pair it with the Blackouts neck humbucker for a perfectly matched set. If your metal goes into extended-range depths, Blackouts are also available in 7- and 8-string versions. With clear highs and crushingly tight lows, these pickups will make your riffs speak all the way down to low B or dropped A (for 7-strings) and low F# or dropped E (for 8-strings). No matter how much gain you run, these pickups can handle it, with a dead-quiet, muscular performance. Whether your instrument is routed for passive or active pickups, there is a Blackout that will fit it. These high-output active pickups come with the pots, hardware, quick-connector cables, capacitor (active pickups require a special cap value), output jack, battery clip, and wire needed for installation. If your guitar already has active pickups with quick-connector cables, you should be able to simply unplug them and plug in your Blackouts."
Fenandez Sustainer - would make things interesting, and provide even more of a constrast with my other guitars (see below). But ... batteries required, and supposed not particularly special sounding.
Also in my long list:
Seymour Duncan Jupiter Rails but again sound quite metal "Widely considered one of the best players in the modern metal scene, Wes Hauch’s reputation precedes him. Whether playing with Alluvial, Devin Townsend, Thy Art Is Murder, The Faceless, or as a guest soloist on countless records, Wes’ ferociously aggressive and immaculately clean playing cuts like a knife through the mix. To facilitate the articulate and aggressive tones he’s known for, Wes requested a rails humbucker set with searing output and maximum clarity and balance. Built with dual stainless-steel rail poles, a ceramic magnet and a finely tuned high output wind developed closely with Wes, the result is the Jupiter Rails Humbucker Set – a pickup pair that delivers aggressive mid-range focused attack, evenly balanced string response, and clarity. It won’t make you play like Wes, but it will help you cop his tone."
Seymour Duncan Benedetto B7 (Jazz pickup). You've gotta have a total oddball in the list, right? "This pickup is naturally-voiced, mirroring the balance, warmth and richness of a fine archtop to help bring out its true acoustic essence. The tone is organic and articulate, and really brings out the tonal character of your guitar. The B-7 is a standard sized 7-string humbucker that mounts like any typical 7-string humbucker. It uses a 7-string humbucker mounting ring, and is a drop-in fit for any standard sized7-string humbucker pickup route. Designed for use with steel, nickel and bronze strings.Hand built in Santa Barbara, CA, the S-7 uses an alnico 5 bar magnet, and a single conductor co-axial cable."
Lundgren M7 C c. £330/set: "Available as this soapbar covered humbucker if replacing active pickups. Also availble as neck pickup. M7C With cover. This is the pickup many have been waiting for. The size is a direct replacement for EMG 707. Remember to change pots to 500K when changing from active pickups to these passive Monsters. And you can save some money when you do not need to go to the store and buy new batteries. The pickup is used on recordings worldwide . Pots can be bought from us. A Leaf thin plastic satin cover with Logo for brilliant look and protection on a standard M6. The pickup is well known both for high output and clarity. The design is a combination of a unique winding and a ceramic magnet placed under the pickup to give you more of everything and caused many players to give up active pickups. With lots of gain on your amp, harmonics is a piece of cake. The powerful high output M model humbucker let your notes come through even with lots of distortion on your amp. The pickup has lots of low end."
Bare Knuckle BLACK HAWK HUMBUCKER (c. £330/set): "The Black Hawk humbuckers have a radical look for a radical pickup. You’ll find all the power and clarity of an active with all the tone and dynamics of a passive. The Black Hawk humbuckers were designed in response to players' demands for a pickup that embodied the transparency and output of an active, with the character and wide dynamic control of a passive, all without the hassle of batteries. Each coil has a pair of specially annealed nickel plated steel blades which transfer the magnetism to the strings evenly across the width of the coil for perfect string to string balance. Although on paper the DC resistance is moderate, the specially designed coils and blades, along with the custom calibrated magnets, are capable of huge amounts of power but never at the expense of dynamics. The combination of coil size and winding technique ensure the Black Hawk humbuckers remain extremely reactive to pick attack and changes to the volume pot. Low notes have excellent depth and track extremely quickly. High notes remain strong and full no matter how high on the neck, and have broad mids with solid highs. Clarity throughout all frequencies is exceptional without ever sounding harsh or clinical. The combination of ceramic (or Alnico V) powered bridge and Alnico V powered neck creates a vast palette of contemporary tones suitable for playing styles as varied as fusion to extreme metal. These coils are scatter-wound by hand with 42AWG Heavy Formvar wire and then powered by a trio of ceramic magnets for the bridge humbucker (or optional trio of Alnico V magnets) and Alnico V magnet for the neck humbucker."
Bare Knuckel IMPULSE: "The Impulse humbucker is a full, tight pickup that embraces down-tuned guitars but can also handle medium-gain applications for full, muscular, rock-mids. "A finely tuned pickup for the lowest tuned player." Josh Smith One of the founding members of 'Northlane', guitarist Josh Smith explains exactly what to expect from his signature pickups: "The neutral and broad sounding midrange of this set seems to work well in just about anything and act to enhance the natural voice of the guitar without adding any offensive frequencies. While designed for my uses and excelling in baritone guitars, Les Paul guys, especially ones using big strings will love the clarity without anything too bright sticking out and the low-mids getting too cluttered. Progressive players will love the versatility and harmonic richness. Down-tuned metal players will love the fullness and tightness they get without any mud, especially if they're using an amp with a thick low-midrange. People playing in open or alternative tunings with a lot of range will like the consistency in tone, compression and feel between registers. Rock players will love the full and muscular mids of the humbucker and how it handles medium gain applications. Pedal junkies will love how they take to overdrive, fuzz, modulation and time based effects without getting lost.” "The thing about the Impulse set that I like the most is that they're real players’ pickups and although designed for me, they don't sway towards any particular genre of music. Just about anyone can buy these pickups and get a lot out of them in most applications. Whether you're a lead player with red-hot chops, or the rhythm player holding down the meat and potatoes, Strat or Les Paul, or baritone 7 string like me, the Impulse set has something to offer to you."
Arguably the Lace Nitro Hemi 7 (£182/set) . Passive but seemingly aimed at the metal market. "drops you directly into the field of battle armed with high gain output and life-taking tone. The aggressively brilliant midrange of the Nitro Hemi's facilitate an articulate and responsive picking attack along with bold crunch and punch. Chunk is reinforced with lows that are rich with tonal depth and character. Highs chime and scream in the bridge pup and wail and moan in the neck. Far from a one trick pony, the Lace Nitro Hemi is modern, high gain metal tone redefined and redesigned".
For context, the other electrics which see most of my playing are:

Fender Baja Tele (5 way switching)
Parker Nitefly (H/S/S plus Roland GK2A)
Eastman T486 (335 style) with Seymour Duncan Triple Shots.
Schechter C7 Hellraiser (7 string, active)

I've never swapped out pickups before ... but perhaps I should've!
I'm in England, UK.
Many thanks!

The pain was the worst thing`Dominick Mason had ever known…and he knew what it felt like to die. It felt like his brain was in a blender, being chopped to liquid for a Jeffery Dahmer smoothie and though it seemed melodramatic, he imagined he could feel himself losing brain cells by the minute. The sun, Merrick told him, would not burn him, but it would decay him faster, so sleep or rest during the day. With the sick, throbbing agony in the center of his brain, however, that was impossible. He spent most of the day curled up on his side, hugging his knees, and moaning. He had flashbacks to dying in his apartment, and that made things even worse. The room became too small, too close, the air too stale. His heart, filled with the blood of last night’s meal, pounded in his chest, and he went from slightly chilly to hot and feverish as blood was forced through his circulatory system. It mixed with the embalming fluid and left him feeling full and constipated. He didn’t want to get up, but he also didn’t want to go on lying there. He was the definition of miserable.
Before long, the pain became too great and he got up to pace, pressing his hands to the sides of his head and gritting his teeth. Merrick, who slept very little if at all, sat in his chair and watched, trying his best to talk him through it. “It’ll be over soon,” Merrick said. “The pain receptors in your brain are the first to go. When they burn out, you won’t feel anything.”
“When?” Dom asked, his voice raising with the tide of pain.
“A couple days?”
“A couple days???”
“The pain will lessen gradually,” Merrick said, “this is the worst of it.”
Dom believed that this was, indeed, the worst of it, but he doubted it would lessen gradually. For the rest of the day, the pain got worse and worse until every light blinded him, every sound turned his stomach, and the smell of anything made his gorge rise. The cloying smell of the embalming fluid, the light but unmistakable odor of dead flesh, and the scent of stale blood sitting in decomposing stomachs made him want to vomit, but he was afraid to. He didn’t think he could handle the sight of blood rushing from his mouth and splattering the floor. He still possessed enough of his facilities, he believed, to go insane.
Pain has a way of darkening one’s mood, and by the time the sun began to set, Dom was in the most sour mood possible. Even Merrick’s calm, fatherly voice was beginning to get on his nerves. When he took the oath to him the day before (or was it the day before that?), he turned his faith and trust over to Merrick entirely. He was finally accepted, included, finally had the love and fellowship that, in the pit of his soul, he had always wanted. Merrick understood him, Merrick was kind to him.
But deep down, Dom realized that he didn’t fully trust him. He said that his brain didn’t rot because he was “lucky.” That sounded like some bullshit to Dom. Why wasn’t Joe a blithering idiot too? Was he lucky as well? Did lightning strike in the same place twice? In life, people had done nothing but hurt and lie to Dom. Why would death be any different? He thought back to the strange liquid that always seemed to leak from Merrick’s nose, and Joe’s. He thought it was embalming fluid, but it never leaked from his own nose, or from anyone else’s. He tried to tell himself that it was far too soon to judge, but once he began to doubt something, his mind raced away. He felt a twinge of guilt, as Merrick had done absolutely nothing to deserve his doubt, but goddamn it, his head was on fire and he wanted it to stop. Anything to make it stop.
Just after sundown, the music began as Club Vlad opened for the night. It throbbed in the center of Dom’s head and made him want to claw his eyes out. When it became too much for him, he slipped away and stumbled into the sultry summer night. He came out in the alley running behind the club, clutching his head and breathing through bared teeth. He staggered, bumped into a metal trash can, and roared at the top of his lungs, as if he could purge himself of the pain by screaming.. His voice echoed and came back to him, making the pain worse.
Merrick was lying. He knew it. People always lied to him. His brain was rotting and PEOPLE WERE LYING! Flashing with anger, he slammed his fist into the brick wall of a Chinese restaurant. He barely felt anything so he did it again and again until his hand was lumpy and shaking. He sat heavily on the ground and pressed his hands to his head. It felt like maggots were burrowing into his brain, and he was suddenly terrified that they really were. He needed to stop this awful pain, but how?
An idea came to him.
The funeral home.
Maybe there was something there.
He was on his feet and lumbering there before the thought had even finished reverberating through his mind. It was a long shot, but he was desperate. On the way there, he stuck to the shadows, staying out of the light cast by the streetlamps and avoiding people. When he passed them, he kept his head down. When he reached the funeral home, he went to the back door where he and Jessie had gone the other day. He tried it, and it opened.
Inside, he bounced off the walls like a pinball, knocking over an end table and tearing at the flesh of his head, pulling it away in long, gray strips. He panted like a wild animal, his body a raging tempest of emotions. It was reaching a crescendo, he thought, his brain was about to go supernova. The world dimmed, things got really echoy. The young man he’d picked the embalming fluid up from was there, looking scared.
Flashing, Dom grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, knocking a painting of a flowery field to the carpet. Everything seemed to go in slow mo. “How does Merrick keep his brain from rotting?” Dom heard himself demanding from far away. “How does he keep the pain away?”
The man trembled. “I-I-”
Dom slammed him again. “Tell me or I’ll make you like me.”
“No!” the man wailed. He shook his head from side to side, his eyes wet with fear.
“How?”
“He-He uses a solution,” the man stammered. “Some kind of special thing. It preserves his brain. That’s all I know.”
An idea occurred to Dom.
Holding the man by the back of his neck, Dom dragged him into the embalming room and pushed him against the table. His head felt like it was swelling. Hot, screaming, getting ready to explode. He looked around, found the embalming machine, and grabbed the hose. There was a sharp tip on it so that you could jam it into a body. He held it in his hand, hesitating for just a moment before pressing it to his temple. The man watched in horror as Dom slowly shoved the tip into his head. It tore his flesh, broke through his skull, and sank into his brain. He felt no pain, only pressure, but cried out anyway. His eyes rolled up into his head and a shudder went through his body.
“Turn it on!” he yelled.
“That’s not what he -”
“TURN IT ON!”
Starting, the man turned the machine on. Cold embalming fluid squirted directly into Dom’s brain. Almost at once, the pain began to ebb away, replaced only by a fuzzy sense of numbness. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, looking for all the world like an addict taking a hit of his favorite substance after a long and trying day. Fluid leaked from his nose, ears, and eyes and dripped down the back of his throat.
The man waited for a long time, then turned the machine off.
The pain was gone.
At least for now.
“Tell me again,” Dom said.
The man did. Merrick used a special preserving agent to keep his brain intact. Joe, the man suspected, got it as well. So Merrick had lied to him.
Dom felt betrayed.
And angry.
Leaving the man (Dom realized that he didn’t even know his name), he walked back to Club Vlad, his hands fisted in his pockets. All his life, he had been hurt, lied to, and ignored. All his life, people had done wrong to him. And all those years, he just took it.
He resolved not to be so accepting in death.
At last, he was going to stop being a sniveling little bitch and stand up for himself.
When he reached Club Vlad, he slammed through the back door and took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he called out Merrick’s name. The old man was sitting in his chair, being attended to by Jessie and Matt. He looked startled when Dom came in. “You lied to me,” Dom said, stalking over to his benefactor.
“What are you talking about?” Merrick asked, doing his best to sound innocent.
“You lied to me!” Dom screamed. He bent over and got so close to Merrick’s face that he could have kissed him. “You told me there was no way to save my brain, but that’s not true. You’re pumping your head full of shit and letting the rest of us rot.”
A dark shadow flickered across Merrick’s face. “Watch your tone when you talk to me,” he said. His voice was low, menacing.
“Fuck you,” Dom said. “I should k -”
Suddenly, Dom was being grabbed from behind and yanked back, an arm around his neck. He cried out in alarm as Joe swung him around and slammed him face first into the wall. He heard his nose crunch, felt his teeth shatter. Next, Joe wrestled him to the glitter-sprinkled floor and wedged his knee between his shoulder blades.
Merrick watched with a sneer of disgust, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. He wheeled himself over, Jessie holding his IV stand steady and following behind. “Listen, you son of a bitch,” Merrick said, “you’re lucky to be a part of this family.”
Cold fear filled the pit of Dom’s stomach, yet he wouldn’t back down, couldn’t back down. He had lived his entire life like a mouse in a burrow, he wasn’t about to live his entire death the same way.
“Fuck your family,” he said defiantly. “And fuck you.”
Merrick’s face darkened and he sat back in his chair. He looked at Jessie and nodded. She went away and came back a moment later holding something in her hand. Dom’s eyes widened when he saw what it was.
A wooden stake, one end honed to a razor point.
Why they had one of those lying around, Dom didn’t know; it’d be like Superman keeping a piece of kryptonite on the mantle over the fireplace. Merrick directed Max and Matt to hold Dom’s arms down/ Joe pivoted, kneeling on his head now so that Dom’s back was exposed. Dom’s heart slammed with terror and tremors raced through his body.
“Is this what you want, Dominick?” Merrick asked. “To die? To truly die?”
Dom swallowed hard. No, it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to live, to love, to have a family one day. He wanted a happy, normal life, the life TV and social media had been promising him since he was a little boy.
But all of that went out the window the night he died in his little apartment. There was no life anymore, just a grotesque parody of life. What was there for him other than death? Clinging desperately onto life for decades like Merrick? Stuffing himself full of embalming fluid and moth balls? Grinding for one more minute just so he could sit hooked up to a machine?
Dom spoke.
“What?” Merrick asked, not having heard.
Dom licked his lips. “Just fucking do it.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Expectation hung in the air. Finally, breaking the tension, Merrick nodded to Jessie. Kneeling down, she brought the stake up, and Dom closed his eyes.
This was it.
He braced himself for death.
Jessie brought the stake down just as a shot rang out, deafening in the small space. Her head whipped back, embalming fluid, skull fragments, and gray, sickly pieces of brain showering from the back of her head. She flopped back and landed on the floor with a sickening thud.
A woman cop, her black uniform in stark contrast to the burning white light, stood in the doorway to the hall, her gun drawn. Everyone did, indeed, freeze, more out of surprise than respect for authority. They all looked at her, their dead mouths agape, resembling children who’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Everyone on the ground!” she barked.
No one knew what to do. They hadn’t expected to be raided by the police so had not prepared. She jerked her gun and everyone instinctively flinched. “On the ground!” she repeated. To Max: “You too, bone boy.”
The first one to react was Joe. He sprang at her like a big, undead frog. She brought the gun around and fired, but he was already crashing into her. The shot went wild and struck the IV bag next to Merrick; he ducked and let out a sound of fear. The others rushed her, and Dom got quickly to his feet. Jessie lay on the floor, her mouth open in a silent scream and her bony fingers frantically examining the ragged hole in the center of her forehead. For a moment, he was frozen; everything was happening too fast. Then, when Merrick saw him and cried, “Stop him!, he came alive. Jessie tried to grab at his leg, but he kicked her hand away and stomped on it like it was a giant spider. On the other side of the room, Matt, Joe, and Max had forced the cop to the ground. Perhaps excited by all the action, perhaps just hungry, they began to tear her apart. She howled in pain, and the last thing Dom saw before he fled was her open, blood-filled mouth. Her eyes were filled with pain…with terror.
After that, Dom ran.
***
When the interloper was dead, Merrick directed Joe and Matt to dispose of the body. “Get rid of it,” he said wearily and rubbed his temples, “make sure it isn’t found.”
They rolled her into a carpet from the office, and the way her feet stuck out may have been comical under other circumstances.
Goddamn it, this was bad. Merrick’s entire philosophy rested on avoiding detection. He had done well in that regard. Whereas other vampires had attacked their villages and gotten themselves dug from the ground and staked, he had made it four decades. He never shat where he ate, and there is no bigger turd than killing a cop. They might dawdle on all the boys who’d gone missing - taken because their blood was stronger and more robust than the blood of girls - but they would not take a cop dying lightly at all.
Merrick owned various businesses around the country. He and the others would simply move on. Tomorrow night, they would disappear into the night. They had done it before and they would likely do it again. Once things were settled at their new base of operations, he would have Joe killed for all the trouble he’d caused.
And Dom?
Let him go.
The little rat wouldn’t last a month on his own.
“Jessie?”
Jessie sat against the wall, gazing into space.
“Jessi…start packing. We’re leaving tomorrow.”
She didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear. The shot had all but lobotomized her.
Damn it.
Joe backed the van up to the back door of Club Vlad, and then helped Matt carry the carpet-rolled body down the stairs. They loaded it in and closed the back doors. Together, they drove around looking for a place to dump it. Merrick wanted it to go unfound, but Joe doubted there was anywhere isolated enough in the city. On a whim, he drove to Washington Park, a vast expanse of green trees and shadows. There was a large pond there. It seemed the best option. They were leaving tomorrow anyway, so did it really matter?
Joe backed the van to a railing overlooking the dark water and put it in park. He and Matt got out, fetched the body, and carried it to the railing. They lifted and heaved it over. It splashed. Thus, they rid themselves of Vanessa Rodregiez.
***
Bruce sat anxiously up in his easy chair and waited for his cell to ring.
Parked in front of the TV by warm lamplight, a beer wedged between his legs, he’d been watching the 11’o’clock news when the phone rang. He picked it up and it was Vanessa. “Hey,” she said, “I think I found our body?”
“Which one?” Bruce asked and took a drink. “We have a lot of those these days.”
“Dominick Mason.”
Bruce sat forward in his chair. “Dead Dom? Where?”
“He just came out of a funeral home, ironically enough.”
“That sounds about right,” Bruce said. “Where are you now?”
“I’m following him east on Central.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” Bruce asked.
“I think so, but I’m not sure. I’ll call you back when I’m done.”
Bruce sat the phone aside and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
At some point, he fell asleep sitting up, his head lulled to one side and his mouth open. He snorted himself awake, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. He checked his phone and was perturbed to see that it was past 2am.
Vanessa hadn’t called.
He dialed her number and let the phone ring until it went to voicemail. Sighing, he ended the call, then waited a few minutes and called again.
Still no answer.
It was possible she had forgotten. Maybe the guy turned out to not be Dead Dom after all. She followed some random guy around, realized it, and that was that. Hell, she was probably too embarrassed to call and tell him about it.
Something told him that wasn’t right, however.
There was something else going on here.
Something…darker.
Just before 3am, his phone rang. He snatched it off the end table next to the chair and answered it. It was Burt, the night sargent. “Rodriguez is missing,” he said simply.
Bruce’s heart sank. “Missing?”
“Yeah, she hasn’t checked in for hours and she isn’t answering calls.”
“I’m on my way,”
Bruce tore through the house, pulling on his uniform, socks, and shoes in less time than it took a Daytona 500 pit crew to service a car. In ten minutes he was speeding down 787, the Albany skyline rising in the distance. As he hurried to the station, he thought back to his last conversation with Vanessa. She’d found Dom the Dead Man, the “corpse” who’d scared Ed Harris out of a 20 year career. Despite all their talk about vampires and the living dead, Bruce didn’t believe it, not really. Even so, he was sure that Dominick Mason had done something to Vanessa.
He checked in at the station before doing anything else. They had triangulated Vanessa’s last known location via cell towers. Cops were already out searching the streets for her. Bruce went out as well, intending to start from her last known position and work his way east on Central. The closest funeral home was Tebbutt and Frederick on Central. There was also Lasak & Gigliotti on North Allen Street. Bruce didn’t know which one Vanessa had seen Dom come out of, so he checked both.
Both were deserted at this hour.
Undeterred, Bruce drove up and down Central Ave. At one point, he noticed a shape in an alleyway that looked human. He hit the brakes, jumped out, and pointed his gun at it. “Freeze!”
An old wino stepped out of the darkness. “Alright, you got me,” he said, hands up. “I started COVID. It was an accident, I swear.”
Bruce sighed and put his gun away.
For two more hours, Bruce searched the streets of Albany for Vanessa. At 4am, he spotted a squad car abandoned in the rear parking lot of an abandoned gas station on lower Lark Street. He called it in and the desk sergeant confirmed that it was the one Vanessa had signed out that night.
Still there was no sign of Vanessa herself.
Just after dawn, as the city came alive and CDTA buses began lumbering up and down the streets, Bruce got a call on his cell. “A jogger found a body in Washington Park.”
Bruce was in his personal car. He had no bubble light, no siren. Even so, he sped through the streets like he did, blowing through red lights and stop signs with little care to himself or anyone else. When he got to Washington Park, he found an army cops by the pond, the scene cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. He slammed on the brakes, threw open the door, and jumped out without even turning off the engine.
The body was rolled up in a carpet and lying on the bank. Two beat cops unrolled it at Bruce’s direction. “We should wait for -” one of them started, but Bruce cut him off.
“Do it.”
They compiled, and at the carpet’s center, like a rotten cream filling, was the body of Vanessa Rodregiuez. Her head was tilted to one side, her eyes wide and staring. Her throat had been mangled and ripped away, her head nearly severed. Even in the black and red mess, Bruce could make out the teeth marks and puncture wounds. They may have looked like something else to anyone else who saw them, but he knew, in that moment, what they were dealing with.
A sharp pang of horror sliced through him, and his knees went weak.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the beat cops drew.
Bruce fell to, rather than knelt on, one knee. He bent over the body, a mixture of horror and grief welling his throat. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her in death, but he stayed his hand. Instead, he visually examined the body. She had bruises on her face, defensive wounds on her hands, and her gun was gone. Whoever had attacked her, she put up a fight.
Something glinted on her pants.
“What’s that?” one of the cops asked.
“I dunno,” the other replied, “but it’s all over the carpet.”
Indeed, there were glinty little specks all over it, winking like mocking eyes. Nice work, eh? We really fucked her up, didn’t we? Wink wink.
“It looks like…”
The other cop cut him off. “Glitter.”
Bruce flashed back to his visit to Club Vlad the other day.
There had been glitter everywhere.
Bruce stood up.
He had work to do.
***
Instead of going back to the station to start his shift, Bruce went to Lowes. There, he bought a mallet, a gas can, and a dozen sticks of wood. An employee in a blue vest used a machine to sharpen them to a wicked point and he took his purchases to the car. Next, he drove over to the Mobil station and filled the gas can. He was so hellbent on revenge that he sprang for premium, the good stuff. No expense shall be spared.
His final stop was at a Catholic church. He filled a canteen with holy water from the marble font by the door, then swiped a crucifix from the wall. He stopped by the station, went inside, and grabbed a black duffle bag with POLICE written across the front in yellow. He opened the gun cabinet in his office, took out a shotgun, and loaded it with shells. He grabbed a handful from the box and stuffed them into his pocket.
He was just finishing up when Bertha came in. “There you are,” she spat, “I’ve waited long enough for you to do something. I demand -”
Bruce shoved the duffle bag into her arms. “Make yourself useful.”
“What?” she demanded.
“We’re going to get your granddaughter,” Bruice lied. Kind of.
Bertha’s demeanor changed. “Good. It’s about time. I was starting to think you were a complete incompetent.”
Bruce didn’t answer. Outside, he plucked the bag out of Bertha’s hands and tossed it into the backseat. He slipped behind the wheel and Bertha sat in the passenger seat. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Club Vlad,” Bruce said and started the engine.
“I want all of them arrested.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bruce said.
She barked orders the entire way there. Bruce was so deep in his thoughts that he barely heard her. The image of Vanessa’s ruined throat and terror-twisted face haunted him, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. Hot tears filled his eyes but he blinked them back and forced himself to calm down.
I’ll cry when I’m done killing, he thought.
A few minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of Club Vlad. It was a hot and sunny day and the place seemed even more ominous because of it. The windows were black, the front cast in perpetual shadows by the old marquee from when it used to be a theater. The place was surely closed, but Bruce could hear music still playing from inside, some techno dance bullshit. “Alright,” he said, “let’s go.”
Getting out, he slung the dufflebag over his shoulder and carried the shotgun, the canteen full of holy water clasped to his belt. Bertha carried the gas can, looking confused. “Why do we need this?” she asked.
“We’re burning the place down.”
Bertha blinked in surprise…then an evil grin carved across her face. “That’ll show the bastards.”
Unlike last time, the door was locked. Bruce used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass, then reached inside and unlocked the door, being careful not to cut himself. This was the point of no return. What he had in mind would probably get him kicked off the force or even thrown in jail - and we all know how tough jail can be for a former barnaclehead. The memory of Vanessa’s contorted face pushed him on, however.
He’d suffer any consequences he needed to just so long as he got the sons of bitches who did this to her.
Inside, the club was cool and cave-like. Strobe lights flashed, on and off, black and white, dazzling Bruce’s eyes. The bartender was at his station, cleaning up from the night before. When he saw Bruce and Bertha come in, he started. Bruce pointed the shotgun at him. “Don’t fucking move,” he commanded.
The bartender hesitated, then reached for something under the bar.
The shotgun kicked in Bruce’s hands, and the bartender flew back, turning as he crashed into the barback. Bottles, glasses, and mugs crashed to the floor along with the bartender. Bruce racked the gun, and the shell flew out. He moved low and fast now, expecting to be swarmed by vampires, living thugs who worked for vampires, or vampire thugs who worked for themselves.
Though the shot had been like thunder, no one came.
Bruce had no idea where to go, but he imagined that vampires were naturally gravitate to the lowest part of the building. Was there a basement? Shit, he should have looked up the building plans at city hall. Damn, this is what happens when you go off half-cocked. He searched around a bit, opening doors and sweeping the rooms beyond with the shotgun. He found no basement, only stairs leading up. “Stay close,” he said to Bertha.
In the lead, Bruce crept up the stairs, the flashlight on the shotgun providing a cone of clean, white light. At the top of the stairs, he went right, and came to an office and a store room. Backtracking, and bumping into a bungling Bertha, he went into the next room. It was large and open with a vaulted ceiling, almost like a ballroom. Here the same strobe lights throbbed on and off, making him dizzy. Was this to dazzle prospective vampire hunters?
Either way, this was the place. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some curled up on their sides and others in the classic vampire pose: Flat on their backs with their hands laced over their chests. In the center, like the sun to the planets, Merrick Garvis lay slumped back in his wheelchair, his neck exposed for any potential assassin to come and cut. Not that it would kill him. At least Bruce didn’t think it would.
“They’re all dead,” Bertha whispered. She looked around and gasped. “There’s Jessie.”
Jessie lay on her back, her hands folded on her chest. She had a ragged bullet hole in the center of her forehead. “Oh, God,” Bertha wavered, “someone shot her.”
He hoped it was Vanessa. And he hoped it fucking hurt.
Looking around, Bruce couldn’t find Dominick Mason. Was he the one who killed Vanessa? Was it a group effort? He wanted the little son of a bitch bad, but it looked like he’d have to go on without him. They didn’t have much time.
Unshouldering the duffle bag, he knelt down and rummaged around. “Start splashing that gas on the bodies,” he said.
“But -”
“Just do it,” he snapped.
There must have been a harder edge in his voice than normal, because Bertha jumped and did as she was told. She upended the can and began to splash gasoline onto the sleeping forms, the smell of it acrid and strong.
Taking out a stake and the mallet, Bruce went over to Merrick and knelt down. He gripped the stake in one hand and placed it firmly against Merrick’s chest. He brought the mallet up and hesitated, the gravity of what he was doing finally reaching him. What if he was wrong? What if -
Merrick’s head whipped up and their eyes locked.
Too late.
Bruce brought the mallet down as hard as he could. The stake drove deep into Merrick’s heart, and the vampire let out a howling screech that rang through the chamber like the cry of a banshee. His bony fingers clawed at the stake and his head whipped from side to side, his back arching and his robe coming open. In the quick strobe pattern, Bruce was shocked to see that his body was little more than a wood frame, chicken wire, and cotton balls. His blacked heart was hidden behind a screen of mesh that the stake had easily torn through. It throbbed, seemingly in time with the strobe lights, and Merrick let out another wail.
Bertha screamed, and Bruce jumped to his feet.
The vampires, drawn by their master’s cries of distress, were rising to their feet. Two, four, six of them, pale and ethereal like ghosts in a gothic mansion. They came toward Merrick, and Bruice fell back a step. The old man had gone still and lay slumped to one side, his eyes open and his mouth slack, embalming fluid leaking from the corner of his lips. Jessie bent over him and touched his face. Though she moved like a zombie, with no human emotion, Bruce was crazily sure that it was a touch of tenderness and love. Merrick didn’t stir.
He was dead.
Jessie looked at him. Yellow liquid leaked from her eyes like tears. Instead of attacking him, she turned on her grandmother and slammed her against the wall. Bertha screamed and dropped the can. It landed on its side, its contents sloshing out onto the floor. A man that resembled the pictures Bruce had seen of Joe Rossi only deader rushed him, slamming into him and knocking the shotgun aside. It hit the floor and skidded away. Joe grabbed Bruce around the throat and squeezed. Still the lights flashed, off and on, off and on. The walls thrummed with the mechanized beat of dance music, pierced only by Bertha’s screams as Jessie ripped out her throat.
Joe leaned in, his fangs wicked and glowing in the light. Bruce clawed at the monster’s face, tearing away strips of dead flesh. Joe turned his head to the side, and Bruce kneed him in the groin. Even dead, getting kicked in the balls hurt like hell, apparently. Joe’s grip loosened and Bruce was able to shove him off. Bruce unclasped the canteen and frantically screwed the cap off as Joe recovered. Joe sprang at him again, and Bruce splashed him in the face.
A sound like sizzling meat filled the air, and Joe screamed at the top of his lungs. He pressed his hands to his face and danced around the room, his skin liquifying and oozing between his fingers. The others were coming now, led by a terrible skeletal thing. Bruce scooped the shotgun off the floor, brought it around, and fired. The blast hit the thing dead center, tearing it literally in half. The top half flew back, an all too human look of surprise on its face, and the bottom half fell over with a wet thud. Another vampire came at, and Bruce slammed it across the face with the butt of the gun. He heard its jaw crack, saw teeth flying.
Bertha lay dead on the floor, Jessie bent over her. The smell of Bertha’s blood attracted the others, who seemed to forget about Bruce, Merrick, and everything else. Joe was on his knees, wailing in pain, and the skeletal thing was pulling itself toward Bertha. A feeding frenzy broke out as vampires fought to get a piece of her the way piglets might fight over their mother’s teat. Bruce watched in a mixture of horror and fascination, but recovered himself. He grabbed the gas can from the floor and dumped the rest of its contents on Merrick’s body, the feeding vampires’ backs, and the floor, using the last of it to make a little trail to the door. He tossed the can aside, bent down, and stuck a match.
A huge, fiery whump filled the room, and fire streaked along the trail. The vampires all went up in a huge ball of flames, and fire shot up Merrick’s body, catching his robe, his hair, and the wooden frame that had kept him semi upright for God knows how long. Letting out inhuman screams, the vampires broke from Bertha’s corpse. One stumbled around, bounced off the wall, and fell; another toddled toward Bruce before falling to its knees. The half skeleton kept drinking from Bertha’s neck even as it burned.
The heat was enormous, baking. Bruce backed away, and the last thing he saw before smoke obscured his vision was Merrick Garvis.
He was literally melting.
***
Dominick Mason tried to go home, but he no longer had a home. All of his worldly possessions sat on the sidewalk in front of his building, discarded coldly as easily. His key didn’t work in his door and there was a FOR RENT sign on it. Why would it be any other way? He was dead. Sooner or later, everyone forgets you when you’re dead, and all the things you held so dear wind up in the trash. It was a hard pill to swallow, but most people aren’t around to see it after they die.
He was.
From his building, he walked east toward Washington Park. In the distance, thick, black smoke billowed into the air, and sirens rose. He barely noticed and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. No more rubbernecking for him. That was for the living.
The pain that had plagued him so the previous day came back, only less this time. Maybe he was imagining it, but it was getting harder to think. Not that he cared, really. What was there to think about anyway? How he had no one to mourn or miss him? How he died and not one single person, except for maybe his mother, cared, or even noticed? How he had done nothing with his life? Even to the women he’d slept with, what was he? Just another dating app hookup. They probably didn’t even remember his name.
Merrick had been right about one thing. Death was easy. It was life that was hard…life that hurt.
With that in mind, Dominick made his way to Washington Park. It was a vast and deep place with many small caves and thickets. Kids played on the playground, their cries of laughter scenting the still air. It had grown cloudy and began to rain. Still, smoke poured into the sky in the direction of Club Vlad. Dom didn’t wish ill on Merrick and the others, didn’t hope it was them burning. He didn’t care anymore. Not about them, not about anyone. For better or worse (and he would argue it was worse), his life was over. His time came days ago, he just missed the boat.
Picking out an isolated little area, Dom sat against a tree with his legs splayed out in front of him. He titled his head back and closed his eyes. Yes, thinking was hard now. His mind felt sluggish, cold. He was thirsty…so, so thirsty, but he ignored it.
Slowly, the bugs found him. Flies buzzed around him and laid their eggs in his skin. Beetles scuttled over him, followed by worms.
Next, it was the birds. They ate out his eyes and nibbled at his blue, bloated skin.
The animals came last.
Their appetites were bigger.
And they left little remaining of poor, outcast Dominick Mason.
***
That night, Bruce sat alone in his little trailer, a bottle of whiskey wedged between his legs and unshed tears in his eyes. He stared at his reflection in the darkened TV set and took long swallows from the bottle. He planned to drink until he forgot or passed out, whichever came first. He tried to not think about Vanessa, but in his addled state, he couldn’t control himself, and began to cry. When that storm passed, like the others before it, he chugged from the bottle.
As distant church bells clanged the hour - midnight - a feeble knock came at the door. Bruce took another drink and it came again. Getting up, he stumbled, nearly fell, and gripped the bottle tightly. He didn’t want to lose one precious drop.
Again, the knock.
“I’m coming,” Bruce slurred. He staggered to the door and fought with the lock. He was dizzy and seeing double.
When he got it, he opened the door.
The bottle dropped from his hand and clanked onto the floor.
Vanessa, clad in a puke green hospital gown, stood on the step, her hands pressed to her chest and a look of anguish on her milk white face. Her head tilted to one side, the wounds on her neck cleaned but open, gaping. Her dark eyes shone with tears. “I’m dead,” she said.
Breaking down in tears, she collapsed against him and they sank to the floor. She was cold and smelled. Bruce wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest anyway. “Shhh, it’s alright,” he said drunkenly. “Hey, it’s alright.
“I’m dead,” she repeated, and her voice broke. “I don’t want to die.”
Bruce held her close, trying to warm her icy skin. He didn’t know what to say, so he cried with her.
“You’re safe now,” he said, “it’s going to be okay.”
“I want blood,” she said and sobbed harder, “I want to hurt people.”
“Shhh,” Bruce said again. “It’s okay.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a utility knife. He flicked the blade across his wrist and searing pain shot up his arm. “Here,” he said and offered her his blood, “drink this.”
He did this without care and without thought. She needed him, and one barnaclehead always backs up another.
Vanessa hesitated, looking from his face to the oozing blood, unsure.
“Go ahead,” he told her.
Vanessa brought his wrist to her mouth.
And began to drink.

I’m trapped. I can hear that thing lumbering through the hallway. My God, what the hell is it?The soft scratching of my pencil sounds deafening in the quiet of this tiny closet. I’m almost certainly gonna die in this place. I just hope someone can find this, maybe it will do some good. Or maybe it already doesn’t matter. I’m not sure how long I have until that wheezing thing finds me. Oh Jesus, or that grey stuff might ooze under the door and dissolve me. Oh my God! What it did to Benny, Sammy, Jonesy and Donald! To all of them! Even if I don’t survive, the world needs to be warned!

Long story short, I was a cop but I got shot in the head. The doctors said I was lucky, that it went straight through without hitting anything vital. However, I still needed three steel plates to hold my skull together. Also ended up with permanent tremors in my right hand and a nasty scar just under my eye. So, it’s no surprise that my cop career didn’t thrive. Just a year later I was a “retired” 45-year-old cop, living off scraps. After a few months, I started to get desperate for work. One evening while out with my friend, Graham, he mentioned something about some private research institute in the Mojave Desert. “What, are they still blowing A-bombs out there?” I scoffed, eyebrows arched with bemused incredulity. Graham stared down at his beer, “Not sure what the hell they do. But they pay super well, so who cares,” he took a long sip of beer, foam clinging to his lips, “I think it would be a good fit for you”.

Turns out this facility, and it really is known as the “Facility”, was located in the middle of nowhere. When I looked it up I couldn’t find any information at all. Later that week I called the number that Graham had scrawled down for me on a beer stained napkin. My right hand wasn’t good with delicate tasks so when I dialed the number I had to use my left hand. The phone rang twice before a metallic voice answered and said to hold for an operator. After a few seconds of muted elevator music, I spoke to a soft voiced woman who told me my skill set was perfect for their current vacancy: a security management position. Her voice was soothing, “Your credentials are excellent. If you like I can fax some forms and a draft contract over, and we can pay for you to fly on up to see us in person. I’m certain you’ll get offered the job.”

She was right. One flight and several NDAs later, I was employed again! By the time I started my new job I realized I had no idea what research went on down here. During the interviews my duties as a security manager had been discussed but any mention of their actual research interests had been carefully omitted. On my first day I asked others about the nature of the Facility’s research, but no one had any interest. “Just stick to your contract. No point in rockin’ the boat,” my new boss, Sammy, said to me curtly. I’ve not discussed it since.

The part of the Facility which I managed was section B.15. This area was located several hundred feet below the sun scorched surface of the Mojave Desert. It comprised many green corridors peppered with tall wide doors made from dark, stainless steel. The rooms inside were large and sterile. Of course, whether or not we wanted to know the nature of the research, after patrolling some of the research labs for weeks, it wasn’t hard to figure out that the scientists were mostly archeologists. Or maybe paleontologists. I often found different objects lying around in various states of cleanliness. Some looked like ancient amphoras, or large stone bird baths or even fossilized remains. Others were less identifiable: a melted lump of some glimmering metal or large chunks of a glass-like material. I found this all extremely curious because, as far as I knew, the Mojave Desert didn’t have much in the way of ancient architecture. At least of any ancient civilization that I know.

As the months went by I started to get friendly with the other guards, most of them ex-cops too, and we played cards and drank Irish coffee in the evenings. My two main colleagues consisted of a jovial, short man with orange hair named Jonesy and a much older much grumpier and much balder man, Donald. They were good men and we had a lot of laughs together. My stomach twists when I think about where they are now. Though I grew fonder of my fellow guards, I found myself developing a severe dislike for the researchers. Most of them were mean and arrogant. The only scientist my security buddies liked was a scrawny guy named Benny. Our favorite thing about Benny was that he never talked about his work.

It was earlier, at 1400h, when all the scientists were running from their rooms. They must have received some message a few minutes before and we watched them from the surveillance monitors as they got all excited, their lab coats flapping and flowing as they made for the stairs. Soon after this, the large red landline phone near my desk began to ring. Expecting the call, I picked up the receiver before the first ring finished, “Hey boss, what’s all the excitement about?” Sammy’s voice was uncharacteristically anxious, “The diggers have found a friggin’ huge object out here! The biggest thing they’ve ever dug up. They want to bring it to B.15 so I need you to organize the logistics and security”. My brow furrowed, “I guess it’s too big for the main entrance? Maybe we could bring it in via the big doors of the auxiliary hangar?” she grunted with agreement, “Yea, we’ll have to improvise a bit but should be manageable. I’ll get some of the boys from B.10 and B.14 to help you out.” I nodded, “Thanks, see you soon”

Donald, Jonesy, some interns and I had coffee in the office and called the guards at the hangar doors to arrange clearance. About an hour later we met the guards from B.10. and B.14, together we climbed the many stairs to the hangar and waited for the cargo to arrive. The massive metal hangar doors had been opened, which was rare. What was more irregular was that nearly every staff member from sections B.09 to B.18 were all gathered together in a silent knot of people. Despite the silence the air sizzled with anticipation, as well as the searing heat. I stood transfixed from curiosity, waiting in the shade of the doorway as the relentless sun beat down outside. I squinted. In the distance I saw a black speck grow larger against the bright blue sky. Slowly it took the form of a helicopter with an enormous rectangular shaped mass dangling below it.

Within less than a minute the helicopter made its cacophonous approach toward the hangar and gently lowered the object onto a wide wooden scaffold. I barked orders and signed forms as the guards rushed about. The air was blaring with the sound of helicopter blades and sand rocketed into my face, forcing me to splutter. “Alright, let’s get this thing processed!” I yelled over the sound of the helicopter as its engines powered down. My colleagues and I wiped dirt from our faces. Sammy emerged swiftly from the chopper and shook my hand. Her hair was in its characteristic librarian-bun but her eyes were glassy. Had she been drinking? We quickly reviewed the paper work she gave me and then she made her way back downstairs to her office in section B.1. She was keen to get away for some reason.

As my colleagues cleared away most of the staff and the excitement died down I was finally able to take a moment to inspect the object. It had been lowered onto a wooden scaffold fitted with wheels and had been pushed slowly into the center of the hangar. The few aircraft in this hangar were all currently under repairs, leaving plenty of space for the object.

The object was a wall. It was rectangular and about twenty-five feet long, ten feet thick and twelve feet high. The wall first appeared made from boring grey stone. I even remember thinking, “It’s not even that big”. However, when I looked closer it was, alive. I barely noticed the helicopter take off and leave as I saw the wall’s surface bubble. The hangar doors began to close as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A bead of sweat ran down my cheek and I thought I heard something. It sounded like someone far away calling my name. I felt a strange pressure around my head. A sudden invasive thought dug into my mind: throw yourself into the wall. I shuddered and held myself back despite the sudden strong desire. I heard the faint voice of Benny and crashed back to reality. My eyes snapped open and I found my nose an inch away from the wall. It radiated cold like an open freezer and it smelled like rotten clay. The surface of the wall simmered ever so slightly. It reminded me of the fizz of some grey effervescent medicine. I paled as I took a large step backward, “I.. uh, what is this?” I turned to face Benny who stood with another scientist. He glanced at her briefly before he approached the wall, “Honestly, we have no idea”.

I got Donald and Jonesy to help Benny transport the wall down to room 278B via the service elevator. Donald grumbled, “Guh, this thing smells like something my dog puked up”. Meanwhile Jonesy stared with eyes as large as saucers, “It looks so cool!” Once downstairs, I told Donald and Jonesy to take some forms to the admin department and I returned alone to my office to get some more coffee and file away the rest of the paperwork. I tried to put the strangeness of the wall out of my mind, but it had truly unnerved me. I felt so tired. As I sat at my desk facing the surveillance monitors I was unable to fight the force fusing my eyelids together.

I’ve been hungover a lot, but when I woke up at my desk I’d never felt quite so singularlyawful. My clothes were soaked with sweat and my whole body felt exhausted. My arms felt like molasses. My forehead throbbed and I was bruised. I also felt a weird pressure squeezing my head from all sides. I sat back in my seat and rubbed my eyes.

Then I froze.

A hand was lying motionless on the floor just behind the table at the center of the room. I leapt to my feet and rushed forward. I gasped from horror as I saw Donald lying there, his chest sliced to ribbons. Gallons of dark scarlet stained his blue uniform. His eyes stared up empty and terrified. Pallid and shaking I ran to my landline to call for backup immediately. As the receiver met my ear my stomach dropped into my feet.

The line was dead.

I was so confused. We had lots of fail safes to ensure communication remained enabled, but the line was dead and there was no sign of any response. I rushed back to the monitors. The cameras were all operating normally. I started to breathe heavily. I couldn’t see anyone. The corridors were green and bare. I looked at the clock. It was 1817h. I had slept for about two hours. But where was everyone? Where were the janitors? My heart was hammering in my chest and my head was throbbing. My eyes narrowed with a sudden thought. Where was that wall?

I searched for the wall and found it was back in the hangar! It sat upon the bare ground right by the massive doors. However, the doors were sealed. The wall itself looked different. It was absolutely enormous! Just over two times longer and taller and wider. Just then, I realized that the titanium blast doors had been sealed as well. My heart rate doubled as I noticed large dents, scorch marks and scratches all over the doors. The hangar floor was covered in blood. My God, I even saw a rocket-launcher lying blackened and fractured near the doors. What the hell had happened?

I spun my head to look at the security panel on the wall to my left. My heart, already racing, felt like it leapt out of my mouth. My eyes grew wide as I realized Donald must have activated a quarantine procedure. This meant that the entire Facility would be sealed airtight. The only way to open any doors now was from the outside. My God! Why had he done this? Where was everyone? Did I really sleep through all this? Where was Jonesy? I looked back at Donald, my heart still racing from seeing his dead eyes stare into mine. I sighed sadly and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was now 1831h. I returned to the monitors and began to rewind the security footage.

Surveying the screens, I watched my past-self enter the security office at around 1600h. By 1610h I had passed-out on my chair, drool dangling from my mouth. “Ok, so let’s see where the wall was at that time. Should be room 278B.” I thought to myself aloud as I clicked on the button that displayed the footage of room 278B and the surrounding corridors. The screens were black as the footage loaded and I was about to hit the play button but hesitated. Did I really want to see this? I closed my eyes and took a few slow breaths. I have to know. I hit play.

The camera was located opposite the door giving a full view of the room. At first everything was normal. It was 1623h when they were unstrapping the wall. A loud popping sound was heard and the researchers spun around. The lights in the room dimmed and flickered. Suddenly something long and slimy exploded from the flesh of the wall. It wrapped around Benny and pulled him in. He screamed in terror as he vanished, his cries immediately silenced.

Without realizing it I was instantly on my feet, shaking my head in pure denial. My heart burst. What the hell was that? What the hell? What the hell? My head was full of static. I felt tears in my eyes as I watched guards and researchers rush into the room. The wall shimmered, it’s simmering surface began to boil and bubble and it grew a few inches higher. I saw it reshape itself so that intricately carved figures appeared on the wall’s edge. I leant in closer and gasped. One of those figures looked just like Benny, his mouth stretched into a permanent scream. The guards and researchers were horrified by what they saw. Suddenly, without warning, their body postures relaxed, their eyes grew glassy, and their arms fell slack at their sides. Those within the room moved as if sleepwalking. Some stayed still while others left the room. Brow furrowed from confusion and fear, my eyes swiveled to the footage of the corridors outside. The guards and researchers that had just exited 278B immediately began attacking and grappling those around them. I yelped as a vacant-eyed guard lazily shot another man in the leg. The thrall then dragged the wounded guard into room 278B. The mad guard held the wounded guard’s leg fast as he casually walked into the grey wall, pulling the struggling man in behind him. During this altercation I noticed Donald, he was hiding behind the corner of the corridor at the far end and was firing his gun at the thralls. He didn’t manage to hit anyone though. He then ran over to help a stray research intern to her feet and then they both ran down the corridor and out of view.

I could still hear the pleas for mercy as those who fell victim to the thralls were dragged into that horrifying wall. With every person it swallowed, the wall wriggled and grew. More ghastly decorations began to bloom on its surface, all of them made from the bones or likenesses of those absorbed. The bigger it got the stronger its psychic influence became until it reached everyone in the Facility. I looked on in horror as one by one, all janitors, researchers, guards, diggers, admin staff, everyone stopped what they were doing, mid conversation, their eyes emptying. The janitors dropped their mops and buckets. Researchers dropped precious materials and equipment without care, letting them smash to pieces. In unison, with vacant expressions, they moved toward room 278B. Among the horde of thralls, I saw Sammy and Jonesy, and so many others I knew. A guy who’d held the door for me once, a researcher who always slurped her coffee at lunch. Hundreds of people! What filled me with an unnamable dread was that I knew what was gonna happen. I knew what was coming. I tried to shout at the monitors, “Stop! Wait!” I grabbed the monitors and shook them with frustration.

A terror began to fill my stomach, deep and cold and aching. Suddenly I noticed Donald reappear on the screen. He was trying to hold back the intern he’d helped earlier, but it was useless. I saw Donald stare with incredulity as he sat defeated on the ground. Everyone else around him stumbled dreamily toward their doom. But Donald refused to give up. I saw him run from corridor to corridor, trying desperately to stop them. He threw chairs and tables in their way but they simply pushed them aside or jumped over them. I saw him run toward this office. I saw him enter, saw myself slumped on my chair still completely unconscious. I saw Donald try to shake me awake, he slapped me a few times and was yelling in frustration. He gave up with me eventually and ran over to activate the quarantine lockdown. I saw him tear down the hall back toward room 278B, pistol in hand.

As soon as Donald got close to 278B a long pale tendril burst through the door directly into his chest. The tentacle had a hooked end and it slashed him. I saw blood spurt out of him, saw him stumble and fall to the ground. However, he still managed to get a hold of his gun and fired multiple shots at the tendril. It writhed and flailed. Donald took this opportunity to climb to his feet. He grimaced and clasped his chest as crimson leaked to the floor. He moved back down the corridor. Eventually he got back to the office. He locked the door and, still fumbling with his keys, attempted to open the ammunitions cupboard. Before he could find the right key, he cursed and then collapsed. I cried out in frustration. That whole time I was completely useless!

My mind felt like static again for a few seconds. I couldn’t work out what my next move should be. A thought hit me hard. Why had Donald and I not been psychically affected by the wall? Everyone had been enslaved. Why not Donald? And me? My eyebrows shot up into my receding hairline with sudden realization. “Shit, the steel plates in my head!” And Donald had a steel plate in his skull too because of a rock-climbing accident he had in his 20s. When I got close to the wall, had it sensed my resistance? Had it tried to incapacitate me? If so, it meant the thing possesses sentience.

While I pondered this, I noticed some thralls re-strap the wall in room 278B. They transported it to the elevator and back up to the hangar. Once there, the thralls moved the wall off the scaffold onto the floor and began to beat heavily on the large metal doors with bare fists. Some even shot at the doors with their handguns. The ricochets killed a few of them but not one single person even noticed. Some of the guards even used a rocket launcher! I yelled with shock as they fired at deadly close range, lazily blowing themselves up, leaving the doors scorched. After this proved futile, the thralls all grew rigid. Next, they all formed a line in front of the wall and one shambling step after another, all the remaining employees were - assimilated. Even the dead and wounded were not spared. Those still alive carried the corpses of their fellow thralls into the wall.

It was 1735h when the last employee disappeared forever into the grey horror, and the wall expanded to its current size. Without warning, a large mass of twisted limbs emerged from the wall. I gasped from horror. Its silhouette was about seven feet tall and thin and stretched. It had too many legs and it didn’t appear to have a head. This thing lumbered over to the doors and began to strike them with a strength and ferocity found only in a starving polar bear. I could tell that the doors were taking strain, and they began to bend, but even then, they did not yield. After just over half an hour of smashing the door, the creature stopped and slowly shambled toward the stairs. My heart froze. It was coming here! Or was it here already? I sat still for a moment and tried not to lose my mind completely. I swear I could hear Woody the woodpecker laughing somewhere in the distance. I needed to keep it together. I took a long deep breath and tried to think of a way out.

Summarizing the details of my predicament, I realized I was trapped alone inside the Facility with an otherworldly force. Also, even if I found a way out, I’d potentially be letting an evil into the world that could destroy all life. My eyes grew even wider and I grabbed at my hair, “But my God, if this thing gets out. If it gets into the minds of other people. If it gets larger and larger. Could it swallow the world?” I was talking aloud now; the sound of my voice gave a new clarity to my situation that made me shudder. I turned back to the monitor. It seems I was all caught up. I stared blankly into the screen while I watched my past-self wake and wince from pain. I switched the monitor off and saw my reflection in the blackness of the screen. I was pale and my eyes were sunken and unblinking. “What do I do now?” I turned in my chair to look at Donald’s body. “Poor Donald, he didn’t deserve this”, I muttered softly. My eyes moved from his body up to the ammunition’s cupboard just above. “Wait, was he trying to get into the cupboard earlier?”, I gasped with realization. “Holy crap, he was trying to get the bomb! Me and Donald were gonna use a left-over bomb from the excavation site to blow some random shit up!”

I stood up quickly and walked up to the cupboard. I opened the cupboard with little effort and found the twenty pounds of plastic explosive inside. It had already been set up with a sixty second timer and a remote detonator. I sat at the table with the explosive, a vague plan forming in my broken mind. “Maybe if I somehow get this wall-thing to eat this bomb then...”

Before I could formulate my thoughts fully, the lights flickered, and the entire Facility was plunged into darkness unceremoniously. My nerves burned with fear. What had happened? Had that thing knocked the power out somehow? The next few seconds that past were the longest I’d ever experienced. Eventually dim green light bloomed to life and the reserve power kicked in. Then I heard slow, shuffling footsteps in the corridor just outside the office. I froze once again, my insides turning to mush. My mind raced. Had I remembered to lock the door? My stomach leapt into my feet as I heard the shuffling get louder and louder. I heard hoarse, wheezing breaths, as if the thing struggled to breathe. I jumped from fright but remained absolutely silent as whatever the thing was banged on the door with a deafening blow.

BANG!

The door shook and bent slightly.

BANG!

Silence.

BANG!

My heart was hammering in my ears and I sat deathly still. I could hear that thing breathing louder. After a few moments I heard it shuffle away. My entire body was shaking as relief washed over me. I turned to look at the screens. Dare I turn them on and check what it was? After a few seconds I turned to the monitors and switched them on. I waited in nervous anticipation as they flickered to life showing me that all the corridors between me and the wall were currently empty. I didn’t bother checking the corridor I suspected the shambling thingwas in. I didn’t want to see it unless I needed to. I’d had just about all the stress and terror I could take and by this stage I felt weirdly calm. It must be shock. A thin sigh escaped me as I stood. The fear in my blood began to feed a furnace of anger in my heart. I thought about all those who I had lost. I felt my expression turn to granite, “It’s time to kill this thing.”

I opened the door slowly, my fully loaded gun in my good hand. Spare ammo along with the explosive and a sawed-off shotgun was stashed in my backpack, and the remote detonator was tied to my belt. I held a heavy-duty flashlight in my shaky right hand. I moved cautiously through the dark green corridors. I’d never thought of how creepy this place could be until this moment. Gooseflesh crept up my arms and neck as I continued. All I could hear were my soft footfalls and shallow anxious breaths. I cleared the corridors one by one until I made it to the stairs. I walked up the stairs carefully. I took one step. Then another. Slowly, I climbed. After many minutes, I was near the hangar. Then I heard the soft sound of crying.

Someone was crying. No. Many people were crying.

I stopped dead in my tracks. My entire body shook from the adrenaline surging through me. Once my head peeked over the top of the landing, I froze. The wall loomed gigantic before me. Its edges were now framed intricately with the skeletons of hundreds of people, all twisted and screaming in agony; tortured souls bound together. I could hear them all. They were all screaming. Screaming for me to join them. I felt that pressure squeeze against my skull tighter and tighter. I shook my head in defiance. “No! You bastard! NO! I will not join you!” All at once the moans and wails stopped. I suddenly found myself at the top of the stairs without knowing when I’d finished climbing them. “But you will” came the sound of hundreds of twisted voices fused into one. “We are them. We are all. We can be all. We will be all. All and all and more than all.”
A deafening blast came from the wall and slithering, tangled human limbs emerged. It had four legs and several arms. It looked like the bodies of eight or more people shuffled and glued into an otherworldly horror. Its multiple mouths screamed a high pitched roar that was pure torment, and its sharp pointed teeth gnashed and chomped. I only had a second to dodge. I leapt to the side and fired multiple shots at the thing’s center of mass. Its horrifying body of fused torsos wriggled and bled black ichor. It screamed with pain and jumped at me, grabbing my leg. It tossed me into the air and I slammed into the floor a few feet away. As I hit the ground I yelled in pain and heard something metallic smash. Before I could catch my breath, it was upon me again. From the ground I fired several shots at it. This made it jump away and scuttle down the stairs. I noticed immediately that the remote detonator had been smashed beyond repair. With the creature momentarily out of sight, I kneeled and took off my backpack as fast as I could. “Only one way then”, I said quietly as I pulled out the bomb and started the timer manually. I also got the shotgun out. I needed to do this now or never.
As the final shell clicked into place I heard a roar coming from the stairs. The thing was back. Before I could react, it leapt at me and knocked me to the ground. The bomb flew from my grasp. It bared down on me, grabbing at my throat ready to tear me apart. My reflexes saved me and I managed to use my shotgun to hold the thing at bay, but it was way too strong. Desperate, I kicked it hard in the chest and it let go. I used this moment to grab the bomb that lay behind me; only 37 seconds to go! Terrified and crazed, sweat pouring down my face, my mind in pieces, I rammed the bomb into one of the creature’s mouths and kicked it back again as hard as I could. I heard it yelp like a wounded dog and it lost its footing. It fell sideways and in that second, I took my shotgun and fired at it in the chest. The force of the close-range blast sent me flying. At the same time the creature was hurled back into the wall where it was enveloped quickly.
My head was fuzzy. I was dizzy and the wind had been knocked out of me. Was the bomb going to work? I felt something warm and wet drip into my ear and touched the side of my head. My fingertips came away soaked in blood. My head was spinning. With a foggy mind I grabbed my bag, collecting my weapons and flashlight. As I stood up I heard a low rumbling sound. The ground beneath my feet shook and for a moment I was confused. Then I looked up at the wall. Its surface was boiling like I’d never seen before. It was shaking and growing. I turned to run when suddenly there was a massive blast, and the entire wall exploded into hundreds of grey chunks. These rained down all around the hangar, smashing several aircrafts. The blast knocked me off my feet.
When I awoke I could see early morning light through the tiny cracks in the blast door. Where the wall had once been now stood a small blackened crater. I coughed and lifted my head to inspect the wall pieces and found that they – my mouth opened. They were melting. I watched in dumbfounded horror as the pieces began to merge, just like that scene from Terminator 2. It was rebuilding itself.
As I stood to run I heard a groan. My blood became ice.

I turned slowly in terror to find the shambling, wheezing monstrosity behind me. Like the creature I’d shot, this one seemed made from bits and pieces of human limbs knitted together randomly. This one had six legs which came out of its mouth, its head positioned within its torso where the bellybutton should be, and it wheezed in pain. I almost puked from fright but my feet were already carrying me away. I sprinted down the corridors, ignoring all the pain and fear and exhaustion and anger and frustration inside me. Without thinking, I leapt into the first janitor’s closet I found and locked the door. After catching my breath, I found this notepad and pencil, and have been writing this report in the sterile glow of my flashlight. Hopefully, I have left some useful information for anyone who may find this.

Now I lie in wait. What is that thing? If it can survive a bomb like that, what hope do we have? It’s no wall at all. It’s a membrane. An interface. Somewhere very different is pressing up against us. It has torn a small hole, and was now prying it open further.

So here I wait, hoping to be saved, but even as I write this I can hear that thing walking past the door. With a soft click I turn off my flashlight. I try not to breathe. I can hear the snuffling, it’s right outside!

Shit! Shit! I hear keys. The door is unlocking! How? How?

Oh God! The doorknob is turning...

Hello this is my first time posting I’m just trying to make a timeline till 2223 however I’m very nervous about asking for help so hello I’m trying to make a universe Where The Reaper is in a dark dimension or limbo idk yet but he wants revenge or something for plot I don’t really know but I enjoy writing I’m just not good at the story aspect.
Timeline of the Dark Universe.
13 trillion years ago. The Dark God Reaper emerged from the primordial Darkness.
5 Trillion years ago. A Great light emerged from the Primordial Darkness.
1 Trillion years ago. The 13 Great gods awoke from The primordial Light. Then the gods were young and dumb they experimented with their powers some creating atoms then forming great giant balls of gas then lighting them on fire(Stars) others gathered atoms and created huge balls of rock and dirt and threw them at each other (comets and asteroids). As the gods grew in experience and knowledge they started forming more complex structures and creations planets and galaxies all for the fun of it.
500 billion years ago. The gods had grown bored of playing with lifeless galaxies so the 13 Great gods gather together and share knowledge and different ideas for 1 billion years they told each other how each of them used their Old Magic(magic of the Gods).
499 billion years ago. The gods ended their delegation they all had spread across the Primordial light and started creating Life.
300 billion years ago. The primordial Light is teaming with many many proto-species beings of vast power and ability some even rivaling The Great Gods themselves.
200 billion years ago. As the Gods create more proto-species they start to come closer and closer to the Primordial Darkness.
100 billion years ago. The First time a god stepped through the veil and entered the primordial Darkness a searing pain struck the Reaper’s essence. An instant later The Great god was sent reeling back faster than light across the multiverse crashing through several planets and stars.
50 billion years ago. The gods start to prepare themselves and their Armies for WAR. The Reaper feeling growing forces in The Light Prepares by creating his First Dark Lord Stalker and imbues him with a fraction of The Dark Gods power.
40 billion years ago. The Dark Armies Take the fight to The light and catch them by surprise. The death toll is in The septillions.
35 billion years ago. After The Equilibrium War The Dark God Reaper has created his own universe of Darkness and The Gods combined their power to create one Prime universe When things die whether it be a planet,star,human,demon,god anything when it dies it goes to the Reaper’s Universe of Darkness. The prime universe made by the gods where their creations could flourish. Many of the proto-species were wiped out except for proto-humans, proto-geolites, proto-demons,proto-sages, proto-nithrials.
30 billion years ago. The Dark god is going into a deep slumber and before he does he creates 9 more Dark Lords The second eldest, The second Lord, Eternal elusive, Grim. After Grim was The greatest magic caster, The one with all eyes open, The Third Lord, Magnus. After Magnus The unending Rot,everlasting Plague, The GrandPlague Father, The Forth Lord Rotrin. After Rotrin was the eternal vitality, The endless healer, The Fifth Lord, Nutria. After Nutria came the Sixth Lord The Black Fire Demon, The Darkest Flame, The Sixth Lord, Embar. After Embar came The Great Giant, The Eternal Watcher, The Planetary Hand, The seventh Lord Titas. After Titas came The endless Ocean, The everlasting Depths, The eighth Lord Aquim. After Aquim came The Time Queen, The never born, The Ninth Lord Geniq. After Geniq came The Silent Madness, The scream of the night, The Tenth Lord Tymon. As The Dark God Reaper names his children he goes into a deep sleep.
End of prehistory.
Year 1. All 13 Great Gods settled on earth each with vast swaths of land.
1.Ya-we/great wataka: North America. Known as The Northern Continent. He controls the middle and western most parts of the continent. Affinity of power. The strongest most powerful god. 2.vririma:South America, known as The Southern Continent. affinity for poison. 3.gonson:Africa,affinity for earth 4. ocdean:Pacific Ocean. Affinity for water 5.Odain:Greenland/Iceland/the Arctic,affinity for ice. 6.Lemmael:Middle East affinity for sand and magic. 7.pruin:Russia. Known as The Great North. affinity for violence and drinking 8.bu-diah:India/Indian ocean affinity for peace and wisdom. 9.Shandiî:China/Great sky palace. Affinity for wind and technology. 10.Amata:Japan. Affinity for fire and beauty. 11.Byaami:Australia. Affinity for bugs and Hunting 12. Zeus:Europe,affinity for lightning. 13.tyranuis:Atlantic Ocean/Antarctic
Each God was able to form their domain as they saw fit and each enhanced The natural aspect of each of their environments.
Year 2. The Gods had created their domains and seeded it with various forms of life based on ya-we design of humans. All around the world humans of different skin tones, heights, weights, hair everything made each human unique.
Year 3. As The humans were created and worshipped The Great Gods. Some humans were drawn not to the gods but to themselves, and so sought to create things as the gods did them.
Year 5. Some Humans had started gathering in places called schools where they taught each other and traded learnt knowledge.
Year 6. The Great Gods were growing irritated at the emergence of what some would call rudimentary mechanics there were carts with wheels on them lead by animals, the humans were making larger buildings almost to try to compete with the gods. As the Gods realized this they ventured down to confront the humans they all bowed with awe and admiration. The gods realized that this advanced was not a threat so they permitted it.
Year 15. A unexpected occurrence happened when one day The Great Gods felt magic emerging somewhere on the planet. All The gods rushed to the source of the magic when they arrived they noticed a beautiful resounding light coming from a crack in reality from it emerged a new god. The middle God Mecharo First of The Middle Gods. The Great Gods deliberated about this occurrence for hours when they came to the conclusion it was not known to records.
Year 20. As when The first new God emerged into reality and several subsequent new middle gods came through The 13 Great Gods felt a terrible magic sprung forth from a tear in reality however when The Great Gods arrived They didn’t witness a great light no this time The hole in reality that had Been carved was like a black hole an endless eternity of Darkness. What came crawling out of that hole was as terrible as it was unexpected, it was a terrible plague contagious enough to infect The Great Gods and Lethal enough to kill The weaker Middle Gods present. The Godreap is a disease That infects through inhalation,skin contact, liquid consumption, or sexual activity. It starts by eating at the victim muscles and bones causing extreme pain and the tearing of muscle fibers all within the first few minutes, afterward The victims soul begins to deteriorate and erode causing the individual to become catatonic and unable to defend themselves. While the individual is still technically alive they can do nothing but lay there while in terrible agony as their bones and muscles slowly break down and liquify after 10 or so minutes. Unless one is strong enough to withstand the bodily effects of The GodReap virus they are damaged in their very essence unable to utilize their full power ever again.
Year 22. After the devastating attack from The Dark rift a huge impenetrable magic storm was cast around the rift and no human was to venture there. The Great Gods have healed as best they can.
Year 23-60. Humans have now started utilizing their knowledge and understanding of the world The Great Gods gave them to start to farm and use basic tools.
Year 61. The humans on The southern continent have developed new techniques for mining and harvesting better metals. The humans in The Middle East have developed the precursor to modern magic. The humans of The Arctic have developed boats to easily navigate the waters of their region. The humans of The Northern Continent have developed a great connection and reverence for their land.
Year 67. In Japan a family known as asukage had amassed great wealth and power due to his great influence and respect to The Great God Amata. He had started an empire to conquer great lands in the name of Amata. The kingdoms of Europe are beginning to become established, lead by powerful kings and queens some even blessed by the Gods. The family of Ivorstead and its king Andreus Ivorstead has made a great kingdom reigning over its people with a vicious authority.
Year 77. After many campaigns and many battles The head of The Asukage Family, Lord nishiro Asukage lead his army to the shores of China Where The Great Goddess Shandiî cast a monsoon over the arriving ships and blew them all the way back to Japan. Amata angered over his perceived slight confronted The goddess who was equally angered at the blatant invasion. As the gods argued and were about to fight Ya-we The most powerful Great God clapped his hands together and transported all The 13 Great Gods from around the world and gathered them into a small pocket universe where they would layout new rules for Their interactions with humans. 1. No God may Fight or kill another God. 2. No God will set their followers on another God or their territory. 3. No God will meddle with mortals to cause action to another God. 4. No God can intervene in actions set by another God. 5. No God can kill another Gods kin or one branded as kin. Year 78. After The rules were put in place The Gods decided to mostly observe humanity for the most part. Except those such as Amata, Lemmael and Pruin. Who all stayed active in their respective territories.
Year 79-205. The time of Magic. This period saw great developments in magic starting in the Middle East then slowly spread across the world. This started when a Child of Lammael a first generation Godkin named Nankuruk opened a school of great magic to try and teach the masses of the greatness that the universe could entail.
Year 206-365. The great revolution. With the growing prevalence of magic, those who are not gifted in the supernatural took to the sciences and discovered new ways to make tools weapons anything to help give an edge in their pursuit of power. They made metal tools and weapons learning to lay traps for animals that would beat them in pure strength.
Year 366-607. Golden era/Great oppression. After the rise of grand technology that aided society and the development of the species as a whole many who couldn’t use magic wanted to snuff it out across the world however most places refused to conform to such standards.
608-1190 Great peace. After the golden age many of the oppressed who rose in power during that time gained favorable positions of power and deemed it necessary for peace to prevail. So for a great many years the nations of the world were able to come to a peaceful consensus on the issues of the golden age.
1191-1432 mysteries.
1433-1580.

Credit to u/SpacePaladin15 for the NOP Universe.
Hello all, I hope you're well!
As promised this is the end of this arc of character only chapters. The next few will be animal focused ones, I have at least three chapters planned for that but they may be expanded depending on what I add to them.
For now though I hope you enjoy what I've got for you now.
Thank you to u/cruisingNW for helping with this chapter!
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Memory transcription subject: Dr Bernard MacEwan, Professor of Zoology
Date [standardised human time]: 7th September 2136
Removing my sunhat as the door swung open, I took a second to briefly inspect the new surroundings as Kailo and I stepped in.
Much like the rest of the prefabricated buildings that made up the exchange grounds, the office was similarly nondescript. Beige carpet lined the floor of the sparsely furnished room, the only items of note being a smattering of office style chairs of differing designs, a bookshelf which had no books to speak of, and a single generic wooden desk, behind which sat the familiar faces of Tolim, an unmasked Alejandro, and a third individual I assumed to be Kailo’s coordinator Blim.
Alejandro and Blim were perfectly relaxed, acknowledging our arrival with a wave of their hand and tail respectively. In surprising contrast however, Tolim was rather jittery, nervously fidgeting and running his claws through his long scruffy locks of wool; a twitch that sped up considerably as he clocked Kailo and I walking through the door.
The assumption that Tolim was somehow involved in bringing us here appeared to be correct, but his current demeanour and the presence of Alejandro and Blim added a new layer to the question of what was truly going on.
While Tolim’s uncharacteristic display of uneasiness and the inclusion of the two other coordinators certainly made me curious enough to want to immediately leap into questioning the trio, I was also keen to get this conversation off to a good start. Coming off as abrasive and untrusting wouldn’t do any good; even if it may be justified given the circumstance.
No, being polite and patient would be the way to go. As strange as the whole thing was, I hardly saw Alejandro as the duplicitous sort, so he must have had a good reason for inviting me here under false pretences.
With that in mind it was imperative that I got the first word in as, with a quick look at Kailo, I could already see the telltale signs of an accusation starting to build up from within the fiery young Venlil.
“Good morning everyone!” Speedily bounding in to greet the trio before Kailo could get a word in, I strode forward to one of the seats on our side of the desk, “Alejandro, Tolim, you’re both looking well. And um… Blim is it? I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before.”
I extended a hand across the desk to the portly salt-and-pepper fluffy woollen Venlil, which he took and gave an enthusiastic shake in return, “Ah! A handshake! I’ve seen your people share them in greeting before but I’ve never done one myself, probably because you’re all being so considerate of us and our skittishness. Oh, but yes I’m Blim! It’s a pleasure meeting you too, Doctor MacEwan.”
What an energetic fellow!
“That’s not true is it?” Alejandro’s eyebrows had shot up in surprise as he turned to face Blim, “Didn’t I shake your paw when we first met.”
Blim let out an amused whistle as his ears flapped jovially, “Nope. You tried to but you stopped and muttered something about being worried over how I’d react to a predator reaching for me. Then you sort of looked around for a whisker before bowing to me for some reason.”
Alejandro’s brow knitted together in thought for a couple seconds before falling into a tight-lipped grimace, the reminder of his apparent awkwardness no doubt searing itself back into his memory at this very moment.
Unfortunately, the lighthearted atmosphere I’d hoped to create didn’t have the desired effect of curtailing Kailo’s impatience. While Blim and I had been caught up chuckling at Alejandro's expense, Kailo had marched up to his own chair, seating himself in such a way that he could easily stare daggers at Tolim from across the desk.
“So,” he began, voice already thick with suspicious enmity, “Why did you bring me here with a lie this time Tolim?”
Well, I tried. Guess I’ll just have to put out the fires as best I can now.
Before I got the chance to steady Kailo’s already burgeoning temper, Alejandro got in ahead of me with an unforeseen admission.
“Actually, this whole thing was my idea Kailo. So if anyone owes you or Bernard an apology for this, it’s me. Sorry. Oh, also Bernard, feel free to take off your mask, Blim’s good with it.”
Taking the opportunity given to me I removed my mask and turned to face Alejandro, my now unobscured wide-eyed look of perplexment focussing entirely upon him. Kailo reacted similarly, ears swivelling sceptically while his eyes darted between Tolim and Alejandro like he was inspecting them both for hints of further deception.
“It’s true,” Blim confirmed, leaning back into his chair with a groan and waving a paw at Alejandro, “He messaged me last paw asking me to go along with it. I wasn’t going to at first, but they convinced me after explaining themselves.”
I expected Kailo to pounce on that immediately, but he still seemed to be struggling coming to terms with the knowledge that Tolim wasn’t the mastermind behind this encounter, so I was happy to let my own curiosity take the reins for the time being.
“And what exactly did they share with you, hm? Honestly I’m quite shocked you two weren’t as forthcoming with us as you’ve been with Blim.”
That wasn’t entirely true. I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t think of a few reasons they might not have been upfront with Kailo, but the thought that neither of them felt they could be honest with me did cause a pang of disappointment to take root in my chest.
Alejandro looked at me sheepishly, twiddling his thumbs as he replied, “Yeah, sorry about that Bernard. I thought Kailo wouldn’t bother coming if he knew Tolim was going to be here. And if you knew, there was a chance he’d find out through you and then we’d be left in the same boat.”
That explained why we’d been kept in the dark, and it made regrettable sense. Considering I’d had to stop Kailo turning tail just minutes ago I could understand their reasoning, even if it still rubbed me the wrong way. However, that still didn’t explain the ‘why’ of what had led to this whole thing in the first place.
What is this meeting really about?
Anticipating my unspoken question, Blim rapped his claws against the armrests of his chair and flicked his tail at Tolim, “As for the cause of all this happening in the first place, well… maybe Tolim would be best suited to answer that.”
Everyone's attention immediately dialled in on the still fidgeting tan bundle of nerves, the man himself jolting in mild worry as the onus for further context was thrust upon him, “O-oh uh, yes… Um, well…”
He trailed off, the struggle to overcome his nerves preventing him from properly collecting his thoughts. Seeing this, Alejandro brought a hand to Tolim’s shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze, a show of support that he visibly needed; and it seemed to work quite well. Tolim’s jitteriness didn’t vanish entirely but it was notably tempered by his partner's comforting, his own tail sweeping up to wrap around Alejandro’s wrist in turn.
Calm, or ‘calmer’ at any rate, Tolim sighed, giving himself a little shake before turning his ears to Kailo and me. I’d noticed he already appeared to be rather tired when I walked in but, now that his nervous twitching had ceased, it was even more apparent.
He looked positively haggard, and the sluggish weight present in his tone made that all the more obvious, “Huuuu… Kailo. Bernard. Thank you for coming today, even though I know this wasn’t what you were expecting. The intention behind bringing you here was so that I could do something I should’ve done much sooner. Apologise to the three of you.”
Oh. Well that is surprising. But three of us? Surely he just means Kailo?
My confusion must have been self-evident, or perhaps it was Blim’s puzzled swivelling ears which tipped Tolim off to the fact we had no idea what he was talking about, for he was quick to clarify himself, “Blim, when you took a personal paw you asked me to look after your work. I abused your trust when I invited Kailo to the office while pretending to be you. And Bernard, you had asked Blim not to do anything regarding the complaints since you were going about it in your own way. I ignored that, dismissing your opinions and experience and did what I thought was best without consideration. I’m sorry to both of you for what I did.”
The unexpected apology left both Blim and I fumbling for a response in the seconds following it, our jaws opening and closing without saying much of anything aside from the odd “Oh” or “Uh”. Eventually my brain managed to kick itself back into gear, processing Tolim’s apology without too much bother; excluding my initial mental trip up of course.
Well I’ll give it to him, he at least recognises what he’s done and is willing to fess up to it. No attempt to excuse or rationalise his actions, just forthright admittal of wrongdoing and an expression of remorse. I can respect that, and I feel I can accept it.
Regrettably however, a split-second before I could say as much, Kailo took that moment to spring from his chair, brow creased together in a tight knit scowl while his tail, his working ear, and a single claw all pointed accusingly across the desk at Tolim.
“So this is what it was all about!? An apology? So, what, you could make yourself feel better for being a brahk-ass who goes around manipulating people. I don’t care! You can take your apology and shove it up your-”
“Kailo.”
In an instant the tirade ended and the room fell silent, so silent that even the ambient noises that drifted through the closed office door felt like they’d been smothered by some unseen choking force.
In all my time bearing the brunt of Kailo’s anger I’d never used my ‘teacher voice’ on him. Not when he relentlessly disparaged my lessons. Not when he consistently dismissed and looked down on my other students. Not even when he would come right out and insult me and call me names in front of the entire class. But that was in the lectures, where if a student was going to act immaturely I had to be the opposite, calm and in control of myself and the situation.
Outside the classroom however, I could not simply stand by and watch. Kailo could be frustrated and refuse to accept Tolim’s apology, that was his right, but his attack on a man who was genuinely remorseful and looking to make amends was a step too far for me to write off as acceptable frustration.
I’ve given Kailo too much leeway with his anger. Perhaps because he reminds me so much of myself at that age. Always so angry.
The intrusive memory sparked an unpleasant twinge in my thigh, an all too familiar phantom pain between the remnant of what was once my left leg and the connectors that secured my prosthetic.
Agh, enough of that. Be in the moment.
Huffing to dismiss the distracting pain, I turned my full attention to Kailo. At a glance the young Venlil still appeared ready and willing to launch into a rage-filled spiel at the drop of a hat, but his tail drooping and almost imperceptibly flared wool betrayed his true feelings.
He was anxious.
This change in dynamic had definitely not gone unnoticed, and he was left unsure of how best to react. The wave of guilt hit me immediately. As justified as I was, and I most certainly was, I always hated having to forcibly chide someone's behaviour, it was never pleasant.
I sighed heavily and shook my head, letting the abrupt build up of indignation melt away as I shifted in my chair and turned it to face my student, “Kailo, you don’t have to accept his apology if you don’t want to, but that was uncalled for. Remember what we talked about before coming here?”
The shift back to my familiar even tempered disposition did the trick. Kailo still had a bit of wariness to him as he returned my stare but he did relax for the most part, his raised wool falling back into place as he answered, “Yeah… I remember. But I also remember you said you don’t think he does anything without thinking it through, and that’s something he hasn’t explained. Why did he do it in the first place?”
Kailo’s question hung uncomfortably in the room as all eyes once again fell on Tolim, his ears immediately pinning back in discomfort. While I was willing to let the underlying thought that went into his actions go unquestioned, I could see why Kailo wouldn’t be. Unlike Blim and I, who had only been aggrieved in a professional sense, Kailo had been manipulated, emotionally strained to his breaking point, and then injured in the following outburst. Of course he’d want full justification for Tolim’s conduct.
“Hang on now,” Alejandro held up his arms with palms facing out at Kailo placatingly, noticeably pushing his chair closer to Tolim in the same motion, “I get where you’re coming from but that’s-”
“It’s fine.”
Alejandro was cut off mid sentence as Tolim placed a paw on one of his outstretched arms.
He turned to look at Tolim dead-on, concern etched into every facet of his face, “...Are you sure?”
Tolim flicked an assuring ear at his partner before taking a breath, shuffling in his chair before moving his attention to Kailo, who had sat back down himself now that it seemed he was going to get the answers he sought.
“I won’t bore you with a lot of backstory, but I suppose I should mention one thing to give context,” fatigue clung to every word that passed Tolim’s lips, his unease compounded by his idle claws twirling back through his wool once more, “Before I joined the exchange I… I wasn’t in a good place, figuratively and literally. I craved something different. Something better. So imagine my shock when Humans, supposed predators, arrived in orbit wanting to be friends! What’s more different than that!? I was desperate… so when the dust settled I reached out to the exchange and ended up being paired with the most delightful person I’d talked to in ages.”
Tolim’s eyes flitted to his partner for a split second, the moment's attention eliciting a caring smile to spread across Alejandro’s face.
“Alejandro told me a lot about Earth, about Humans. The tiny sliver of exposure to humanity he gave me allowed me to see things from perspectives I’d never thought of before, new concepts and ideas. And for the first time in a long while I felt… normal, happy… I- I just felt something… something other than numb.”
Oh… Oh Tolim. What happened to you?
As much as I felt compelled to ask, to voice some form of sympathy, I kept my thoughts to myself. The last thing I wanted to do was pressure Tolim in this instance of openness and vulnerability. In similar fashion to me, Kailo had been completely disarmed as he listened, any angst he’d still exhibited before Tolim’s story began had been completely washed away, and in its place there remained only stunned silence.
My thoughts were broken as Tolim coughed, his voice hitching ever so slightly, “I uh- achem, I saw something better in Humans. Some things we could do better by learning from them, in both small personal ways and in huge society changing ways. But I was just one Venlil who was barely getting his own paws under him properly, how could I even begin to spread these concepts? That’s when it hit me. The exchange itself! Just like me, hundreds of Venlil were going to be exposed to human ideals. And this programme in particular would be the best place for new ways of thinking to take root!”
His energy was beginning to pick up, excitement was starting to overcome the despondent slump he’d been in seconds prior. Additionally, I was starting to get an idea of where exactly he was heading with his line of reasoning.
“As a coordinator for the programme I became responsible for a few dozen participants. But to me that didn’t just mean making sure their rooms were fine and they were keeping healthy, it meant that I could help them get through their fears and prejudices. I had a good start early on, catching up with people, asking them a question that made them confront their biases, logic loops that made them realise they might not be entirely right, that sort of thing. Little pushes.”
Ok, I see. That’s hardly an issue in my eyes. I’ve been doing that myself to help my students get over their conflicts in classes. But, I imagine he’s about to tell us it escalated in his case?
As I’d suspected, Tolim’s ears fell along with his tail and shoulders as the energy that’d been bouncing through him was lost in an instant as he carried on with his story, “But uh… but I got carried away. I wanted things to go faster, to show both governments that the ideas being discussed here could be spread planet wide as soon as possible. That’s when Blim’s workload and Kailo’s files fell into my lap. I thought that- …I thought that if I could get an exterminator to change their mind on humans then maybe I could achieve that goal… the rest is history.”
Once more the room fell into a contemplative hush, none of us sure what to say now that the full background for Tolim’s behaviour had been laid bare before us. There were still some gaps in his story, primarily concerning what exactly was happening in his life before the programme that made him so miserable, but I was hoping that topic would be left unquestioned. He’d clearly had to wrestle with himself to explain as much as he already had. It would be unfair to push him any further.
With that in mind I pivoted my attention over to Kailo to try and get a read on what he might be thinking. To my pleasant surprise his reaction to this new information didn’t appear to be all that negative. In fact, he wasn’t really reacting at all. Rather he’d gone almost completely statuesque, the only signs of life being the steady rising and falling of his chest as he breathed and the slow pondering sway of his tail.
Out of all the responses Tolim’s tale could have garnered, this was certainly not one that I would’ve foreseen. Truthfully, I half-expected him to push for more information or do a repeat of his outburst from earlier. Thoughtful reflection wasn’t a common ‘Kailo brand’ behaviour, so what could’ve caused it?
Tolim’s overall goal was to share ideas that could benefit society as a whole. Why would that-
Suddenly the realisation struck me. Like a bolt of lighting coursing through my brain the pieces clicked together with an eye opening jolt.
Lamet. Kailo idolises Lamet for the exact same reasons! He views her efforts to benefit the larger community as the cornerstone of what it means to be a great exterminator!
Tolim screwed it up no doubt about it, but could he see that same trait in Tolim right now?
Before I could dwell more on this, admittedly, rather unlikely possibility, Kailo disrupted the peace of the office by leaving his chair, though far more gently than he had done previously, and proceeded to walk over to the door. The move shook the rest of us from our stupor, our eyes or ears following the young Venlil as he made to leave.
Alejandro and I both had the idea to call after him, but our clashing voices garbled whatever we were trying to say into a wall of stammered noise as opposed to a comprehensible request that he stay and talk further.
Kailo stopped a single step away from the door, turning on the spot to face us. His furrowed brow and its accompanying glare had returned as he forcefully pointed a claw at Tolim.
I sighed internally and steeled myself to parry another rant.
Here we go again.
For the second time in as many minutes however, Kailo once again defied my expectations. Rather than barrage Tolim with the vitriol I’d braced for, he spoke with an authoritative yet measured tone, “I accept your apology. Don’t let it happen again.”
Where I was simply surprised by Kailo’s level-headed response, Tolim was left speechless; if his bulging eyes and slack jawed expression were anything to go by. Tripping over his tongue as he tried to eke out a hasty reply, I could see his tail begin to happily wag behind his chair, “Ah- Uh… Y-yes, of- of course it won’t! Thank you Kailo.”
Kailo’s tail fluttered in satisfaction, though he rapidly stifled the reflex in order to maintain his composed front, “Good. Then in that case I think there’s only one thing left for me to do.”
Not giving anyone a chance to ask, Kailo turned an ear and an eye to Blim this time, catching the coordinator off guard and causing him to jerk back in his seat.
Sighing but still doing his best to keep his composure, Kailo, astoundingly, apologised without any of the prodding he’d needed when he tried the same with me earlier, “I’m sorry I created so much work and stress for you because of my attitude in class. It won’t happen again.”
There was a beat of silence as Blim’s brain no doubt stalled upon receiving another apology he’d not been expecting, but he soon relaxed and let out a jovial whistle, “Thank you Kailo, I appreciate that. And for what it’s worth, none of the complaints were followed up on, and most of them were even recalled by their original senders. Not all of them said why, but the few who did noted a positive improvement which they were happy to see. Well done!”
Kailo’s assertive persona faltered again for a split-second, an elated twirl running through his tail as his ears perked in matching cheer thanks to the positive feedback. But just as swiftly as it’d come on, he quelled it, “Real- Uh… I mean, thank you Blim. That’s good to hear. Well then uh… Blim, Alejandro, Doctor… Tolim. Bye.”
Perhaps a bit faster than he intended, Kailo scampered out of the office without another word, leaving the four of us that remained still reeling from what we’d just witnessed.
I never know what to think about him. One minute he’s a box of lit fireworks and the next he’s like an embarrassed kid who can’t handle a genuine compliment. Well, I suppose he is still a kid ultimately.
A tired bray from Tolim pulled me back to the world around me, the Venlil having almost melted in his chair now that the object of his woe had not only come and gone, but alleviated the worry that’d been burdening him. Alejandro already had a hand on his shoulder, kneading it gently while whispering encouragement to the deflated ball of wool.
Blim stood from his chair, patting himself down and picking up his belongings as he made his way around the desk, “That went way better than I expected. Next time you two message me it better be for something fun and relaxing instead of more of this.”
While his words alone may have sounded pretty harsh, I could tell from his bubbliness that he was just poking fun at the duo, perhaps a bit of payback for dragging him into this to start with. As he passed me he tapped his tail against my arm and flicked an ear at me cheerily, “Pleasure meeting you Doctor, don’t be a stranger. Take care all.”
And with that he too left the office, leaving Alejandro, Tolim, and myself alone together. I could’ve left as well, but I decided to wait for Tolim to at least collect himself before making my way out.
It only took half a minute or so for him to sit back up in his chair properly, the relief he felt being expressed in every visible way from the tip of his tail all the way up to the points of his ears. His guilty conscience must have been weighing on him for quite some time.
Alejandro was the one to pick the conversation back up now that his partner was in higher spirits, his own face showing how relieved he was that Tolim was feeling better, “Thank you Bernard, firstly for coming around in the first place and for managing Kailo’s flare up. We definitely wouldn’t have gotten to this stage without you.”
I smiled contentedly and waved a hand nonchalantly, “Oh, don’t mention it. I’m glad that everything appears to have worked out for the best.”
“Still though,” Tolim piped up, a much lighter and energetic bounce now ringing in his voice, “I really appreciate it. I know this was all a setup, but since you’re here is there anything you would actually like to go over and catch up on? It’d save you coming to the meeting we have planned in a couple of paws.”
Baiting me with extra free time? He certainly knows the right buttons to push.
Chortling at the tongue-in-cheek thought I hastily scoured my memory for anything I’d been wanting to bring up at the next opportunity. Most were idle comments on the class and how the students were doing. But there was one thing that came to mind that was far more significant, and in all the excitement I’d completely forgotten about it until now.
Grinning, I fetched my pad from my jacket, shuffling through its many apps until I found the one I used for noting down lesson plans. After scrolling down to my most recent idea, I turned it around and placed it on the desk in front of Tolim and Alejandro, “Yes actually, I do have something in mind for an upcoming lesson. And I also have a request concerning a computer programme that I think would be an invaluable asset to the programme.”
Making myself comfortable I leant back in my chair, giving the pair the chance to go over my notes and inspecting them for any signs of whether or not they’d go for what I had planned
The first request shouldn’t face much opposition. All I was asking was that each of my students be provided a copy of an environmental simulator so that they could explore how the ecosystems of Earth work. I’d give them the opportunity to download the simulator and then they could play around with it in their own time if they felt like putting what they already know or what they’ve recently learned into practice.
The fact that the particular programme I was asking for happened to be the world renowned video game ‘Life Finds a Way’ should barely even be an afterthought. If anything, the fact that humans make simulation games like this should only serve to showcase the more pleasant side of our personalities. Besides, the students would have to learn this anyway so there shouldn’t be any harm in letting them dip a claw in the water.
The second request however, well that might be a tougher sell.
Alejandro finished reading the notes first, Tolim of course needing to use his own pad to translate English into Venlang. Unfortunately for me, he didn’t look convinced, “The first one I can probably do, I can play that up as an educational tool to run simulations. But the rest? Bernard I don’t know how we can-”
“We’ll do it.”
Tolim shocked Alejandro and I by leaping from his chair and almost colliding with the desk in front of him, a determined paw hitting down on the desk's wooden frame.
Alejandro opened his mouth to retort but Tolim was too quick, “We hold it at the UN embassy, which is already tightly guarded and has available space. Bernard's notes about containment all look good to me at a glance, and I trust his expertise on the subject. We can do this.”
Given that I wanted this to succeed I was happy to sit back and let Tolim cheerlead for my ideas all he wanted, leaving Alejandro the unenviable task of deciding whether or not he was going to properly do his job or if he was going to cave to his boyfriend's insistence.
Do it Alejandro. Give in to his demands.
My conspicuous smirk earned a deadpanned scowl from my human compatriot as he looked between me and at the earnest, almost bouncing Tolim.
Eventually, the conflict raging within him found its victor, defiance giving way to begrudging acceptance, “Ugh, fine! You two win. But don’t expect everything on this list, I’m not a miracle worker.”
Chuckling away I nodded in appreciative understanding, “Thank you, both of you. And of course, I didn’t think I’d get permission for all of them. That’s why I wrote down so many, better a few than none at all, Ha! Oh, that said I’d be extremely grateful if you manage to get number thirteen on the list approved.”
After a quick glance Aleajndro nodded, “That shouldn’t be a problem, it’s more reasonable than a lot of the others here.”
“Terrific!”
Once the coordinators had downloaded the notes and gone over a few more details on how my upcoming plans would pan out, we said our farewells and went our respective ways as we left the office.
I had a spring in my step the moment I walked away, the satisfaction with how my morning had gone propelling me with every stride.
It was tense for a minute, but all in all it’s been a delightful start to the day. But now it begs the question, what am I going to do for the rest of the day?
Ah well, I’ll just go where the tides take me. I should relax after all, because if all goes well with those two then things are going to get a bit more exciting in short order.
It’s time for my class to have their next encounter with life on Earth.

I’m trapped. I can hear that thing lumbering through the hallway. My God, what the hell is it? I’m trying my best to keep quiet but I can’t help but whimper. The soft scratching of my pencil on this notepad sounds deafening in the quiet of this tiny closet. I’m almost certainly gonna die in this place. I just hope someone can find this, maybe it will do some good. Or maybe it already doesn’t matter. I’m not sure how long I have until that wheezing thing finds me. Oh God, or that grey stuff might ooze under the door and dissolve me. Oh my God! What it did to Benny, Bill, Jonesy and Donald! To all of them! Even if I don’t survive, the world needs to be warned!
Long story short, I was a cop but I got shot in the head. The doctors said I was lucky, that it went straight through without hitting anything vital. However, I still needed three steel plates to hold my fragmented skull together. Also ended up with permanent tremors in my right hand from brain damage. So it’s no surprise that my cop career didn’t thrive. Just a year later I was a “retired” 45-year-old cop, living on scraps. After a few months, I started to get desperate for work. One evening at my pub, my friend, Graham, mentioned an acquaintance who was looking for employees for some private research institute in the Mojave Desert. “What, are they still blowing A-bombs out there?” I scoffed, eyebrows arched with bemused incredulity. Graham stared down at his beer, “Not sure what the hell they do. But they pay super well, so who cares,” he took a long sip of beer, foam clinging to his lips, “I think it would be a good fit for you”.
Turns out this facility, and it really is known as the “Facility”, was located in the middle of nowhere. When I looked it up online I couldn’t find any information. Later that week I called the number that Graham had scrawled down for me on a beer stained napkin. My right hand was useless to me if I wanted it to do anything that required fine motor function, so when I dialed the number on my phone I had to use my left hand. The phone rang twice before a metallic feminine voice answered and said to hold for an operator. After a few seconds of muted elevator music, I spoke to a soft voiced man who told me my skill set was perfect for their current vacancy: a security management position. He said if I filled out some forms they would pay for me to fly on out for an interview in person.
One month and several NDAs later, I was employed again! By the time I started my new job I realized I had no idea what research went on down here. During the interviews my duties as a security manager had been discussed but any mention of their actual research interests had been carefully avoided, redacted or omitted. The security staff were also told to avoid fraternizing with anyone not from their own department, including security personnel from other sections of the Facility. On my first day I asked others about the nature of the Facility’s research, but no one had any interest. “Just stick to your contract. No point in rocking the boat,” my new boss, Bill, said to me curtly. So since then I’ve not discussed it with anyone else.
If only I had, maybe I would have seen this coming. The section of the Facility which I managed was section B.15. This area, like most of the core Facility, was located several hundred feet below the sun scorched surface of the Mojave Desert and comprised many green painted corridors peppered with tall, wide doors made from dark, stainless steel. The rooms inside were large and sterile. Artefacts were cleaned and studied in these rooms after they were brought from the excavation sites (sites E.1 through E.27). Of course, whether we wanted to know the nature of the research or not, eventually, after patrolling some of the research labs for weeks, it wasn’t difficult to figure out that the scientists were mostly archeologists or paleontologists. I would often find objects of different sizes and shapes lying around in various states of cleanliness. Some looked like ancient amphoras, or large stone bird baths. Others were less identifiable: a chipped statue, a melted lump of some unidentifiable metal or large chunks of a glass-like material. I found this all extremely curious because, as far as I knew, the Mojave Desert didn’t have much in the way of ancient architecture. At least of any ancient civilization that I know.
As the months went by I started to get friendly with the other guards, most of them ex-cops too, and we started playing cards and drinking Irish coffee in the evenings. My two main colleagues consisted of a jovial, short man with orange hair named Jonesy and a much older much grumpier and much balder man, Donald. They were good men and we had a lot of laughs together. My stomach twists when I think about where they are now. Though I grew fonder of my fellow guards, I found myself developing a severe dislike for the white coated researchers. Most of them were pernicious and arrogant. The only scientist my security buddies and me could stand was a scrawny man named Benny. Our favorite thing about Benny was that he never talked about his work.
It was earlier today, at around 1400h, when all the scientists were running from their rooms. They must have received some message a few minutes before and we watched them from the surveillance monitors as they got all excited and leapt up. Their lab coats flapped and flowed around as they jumped to their feet and made for the main exit. Soon after this the large red landline phone near my video surveillance desk began to ring. Expecting the call, I picked up the receiver before the first ring finished, “Hey boss, what’s all the excitement about?” Bill’s voice was uncharacteristically hesitant “The diggers have found a friggin’ huge object out here! The biggest thing they’ve ever dug up, it’s really irregular. They want to bring it to B.15 and I need you to organize the logistics and security”. My brow furrowed, “I guess it’s too big for the main entrance? Maybe we could bring it in via the big doors of the auxiliary hangar?” Bill grunted with agreement, “Yea, we’ll have to improvise a bit but should be manageable. I have no idea what it is… well you’ll see for yourself. I’ll get some of the boys from B.14 to help you out. And just, well…” He paused for a moment, “just be careful.” I grunted, my eyebrow arched from surprise; why was he so afraid? “Um thanks, appreciate it, see you guys soon”.
Donald, Jonesy and I had coffee in the office and called the guards at the hangar doors to arrange clearance. About an hour later we were at the platform near the doors waiting for the cargo to arrive. The massive metal hangar doors had been opened, which was rare. What was more irregular was that nearly every staff member from sections B.11 to B.18 were all gathered together in a silent knot of people. Despite the silence the air sizzled with anticipation, as well as the searing heat. I stood transfixed from curiosity at the massive doorway, waiting in the shade of the hangar as the relentless sun beat down outside. In the distance I saw a black speck grow larger against the bright blue sky. Slowly it took the form of a helicopter which was carrying a large rectangular shaped mass below it.
Within less than a minute the helicopter made its cacophonous approach toward the hangar and gently lowered the object onto an enormous wooden scaffold. I barked orders and signed forms as the guards rushed about, making sure the other personnel stayed a safe distance away. The air was blaring with the sound of the helicopter blades and sand rocketed into my face, forcing me to splutter. “Alright, let’s get this thing processed!” I yelled over the sound of the helicopter as its engines powered down, my colleagues and I wiped dirt from our faces. Bill emerged swiftly from the chopper and shook my hand. We quickly reviewed the paper work he gave me and then he made his way back downstairs to his office in section B.1. He was keen to get away for some reason.
“Alright, it’s officially in my care now. Show’s over. Get the non-essential personnel out of here immediately and secure the object. I want to get Benny up here to analyze it ASAP.” As my colleagues cleared away most of the staff and the excitement died down I was finally able to take a moment to inspect the object. It had been lowered onto the wooden scaffold fitted with wheels just outside the hangar and had been pushed slowly into the center. The few aircraft in this hangar were all currently under repairs and were non-operational, therefore there was plenty of space. As soon as I saw the sheer size of the object, I knew it would be difficult to transport, but not impossible. The object was a wall. Or a large fragment of a wall.
It was about twenty feet long, eight feet thick and ten feet high. At first the wall appeared made from some sort of boring grey stone. However, when I looked closer the wall was… alive. The wall’s surface bubbled slightly. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I stepped closer. When I was only a few inches away from it I felt cold. A bead of sweat ran down my cheek and I thought I heard something. It sounded like someone far away calling my name.
I felt a strange pressure around my head. A sudden invasive thought wormed to life: throw yourself into the wall. I shuddered and held myself back despite the sudden strong desire. I heard the faint voice of Benny and crashed back to reality. My eyes snapped open and I found my nose an inch away from the wall. It radiated cold like an open freezer and it smelled like rotting clay. The surface of the wall simmered ever so slightly. It reminded me of the fizz of some grey effervescent medicine. I paled as I took a large step backward, “I.. uh, what is this?” I turned to face Benny who stood with another scientist. He glanced at her briefly before he approached the wall to apply more straps. He was careful to avoid touching the wall with his bare skin. “Honestly, we have no idea”.
I got Donald and Jonesy to help Benny transport the wall down to room 278B via the service elevator. Donald grumbled about how badly the wall smelled and Jonesy had eyes as large as saucers when he saw it up close, “It looks so unreal!” Once downstairs I returned to my office to get some more coffee and file away the paperwork. I tried to put the strangeness of the wall out of my mind, but it had truly unnerved me. I felt so tired, my forehead drenched with cold sweat. I had been working extra shifts lately, but I had never been hit by such exhaustion so rapidly. As I sat at my desk facing the surveillance monitors I was unable to fight the sleep forcing my eyes shut.
I’ve had many hangovers in my life, most of them unpleasant, but when I woke up at my desk I’d never felt quite so singularly awful. My clothes were soaked with sweat and my whole body felt exhausted. My arms felt like molasses as I attempted to move. My forehead throbbed and I felt bruised. I also felt a pressure squeezing my head from all sides. It was quite peculiar. I sat back in my seat and rubbed my eyes.
Then I froze.
A hand was lying motionless on the floor just behind the table in the center of the office. I leapt to my feet and rushed forward. I gasped from horror as I saw Donald lying on the floor, his chest sliced to ribbons. Gallons of crimson red stained his blue uniform and his eyes stared up empty and terrified. Pallid and shaking I went to my office landline to call for backup immediately. As the receiver met my ear my stomach dropped into my feet.
The line was dead.
The sole means of communication within the core Facility is done through landlines. The landlines are monitored at all times and any interruption results in an immediate response from security. We had many protocols and fail safes to ensure communication remained enabled, but the line was dead and there was no sign of any response. In fact, how long had I been asleep? What was happening? I rushed back to the monitors. I hadn’t noticed it before but I couldn’t see anyone. The cameras were all operating normally but not a single person could be seen. The corridors were just as green and bare as most late evenings. I looked at the clock, it was only 1817h. I had slept for about two and a half hours. Where were the janitors? My heart was hammering in my chest and I couldn’t catch my breath. Meanwhile my head was throbbing and my eyes were burning. Suddenly I heard an indistinct whisper. Gooseflesh bloomed all over my back and arms.
I’d heard this voice before.
I’d heard this voice from the wall.
I turned to the monitors and searched for the wall. It had been brought back to the surface; the hangar! It sat upon the bare ground right by the massive doors. However, the doors were all sealed. The wall itself looked different. It was enormous! Almost three times longer and taller and wider. Just then, I realized that the titanium blast doors had been sealed as well. My heart rate doubled as I noticed large dents, scorch marks and scratches all over the doors. Someone had tried to break them down. The hangar floor was covered in blood and ash as well as abandoned weapons. My God, I even saw a rocket-launcher lying blackened and fractured near the doors. What the hell had happened?
I spun my head to look at the security control panel on the wall to my left. My heart, already blaring, felt like it leapt out of my mouth. My eyes grew wide as I realized someone, probably Donald, had activated a quarantine procedure. This meant that the entire Facility would be sealed airtight. The only way to open any doors now was from the outside. My God! Why had he done this? Where was everyone? Did he try to wake me? Did I really sleep through all this? I looked back at Donald, my heart still hammering from seeing his dead eyes stare into mine. I sighed sadly and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was currently 1831h. I returned to the monitors and began to rewind the security footage.
Surveying the screens, I watched my past-self enter the security office at around 1600h. By 1610h I had passed-out on my chair, drool dangling from my mouth. “Ok, so let’s see where the wall was at that time. Should be room 278B.” I thought to myself aloud as I clicked on the button that would display the footage from that room as well as the surrounding corridors. The screen was black as the footage loaded and I was about to hit the play button but hesitated. Did I really want to see this? I closed my eyes and took a few slow breaths. I can’t figure my way out of here if I don’t know what’s going on. I have to know. I hit play.
The camera was located opposite the door giving a full view of the room. At first everything seemed normal. Benny and some other scientists had transported the wall into room 278B. It was 1623h when they were taking the straps off the wall. A loud popping sound was heard and the researchers spun around. The lights in the room dimmed and flickered. Suddenly something long and slimy exploded from the wall, curled around Benny, and pulled him in. He screamed in terror as he vanished, his cries immediately silenced. My jaw dropped open and a small yell escaped me.
Without realizing it, I was instantly on my feet, shaking my head in pure denial. My heart burst. What the hell was that? What the hell? What the hell? My head was full of static. I felt tears in my eyes as I watched guards and researchers rush into the room. The wall shimmered, it’s simmering surface began to boil and bubble and it grew three feet higher. I saw it reshape itself so that intricately carved figures appeared on the wall’s edge. I leant in closer and gasped. One of those figures looked just like Benny, his mouth stretched open wide into a permanent scream. I didn’t want to continue watching, but I had to. The guards and researchers were horrified by what they saw before them. Suddenly, without warning, their body postures relaxed, their eyes grew glassy, and their arms fell slack at their sides. Those within the room moved as if sleepwalking. Some stayed still while others left the room. Brow furrowed from confusion and fear, my eyes swiveled to the footage of the corridor outside. The guards and researchers that had just exited 278B immediately began attacking and grappling those around them. I yelped as a vacant-eyed guard lazily shot another man in the leg. The thrall then dragged the wounded guard into room 278B. The mad guard held the wounded guard’s leg fast as he casually walked into the grey wall, pulling the struggling man in behind him. During this altercation I noticed Donald for the first time, he was hiding behind the corner of the corridor at the far end and was firing his gun at the madmen. He didn’t manage to hit anyone though. He then ran over to help a stray researcher to their feet and then they both ran down the corridor and out of view.
I can still hear the cries of pain and pleas for mercy as those who fell victim to the thralls were each dragged into that horrifying wall. With every person it swallowed, the wall wriggled and grew and grew. More and more ghastly decorations began to bloom on its surface, all of them made from the bones or likenesses of those who had been absorbed. The bigger it got the stronger its psychic influence became until it seemed to reach nearly everyone in the Facility, turning them into thralls. I looked on in horror as one by one, all janitors, researchers, guards, diggers, admin staff, everyone gradually stopped what they were doing, mid conversation, their eyes emptying. The janitors dropped their mops and buckets. Researchers dropped precious materials and equipment without care, letting them smash to pieces. In unison they all slowly, with vacant expressions, moved toward room 278B. Among the horde of thralls, I saw Bill and Jonesy, and so many others I knew by face. A guy who’d held the door for me once, a researcher who always slurped her coffee at lunch. Hundreds of people! What filled me with an unnamable dread was that I knew what was gonna happen. I knew what was coming. I tried to shout at the monitors, “Stop! Wait!” I grabbed the monitors and shook them with frustration.
A terror began to fill my stomach, deep and cold and aching. Suddenly I noticed Donald reappear on the screen. He was trying to hold back the researcher he’d helped earlier, but it was useless. I saw Donald, chest heaving from effort, stare with incredulity as he sat defeated on the ground. Everyone else around him stumbled dreamily toward their doom. But Donald refused to give up. I saw him run from corridor to corridor, trying desperately to stop them. He threw chairs and tables in their way but they simply pushed them aside or jumped over them. I saw him run toward this office. I saw him enter, saw myself slumped on my chair still completely unconscious. I saw Donald try to shake me awake, he slapped me a few times and was yelling in frustration. He gave up with me eventually and ran over to activate the quarantine lockdown. I saw him tear down the hall back toward room 278B, pistol in hand.
My best guess was that he saw what was happening in room 278B and decided he was gonna stop it. However, as soon as he got close to the door a long pale tendril burst through the door directly into Donald’s chest. The tentacle had a hooked end and it slashed at him. I saw blood spurt out of him, saw him stumble and fall from the ground in fright. However, he still managed to get a hold of his gun and fired multiple shots at the tendril. It writhed and flailed. Donald took the opportunity to climb to his feet. He grimaced and clasped his chest as crimson leaked to the floor. He moved back down the corridor, much more slowly than before. Eventually he got back to the office. He locked the door and then collapsed. I cried out in frustration. That whole time I was completely useless!
My mind felt like static again for a few seconds. I couldn’t work out what my next move should be. A thought hit me hard, one I should really have thought of before. Why had Donald and I not been psychically affected by the wall? Everyone had been enslaved, everyone had been forced to walk into that wall. Why not Donald? And me? I knew it must be connected to my horrendous sleepiness. My eyes grew wide with sudden realization. “Shit, the steel plates in my head!” Donald had a single steel plate in his skull because of a rock-climbing accident he had in his 20s. When I got close to the wall, had it sensed my resistance? Had it tried to incapacitate me? If so, it means this thing possesses sentience.
While I pondered this, I noticed some thralls re-strap the wall in room 278B. They transported it to the elevator and back up to the hangar. Once there, the thralls moved the wall off the scaffold onto the floor and began to beat heavily on the large metal doors with bare fists. Some even shot at the doors with their handguns. The ricochets killed a few of them but not one single person seemed to even notice. Some of the guards even used a rocket launcher! I yelled with shock as they fired at deadly close range, lazily blowing themselves up, leaving the doors scorched. After this proved futile, the thralls all grew suddenly rigid. Next, they all formed a line in front of the wall and one shambling step after another, all the remaining employees were - assimilated. Even the dead and wounded were not spared. Those still alive carried the corpses of their fellow thralls into the wall.
It was 1705h when the last employee disappeared forever into the grey horror, and the wall expanded to its current size. Without warning, a large writhing mass of twisted limbs emerged from the wall. I gasped from horror. I couldn’t tell exactly what it was because the lighting in the hangar wasn’t good enough, but it definitely wasn’t human. Its silhouette was about seven feet tall and thin and stretched. It had too many legs and it didn’t seem to have a head. This thing lumbered over to the doors and began to strike them with a strength and ferocity one would only find in a starving polar bear. I could tell that the doors were taking strain, and they began to bend, but even then, they would not yield. After about half an hour of smashing the door, the creature stopped and slowly shambled toward the stairs. My heart froze. It was coming here! Or was it here already?
My eyes swiveled back to the main monitor and I was surprised to see Donald still alive. He was scratched and bleeding badly as he shakily pushed himself from the floor. He then looked up at the ammunitions cupboard and began to search through his keys. I saw him curse. He couldn’t find the key with his trembling, bloodied fingers. In the next instant his eyes bulged and he heaved as if vomiting. His body doubled over and long grey tendrils oozed from his mouth and wriggled furiously. He grabbed his throat and fell forward onto the floor. Frozen in horror I watched as his body squirmed and he wriggled as if his intestines were filled with snakes. I continued to watch absolutely transfixed as three long grey tendrils emerged again from between Donald’s lips. Slowly they wriggled free of his mouth. They were about half a foot long, dull grey and thin like spaghetti.
I watched as they slithered toward my unconscious form on the monitor. I bit my lip and stood up. Slowly my brain put two and two together. Bile rose in my throat. I yelled at myself to wake up and see the worms. Just then my stomach dropped and I could feel an itchiness in my belly. I could feel the wriggling itch of a thousand grey eels in my gut. Or was I imagining it?
My stomach writhed and I was about to puke when I saw myself awake and stretch in my chair. The worms somehow realized I was awake and they moved out of view towards the –before I could watch the screen any longer, I heard a hiss and something slimy and long wrapped itself around my throat so tight I couldn’t breathe. I gasped with surprise and strained my neck to look at the monitor that showed the room in real time. I saw from the camera behind my head that something thin and grey had wrapped itself around my throat. I saw two more of those things coming at me from behind as well. They were about to come wriggling up my chair when I grimaced with anger and grabbed my gun from its holster. The thing around my neck was hissing and making awful clicking and guttural noises. Its small worm head had a mouth that bit and it latched onto my neck to suck my blood. I pulled at the leach and pressed my gun up against it. I pulled the trigger. With an earsplitting bang and a sound like a water balloon popping the leach was reduced to sticky goo. I pulled the remnants of the leach off my neck and spun around just in time to shoot and kill the others. I grinned with a mad-joy and yelled with relief. Immediately, a wave of nausea and exhaustion hit me and I fell back onto my chair. “What the hell was that? What the hell do I do now?” I sat still for a moment and tried not to lose my mind completely. I swear I could hear Woody the woodpecker laughing somewhere in the distance. I needed to keep it together. I took a long deep breath and tried to think of a way out.
Summarizing the details of my predicament, I realized I was trapped alone inside the Facility with an otherworldly force. Also, even if I found a way out, I’d potentially be letting an evil into the world that could destroy all life. At once an old thought returned to me, one I’d often experienced as a cop. “If I need to sacrifice myself to save others, I will do so without complaint.” A wry smile spread over my face. “Once a cop, always a cop.” My smile vanished as a I continued to think. “But my God, if this thing gets out. If it gets into the minds of other people. If it gets larger and larger. Could it swallow the world? The solar system? What other monstrosities would it unleash?” I was talking aloud now; the sound of my voice gave a new reality to my situation that made me shudder. I turned back to the monitor. It seems I was all caught up with what had happened. I stared blankly into the screen while I watched my past-self continue to wake and wince from pain. I switched the monitor off and saw my reflection in the blackness of the screen. I was pale and my eyes were wide and unblinking. “What do I do now?” I turned in my chair to look at Donald’s body. Were all those worms gone? Could some still be hiding? And what should be done with his body? Probably best to have it burned. “Poor Donald, he didn’t deserve this”, I muttered softly as I examined his corpse, making sure there were no unexplained twitches beneath his skin. My eyes moved from his body up to the ammunition’s cupboard just above. “Wait, why was he trying to get into the cupboard earlier? We don’t have much…”, my eyes grew large with realization. “Holy crap, he was trying to get the bomb! Me and Donald were gonna use a left-over bomb from the excavation site to blow some random shit up!”
I sighed sadly and heavily. We never got around to it. I stood up quickly and walked up to the cupboard. I pulled out my keys and quickly found the key I’d need. I opened the cupboard with little effort and found the ten kilos of plastic explosive inside. It had already been set up with a sixty second timer and a remote detonator by a colleague. I sat at the table with the explosive, a vague plan forming in my broken mind. “Maybe if I somehow get this wall-thing to eat this bomb then...”
Before I could formulate my thoughts fully, the lights flickered, and the entire Facility was plunged into darkness unceremoniously. My nerves were burning with fear. What had happened? Had that thing knocked the power out somehow? The next few seconds that past were some of the longest I’d ever experienced. However, dim green light bloomed to life and the reserve power kicked in. Then I heard slow, shuffling footsteps in the corridor just outside the office. I froze once again, my insides turning to mush. My mind raced. Had I remembered to lock the door? My stomach leapt into my feet as I heard the shuffling get louder and louder. I heard hoarse, wheezing breaths, as if the thing struggled to breathe. I jumped from fright but remained absolutely silent as whatever the thing was banged on the door with a deafening blow.
BANG! The door shook and bent slightly.
BANG! Silence for a moment.
BANG! BANG! Again silence. My heart was hammering in my ears and I sat deathly still. I could hear that thing breathing louder. After a few moments I heard it shuffle away. My entire body was shaking as relief washed over me. Whatever the thing was, it had walked away and I could no longer hear it. I turned to look at the monitors. Dare I turn them on and check what it was? After a few seconds of consideration, holding my breath, I turned to the monitors and switched them on. I waited in nervous anticipation as the screens flickered to life showing me that all the corridors between me and the wall were currently empty. I didn’t bother checking the corridor I suspected the shambling thing was in. I didn’t want to see it unless I needed to. I’d had just about all the stress and terror I could take and by this stage I felt weirdly calm. It must be shock. A thin sigh escaped me as I stood. The fear in my blood began to feed a furnace of anger in my heart. I thought about all those who I had lost. I felt my expression turn to granite, “It’s time to kill this thing.”
I opened the door slowly, my fully loaded gun in my good hand. Spare ammo along with the explosive and a shotgun was stashed in my backpack, and the remote detonator was tied to my belt. I held a heavy-duty flashlight in my shaky right hand. I moved cautiously through the dark green corridors. I’d never thought of how creepy this place could be until this moment. Gooseflesh crept up my arms and neck as I continued. All I could hear were my soft footfalls and shallow anxious breaths. I cleared the corridors one by one until I made it to the stairs that would lead me to the thing that looks like a wall. I walked up the stairs slowly, my ears honing in on any sound. That’s when I heard it. I heard the soft sound of crying.
Someone was crying. I stopped dead in my tracks. My entire body shook from the adrenaline surging through me. I took one step. Then another. Slowly, I climbed. Once my head could peek over the top, I froze. Jonesy was squatting on his knees, naked. He was between the wall and me, with his back facing me. The terrifying thing loomed enormous before us. It was now framed intricately with the skeletons of hundreds of people, all twisted and screaming in agony. Writhing, tortured souls fused together. Then came the sound of crying and moaning from the wall. I could hear them all. They were all screaming. Screaming for me to help them. To join them. I felt that pressure squeeze against my skull tighter and tighter. I shook my head in defiance. “No! You bastard! NO! I will not join you! You’re not Jonesy!” All at once the moans and wails stopped. I suddenly found myself at the top of the stairs without knowing when I’d finished climbing them. “But we are Jonesy” came a voice that was not human. It was a voice made from all those it had swallowed up. It was as though something had made a distorted copy of the voices of all those people and then just used them all at once to speak. It didn’t understand the concept of individuality. All of a sudden, the wall rippled and grey tendrils squirmed from the flesh of the wall, curling around Jonesy as they teased his face and slowly pulled him in. As he disappeared there was a horrendous sucking, squelching noise. “We are Jonesy. We are all. We can be all. We will be all. All and all and more than all.” The voice was chanting this over and over. Louder and louder.
A deafening blast came from the wall and a slithering, writhing mass of tangled human limbs emerged. It had four legs and several arms. It looked like the bodies of eight or more people shuffled and glued into an otherworldly horror. Its multiple mouths screamed a high pitch squeal that was more horrifying than the screams of the damned, and its sharp pointed teeth gnashed and chomped. I only had a second to dodge this monster. I leapt to the side and fired multiple shots at the thing’s center of mass. Its horrifying body of fused torsos wriggled and bled black ichor. It screamed with pain and jumped at me, grabbing my leg. It tossed me into the air and I almost lost my gun as I slammed into the floor a few feet away. Before I could catch my breath, it was upon me again. From the ground I fired several shots at it. This made it jump away and scuttle down the stairs. With it momentarily out of sight, I quickly got to my feet and kept my eyes on the stairs.
After a second, I decided to kneel and take off my backpack as fast as I could. I pulled out the bomb and started the timer. I also decided to get the shotgun out and get it loaded. I needed to do this now or never. As the final shell clicked into place I heard a roar coming from the stairs. The thing was back. Before I could react, it leapt at me and knocked me to the ground. The bomb flew from my grasp. It bared down on me, grabbing at my throat ready to tear me apart. My reflexes saved me though and I managed to use my shotgun to hold the thing at bay, but it was too strong. Desperate, I kicked it hard in the chest and it let go. I used this moment to grab the bomb that lay behind me; only 37 seconds to go! Terrified and crazed, sweat pouring down my face, my mind in pieces, I rammed the bomb into the creature’s mouth and kicked it back again as hard as I could. I heard it yelp like a wounded dog and it lost its footing. It fell sideways and in that second, I took my shotgun and fired at it in the chest. The force of the close-range blast sent me flying. At the same time the creature was hurled back into the wall where it was enveloped quickly.
My head was fuzzy. I was dizzy and the wind had been knocked out of me. Was the bomb going to work? I felt something warm and wet drip into my ear and touched the side of my head. My fingertips came away soaked in blood. My head was spinning. With a foggy mind I grabbed my bag, collecting my weapons and flashlight. As I stood up I heard a low rumbling sound. The ground beneath my feet shook and for a moment I was confused. Then I looked up at the wall. Its surface was roiling and boiling like I’d never seen before. It was shaking and growing. I turned to run when suddenly there was a massive blast from inside it, and the entire wall exploded into hundreds of small grey chunks. These chunks rained down all around the hangar, smashing several aircraft. The blast knocked me off my feet and this time I definitely passed out because when I awoke I could see daylight through the tiny cracks in the blast door. Where the wall had once been now stood a small blackened crater. I turned around to inspect the wall pieces and found that they – my eyes grew wide and my mouth opened. They were melting. As I approached a fragment of wall, a horrible twisted hand shot out at me. I yelled and jumped away. It was still alive! I watched in dumbfounded horror as the pieces continued to melt and began to merge, just like that scene from Terminator 2.
It was rebuilding itself. Then I heard a groan. My blood became ice. I turned slowly in terror to find the shambling, wheezing monstrosity behind me. Like the creature I'd shot, this one seemed made from bits and pieces of human limbs knitted together randomly. This one had legs which came out its mouth, its head positioned within its torso where the bellybutton should be, and it wheezed in pain. I almost puked from fright but my legs were already carrying me away. I sprinted down the corridors, ignoring all the pain and fear and exhaustion and anger and frustration I had inside me. Without thinking, I leapt into the first janitor's closet I found and locked the door with a dull clunking sound. After catching my breath, I found this notepad and pencil, and have been writing this report in the sterile glow of my flashlight. Hopefully, I have left some useful information for anyone who may find this.
Now I lie in wait for that thing. Now I lie in wait for that grey ooze. What is that thing? Is it truly indestructible? If it can survive a bomb like that, what hope do we have? It’s no wall at all. It’s a membrane. An interface. Somewhere very different is pressing up against us. It has torn a small hole, and was now prying it open further. I should blow up this whole damn place! I should burn it! But would it matter? Or would it just be buried, to be rediscovered? I think even if I survive this, nothing can help us. So here I wait, hoping to be saved, but even as I write this I can hear that thing walking past the door. With a soft click I turn off my flashlight. I try not to breathe. I can hear the snuffling, it’s right outside! I can smell its ugly breath.
Oh God! I hear the jingling of keys. The door is unlocking! How? How?
Oh God! The doorknob is turning...

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I’m trapped. I can hear that thing lumbering through the hallway. My God, what the hell is it?The soft scratching of my pencil sounds deafening in the quiet of this tiny closet. I’m almost certainly gonna die in this place. I just hope someone can find this, maybe it will do some good. Or maybe it already doesn’t matter. I’m not sure how long I have until that wheezing thing finds me. Oh Jesus, or that grey stuff might ooze under the door and dissolve me. Oh my God! What it did to Benny, Sammy, Jonesy and Donald! To all of them! Even if I don’t survive, the world needs to be warned!
Long story short, I was a cop but I got shot in the head. The doctors said I was lucky, that it went straight through without hitting anything vital. However, I still needed three steel plates to hold my skull together. Also ended up with permanent tremors in my right hand and a nasty scar just under my eye. So, it’s no surprise that my cop career didn’t thrive. Just a year later I was a “retired” 45-year-old cop, living off scraps. After a few months, I started to get desperate for work. One evening while out with my friend, Graham, he mentioned something about some private research institute in the Mojave Desert. “What, are they still blowing A-bombs out there?” I scoffed, eyebrows arched with bemused incredulity. Graham stared down at his beer, “Not sure what the hell they do. But they pay super well, so who cares,” he took a long sip of beer, foam clinging to his lips, “I think it would be a good fit for you”.
Turns out this facility, and it really is known as the “Facility”, was located in the middle of nowhere. When I looked it up I couldn’t find any information at all. Later that week I called the number that Graham had scrawled down for me on a beer stained napkin. My right hand wasn’t good with delicate tasks so when I dialed the number I had to use my left hand. The phone rang twice before a metallic voice answered and said to hold for an operator. After a few seconds of muted elevator music, I spoke to a soft voiced woman who told me my skill set was perfect for their current vacancy: a security management position. Her voice was soothing, “Your credentials are excellent. If you like I can fax some forms and a draft contract over, and we can pay for you to fly on up to see us in person. I’m certain you’ll get offered the job.”
She was right. One flight and several NDAs later, I was employed again! By the time I started my new job I realized I had no idea what research went on down here. During the interviews my duties as a security manager had been discussed but any mention of their actual research interests had been carefully omitted. On my first day I asked others about the nature of the Facility’s research, but no one had any interest. “Just stick to your contract. No point in rockin’ the boat,” my new boss, Sammy, said to me curtly. I’ve not discussed it since.
The part of the Facility which I managed was section B.15. This area was located several hundred feet below the sun scorched surface of the Mojave Desert. It comprised many green corridors peppered with tall wide doors made from dark, stainless steel. The rooms inside were large and sterile. Of course, whether or not we wanted to know the nature of the research, after patrolling some of the research labs for weeks, it wasn’t hard to figure out that the scientists were mostly archeologists. Or maybe paleontologists. I often found different objects lying around in various states of cleanliness. Some looked like ancient amphoras, or large stone bird baths or even fossilized remains. Others were less identifiable: a melted lump of some glimmering metal or large chunks of a glass-like material. I found this all extremely curious because, as far as I knew, the Mojave Desert didn’t have much in the way of ancient architecture. At least of any ancient civilization that I know.
As the months went by I started to get friendly with the other guards, most of them ex-cops too, and we played cards and drank Irish coffee in the evenings. My two main colleagues consisted of a jovial, short man with orange hair named Jonesy and a much older much grumpier and much balder man, Donald. They were good men and we had a lot of laughs together. My stomach twists when I think about where they are now. Though I grew fonder of my fellow guards, I found myself developing a severe dislike for the researchers. Most of them were mean and arrogant. The only scientist my security buddies liked was a scrawny guy named Benny. Our favorite thing about Benny was that he never talked about his work.
It was earlier, at 1400h, when all the scientists were running from their rooms. They must have received some message a few minutes before and we watched them from the surveillance monitors as they got all excited, their lab coats flapping and flowing as they made for the stairs. Soon after this, the large red landline phone near my desk began to ring. Expecting the call, I picked up the receiver before the first ring finished, “Hey boss, what’s all the excitement about?” Sammy’s voice was uncharacteristically anxious, “The diggers have found a friggin’ huge object out here! The biggest thing they’ve ever dug up. They want to bring it to B.15 so I need you to organize the logistics and security”. My brow furrowed, “I guess it’s too big for the main entrance? Maybe we could bring it in via the big doors of the auxiliary hangar?” she grunted with agreement, “Yea, we’ll have to improvise a bit but should be manageable. I’ll get some of the boys from B.10 and B.14 to help you out.” I nodded, “Thanks, see you soon”
Donald, Jonesy, some interns and I had coffee in the office and called the guards at the hangar doors to arrange clearance. About an hour later we met the guards from B.10. and B.14, together we climbed the many stairs to the hangar and waited for the cargo to arrive. The massive metal hangar doors had been opened, which was rare. What was more irregular was that nearly every staff member from sections B.09 to B.18 were all gathered together in a silent knot of people. Despite the silence the air sizzled with anticipation, as well as the searing heat. I stood transfixed from curiosity, waiting in the shade of the doorway as the relentless sun beat down outside. I squinted. In the distance I saw a black speck grow larger against the bright blue sky. Slowly it took the form of a helicopter with an enormous rectangular shaped mass dangling below it.
Within less than a minute the helicopter made its cacophonous approach toward the hangar and gently lowered the object onto a wide wooden scaffold. I barked orders and signed forms as the guards rushed about. The air was blaring with the sound of helicopter blades and sand rocketed into my face, forcing me to splutter. “Alright, let’s get this thing processed!” I yelled over the sound of the helicopter as its engines powered down. My colleagues and I wiped dirt from our faces. Sammy emerged swiftly from the chopper and shook my hand. Her hair was in its characteristic librarian-bun but her eyes were glassy. Had she been drinking? We quickly reviewed the paper work she gave me and then she made her way back downstairs to her office in section B.1. She was keen to get away for some reason.
As my colleagues cleared away most of the staff and the excitement died down I was finally able to take a moment to inspect the object. It had been lowered onto a wooden scaffold fitted with wheels and had been pushed slowly into the center of the hangar. The few aircraft in this hangar were all currently under repairs, leaving plenty of space for the object.
The object was a wall. It was rectangular and about twenty-five feet long, ten feet thick and twelve feet high. The wall first appeared made from boring grey stone. I even remember thinking, “It’s not even that big”. However, when I looked closer it was, alive. I barely noticed the helicopter take off and leave as I saw the wall’s surface bubble. The hangar doors began to close as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A bead of sweat ran down my cheek and I thought I heard something. It sounded like someone far away calling my name. I felt a strange pressure around my head. A sudden invasive thought dug into my mind: throw yourself into the wall. I shuddered and held myself back despite the sudden strong desire. I heard the faint voice of Benny and crashed back to reality. My eyes snapped open and I found my nose an inch away from the wall. It radiated cold like an open freezer and it smelled like rotten clay. The surface of the wall simmered ever so slightly. It reminded me of the fizz of some grey effervescent medicine. I paled as I took a large step backward, “I.. uh, what is this?” I turned to face Benny who stood with another scientist. He glanced at her briefly before he approached the wall, “Honestly, we have no idea”.
I got Donald and Jonesy to help Benny transport the wall down to room 278B via the service elevator. Donald grumbled, “Guh, this thing smells like something my dog puked up”. Meanwhile Jonesy stared with eyes as large as saucers, “It looks so cool!” Once downstairs, I told Donald and Jonesy to take some forms to the admin department and I returned alone to my office to get some more coffee and file away the rest of the paperwork. I tried to put the strangeness of the wall out of my mind, but it had truly unnerved me. I felt so tired. As I sat at my desk facing the surveillance monitors I was unable to fight the force fusing my eyelids together.
I’ve been hungover a lot, but when I woke up at my desk I’d never felt quite so singularlyawful. My clothes were soaked with sweat and my whole body felt exhausted. My arms felt like molasses. My forehead throbbed and I was bruised. I also felt a weird pressure squeezing my head from all sides. I sat back in my seat and rubbed my eyes.
Then I froze.
A hand was lying motionless on the floor just behind the table at the center of the room. I leapt to my feet and rushed forward. I gasped from horror as I saw Donald lying there, his chest sliced to ribbons. Gallons of dark scarlet stained his blue uniform. His eyes stared up empty and terrified. Pallid and shaking I ran to my landline to call for backup immediately. As the receiver met my ear my stomach dropped into my feet.
The line was dead.
I was so confused. We had lots of fail safes to ensure communication remained enabled, but the line was dead and there was no sign of any response. I rushed back to the monitors. The cameras were all operating normally. I started to breathe heavily. I couldn’t see anyone. The corridors were green and bare. I looked at the clock. It was 1817h. I had slept for about two hours. But where was everyone? Where were the janitors? My heart was hammering in my chest and my head was throbbing. My eyes narrowed with a sudden thought. Where was that wall?
I searched for the wall and found it was back in the hangar! It sat upon the bare ground right by the massive doors. However, the doors were sealed. The wall itself looked different. It was absolutely enormous! Just over two times longer and taller and wider. Just then, I realized that the titanium blast doors had been sealed as well. My heart rate doubled as I noticed large dents, scorch marks and scratches all over the doors. The hangar floor was covered in blood. My God, I even saw a rocket-launcher lying blackened and fractured near the doors. What the hell had happened?
I spun my head to look at the security panel on the wall to my left. My heart, already racing, felt like it leapt out of my mouth. My eyes grew wide as I realized Donald must have activated a quarantine procedure. This meant that the entire Facility would be sealed airtight. The only way to open any doors now was from the outside. My God! Why had he done this? Where was everyone? Did I really sleep through all this? Where was Jonesy? I looked back at Donald, my heart still racing from seeing his dead eyes stare into mine. I sighed sadly and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was now 1831h. I returned to the monitors and began to rewind the security footage.
Surveying the screens, I watched my past-self enter the security office at around 1600h. By 1610h I had passed-out on my chair, drool dangling from my mouth. “Ok, so let’s see where the wall was at that time. Should be room 278B.” I thought to myself aloud as I clicked on the button that displayed the footage of room 278B and the surrounding corridors. The screens were black as the footage loaded and I was about to hit the play button but hesitated. Did I really want to see this? I closed my eyes and took a few slow breaths. I have to know. I hit play.
The camera was located opposite the door giving a full view of the room. At first everything was normal. It was 1623h when they were unstrapping the wall. A loud popping sound was heard and the researchers spun around. The lights in the room dimmed and flickered. Suddenly something long and slimy exploded from the flesh of the wall. It wrapped around Benny and pulled him in. He screamed in terror as he vanished, his cries immediately silenced.
Without realizing it I was instantly on my feet, shaking my head in pure denial. My heart burst. What the hell was that? What the hell? What the hell? My head was full of static. I felt tears in my eyes as I watched guards and researchers rush into the room. The wall shimmered, it’s simmering surface began to boil and bubble and it grew a few inches higher. I saw it reshape itself so that intricately carved figures appeared on the wall’s edge. I leant in closer and gasped. One of those figures looked just like Benny, his mouth stretched into a permanent scream. The guards and researchers were horrified by what they saw. Suddenly, without warning, their body postures relaxed, their eyes grew glassy, and their arms fell slack at their sides. Those within the room moved as if sleepwalking. Some stayed still while others left the room. Brow furrowed from confusion and fear, my eyes swiveled to the footage of the corridors outside. The guards and researchers that had just exited 278B immediately began attacking and grappling those around them. I yelped as a vacant-eyed guard lazily shot another man in the leg. The thrall then dragged the wounded guard into room 278B. The mad guard held the wounded guard’s leg fast as he casually walked into the grey wall, pulling the struggling man in behind him. During this altercation I noticed Donald, he was hiding behind the corner of the corridor at the far end and was firing his gun at the thralls. He didn’t manage to hit anyone though. He then ran over to help a stray research intern to her feet and then they both ran down the corridor and out of view.
I could still hear the pleas for mercy as those who fell victim to the thralls were dragged into that horrifying wall. With every person it swallowed, the wall wriggled and grew. More ghastly decorations began to bloom on its surface, all of them made from the bones or likenesses of those absorbed. The bigger it got the stronger its psychic influence became until it reached everyone in the Facility. I looked on in horror as one by one, all janitors, researchers, guards, diggers, admin staff, everyone stopped what they were doing, mid conversation, their eyes emptying. The janitors dropped their mops and buckets. Researchers dropped precious materials and equipment without care, letting them smash to pieces. In unison, with vacant expressions, they moved toward room 278B. Among the horde of thralls, I saw Sammy and Jonesy, and so many others I knew. A guy who’d held the door for me once, a researcher who always slurped her coffee at lunch. Hundreds of people! What filled me with an unnamable dread was that I knew what was gonna happen. I knew what was coming. I tried to shout at the monitors, “Stop! Wait!” I grabbed the monitors and shook them with frustration.
A terror began to fill my stomach, deep and cold and aching. Suddenly I noticed Donald reappear on the screen. He was trying to hold back the intern he’d helped earlier, but it was useless. I saw Donald stare with incredulity as he sat defeated on the ground. Everyone else around him stumbled dreamily toward their doom. But Donald refused to give up. I saw him run from corridor to corridor, trying desperately to stop them. He threw chairs and tables in their way but they simply pushed them aside or jumped over them. I saw him run toward this office. I saw him enter, saw myself slumped on my chair still completely unconscious. I saw Donald try to shake me awake, he slapped me a few times and was yelling in frustration. He gave up with me eventually and ran over to activate the quarantine lockdown. I saw him tear down the hall back toward room 278B, pistol in hand.
As soon as Donald got close to 278B a long pale tendril burst through the door directly into his chest. The tentacle had a hooked end and it slashed him. I saw blood spurt out of him, saw him stumble and fall to the ground. However, he still managed to get a hold of his gun and fired multiple shots at the tendril. It writhed and flailed. Donald took this opportunity to climb to his feet. He grimaced and clasped his chest as crimson leaked to the floor. He moved back down the corridor. Eventually he got back to the office. He locked the door and, still fumbling with his keys, attempted to open the ammunitions cupboard. Before he could find the right key, he cursed and then collapsed. I cried out in frustration. That whole time I was completely useless!
My mind felt like static again for a few seconds. I couldn’t work out what my next move should be. A thought hit me hard. Why had Donald and I not been psychically affected by the wall? Everyone had been enslaved. Why not Donald? And me? My eyebrows shot up into my receding hairline with sudden realization. “Shit, the steel plates in my head!” And Donald had a steel plate in his skull too because of a rock-climbing accident he had in his 20s. When I got close to the wall, had it sensed my resistance? Had it tried to incapacitate me? If so, it meant the thing possesses sentience.
While I pondered this, I noticed some thralls re-strap the wall in room 278B. They transported it to the elevator and back up to the hangar. Once there, the thralls moved the wall off the scaffold onto the floor and began to beat heavily on the large metal doors with bare fists. Some even shot at the doors with their handguns. The ricochets killed a few of them but not one single person even noticed. Some of the guards even used a rocket launcher! I yelled with shock as they fired at deadly close range, lazily blowing themselves up, leaving the doors scorched. After this proved futile, the thralls all grew rigid. Next, they all formed a line in front of the wall and one shambling step after another, all the remaining employees were - assimilated. Even the dead and wounded were not spared. Those still alive carried the corpses of their fellow thralls into the wall.
It was 1735h when the last employee disappeared forever into the grey horror, and the wall expanded to its current size. Without warning, a large mass of twisted limbs emerged from the wall. I gasped from horror. Its silhouette was about seven feet tall and thin and stretched. It had too many legs and it didn’t appear to have a head. This thing lumbered over to the doors and began to strike them with a strength and ferocity found only in a starving polar bear. I could tell that the doors were taking strain, and they began to bend, but even then, they did not yield. After just over half an hour of smashing the door, the creature stopped and slowly shambled toward the stairs. My heart froze. It was coming here! Or was it here already? I sat still for a moment and tried not to lose my mind completely. I swear I could hear Woody the woodpecker laughing somewhere in the distance. I needed to keep it together. I took a long deep breath and tried to think of a way out.
Summarizing the details of my predicament, I realized I was trapped alone inside the Facility with an otherworldly force. Also, even if I found a way out, I’d potentially be letting an evil into the world that could destroy all life. My eyes grew even wider and I grabbed at my hair, “But my God, if this thing gets out. If it gets into the minds of other people. If it gets larger and larger. Could it swallow the world?” I was talking aloud now; the sound of my voice gave a new clarity to my situation that made me shudder. I turned back to the monitor. It seems I was all caught up. I stared blankly into the screen while I watched my past-self wake and wince from pain. I switched the monitor off and saw my reflection in the blackness of the screen. I was pale and my eyes were sunken and unblinking. “What do I do now?” I turned in my chair to look at Donald’s body. “Poor Donald, he didn’t deserve this”, I muttered softly. My eyes moved from his body up to the ammunition’s cupboard just above. “Wait, was he trying to get into the cupboard earlier?”, I gasped with realization. “Holy crap, he was trying to get the bomb! Me and Donald were gonna use a left-over bomb from the excavation site to blow some random shit up!”
I stood up quickly and walked up to the cupboard. I opened the cupboard with little effort and found the twenty pounds of plastic explosive inside. It had already been set up with a sixty second timer and a remote detonator. I sat at the table with the explosive, a vague plan forming in my broken mind. “Maybe if I somehow get this wall-thing to eat this bomb then...”
Before I could formulate my thoughts fully, the lights flickered, and the entire Facility was plunged into darkness unceremoniously. My nerves burned with fear. What had happened? Had that thing knocked the power out somehow? The next few seconds that past were the longest I’d ever experienced. Eventually dim green light bloomed to life and the reserve power kicked in. Then I heard slow, shuffling footsteps in the corridor just outside the office. I froze once again, my insides turning to mush. My mind raced. Had I remembered to lock the door? My stomach leapt into my feet as I heard the shuffling get louder and louder. I heard hoarse, wheezing breaths, as if the thing struggled to breathe. I jumped from fright but remained absolutely silent as whatever the thing was banged on the door with a deafening blow.
BANG!
The door shook and bent slightly.
BANG!
Silence.
BANG!
My heart was hammering in my ears and I sat deathly still. I could hear that thing breathing louder. After a few moments I heard it shuffle away. My entire body was shaking as relief washed over me. I turned to look at the screens. Dare I turn them on and check what it was? After a few seconds I turned to the monitors and switched them on. I waited in nervous anticipation as they flickered to life showing me that all the corridors between me and the wall were currently empty. I didn’t bother checking the corridor I suspected the shambling thingwas in. I didn’t want to see it unless I needed to. I’d had just about all the stress and terror I could take and by this stage I felt weirdly calm. It must be shock. A thin sigh escaped me as I stood. The fear in my blood began to feed a furnace of anger in my heart. I thought about all those who I had lost. I felt my expression turn to granite, “It’s time to kill this thing.”
I opened the door slowly, my fully loaded gun in my good hand. Spare ammo along with the explosive and a sawed-off shotgun was stashed in my backpack, and the remote detonator was tied to my belt. I held a heavy-duty flashlight in my shaky right hand. I moved cautiously through the dark green corridors. I’d never thought of how creepy this place could be until this moment. Gooseflesh crept up my arms and neck as I continued. All I could hear were my soft footfalls and shallow anxious breaths. I cleared the corridors one by one until I made it to the stairs. I walked up the stairs carefully. I took one step. Then another. Slowly, I climbed. After many minutes, I was near the hangar. Then I heard the soft sound of crying.
Someone was crying. No. Many people were crying.
I stopped dead in my tracks. My entire body shook from the adrenaline surging through me. Once my head peeked over the top of the landing, I froze. The wall loomed gigantic before me. Its edges were now framed intricately with the skeletons of hundreds of people, all twisted and screaming in agony; tortured souls bound together. I could hear them all. They were all screaming. Screaming for me to join them. I felt that pressure squeeze against my skull tighter and tighter. I shook my head in defiance. “No! You bastard! NO! I will not join you!” All at once the moans and wails stopped. I suddenly found myself at the top of the stairs without knowing when I’d finished climbing them. “But you will” came the sound of hundreds of twisted voices fused into one. “We are them. We are all. We can be all. We will be all. All and all and more than all.”
A deafening blast came from the wall and slithering, tangled human limbs emerged. It had four legs and several arms. It looked like the bodies of eight or more people shuffled and glued into an otherworldly horror. Its multiple mouths screamed a high pitched roar that was pure torment, and its sharp pointed teeth gnashed and chomped. I only had a second to dodge. I leapt to the side and fired multiple shots at the thing’s center of mass. Its horrifying body of fused torsos wriggled and bled black ichor. It screamed with pain and jumped at me, grabbing my leg. It tossed me into the air and I slammed into the floor a few feet away. As I hit the ground I yelled in pain and heard something metallic smash. Before I could catch my breath, it was upon me again. From the ground I fired several shots at it. This made it jump away and scuttle down the stairs. I noticed immediately that the remote detonator had been smashed beyond repair. With the creature momentarily out of sight, I kneeled and took off my backpack as fast as I could. “Only one way then”, I said quietly as I pulled out the bomb and started the timer manually. I also got the shotgun out. I needed to do this now or never.
As the final shell clicked into place I heard a roar coming from the stairs. The thing was back. Before I could react, it leapt at me and knocked me to the ground. The bomb flew from my grasp. It bared down on me, grabbing at my throat ready to tear me apart. My reflexes saved me and I managed to use my shotgun to hold the thing at bay, but it was way too strong. Desperate, I kicked it hard in the chest and it let go. I used this moment to grab the bomb that lay behind me; only 37 seconds to go! Terrified and crazed, sweat pouring down my face, my mind in pieces, I rammed the bomb into one of the creature’s mouths and kicked it back again as hard as I could. I heard it yelp like a wounded dog and it lost its footing. It fell sideways and in that second, I took my shotgun and fired at it in the chest. The force of the close-range blast sent me flying. At the same time the creature was hurled back into the wall where it was enveloped quickly.
My head was fuzzy. I was dizzy and the wind had been knocked out of me. Was the bomb going to work? I felt something warm and wet drip into my ear and touched the side of my head. My fingertips came away soaked in blood. My head was spinning. With a foggy mind I grabbed my bag, collecting my weapons and flashlight. As I stood up I heard a low rumbling sound. The ground beneath my feet shook and for a moment I was confused. Then I looked up at the wall. Its surface was boiling like I’d never seen before. It was shaking and growing. I turned to run when suddenly there was a massive blast, and the entire wall exploded into hundreds of grey chunks. These rained down all around the hangar, smashing several aircrafts. The blast knocked me off my feet.
When I awoke I could see early morning light through the tiny cracks in the blast door. Where the wall had once been now stood a small blackened crater. I coughed and lifted my head to inspect the wall pieces and found that they – my mouth opened. They were melting. I watched in dumbfounded horror as the pieces began to merge, just like that scene from Terminator 2. It was rebuilding itself.
As I stood to run I heard a groan. My blood became ice.
I turned slowly in terror to find the shambling, wheezing monstrosity behind me. Like the creature I’d shot, this one seemed made from bits and pieces of human limbs knitted together randomly. This one had six legs which came out of its mouth, its head positioned within its torso where the bellybutton should be, and it wheezed in pain. I almost puked from fright but my feet were already carrying me away. I sprinted down the corridors, ignoring all the pain and fear and exhaustion and anger and frustration inside me. Without thinking, I leapt into the first janitor’s closet I found and locked the door. After catching my breath, I found this notepad and pencil, and have been writing this report in the sterile glow of my flashlight. Hopefully, I have left some useful information for anyone who may find this.
Now I lie in wait. What is that thing? If it can survive a bomb like that, what hope do we have? It’s no wall at all. It’s a membrane. An interface. Somewhere very different is pressing up against us. It has torn a small hole, and was now prying it open further.
So here I wait, hoping to be saved, but even as I write this I can hear that thing walking past the door. With a soft click I turn off my flashlight. I try not to breathe. I can hear the snuffling, it’s right outside!
Shit! Shit! I hear keys. The door is unlocking! How? How?
Oh God! The doorknob is turning...

[First] [Previous] [Next]
Co-Written by WaveOfWire
- - - - -
Harrison’s thoughts slurred through uncertain consciousness as brief dreams passed him by. Visions and sensations blurred with reality, making him question whether he was awake or not. It settled when his senses finally returned—or at least the few that felt like showing up to the party.
He didn’t feel any pain. No, all he perceived was the minute reeling of vertigo and the weight atop his chest. Did he mention his flesh felt like liquid? Because that would certainly be a way to describe whatever was going on underneath his skin. There were short beeps piercing his ears, but those were drowned out by the heavy breaths nearby. Were those his own? He tried to open his eyes, getting viciously assaulted by light intense enough to make him reconsider ever using them again in return. His lesson was learned quickly, forcing him to rely on alternative measures.
One of his hands was rendered immobile by an unseen force, while the other pressed against cloth of some kind, the familiar texture serving to slow his racing heartbeat. It was definitely a sheet, but what kind? The last thing he remembered was reliving the worst hangover ever in the… workshop…? He could tell this wasn’t the fabrication floor; he couldn’t hear the printer’s hum or the inconsistent deadened ‘thump’ of that one malfunctioning wind turbine on the roof.
He took in a deep breath, picking out the different scents of the room. Isopropyl alcohol, vinegar, and… flowers… wafted through his nostrils, placing him in the med bay. That made sense. Now what about the pressure on top of him? He sluggishly moved his free limb to examine it, his liquified muscles not helping the motion one bit.
Well… there was… something there, and that was about all he could gather. His sense of touch was definitely dulled, and the shape was most certainly non-euclidean. He ran his digits all along the surface to no avail, feeling over every rigid edge and pliable extrusion, but the geometry simply could not be added up in his nauseous mind.
And then it started to grumble audibly and physically, creating vibrations throughout his chest as the noise settled into a… purr?
The burning lights seared his eyes, but the suffering had to be ignored. He needed to know what this… thing was! The pure white died down quickly, simmering into a hazed view of the room. His torso was host to… Damn, those spots in his eyes…
He squinted even further, making out the rough shape of a large head… with a muzzle… that was smiling.
Sharky.
Laying her snout on him.
Purring at his unintentional massage.
One that he had yet to stop.
Huh… were her horns always that big? They had to have been as long as his thumb, stretching out from in front of her two lines of frills.
She nuzzled into his nails, forcing him to scratch harder… When did he start scratching?
It was soothing, in a way, and he almost wanted to keep going, but his hand eventually stopped after a particularly nasty stint of nausea. A blazing orange eye opened as a consequence of his unintentional transgression, looking thoroughly upset and disgruntled. The Malkrin perked up after a moment, the pieces apparently clicking as she started standing—er, sitting up—straight from her spot beside his bed.
“Harrison!” She cupped his cheek with a calloused hand as another gripped his shoulder, her distraught yet relieved gaze tracing his face. She tilted his head to the side as gently as she could, scouring his features for signs of illness while ignoring how it made his head spin.
A disoriented smirk grew on him in spite of the dizziness. Her inspection must have proved satisfactory, because she let him go sheepishly when she noticed his mild discomfort, giving him a second to orient himself. He offered her a weak smile and cleared his dry, raspy throat. “Hey… What did I miss?”
“Goddess! I was so worr—d! You became so ill so quickly! I…” She exhaled slowly, shaking her head before proceeding. “Star-sent Tracy said you suff—ed from ‘radiation poisoning.’ I carried you from the workshop to here, and you were tre—ed with a tincture and medicine to reduce your pain. ”
The Malkrin fell quiet for a moment, her shoulders drooping as her expression took on a guilty quality. ”It has been some time since… I believe the sun should be sett—g by now. Are… Are you f—ling well?”
He raised a brow and brought a hand up to check his temperature. “I… think so? I’m dizzy, but besides that, I’m not too bad. So, radiation sickness? She used ‘rad-away,’ right? How bad was it? How many grays?”
“S-She has ch—ked up on you with the ‘scanner’ many times now, and has assured me of y—r health. I do not recall how many ‘grays,’ but yes, she made use of such a serum.”
Harrison let out a huff of sardonic bemusement. Thank God for the proliferation of nuclear energy and the subsequent rise of radiation research. “So… do we know why I was irradiated in the first place? What about you? Are you okay, Shar?”
Sharky frowned in disapproval. “It is you who was struck ill, d—rest Harrison… but yes, I am in g—d health. On your question of ‘irradiation,’ Tracy has her theories ab—t such, but that matters not. How bad is the dizzin—s? Does your head swell with pain? How about your abdomen? You purged your stomach before you fell unconsci—s. Are you hungry?”
“ I mean, I’m struggling to keep my focus straight here,” he grumbled. “Nothing else, though…”
She reluctantly eased up on her verbal prodding, shrinking again now that her immediate concern had been addressed. “It is a curi—s affliction, to be sure. I… feared the worst, but I am glad you have made even a partial reco—ry so quickly. And for your nausea, Tracy menti—ed such would occur… I know not how to deal with such, but…” She stopped mid-sentence, looking over her shoulder at something Harrison couldn’t see. “Actu—ly, here.”
“Uh… Okay…?” he responded curiously, still mulling over how he was somehow blasted with radiation, but Sharky… wasn’t?
The paladin grabbed a small wooden bowl and a piece of notebook paper from a metallic table nearby, handing him the note first. He took it and concentrated on the two drawings on it, trying not to cross his eyes in doing so. One of the pictures was of a bowl with several plants hovering above it, some of which were recognizable as local flora. The other image was a pretty detailed representation of himself drinking from a pot with an ‘X’ over a whirlpool above his head and another of his eyes constricting. So… what? No spinning? A focused gaze? It was something to help with nausea? That… that would be damn useful.
Sharky passed him the liquid next, holding it long enough for him to sit up properly… which unfortunately caused the world to turn even faster for him, necessitating another few seconds for the spike of dizziness to wear off. He waved off his caretaker’s concern and accepted the bowl, drinking with a little assistance from the paladin.
The fluid poured into his mouth and down his throat, soothing the worst of the dryness. It was room-temperature, with a taste that reminded him of black tea that’s been steeping for wayyy too long and a hint of… citrus? It wasn’t great, but he managed to down a good portion of it in one gulp, waiting a moment before attempting to down the rest, but his hands were stopped. The paladin softly pulled the bowl back closer to her chest. He was about to protest, but the gentle look of worry on her face reminded him he wasn’t drinking just tea, leaving him to sit there awkwardly.
“F—give me. Cera’s instructions were to not drink all of it…” Her head tilted away, looking toward the concoction within her grasp. Her words were then quiet, morose in a way. “…This is the furthest my protection can go.” She met his eyes once more, starin at him with guilt-strucken irises for a few long seconds. “I… I sh—ld have put myself in the way of the anomaly. If I had done as my trial orders, y— may not have become so sick…”
He gave her a dissatisfied huff. “Shar, don’t go apologizing for that. Stop thinking of these interactions like that—mulling over regretfully isn’t going to help. Plus, considering it was radiation, I don’t know what we could have done differently…”
“I und—stand.” Shar returned softly. “I only wish there was more I c—ld have done…”
…What could they have done differently? Could Sharky have actually blocked the radiation? Why wasn’t she sick at all? Hell, she was right there too, how could she not have been irradiated? He was just about to ask the paladin about it, the question right on his tongue, but the way her ears dejectedly folded against her head caused him to bite his tongue. It probably wasn’t something he should ask right now with her worried sick…
He cleared his throat, pointing toward the scanner. “Shar, can you…”
“The scanner?”
He nodded. The Malkrin turned to retrieve the requested item, a soft click of the device leaving its dock preceding the hand-held machine being quickly passed over. He gave himself a scan, the green glow of the medical implement hovering over his torso for a few seconds. It read the same things he was used to… and nothing more. Was that good? Maybe he should wait a few more minutes before trying again.
“So, where is everyone else?” he queried, though it was more out of the need to kill time than anything.
Sharky stared upward in thought. “Akula is still away, the mated pair have left… somewh—e… and the other star-s—t has left to complete her task deal—g with the fabricator.”
He raised a brow at the couple’s disappearance but elected not to push the subject. “Akula is still gone? Wasn’t she supposed to be back before sunset?”
“I expect her to be back s—n, but I do not know if it is actually s—down or not. Forgive me.” She gave him a small frown.
“Stop apologizing…” He paused. “Wait, you haven’t been out yet?”
She shook her head, orange irises lighting up. “I have waited here for y— to recover. So no, I have not.”
He scratched at the back of his head, feeling a little bit guilty for inadvertently locking her down. “It’s not like I was going anywhere. I appreciate the company, but you didn’t have to sit here being bored to death, Shar.”
The paladin leaned in further. The flame in her voice increased alongside the pressure her tail put atop his waist. “Of c—rse I had to! What am I, if I am not by your side? Especi—ly if you are so ill. I have no gr—ter task than to see you in good health.”
He blinked, taken aback by how adamant she seemed. His stunned expression shifted to an uncertain avoidance of her gaze, a reluctant smile forming. “Thanks…”
Sharky stared for a few seconds before letting out the last of her indignation through a weary breath, settling back into her chair and loosening the crushing grip of her tail to a more gentle one. She folded her hands over her lap, fidgeting with her talons like she did any time she had more to say, though it eventually stopped, the Malkrin apparently deciding that the comfortable silence was enough.
The quiet atmosphere lingered for a while, neither of them having much else to do. That also meant the engineer was quickly starting to feel anxious. There was still a lot to do, after all, and Tracy shouldn’t be forced to do it all by herself just because he got a little sick. Plus, the sooner they had the new fabricator built, the sooner they could get some real defenses up. There were still some solar and wind energy kits that should be done printing too; those needed to be set up. That’d open up some extra power for fabrication, which should improve the efficiency of everything else. Actually, the longer he thought about it, the more things that needed him came to mind. Sure, some tasks could be relegated to the others, but he couldn’t be confident it was done right if he was stuck in bed, and he felt decent enough at the moment…
Yeah, screw this.
He pulled off the white sheet and slid his legs over the side of the bed.
“Harrison, w—t are you…? You must rest to rec—ver… A-Are you sure you sho—ld be…?” she rambled, reminding him that he had just speed ran acute radiation sickness recovery… or at least enough to feel ‘normal.’ He checked himself over once more, noticing the lack of dizziness when he swung his head from side to side. There wasn’t much in the way of his sense of touch, but that was fine—it was just the painkillers that went along ‘rad-away,’ right?
“Yeah, I’ll be alright,” he decided, slipping off the bed and stretching his limbs after gaining his footing. A short tingle ran through his veins in reaction to the movement, catching him off guard. It was like an off-brand version of when your leg fell asleep, just a lot weaker, and more like taking a little too much pre-workout—pins and needles included.
He ignored the unusual feeling running down his neck and through his limbs. If it was worth worrying about, then the scanner would have picked it up. The engineer shook off the discomfort and continued onward, appreciating the lack of nausea that would have gotten in the way otherwise. He grabbed the heavy vest full of equipment that sat beside the bed and slipped it on with a small bit of difficulty. There was work to do, and if he could set up additional energy production by the end of the night, it would be a huge jump forward for their little fabrication operation.
Sharky briskly made her way to his side, slightly hovering her arms around him as if he’d fall over at any moment. A small part of him wanted to protest to save his dignity, but kept his mouth shut. If it made her feel better, then he could deal with a bit of overprotectiveness.
The med bay door swished open, shocking an unexpected technician on the other side. Tracy jumped back with wide eyes, clenching her data pad to her chest, clearly not expecting his presence.
The other pioneer relaxed when she noticed who had startled her, though the tension quickly came back. She adjusted the grip on her tablet, stumbling over an attempt to compose herself. “Oh! H-Harrison? What’re you doing up? I… How… You, uh. You good, man?”
“Hey,” he returned curiously, the grumbling of his just-woke-up voice still present. Her short hair was messier than usual, her goggles failing to keep her locks from covering one of her eyes. It was in line with the dirtied white tank top and baggy mechanic’s pants she had on—no overalls for some reason. He shook off the inquisitive train of thought and took a step back to get out of her personal space. “Yeah, I’m feeling… fine.”
“Fine? Shouldn’t you be like… suuuuper nauseous?” She squinted in an incredulous stare, probing him for a lie.
He tilted his head with a shrug. “I took Cera’s mystery cocktail, and now I’m not… Apparently.”
Tracy maintained the scrutiny before letting out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I was just coming to check up on you.” She paused, glancing at the floor while biting her cheek sheepishly. “Do you mind if I just scan you… reeeal quick? Just in case?”
“Eh.” He blandly gestured at himself. “I just ran one on myself and it didn’t give anything out of the ordinary. I think I’m good.”
An uncomfortable frown crossed her face. “Mmmm… If you say so then. Whaddya think you’re doing now, though? You should still be in bed.”
“Too much to do for me to sit around twiddling my thumbs, so I figured I should get a start on setting up the turbines and solar panels,” he explained casually. “Those are already printed, right?”
She shot a glance at the Malkrin hovering behind him, but when she saw that there wasn’t any support to be gained from the devoted paladin, the woman opted to surrender the argument. “S‘long as you’re sure… But yeah, those are done. They were hogging up the fabricators’ queues, so I took ‘em out and stacked them by the printers. Figured I’d leave the rest to you since I don’t really know how to use ‘em.”
“Fair. Are you free to help me set them up? Actually, how far along are you with taking the fabricator apart?”
Tracy bobbed her head to the side, idly bouncing the datapad against her chest. “Everything’s torn out of the borked one; I’m just waiting for the new parts to print out now.”
That would explain the scent of burnt rubber coming off of her—no machine was stripped down without an issue or two. Still, that was a huge time sink just… completely taken off of his back. Wow. Who knew having someone else who actually knew their stuff would make life that much easier?
Harrison grinned. “That’ll save us a hell of a lot of time. Great thinking, Trace!”
“I-I just did what you asked me… It’s n-nothing…” She tilted her head down at the praise to hide the slight blush.
“Nope. None of that now.” He patted her on the shoulder fondly. “Don’t discredit yourself. You did a good job, and I appreciate the initiative. Take the praise, you deserve it.”
“T-Thanks,” Tracy murmured demurely, meeting his gaze again with a shy smile. Her eyes widened for a second when she noticed how close he was, the technician taking a step back and clearing her throat. “Should w-we go back, then? S-So we can set up the t-turbines, that is.”
The engineer raised a brow, checking with Shar to see if she thought the reaction was odd. All he got was a blank, if still worried, look in return. Just him then? He dismissed the thought and turned his attention back to the other human, gesturing for her to lead the way. “Of course.”
The group of three left the med bay for the other module. The sound of a shower queued Harrison into where the missing two Malkrin were. He quickly pushed any idle curiosity aside; there wasn’t any point in being nosey.
The tingle underneath his skin—presumably from the mystery concoction—continued as he crossed the sunlit hill. It could have been from the combination of drugs in his system, but he felt pretty damn energized for the time of day it was—maybe it was because he was unconscious for a few hours. It reminded him of those caffeine-fuelled nights at college—especially the part where the energy drink kicked in and set the studying off. It felt pretty good. Maybe he’d get a start on assembling the fabricator after connecting the external power?
A faint scent of melted plastic and burnt wires replaced the smell of fresh air when they entered the workshop, confirming his earlier suspicions as to where Tracy had been all day. True to her words, a pile of unfolded, metal cube-shaped boxes sat by the fabricators.
He looked up at his four-armed companion, assembling a plan for the operation ahead of him. “Alright, Shar, do you think you could grab some of those big universal cables in the corner over there? Just drag them to the cargo bay doors on the other side.” He turned to the tradeswoman, her hands fiddling with the strings on her pants. “And then Tracy—” The technician perked up. “—can you give me a hand with the kits?”
The paladin set off to complete her task while Tracy gave him a thumbs-up. He was outside the back of the workshop in a matter of minutes, unfolding a—technically temporary—power generator, pointing the once pale but now sun-tanned woman to where she had to lock the alloyed pieces. The maroon-colored Malkrin began hauling the rest of the cubes to them, offering assistance with assembling the higher components of the three-meter tall turbine between trips.
The ceramist and the craftsman eventually joined in their endeavors, having finished their lengthy shower. Harrison accepted the help readily, suppressing his bemused smirk as he directed them. Their assistance was greatly appreciated, and the male of the two seemed ecstatic to lend a hand, allowing them to set up every wind-powered dynamo and start on the solar panels. However, all the progress did bring up questions about the fisherwoman’s whereabouts. The sun was only a small chunk above the sea’s horizon, and there was no obvious sign of Akula’s net by the orange shore as far as he could see. He supposed she could have just gone up or down the beach to fish, but he was still a little worried about her disappearance. It bothered him enough to break away from the others and approach the crest of the hill to get a better look at where the grassy hill met the sands.
He pulled out a pair of simple binoculars from his hip, scanning where the slow tides met land. There wasn’t anything of note besides the sparse boulders and tangles of underwater flora draped across the beach. His inspection drew to where the tree line met the flanking rocky cliffs, their stone faces rising only a few meters above sea level.
He was about to give up when movement caught his attention. A singular silhouette appeared from behind the stone wall, easing the worst of his fears. It was definitely a Malkrin, and the outline of a familiar weapon paired with a full fishing bag told him exactly who it was. There wasn’t any sign of injury either, which meant Akula had likely just lost track of time, or maybe decided to fish a bit farther out and underestimated how long the trip back would take. Either way, she was safe. He let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding…
…Then another tense one immediately took its place.
He pulled away and scrubbed the lenses of the binoculars, snapping the vision ports to his eyes when he finished. No, it wasn’t a mistake; they were still there.
A small parade of other Malkrin followed behind the fisherwoman, making their way ever closer towards the modules he called home.
Shit. Was Akula leading them to him? Why? Were they hostile? Was she being forced to bring them here? What if they were from Kegara’s camp? Were they straight from the Land kingdom? Were these other ‘banished?’
The cold purple of the sunset cast shadows over their faces, obscuring their expressions into black uncertainties. He couldn’t gather anything from them. His legs were already pulling him away before he realized, the turn into a light jog resulting in him slamming face-first into a wall of pure metal. A hand shot up to soothe his pained nose, Shar’s apologetic voice covering the throbbing headache.
“Harrison! F-Forgive me. Are you al—ght?”
“Sharky?” He froze, forgetting his stinging face and lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. “Shit, uh, No. No, listen. There’s a group of Malkrin by the beach, and I need you to stay watch while I go grab the others.”
Her head tilted before his words visibly clicked in her mind. She pulled her shield off her back and nodded at him, her concern replaced by ironclad determination. “Underst—d.”
He wasted no time running back and informing the rest of what was happening. He urged them to stay inside the workshop and wait out whatever was about to go down. The two Malkrin understood and heeded his warning without protest, the ceramist giving him a solemn look before leaving. Tracy looked like she wanted to object, but he gave no room for arguing, nudging her into the building before she could get any ideas.
Even with everyone tucked away, he couldn’t help but worry. Although the module was already in a defensible location in case of the worst scenario, there was only one firearm between the three of them—he was a dumbass for not printing out more before. The spikes around the cargo bay doors were closed, which left only one entrance for them to watch, so that would have to do. He made a mental note to start properly arming the others after whatever the hell was happening was over.
The immediate concern now addressed, he shouldered his heavy weapon and returned to the stalwart paladin with steady strides, double-checking his ammo on the way there. As much as he would have liked to humor the possibility of the newcomers appearing with peaceful intentions, he knew he needed to be ready for whatever needed to be done—better to be a warrior in a factory than an engineer in war, or however that saying went. Something about the static pins and needles running across his skin and through his veins gave him conviction. It calmed his nerves and set him straight, clearing his mind of the nervousness that wanted to break in. By the time he saw the familiar silhouette of his paladin, he had set aside any remnants of hesitation.
His finger traced the trigger guard as he stepped up beside the four-armed guardian, her shield standing tall and unyielding, flanked by a pair of menacing spears. Akula had crossed much of the three hundred or so meters from the beach to the crest of the hill.
“Stop,” he ordered, raising his voice at the approaching band. They obliged, coming to a halt at about thirty or so meters away. There were eight of them, not including the leading green Malkrin. He counted five females and three males, based on height. Nervous postures paired with wary gazes at the paladin’s unwavering glare, the occasional glance being given to Harrison and his shotgun. One stood tall amidst the looks of uncertainty. The Malkrin’s yellow skin was darkened by the dusk, meeting Shar’s stare with an unflinching glower.
Akula took a single step forward, bowing her head while gesturing behind her with a free hand. “Greetings, Harrison. I have returned with not only the finest fish, but exiled laborers for the settlement.”
“Exiled laborers?” His brows furrowed in suspicion as he gave the group another look. “From where?”
The fisherwoman glanced back at her following. She spoke flatly, though he could sense a hint of irritation… or disgust. “They originate from the Land Kingdom, star-sent, having only just arrived by boat.”
His gaze crossed the anxious and exhausted looks of those down the hill from him. Some of their talons clicked together nervously. A few had stone-still tails, while others wrapped their fifth appendage around their waists or wrists. Every single garment of clothing on them had been either ripped or dirtied considerably; not to mention that those appeared to be their only possessions. Though, they looked ‘healthy,’ in spite of their impoverished items, if not a bit lean compared to the Malkrin he knew. So, what were they doing here? They were banished, right? They were supposed to work for that other settlement, ‘constructing a future on the mainland.’ They had no supplies to build any camp or even make the long journey to however far away Kegara’s camp was…
Harrison took in a deep breath, keeping his gun at low ready. “So, they just got here? Why bring them here?”
Her back stood even straighter, her brows narrowing in thin confidence. “I believed we would benefit from additional hands within our own settlement. They have professions that may prove useful to our needs.” She stepped to the side and gestured to the group behind her, pointing out each of the differently colored Malkrin individually. “Amongst their number, they have two fisherwomen to see to our food needs, a lumberjack for harvesting of wood, a guardswoman for our defense, a script-keeper, a cook to prepare meals, and a sewist for clothing. I am sure you would be capable of utilizing their positions excellently, Great Creator.”
‘Great Creator?’
He shook that thought away, focusing on Akula’s offer.
“That’s seven,” he stated forcefully. “What about the last?”
The banished stiffened. One of the males went to cover the short white-skinned female with shaking arms, while the yellow guardswoman stood tall behind the aforementioned Malkrin, her expression unmoving.
Akula’s uncertainly bled through a sharp inhale of hers. “T-That one does not possess an occupation that we know of… She is a… juvenile…”
A nasty pit formed in his stomach, pulling down caution to unveil a caustic, bubbling fury.
A… ‘juvenile?’ So, it wasn’t just a short female… but an actual… Here? They sent a fucking kid here? Nevermind the moral implications of how she arrived; the dire survival situation, roaming hordes of bloodthirsty monsters, and lethal anomalies were taxing to deal with for him, and he had advanced technology! They were just seven weaponless Malkrin! Hell, they were already scared out of their minds, and all they’ve done so far is meet him! How were they supposed to protect a kid when they’re pissing their pants from this? What *the fuck *were those Land Kingdom assholes doing?
He bit back the snarl threatening to curl his lips. There would be time to get pissed off later. For now, he needed to figure out what to do with… this whole situation. Specifically, the fact that there were eight people at his doorstep all of a sudden.
Akula was basically asking if he wanted to take them under his wing, right? But could he even trust them? They did look haggard, but there was no telling what they would do if given the opportunity to do… something. They were an unknown variable, plain and simple. Even if he did take them in without having to worry, where would he even house them? He wasn’t exactly swimming in free space aboard the modules. What about clothing and food? They were just getting by as it was! Assuming they figured that out, it still left the question of if they’d be willing to work for him. The base couldn’t support freeloaders, especially if they could actually be detrimental to getting things done. Besides, how did his status as ‘star-sent’ fit into what they thought about him—or even Sharky, a follower of the Sky Goddess? Was he going to be expected to mediate religious arguments, or was it going to blow up into something even bigger?
No matter how he thought about it, they just weren’t ready to take on people that he couldn’t be sure about. It would risk the lives of everyone back at the base… which meant he was going to send the refugees to their deaths…
Harrison bled off a sigh through his nose. He knew damn well by now that the Malkrin were people; he couldn’t just cast them off as giant beasts. Taking on more people was a huge slap in the face to the progress he was making, but doing nothing and seeing them off into the wilderness—where literal Human and Malkrin-eating monsters roamed day in and day out—with nothing but the rags on their back would weigh on his mind. A selfish perspective, maybe, but just as true.
Plus, if he was thinking about it logically, manpower would be essential going forward. He needed just about every resource under the sun—stone, iron, copper, tungsten, saltpeter, sulfur, clay, wood, plant matter, fish, and… The list goes on. It wasn’t like he had access to working robots or anything that could gather supplies and perform tasks outside the workshop. For as much as he disliked the idea, the Malkrin were a hearty people, and for the price of shelter, safety, and sustenance, they could do what his technology can’t—for now. Was that worth the price of needing to keep an eye on them?
Christ. Why was he the one charged with making this decision? His slow inhale and subsequent exhale overpowered any other meek noise in the elevated meadow.
“…Okay,” he sighed out, propping his shotgun on his shoulder. Stunned, uncertain stares lingered on him, only Akula opting to break the silence.
“…You would accept these new ones into our settlement?” she asked, apparently not expecting his minimalistic, though positive response. Odd, considering how everything she said made it seem like she wanted this.
“We’ll bring them in, yeah,” he confirmed, his voice a little warmer than before. “Do you mind fetching some meal boxes?”
“I… O-Of course, star-sent. As you command.” The green-colored fisherwoman blinked off her surprise, briskly past him and into the barracks. He followed her with his eyes until she was out of sight, leaving just him, Sharky, and the crowd of refugees on the hill. He was a lot less nervous about approaching them now, and not just because of his own firepower or the ten-foot tall armored, muscled, and taloned woman beside him.
“There’s no need to just stand there. Follow me, we’ll figure out everything else shortly…” He paused and considered their situation once more… Perhaps they were more reticent because of Akula. “Actually, first: are any of you hurt? We have the medical supplies to treat wounds and sickness.”
The Malkrin looked between themselves, the script-keeper stepping up as their speaker. “Beyond scratches of the skin, w-we are in adequate health.”
Harrison nodded and turned toward the barracks, already planning on asking someone to fetch some rubbing alcohol and bandages. He gestured for the others to follow him, which only took a few moments for them to comply. The yellow Guardswoman stood still, however, her glare appearing to try and pierce him. Then, the juvenile grabbed her wrist and softly pulled her, causing the taller female’s eyes to widen in an unexpected show of shock. She then averted her gaze, continuing with the rest of the new arrivals. Odd.
They stopped by the fire pit out front before anything else, Sharky being asked to keep watch over them as he grabbed Tracy, Cera, and the craftsman. Food, clothing, shelter, health, jobs… There was a lot to consider. One minute was all it took to make a decision as big as this, but there was no going back now. He was going to have to sacrifice tons of resources and energy for them.
All he could do now was hope that his efforts would bear fruit in the future.
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Next time on Total Drama Anomaly Island - Late night, Late thoughts

Too long for Twitter, so i'll post here and link on Twitter.
Here is a write up of everything about Elemental Shaman that I think could be improved. That said, this is not a Doompost, with one large exception. I think Ele shaman is perfectly functional. It very obviously needs number tweaks to provide competitive damage, but those are different from mechanical changes. I will try to focus on mechanics. This will be almost entirely from a PVE perspective. Also, while I’ll toss out some ideas for changes, I know there are far more solutions then the ones I present here.
Mental Dexterity - Let’s go ahead and get the one large exception out of the way. I really hate this rune. I don’t think I need to say much as this is not a minority opinion. It forces Ele to play as a melee and its only competition, Burn, is sad. I do think people underestimate how powerful Burn can be when it’s applicable, it just usually isn’t. Still, Mental Dexterity is also very powerful in those same 3-6 target situations, because of how much it buffs Chain Lightning and Magma Totem. Please kill Mental Dexterity for Ele and compensate for the massive loss of SP elsewhere. Add single target power to Burn, and/or add it elsewhere, It doesn’t matter.
Range – Ignoring Mental Dexterity, Ele shaman is to only ranged DPS in the game that is capped to 20 yards. The spells responsible for this are Searing Totem, Flame Shock and Earth Shock. Also, buff totems are only 20 right now, but that fixes itself at level 60. Shadow Priest and Affliction Lock are the only other specs that I know of that face this same restriction, with Mind Flay and Drain Life being 20 yards. Both of those specs have a talent to extend their range to 26. The Elemental range talent only applies to Lightning Bolt and Chain Lightning, which essentially makes it pointless.
Totems – Vanilla Shaman totems only provide meaningful benefit to melee DPS, the big ones being Strength of Earth, Windfury and Grace of Air. This puts Ele in a very odd position for Raid Comp. Do you stick them in a melee group to buff the other melee? But now they taking a slot for the other melee buffs; Battle Shout, Trueshot Aura, Leader of the Pack, etc. I recognize that buff/debuff alterations to shaman are problematic since they are Horde only. Despite that, there are viable options, mostly making them alternative route to buffs/debuffs that already exist. I’m talking Demonic Pact Fire Totem, a Sunder Armor Earth Totem, Concentration Aura Air Totem, etc. Things like that. These wouldn’t even have to be new totems, they could be alterations to old and mostly useless totems. Flametongue, Windwall, Stoneclaw, etc. I think this is especially relevant when discussing the value of a Spec beyond their raw numbers on a chart. Right now, an Elemental Shaman provides the exact same types of buffs/utility as an Enhancement Shaman, only worse and more awkward versions. Enhancement talents buff their totems, Enhancement themselves benefit from being in a melee group, and Enhancement brings Strom Strike. They are also better at purging and interrupting casts with more baseline spell hit and no hard cast abilities. I’m trying to think of one thing that Ele brings to the table that Enhance doesn’t, and I’ve honestly got nothing except for a very slightly stronger Shamanistic Rage.
Also, I’m loathe to complain about Totemic Projection, since it is way better than not having it at all, but 4 GCDs just to place totems is already harsh enough. Could TP be off the GCD?
Rolling Thunder – the new wrist rune for Elemental Shaman. Three of the new wrist runes for shaman do essentially the same thing, in a slightly different way. They funnel more Lightning Shield charges into your target. The problem with Rolling Thunder is that it stacks very slowly. Often raid damage, which procs lightning shield, will consume the stack as fast or faster than Rolling Thunder will generate them. This makes Overcharged (which prevents stacks from being consumed) as good or better, especially if it hits multiple targets. The mana return feature of Rolling Thunder almost never comes into play, and even when it does, it’s extremely mediocre. If Shamanistic Rage is getting a nerf next phase (which was implied, though not outright stated), this would be a great place to compensate, because Ele Shaman definitely are not swimming in mana, in fact they cannot maintain their very weak AoE for very long at all. There are many ways you could tweak this rune; increase the proc chance, increase the mana return, keep it from loosing charges when the shaman is struck by an attack while increasing the ICD on the charges to compensate (3.5->5 seconds would probably be good), make it a chance to gain stacks for every target hit by chain lightning (if it doesn’t already, I don’t actually know), make fresh lightning shields start with 1 charge while capping the number of charges expended to 4 or 5 without ever going below 1.
Pushback protection. In a PVE setting, Shaman have no ability to reduce spell pushback. This is awful. That is all.
Weapons and Imbues. None of the Weapon imbues do anything for Ele (or resto). This is especially annoying since Dual Wielding isn’t restricted to Enhance and there are (very few, but more than 0) caster off-hand weapons. This means double wizard oil, which also means that it’s virtually impossible for a shield or a staff to ever be a competitive option. This is mostly an annoyance, and it makes loot tables awkward on Horde. Who wants the caster shield drop? Tank shaman, maybe, and no one else.
Burn – as stated before, this rune could be quite powerful under the right circumstances, mainly when there are 3 targets present and you want to focus 1, while you passively cleave down the others. That’s just not a super common situation, and when it does occur it’s normally weak mobs that die quickly and represent a small % of the time spent on the fight. Additional functionality needs to be added to this rune. A few ideas would include: Making Lava Burst refresh Flame Shock, giving Lava Burst multiple charges, making Lava Burst apply a stacking dot, giving Flame Shock ticks a chance to trigger an AoE effect (like Death Knight Wandering Plague in Wrath of the Lich King), increase Lava Burst damage by a % equal to the Shaman’s Critical Strike chance. Those are just the ones that come to my mind first, there are lots of things that could be done.
Spirit of the Alpha/Loyal Beta – Why does this provide a Physical Damage boost only? Seems arbitrary and leaves Ele as the only spec without a role enhancing (ie Healer: More Healing, DPS: More Damage, etc.) rune on that slot.
Edit: Adding some things that have been discussed in the comments.
Power Surge: Aside from the proc being so rare that i sometimes forget this rune exists, it's also quite awkward. Depending on when it does actually proc, the value can vary greatly. There are a ton of caveats that i could write a small novella describing, suffice it to say 25% of the time, the proc does essentially nothing, the other 75% of the time it gives you 3 seconds of Lava Burst CD reduction and 0.5 of cast time for other spells. It's way more complicated than that, but that at least gives you a general idea of how weak it is. The proc would work way better if Lava Burst, and maybe also Chain Lightning, had 2 charges. It would also work better if instead of a CD reset, it was a buff that cause your next cast of those spells to not trigger a CD and be instant.
Consumables: It is actually toxic how many relevant consumables there are for classes that benefit from SP and AP. Right now, that is Ranged Hunter and any Shaman using Mental dexterity (so, all but resto). It also makes the Enchanting Sigil (which is already the strongest profession numerically) insane for those classes, as it provides AP and SP. This problem is 150% as bad for tanking shaman. I'm guessing paladins are also in the same boat.

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