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{Sorry for the late post. I had some trouble with my scheduled summer semester pop up so I wasn't able to write this out as much as I wanted last weekend. Anyways, enjoy the domestic fluff of Damian and his newly expanded flock :) }
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-----Damian-----
"The next one's simple. Say their name then (sit). Like this: Braxton, (sit)." As Damian said the command he raised his hand to around shoulder height and snapped. The Great Dane in question slowly sat with his usual amount of sass. Ree cooed in awe and Scales' eyes sparkled. Damian smiled as he pats the large dog's head with praise.
"(Good boy). Ok, you two. Your turns. Make sure to say the commands in English. I haven't taught them Common yet." He motioned to the dogs Damian picked for the two to learn the commands with. It took Damian a bit of trial and error figuring out what commands each dog knew and what ones had different commands for the same motion. Then it took even longer to retrain them to all follow the same commands. He kept in mind the 'specialized' commands for a few of the dogs and didn't try teaching them to the whole group. Ree tried the command he was teaching them first, his dog being Diesel.
"Trii-cheiu, (sit)." Ree raised his wing-arm, though he couldn’t snap he still did the gesture. The boxer he was talking to blankly tilted his head. Damian chuckled and helped out the bird, knowing they all tend to have problems pronouncing new words without a chirp to them.
"You pronounced his name wrong, he doesn't know you're talking to him. It's more like 'Dee-sell'. The 's' is sharp enough it is almost pronounced as a 'z'." Ree practiced a few times as Scales took her try. She pronounced her dog's name a bit slow, but it was recognizable.
"D-ing-oh, (sit)." The stocky dog hesitated, glancing at Damian for a few seconds, but eventually plopped down then panted in a smile imitation. Scales' tail wagged violently, and she wordlessly cooed and trilled happily. Dingo didn't yet understand that was praise so Damian jumped in really quick to let her know she did good.
"Good girl, Dingo! Good girl!" He made sure to over exaggerate his excitement and made wide happy gestures before smothering the dog in pets and scratches. Dingo goes wild. She jumps up, bounces around a few times, then bolts into excited zoomies. A few of the other dogs joined in on the zoomies. Ree tried again on his command.
"Dee-zell, (sit)." The boxer's cropped ears perked and he promptly sat. Before Damian could, Ree copied his bigwing's previous praising and flared his wings. "Good! Good boy!" He praised, overly happy. Diesel's whole body perked up and he jumped up, landed in a playbow, then spun a few times before joining in on the zoomies with a butt-tuck run when Damian smooched at him. Damian laughed at the zooming dogs and shuffled over to be closer to his chicks, just in case the dogs tried to do fly-bys.
"Good job, you two. We're almost completely through the basic commands. I didn't think we'd get through them this quickly." His chicks cooed, trilled, and wiggled happily at the praise. Damian chuckled and rubbed their feathered heads, making a few bits of baby-fluff fall off as he drew back. He played with the few bits stuck to his fingers and watched his chicks play with the dogs as they started to wrestle. All of the dogs were bigger than them, if only slightly, but they were gentle when letting the chicks join in.
As they played he looked over them. They had changed a lot in the last month or so since the disaster of their first flying lesson. In that time, they had a few more lessons and were almost completely capable of flight, they still had a bit of supervision when they did though. They had lost almost all of their baby-fluff and their adult plumage was sported on the vast majority of their bodies. They still had to shed the last bits of fluff and a few of their baby-scales but that wouldn't take much longer. Damian was still taken with their coloring and patterns. And often found himself studying them over and over like he used to with their parents when he first got here.
Ree was a slightly grey-tinted shade of green with his scales slowly getting darker the higher they went. His stomach was a dirt brown color with a more red-ish clay spot on his chest. All his plumage was a light orage-ish brown color and he had speckles of more pastel green under his right eye and in a clump on his left jaw. His beak took the coloring of Blueberry's, a near-black color, but had the shape of Ruby's. His ears took after Violet's, long and pointed like a stretched fox's. His feathers and fur were more pressed down and made him look slimmer overall. His eyes changed from their baby brown-gold color to a beautiful sky blue.
Scales, on the other hand, had the coloring more towards a bumble bee (from what he remembered anyways). Her main coloring was a bright sunshine yellow that slowly grew more towards orange towards her underbelly and beak. On her chest was a splash-like clump of pink feathers. Her scales were less than her brother's and were a deep brown-ish color. The feathers and fur edging them were a deep enough brown to basically be black. Her plumage reminded him somewhat of Ruby and Sky's. It had a gradual fade towards the end like Sky but the pink-ish color of Ruby. She had near-neon yellow speckles too, like her brother, but the clumps were a bit larger. She had them ending on her wing-forearms like Violet's and a big clump scattered around the left side of her face. Her feathers weren't quite as fluffy as Sky's but was pretty close. Her beak had the shape of Violet's and the near-white tan color of Ruby's. Her eyes had a beautiful dual color in each eye. The top majority was a hot pink/magenta color while the bottom and inside edge was more of a petal/pastel pink.
Both were gorgeous and made Damian wonder how the genetics of their species worked to allow that vast difference in coloration and patterns when compared to all four of their parents, who tended to be different shades of the same color throughout. Ree had finally slowed his quite concerning growth rate and was starting to level out around Damian's upper thigh/lower hip, exceeding the taller of his fathers by quite the margin. All four of his parents telling him that Ree was probably one of the largest of their species in multiple generations. Scales was now barely a third of her brother's size, if that, having evened out just barely shorter than Damian's knee. Apparently that was a bit shorter than average for the species with Ruby being more towards the upper part of the average size and Sky being borderline short.
A demanding snort drew his attention away from his chicks and to the window he claimed as 'his spot' so long ago (was it really only just over one of his years since he was brought here?). There he found Casper lazily curled and dozing on the floor with Ares propped up against her where Damian had set him to nap while he taught his chicks. Said child was no longer asleep though. He was very much awake and staring Damian down with an expression demanding to know why he thought it was a good idea to even dare to set him down and walk away. Nevermind Damian wasn't even ten steps away. Ares snorted demandingly at him again and glared harder at the human's amused snort back. Damian did walk over though and picked up the child when he raised his arms at him. Ares had changed a bit too over the month Damian had him. He'd filled out to a more healthy-looking weight, though he was still a bit thin, and Damian had finally managed to memorize how to properly trim the toddler's hooves and brush out his fur.
Ares still had the bird-like plush and brought it nearly everywhere with him. Said plush was now being whacked into the side of Damian's head. Apparently, Ares decided being held wasn't good enough and wanted something else. Damian tried blocking the hits or holding the toy, but the little brat only started using his hooves in his growing tantrum. Getting tired of being hit with no explanation, Damian took the advice of one of the texts he'd read about taking care of a Grongri child and yanked Ares away from him by his scruff to hang in mid-air. The toddler wiggled and squirmed to try and hit him more but eventually the tantrum dimmed, and he went limp, a small pout on his face.
"You ready to tell me what's wrong now?" He asked the child before he cradled him again. He'd only made that mistake once. He still had the bruises to prove it. Ares glumly flicked his right ear down (which he's learned is a non-verbal yes), pout still present. Damian finally cradled the toddler to his chest again and let him sniffle and bury against him in self-comfort until he was ready to talk. Damian glanced back at his chicks to see them flopped on the ground with the other dogs, all panting and exhausted by the play. Damian chuckled at them, earning an irritated crow from Scales. Damian snorted in amusement but let them be. Ares was finally willing to tell him what was wrong.
"Want learn too." Ares' understanding of both Common and English has come a long way in the past month. He still can't string a proper sentence together, but Damian can't tell if that is because of a lack of knowledge or just because he's a toddler. He has adjusted to the flock a bit too. With it being so different from the usual Grongri Sounder structure it is understandable. He does have a few hiccups here and there but now he mostly just watches the chicks' reaction to things when he is unsure.
"'Learn too'? You wanna learn how to command the dogs too?" Damian questions, making sure he had the same idea. Ares' ear flicked again while he nodded. Damian hugged him a bit closer.
"You're a bit too small for the dogs to obey you immediately but I can introduce one to you and have you start trying. How about that? Will that work?" Ares was quiet for a bit longer but eventually agreed. Damian smiled and praised him with a few pets, receiving a few happy rumbles in response. Damian glanced around at the dogs, trying to pick one for Ares to start working on. He doesn't think any would follow the commands without his own help but if he worked on one long enough it would eventually cave. His eye landed on Casper, who was still in the same curled position as before. She was the most maternal of the group and was the one who took to the children the easiest and quickest.
"Ok, little piglet. Let's start easy." He said as he set the runt down on his hooves. As he did he got Casper's attention and called to her. "Casper. (Stand)." The large white wolfdog looked at him then crawled to her paws. He praised her softly then turned back to Ares.
"Ok. We'll start with (come). Say her name, Casper, and tell her to (come)." He said as he sat down next to where the toddler stood. Ares' little hooves stomped a bit in his excitement, but he tried. He tested out the new word before he did. What he settled on wasn't the right pronunciation, but it was close. He could mostly pronounce the command correctly too, though with a pretty heavy accent.
"Gas-prrrr. (Come)." Casper tilted her head at the child and sniffed at him. She looked at Damian and he looked to Ares then back. Casper followed and glanced, then back. Ares deflated eventually when she still didn't approach so Damian thought up something quickly.
"Maybe she doesn't understand your accent. Try this," He patted the ground, "when you say it. She knows that gesture." Ares perked back up again.
"Okie!" He turned back to Casper and tried again. "Gas-prrrr." He crouched down and clumsily patted the ground like only a toddler could. "(Come)." Casper's ears perked but she still hesitated for a second before slowly padding over and stopping right in front of the child. Ares squealed in excitement, tail going wild and hooves stomping. Damian made his chuff-imitation as praise for the child as he pets Casper to do the same. Child happier now, he figures he could take the kid away for lunch without protest. Scooping up the toddler he received no complaint.
Looking to his chicks he clicked his tongue. He learned that was a good way to gain their attention with zero hesitation, no matter what they were doing. He found out by complete accident, to be honest. He was clicking at the dogs from a habit that hasn't broken despite the years away from the farm he grew up on. Sure enough, just like every time before, both chick's heads immediately whip up to look at him. Both still looked groggy like they had just woken up. They probably had.
"C'mon, you two. Lunch time." The two groaned but climbed to their feet. Damian smiled and them and patted them as they passed. Once they were well on their way, he called the dogs and gathered them as he left behind his chicks. The dogs happily trailed after, excited after they heard the word 'hungry' when he asked. He entered the flock's kitchen, pack in tow, only a handful of minutes later. He had to take a slightly more roundabout way over since some of the dogs hadn’t quite figured out the ladder-like walkways and ramps yet and he didn't want them to fall through and get hurt. His birds greeted him with their usual trills and Untruthful with their latest attempt at teasing.
"So, the Pack Master finally decided to grace us with his presence!" Damian let them know it was a good one by sending a tease back.
"I see you haven't gotten any less spikey yet, walking pincushion." Untruthful's eyes slowly shut in a smile and Damian sent one of his own back, momentarily closing his eyes in an imitation of them. Untruthful looked surprised then they eye-close-smiled harder, spike-crest wiggling their excitement. Damian chuckled at them and set down Ares in his make-shift baby seat.
He chatted with Violet as he grabbed and rationed out the dogs' small lunch. He ignored the protesting whines, grunts, and half-barks urging him to 'go faster already'. Violet advised him to use one type of meat instead of another because of both better nutrients for the dogs and there being more of it. He thanked her and did as told. The dogs' lunch wasn't that big, more of a snack than anything, but it kept them from pouting and begging when everyone else ate. It also had helped him give them meds when they were still healing. They were mostly fine now, apparently Galactic Standard medicine works faster than the stuff he remembers. Finishing with the dogs' food he picks up the bowls, stacking a few to do so, and turns around. He walked past the dogs, chuckling at the excited spins, bounces, and tippy-taps they did as they followed him. He glanced back at them once he made it to the wall the flock had designated as their eating area.
He gave them a stern look and waited. They all eventually sat down, some more slow and reluctant than others. Once they did he placed down the bowls in the designated spots. Braxton and Casper had two stepstool-stand things he placed their bowls on because of how big they were. Once all the bowls were down he turned to look at the dogs. He waited in silence for a bit, snapping or humming warningly whenever one tried to shuffle forward. Once he deemed it long enough he gave the sort-of-command he was on the tail end of teaching them.
"(Ok)." When he said that all six dogs ran over to their bowls and started to eat. Damian strode back over to the counter and helped his birds move some plates to the table then settled cross-legged in his usual spot, Ares immediately crawling into his lap and Scales fluttering to perch on the shoulder opposite the side her brother sat on. The flock started to grab food and eat as they chatted with each other. Damian grabbed a little more than a double portion of fruits, beans (or maybe they were berries?), and a few crunchy finger foods he thinks may be cooked or specially prepared insects. He grabbed roughly more than a single portion (for someone his size anyways) of meats, the few root vegetables presented, and what he thinks may be foods made of bone pieces.
Once his plate was full he placed it down in front of him he reached over to grab a smaller plate and started making that one with tiny portions, letting his three kids have free pickings of his plate as he did. When he finished that plate he sat it in front of mini, receiving a grateful squeak before she dug in. He then propped his arms on the table, completely ignoring both his plate and the children stealing from it as he chattered on with his flock. By the time everyone finished his kids had their fill and were starting to fall asleep like usual after eating.
As his flock started gathering their dishes and the extra food on the table, Damian glanced at what was left of his plate. He made a mental note of how there weren’t as much leftovers as before and to grab bigger portions for dinner. As his flock started to disperse he looked to the dogs and said one of the first new commands he taught them.
"(Pups)." He got their attention. "(Take)." He ordered as he lifted up the half-asleep toddler on his lap. The dogs made whisper-boofs to show they heard and the largest three walked over to pick up the kids by their scruffs. Casper (the biggest, though not my much) grabbed Ree, Braxton grabbed Ares, and Dingo walked over to carefully lift Scales from his shoulder. Once they had a firm grip, they looked to Damian for further instruction.
"(To bed)" He directed as he pointed out the door they came from. The pack turned and left him alone in the room. He sighed to himself once he couldn't hear them anymore and looked back at the leftovers on the plate before him. It was maybe under half a portion for his size, probably less. He glanced at the counters and saw all the leftover food was already put up. He could go grab more but even half a portion for him would be nearly three or four large portions for his flock. No. It wasn’t worth it. He'll just grab more tonight.
He ate the leftovers in silence. Since he's got the dogs his head has been a bit quieter, though not silent. Apparently he was still enough for the building to register the room as empty, and the lights cut out. He blinked and paused at the sudden darkness but there was barely a second of blindness before some of his voices put their hands on his mental controls, giving his eyes a boost of minor night vision. It wasn’t much better than his natural amount of it but it helped. He decided not to go turn on the lights again and continued to eat his food as he peacefully listened to the soft chattering of his voices.

Title: None (suggestions welcome) Genre: Sci-fi Word count: 2694 Feedback desired: general impression
Chapter 1: The boy and his mother
1.1 The farm
Hagr stood at the edge of the farm, his gaze fixed on the vast expanse of Zandarius stretching out before him. The sky above was a canvas of swirling purples and blues streaked with the faint glow of distant stars. A cool breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the enticing scent of Heyla flowers.
With a sigh, Hagr set down his mechanic wheelbarrow, the last of his chores for the day completed. He began to make his way back towards the farm, his footsteps crunching softly against the rocky terrain. As he passed through the pink and green garden, the aroma of his mother's porridge drifted towards him, tempting his hunger.
Despite eating the same meal every day, Hagr's stomach grumbled with anticipation. The suuka porridge was all he needed right now, its warm, comforting embrace promising to chase away the chill of the evening.
Arriving at the farm, Hagr took in the familiar sight of their plascrete igloo. Half of the structure was comprised of little octagon windows, through which the warm glow of a fire emanated from the chimney. It was home, humble yet comforting in its simplicity.
Entering the igloo, Hagr found his mother, Altha, bustling about the kitchen, preparing dinner. "Hagr, dear, could you set the table?" she called out, her voice gentle yet firm. Hagr nodded, a small smile playing at his lips as he arranged the mismatched dishes in their usual places. Each plate was different, yet they always ended up in the same spot, a testament to the routines of their daily life.
Once the table was set, Hagr ignited the moonlamp, casting a soft yellow glow across the igloo walls. Altha emerged from the kitchen, carrying a steaming pot of suuka porridge. "Careful, Hagr," she warned as she placed the pot on the table. "It's hot." Hagr nodded as he heard this many times before, his mouth watering at the sight and smell of the hearty meal before him. They ate in silence, the only sound of the clinking of spoons against bowls as they savored each mouthful.
After a moment, Hagr broke the silence, his voice tinged with curiosity. "Do you ever wonder what's beyond Zandarius, Mumu?" he asked. Altha hesitated, her expression guarded. "I don't know, Hagr," she replied softly. "But we have everything we need right here on the farm." Though disappointed by her response, Hagr nodded in understanding. Perhaps someday they would have the chance to explore together. Altha caught his eye and winked, a small glimmer of hope in her gaze.
As they finished their meal, Hagr and Altha moved to the small kitchen area to wash the dishes. The kitchen was cluttered yet cozy, with shelves overflowing with pots, pans, and utensils. Beyond the kitchen, the interior of the igloo was a snug retreat from the harshness of the outside world. A small cupboard, crafted from Zandarius rare Bennam wood, stood in one corner, its doors closed tight to conceal its overflowing contents. Nearby, a plush couch with pillows offered a comfortable spot to relax after a long day's work. Opposite the couch, a large hammock hung from the ceiling. Above it, a smaller hammock swayed gently in the breeze, providing a cozy nest for Hagr during the night. Every inch of space was utilized to its fullest, creating a sense of warmth and intimacy within the cramped confines of the igloo.
As the hour grew late, Altha reminded Hagr of their upcoming journey to Kihar. With a yawn, Hagr climbed into his hammock, gazing up at the stars through the little octagon windows above. "Goodnight, Hagr," Altha whispered, her voice soft in the quiet of the night. "Goodnight, Mumu," Hagr replied, his eyes closing as sleep overtook him. And with that, he drifted off, thoughts of tomorrow's journey fading into the comforting embrace of dreams.
1.2 The Trip
Hagr awoke to the gentle light filtering through the little octagon windows of their igloo. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he glanced around and noticed that his mother's hammock was empty. Mu-mu?" he called out, but there was no response.
Curiosity piqued, Hagr peered outside and spotted his mother tending to the kikkamoos, their pig-like creatures with reptilian legs and Fluffy tails. With a swift motion, he leaped out of bed, his movements practiced from years of experience. After quickly dressing himself, he hurried outside, calling out to his mother. "Altha!" he yelled, using her full name in his urgency. His mother turned towards him with a warm smile. "Haggie!" she called back, using his pet name.
Hagr wasted no time and dashed off to fetch Tsjoopa, their trusty mechanical unicycle cart already loaded with goods for trade. As he returned with the cart, he found his mother waiting back at the farm. "Ready to go, Hagr?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Absolutely!" Hagr exclaimed, brimming with energy. And so, they set off on their journey to Kihar, the nearest town for trading.
The road ahead seemed endless, traversing through vast and barren plains broken only by occasional patches of vegetation. Sparse woods flanked the roadside, offering concealment but little wildlife, a testament to Zandarius' unforgiving environment.
After a few hours of travel, they finally reached a landmark known as the Sharp Knives, a crossroad marked by sharp rocks jutting out of the ground. "We’re here, the Sharp Knives," Altha remarked, her gaze sweeping over the rugged terrain. "We're halfway there, Hagr." Hagr nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. "Already? Time flies when you're in good company." A mischievous glint sparkled in Altha's eyes as she reached into the cart. "Speaking of good company, I brought something special for our halfway mark." Hagr's interest was piqued. "What is it?" With a dramatic flourish, Altha revealed a small container of sosuuka, a sweeter version of yesterday's porridge. "Sosuuka!" Hagr exclaimed, trying to sound enthusiastic despite his familiarity with the dish. Altha chuckled at his feigned excitement. "I thought it might be a nice treat for our journey." Hagr grinned, playing along. "Absolutely! Thanks, best mumu on Zandarius." Lost in thought, Altha gazed into the distance, her attention drawn to the gathering ominous clouds on the horizon, a harbinger of stormy weather to come. "We might have some rough weather ahead," Altha remarked, her voice tinged with concern. Hagr glanced up at the darkening sky. "Should we stop and wait it out?" Altha shook her head. "We need to keep moving. We can't afford to delay our journey." Guess we'll have to save the view for another time," Hagr sighed, reluctantly agreeing with Altha's decision while she nodded in understanding. "But, after all," Hagr declared, puffing out his chest with a hint of pride, "at ten years old, I'm practically a grown man! I can handle anything, even eating sosuuka on the way without spilling a drop." Altha burst into laughter at his boast. "Sosuuka without spilling? I'd sooner believe kikkamoos could fly!" Hagr joined in her laughter, the sound echoing across the desolate landscape as they continued on their journey to Kihar.
1.3 Arrival in Kihar
As Hagr and Altha approached Kihar, the plascrete town sprawled out before them, its streets winding like intricate mazes through the heart of the city. In stark contrast to the barren landscape of Zandarius, Kihar was a vibrant tapestry of life, with lush vegetation adorning every corner. Hagr’s eyes roamed over the cityscape, taking in the sight of the bustling alleys and the constant mist of smoke that hung in the air. Despite having visited many times before, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the bustling energy of the tradetown.
As they ventured deeper into the heart of the city, the tantalizing aroma of food mingled with the sounds of chatter and laughter, tempting Hagr's senses and reminding him of the porridge-filled days back on their farm. Finally, they reached the local market, a bustling hub of activity where traders hawked their wares amidst the thick scent of spices and exotic foods. "First stop, Old Taramor's," Altha announced, her voice carrying above the din of the market. Hagr's thoughts drifted to Taramor, the old, grumpy trader who had been a fixture in Kihar for as long as he could remember. Despite his rough exterior, Taramor was one of the few honest traders left in the city, and Hagr had always respected him for it. "Sounds good to me," Hagr replied, his tone positive.
As they approached Old Taramor’s, Altha hopped off the Tsjoopa and turned to Hagr. "Hagr, could you fetch a crate of Heyla bottles from the back of the cart?" she asked. Hagr nodded silently, already moving to comply.
Entering the shop, they found Taramor snoozing behind his counter, the cluttered shelves and dusty displays a testament to his lack of care for his surroundings. Altha hesitated, reluctant to disturb the old trader, but time was of the essence. "Taramor," she whispered, her voice barely audible. No response. Again, a bit louder this time “Taramor”. Still no response. Growing impatient, Hagr couldn't help but raise his voice. "Taramor!" Startled awake, Taramor shot upright, his eyes wide with surprise. "What the hell's going on?" he grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Oh, it's just you two," he muttered, recognizing Altha and Hagr. Altha gestured to Hagr to take a look around while she spoke with Taramor. Hagr nodded and wandered through the cluttered shelves, his curiosity piqued by the assortment of strange and exotic items on display. In the background, a television played the news, and the volume turned low but still audible. A news reporter's voice cut through the air, reporting on the recent assassination of a high-ranking official. The military had already neutralized one suspect, but two others were still at large. The camera footage showed two figures cloaked in dark red and black, their faces obscured. Zooming in on one of the suspects, the reporter noted a tattoo of a three-headed monster on their neck, linking them to the notorious syndicate known as the Three-Headed Beast. "People are urged to remain vigilant," the reporter concluded, "and to report any sightings of the suspects to the authorities." "Hagr," Altha called out, pulling him from his thoughts. Quickly, he set down a strange-looking coffee maker he had been inspecting and hurried over to join them.
Outside, Hagr turned to his mother, concern etched on his face. "How did the trade go?" Altha hesitated before answering, her tone guarded. "It wasn't as successful as we had hoped, but we'll manage." Trying to sound confident, Hagr responded, "No need to worry, Mumu. We'll make it work."
As they made their way back through the bustling market, Hagr glanced at his mother. " Can we get some Uja skewers now?" Altha smiled warmly. "Absolutely, Hagr. Let’s grab some delicious Uja," she said, turning on their trusty, albeit rusty, Tsjoopa.
1.4 No place like home
As Altha and Hagr made their way home in the fading light, a bird soared above them, its silhouette dark against the dusky sky. They were nearing their farmstead, the exhausting trip almost at an end. Hagr turned to Altha, his curiosity piqued. “What is coffee?” he asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. Altha pondered for a moment before responding, “I’ve heard of it. It’s some sort of black drink. Similar to Puggatree juice, they say it gives you energy.” Hagr wrinkled his nose in distaste. He had never been fond of Puggatree juice, finding its thick texture and slimy consistency unappealing. With a shake of his head, he decided he didn’t want to try coffee after all.
As they chatted, unaware of the figure watching them from afar, the landscape growing darker with each passing moment, they finally arrived at the farm.
Altha unloaded the traded goods from the Tsjoopa, and with a nod to Hagr, she motioned for him to stow it away in the barn. Hagr complied, placing the Tsjoopa in the barn, where sturdy plascrete walls and reinforced wooden beams protected it from the harsh winds. With the task done, he made his way back to the igloo. As he approached, he noticed that the interior was unusually dark, the comforting glow of the moonlamp absent. With a sense of unease gnawing at him, he entered cautiously.
To his horror, he found himself face to face with a cloaked figure in dark black and red, his alien eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. Before he could react, he spotted his mother on the floor, tears streaming down her face, with another figure standing over her, a scarred human face, and a sinister three-headed beast tattoo on his neck. “Mumu!” Hagr screamed in terror. The figure with glowing eyes uttered incomprehensible words, while the scarred man cursed, "We can't leave any witnesses, Deskva.” Altha whispered urgently, "Hagr, stay calm. Everything will be fine." Hagr looked at his mother in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest. "What's going to happen?" his voice trembled with fear. The scarred human scoffed, "We can sell the boy on the black market, but the woman? She's too old to bother selling. Not worth the hassle, Des." With brute force, Deskva grabbed Hagr, who fought against his captor with all his might. "Please, let me go!" Hagr pleaded, his voice desperate as he struggled against Deskva's grip. As Hagr cast a desperate glance at his mother, tears welling in his eyes, the scarred man turned his attention to Altha, deeming her of no value. Without hesitation, he drew his pistol, aimed, and fired, the shot piercing through Altha’s skull with a sickening thud echoing through the silent igloo. Hagr’s world shattered as he watched his mother fall, tears blurring his vision, bile rising in his throat. Before he could comprehend what was happening, a brutal blow to his head sent him spiraling into darkness.

We live in a really nice neighborhood where almost every property is a lake front house. We have several private lakes and beaches and aside from everyone simping over trump like his the next messiah, the neighborhood is full of good people.
Of course the one bad apple in the neighborhood is my next door neighbor. He’s a hoarder and his hoarding has extended outside his house, into his yard, into the lake and into my yard. The HOA has taken him to court over the hoarding and lost, since then they have given up.
This neighbor has pulled his gun on another neighbor when asked to clean his yard. He’s fucking crazy.
And instead of doing something about the hoarding, the HOA has decided to focus all their attention and money, into, and I shit you not, the “goose brigade”. A group of men who have been given guns with blanks to scare off the geese. These guys have a full outfit with their stupid neighbor logo and “goose brigade” on their hats and vests. The guns don’t do any harm, but they are loud and sound like a real gun going off. It scares the shit out of me every time.
The neighbor breaks almost every bylaw in our HOA and they’re worried about geese….
The neighbor doesn’t go outside or answer his door, so his grass is overgrown and we can’t ask him if we can remove his junk from our yard. When we ask the HOA for help they just throw their hands in the air and would rather gossip about him than take action.
Waste of money.

Been trapped in a cage I can get out of since rehabs and even the mental hospital won’t take me called crisis lines over and over again they say call back. Called crisis last week who sent the cops I insisted to take me to mental hospital but they pressed for regular hospital and was released next day spent 3 days calling for rehab and when I did finally catch a worker she said rescue people wouldn’t respond. Lost a baby from him was battered and strangled for 2 years and still nothing won’t get better I feel like I’m stuck in a cage that keeps getting smaller and smaller I think I’m gonna have to draw my own blood for something to give or move. Here I am having a nervous breakdown over earbuds trying to block out the noise and memories that keep cycling over and over in my brain. I got 6 pairs and my brain so broken I can’t get any of them to work. I can get noise through a tv and laptop but I’m tired of being stuck in the house which I’m mostly in and starting to snap. It’s like a comfortable jail. I don’t sleep in a bed anymore sleep on a couch in someone else’s house and everyday I’m reminded that I lost everything so yeah I need as much noise as possible. Even the time I was in jail at least I didn’t have these memories and was at peace getting entertainment from watching the cops and the tv through my door cell window. And I was only in jail because he kept falsely accusing me and trying to gaslight me light me as me as a woman of raping him while he was asleep which I didn’t do and when I snapped and went off it was in public as he started it up in the car in broad daylight so I looked crazy/bad to other people. I feel like our baby is punishing me for not seeking justice for it in court I didn’t mention that he killed it while he attacked me while pregnant lost it a month later from stress but we had our day in court but because of trauma bond and I didn’t want him to go to prison where’s the type to get hurt didnt mention it and down played everything then he laughed at me when he was released been losing more and more since and this is what cycles in my mind repeatedly of if I don’t have noise. And we fought all over this city so it like larger cage but I just want air and noise.
I don’t even think much about the other sexual assaults and attacks that have taken place since we’ve been apart that’s only crumbs to me off the full sandwhich that I can Mankato brush away but this I can’t I need blockage.

Clover

Five humans, missing...

Spoilers for all of Undertale Yellow's main routes below
Undertale Yellow is a fan-made prequel to the hit indie game Undertale. While Undertale follows the story of Frisk, the seventh human child to fall into the monster ruled Underground, Undertale Yellow follows the story of their immediate predecessor. Meet Clover, the sixth human. Unlike the humans that fell before, this gun-toting cowboy is unique in the sense that their journey to the Underground was no accident. Clover entered the Underground voluntarily in order to investigate the disappearances of the previous five humans and, if it turned out they perished at some point after their fall, hoped to avenge their deaths. See, while Frisk possessed a red SOUL that embodied Determination, Clover's SOUL is yellow for the trait of Justice. Clover's journey would lead them all throughout the Underground, meeting some monsters that will be familiar to those who have played Undertale and some brand new faces as well.
Like Undertale before it, Undertale Yellow's story can be altered significantly depending on the player's actions. Perhaps Clover befriends the monsters they meet and determines they were unfairly trapped underground, deciding to sacrifice themselves to bring monster kind closer to freedom. Or maybe Clover will blame the monsters for the deaths of the previous human children, avenging them with swift cruelty. Either way, Clover will act in the way they believe they can best embody Justice.

So How Do the Fights Work Anyway?

Like its predecessor, Undertale Yellow tends to treat RPG mechanics as literal aspects of the game's world. Due to the abstract nature of fights in both Undertale and Undertale Yellow, with enemy monsters targeting Clover's SOUL rather than their physical body, it's understandable that there may be some confusion about how Clover actually scales to certain monsters. Luckily, this is a bit more clear in Undertale Yellow than it was in the original game, as the reveal trailer shows that the attacks of monster are things that Clover physically has to react to and dodge (we even see this same attack utilized in game) even though the battle menu only shows their SOUL.
But this is just for when encounters have already begun, what about before that? And what triggers encounters anyway? There's an area in the Wild East where boulders are falling onto the path that Clover needs to dodge. If they fail to avoid them, this begins an encounter too, where Clover is given the opportunity to avoid the "attacks" in the battle menu to negate damage. Other examples include Clover escaping damage from hot steam after touching it and avoiding damage from Axis' energy balls after they hit them. What this means for standard versus fights is a little vague, but it likely means that any attack that would deal meaningful damage starts an encounter and that it would be impossible to simply kill Clover with a sneak attack. Even if it hit them, Clover would still get the opportunity to dodge before the proper fight begins. That said, there is one example of Clover dying without triggering an encounter at the end of the Neutral Route. It's possible this is because it was an unescapable situation but the mechanics of it are still vague and unclear.
As seen with the previous examples such as the falling boulders and steam, it seems that attacks that hit Clover's SOUL and their physical body are more or less interchangeable. Or rather, it isn't possible to circumvent the SOUL to only hit the physical body because even attacks that hit Clover's physical body will trigger an encounter that can then be dodged or endured by the SOUL.
Finally, it's worth noting that the sizes of objects can vary from their appearances in the battle to what they look like in the overworld. We see Clover's SOUL alongside their physical body a few times throughout the game and it's pretty consistently a little larger than their torso. So this thread will describe feats with that scale in mind.

Other Things To Note

• At the end of certain routes, Clover acquires certain abilities/powerups that don't necessarily apply to the rest of the game. Feats or items that are limited to those routes will be marked with the corresponding route.
  
  • [Pacifist] Feat
• Like your standard RPG's, Undertale Yellow possesses a leveling system that will increase the more enemies that Clover kills, with certain abilities being unlocked after certain levels are achieved. However, in the Genocide route Clover showed off the ability to level up rapidly simply by being filled with enough righteous fury. Abilities that are locked behind certain levels will also be marked accordingly.
  
  • Feat^{LV 19}
• The majority of feats will come from Undertale Yellow, but occasionally clips from trailers and other promotional material on the director of the game's Youtube channel will be used, which will be labeled with a T like so:
  
  • Feat^T

Physicals

Strength

• Breaks a piece of wood that had jammed an elevator door with a pickaxe, which broke the pickaxe despite it being described as sturdy previously
• Pushes aside a cabinet
• While physically holding the lid of a trash can Clover is able to deflect Axis' energy attacks back at him which destroyed portable generators about as tall as Axis himself
  • Clover also uses this lid to deflect Axis' bombs
• [Anti-Feat] Needs Martlet's help moving a table

Speed/Agility

• Runs roughly 2/3rds faster than they walk, traveling the same distance in 1.5 seconds that it took them 2.5 seconds to walk
• Climbs a good distance up a rope, though Flowey resets the timeline before they reach the top
• While fighting Decibat they react and move relatively to various attacks that appear to be sound-based
  • Note that blue attacks don't harm you if you're standing still and orange attacks don't if you're moving
• Passes over a bridge when the boards were constantly elevating and lowering
• Moves out of the way of Dunebud's arrows
  • We see in the game's reveal trailer that these arrows move much faster than their in-game counterparts would suggest
• Avoids the soundwaves produced by Starlo's bell attack
• Escapes Axis during their chase
• Jukes the hell out of Axis
• Moves relatively to the arrows and flintlock pistol shots of a pair of mini robots
• Climbs a laundry chute

Durability
Blunt

• A tumbleweed knocks them onto a lower platform and they don't even flinch
• Even while using the Patch, Clover's starting accessory that offers no extra defense, Clover can withstand several giant boulders smashing into them
  • While using the Steel Buckle or superior defensive items, this damage is totally negligible
• Takes several blows from Ed that launch massive boulders into the air
• Withstands the Guardener's attacks which could smash giant gears that are larger than Clover
• [Genocide] Gets hit by large meteors summoned by Zenith Martlet

Falling

• Jumps down a hole into the Underground and lands on a bed of flowers
• Falls through the floor of the Ruins and lands in a bed of flowers in the Dark Ruins, quickly jumping to their feet afterwards
• Crashes a speeding boat over a ledge, sending them over and into the mines
  • Flowey did comment they seemed pretty hurt by this
• Falls down a trap door

Heat

• Survives in the Steamworks with no issue, which was hot enough to light Moe's clothes and stand on fire over the course of their conversation
• Withstands multiple fire attacks from Asgore before eventually succumbing to them (with Asgore being the strongest non-final boss monster in the original Undertale)

Other

• Gets shocked repeatedly by Dalv's electrical attacks, enduring four before eventually succumbing
• A giant fan produces a sandstorm that pushes them back a considerable distance
• Gets hit by dynamite thrown by Starlo
• Survives multiple shots from Starlo's revolver
• Withstands hits from Axis' energy balls which later destroy Axis' portal generators
  • During Axis' boss fight, Clover takes no damage from this at all
• With the highest defensive accessory they take negligible damage from Ceroba's attacks which shatter stone pillars (they also take a glancing blow from these attacks in a cutscene without damage, though it takes them some time to return to their feet)
  • [Pacifist] Clover later withstands Ceroba's attacks after she had powered up into her Kitsune form, which dealt double damage compared to her previous attacks (2HP with the best defensive item instead of 1HP)
• [Pacifist] Endures for a little over a minute after their soul had been extracted from their body (though they were too weak to do anything but crawl)
• [Genocide] Gets crushed by blocks with enough force to shatter them which are not affected by their SOUL's energy beams
• [Genocide] Here is the top of UG Apartments before Clover's battle with Zenith Martlet compared to after, which assuming Martlet's attacks were responsible for any of this damage means that Clover would scale to it
• [Genocide] Clover grows so powerful that Asgore's trident shatters against their SOUL^{LV 20}

Skill

• Shoots a hat off a dummy
• Beats Starlo in a quickdraw contest
• After being fully lasso'd by Starlo, Clover is still able to effectively avoid his attacks and even tricks him into shooting his own lasso twice
  • Starlo is accurate enough to shoot sticks of dynamite out of the air
  • Clover is still able to fight back as well
• Can shoot something as small as a micro froggit
• Opens a door by shooting its control panel
• Plays a mean harmonica^T
• Holy shit they're so sick with it^T

Justice SOUL

• Flowey talks about how Boss Monsters are stronger than others and that a human SOUL is even more powerful than them
• [Pacifist] During the final boss, Clover is powered up and given a plethora of different abilities (the reason for this isn't explicitly stated, but it's likely because they felt their cause was just, more so than they ever had in the rest of the game)^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] Endures repeated enraged attacks from Ceroba that should have killed them before returning to full HP as the next phase of the boss starts^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] Can fire energy blasts from their SOUL which are strong enough to overpower Ceroba's own charged blasts^{LV 1}
    • They can quickly fire smaller shots on top of the more powerful charge shots^{LV 1}
    • A weaker version of Ceroba's attacks could shatter stone pillars^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] Is able to phase through attacks, including otherwise unavoidable AOE attacks^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] Clover is able to Hope, allowing them to take an extra hit without damage^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] Clover is able to Endure, regenerating health from a range of 5HP to 10HP^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] Clover is able to Remember, granting them a speed buff over the course of that turn^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] After cracking Ceroba's Kitsune mask, Clover is able to see a memory of her past talking to her dying husband^{LV 1}
• [Genocide] After hearing that Axis, the penultimate boss, killed a human child, Clover is filled with such rage and a desire for justice that they automatically leveled up and developed the ability to shoot energy blasts from their SOUL. The first blast obliterated the trash can lid Axis was using as a shield and after further leveling up they fired a massive beam that obliterated Axis entirely. Clover also gained an assortment of other abilities at this point^{LV 15/19}
  • [Genocide] Smaller shots can be rapid fired and a brief charge allows Clover to fire the beam^{LV 19}
    • [Genocide] It required two small shots to destroy the meteors Zenith Martlet summons and they're completely obliterated by the beam^{LV 19}
    • [Genocide] With enough shots Clover destroys Martlet's armor that their gun was completely useless against (based on the fact that the Fight button is locked during the phase of the fight that she's wearing the armor)^{LV 19}
    • [Genocide] Clover's beam is strong enough to completely obliterate Asgore as well as his throne and the wall behind him^{LV 20}
  • [Genocide] Like in the Pacifist ending, Clover is able to dash which smashes blocks that their shots and beams couldn't break and allows them to phase through otherwise unavoidable attacks without damage^{LV 19}
  • [Genocide] After destroying Martlet's armor, Clover is able to see into mind and witness her backstory^{LV 19}
  • [Genocide] Clover is able to Endure, automatically recovering anywhere from 20HP to 25HP^{LV 19}
  • [Genocide] Here is the top of UG Apartments before Clover's battle with Zenith Martlet compared to after, with Clover presumably being responsible for at least some of the damage^{LV 19}
• [Genocide] Throughout the game, Clover is able to undo mistakes thanks to the SAVE function. Primarily, this is thanks to Flowey doing so for you, becoming an in-universe stand-in for standard RPG Saving and Loading and ultimately allowing them to revive at the latest SAVE point for standard enemies or directly back into the battle for Boss encounters. However, at the end of the Genocide route Clover levels up enough to steal Flowey's control of the timeline, ultimately taking the SAVE ability for themselves which they can use to SAVE and LOAD in the middle of battle^{LV 20}

Gear

Note that while Clover can store excess items in boxes they find around the Underground, they can only carry eight items in their inventory not including their current Weapon, Ammo, Armor, and Accessory. Later in the game they discovered the Dimensional Satchel which allows them to access the boxes from anywhere, but they still only have eight slots to bring into an encounter.
Weapons
Guns

• Toy Gun - Clover's default weapon is a simple toy gun
• Wild Revolver - A gift from Starlo, purchased from Blackjack's shop
  • While the Toy Gun only fires once per turn, the Wild Revolver is fired six times in a row
  • While the Wild Revolver looks and functions like a typical revolver, note that Blackjack does say that he made it so as not to be lethal (though the following line about how anything could be lethal if used enough times consecutively makes this seem more like a meta joke about RPG fight mechanics, even going so far as to mention the ballet shoes that are a weapon in the original Undertale)

Feats
Note that cutscenes will always play out the same regardless of whether the Toy Gun or Wild Revolver is being used, so while the Revolver is obviously the more powerful of the two the Toy Gun is much more powerful than it's name would suggest and the following feats apply to both weapons.

• Damages machinery
• Critically damages Axis who could withstand his own energy balls being reflected back at him with no physical damage, merely draining his power instead
  • After being rebounded Axis' attacks destroyed portable generators as tall as Axis himself
• Destroys robots with repeated shots
• Executes undamaged monsters in cutscenes/scripted fights in both the Pacifist and Genocide routes
• [Anti-Feat] Was unable to destroy the trash can lid Axis was using as a shield

Ammo
Rather amusingly, Clover will jam whatever odd materials they can find into their weapon which somehow works perfectly^T

• Rubber Ammo (AT 0) - The default ammo that Clover started their journey with
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
• Pebble Ammo (AT 3) - Small rocks that Clover discovered in the Dark Ruins
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
• Ice Ammo (AT 6) - Discovered near the start of Snowdin, these fragments of a shattered ice crystal don't melt and cool Clover's gun upon being loaded
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
• Coffee Ammo (AT 4 + 1 SPEED after perfect attack) - Found in a barrel near the exit of Snowdin
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
  • Compare the increased speed to Clover's normal battle speed
• Flint Ammo (AT 9) - Salvaged from an ore deposit outside the East Mines
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
    • Note that the shots make small explosions upon impact
• Glass Ammo (AT 5 + 2HP) - Taken from a shattered glass in the Dunes Gift Shop
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
• Silver Ammo (AT 3 + Bonus Damage for Perfect Shot) - Purchased from Blackjack's shop
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
• Nails (AT 10) - Found in a box in the Steamworks greenhouse
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
• [Neutral/Genocide] Friendliness Pellets (AT 11) - A gift from Flowey, acquired outside of the Steamworks
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver

Armor

• Warn Hat - The default armor that Clover started their journey with
• [Pacifist/Neutral] Nice Hat - Visually identical to Clover's old one and offers no extra defense or benefits, but it is a pretty nice hat

Accessories

• Patch (Armor DF 0) - The default accessory that Clover started their journey with
• Feather (Armor DF 2) - A stray feather located in the tunnels near Dalv's house
• Honeydew Pin (Armor DF 4) - Purchased at the Honeydew Resort shop
• Band Merch Pin (Armor DF 5) - A pin given to Clover by a band's super fan in Honeydew Resort
• Steel Buckle (Armor DF 7) - Found inside a cubby in the East Mines
• Safety Jacket (Armor DF 6) - Found on a hook in the East Mines
• Fancy Holster (Armor DF 8) - Purchased from Blackjack's shop
• Safety Goggles (Armor DF 9) - Acquired from Vendy in the Steamworks
• Silver Scarf (Armor DF 6 and +2HP Every Turn) - Given to Clover by Slurpy in Snowdin after freeing his tongue from a frozen pole
  • Here is the scarf in use
• Delta Run Patch (Armor DF 10) - Purchased from Bits and Bites at UG Apartments
• Golden Bandana (Armor DF 12) - Found in a chest in the Steamworks
  • This did come at the cost of sacrificing the Golden Pear, Golden Coffee, and Golden Cactus

Food/Healing Items
Note that at their weakest (LV 1), Clover has 20HP and at their strongest (LV20), Clover has 100HP
Single Use

• Lemonade - 7HP
• Lukewarm Pop - 8HP
• Candy Corn - 9HP
• Packing Peanuts - 10HP
• Sea Tea - 10HP (+ Temporary Speed Increase)
  • Here is the Sea Tea in use
• Monster Candy - 10HP
• Corn Dog - 12HP
• Cold Pop - 12 HP
• Sponge Cake - 14HP
• Hot Pop -14 HP
• Trail Mix - 14HP
• Corn Chowder - 15HP
• Moss Salad - 17HP
• Ice Tea - 20HP
• Green Tea - 21HP
• Flower Stew - 20HP
• Hot Dog - 20HP
• Fruitcake -25HP
• [Pacifist/Genocide] Adult Soda - ???HP
  • It's actually 20HP
• [Genocide] Oasis Latte - 25HP
• [Neutral] Cake - 30HP
• [Genocide] Cinnamon Cookie - 35HP
• Golden Pear - Invulnerability for two hits
  • Here is the G. Pear in use
• Golden Coffee - Increases Clover's speed for 3 turns
  • Here is the G. Coffee in use (also note that this buff carries on to future encounters if the three turns aren't used)
• Golden Cactus - 15HP for 3 turns (Lose 5HP after first bite)

Two Uses

• Grassy Fries - 14HP
• Beef Jerky - 16HP

Unlimited Supply

• Spider Donut - 12HP
• Popato Chisps - 13HP
• Honeydew Coffee - 14HP
• Honeydew Pancake - 16HP
• Ice Water - 15HP
• Monster Candy+ - 15HP
• Root Beer - 18HP
• G.B. Bear - 20HP
• Dihydrogen Monoxide - 20HP
• Feisty Slider - 30HP
• Gravity Granola - 30HP
• Cinnamon Butterscotch Strudel - 30HP
• Floral Cupcake - 50HP
• Gun Powder - ???HP
  • Completely maxes out Clover's HP
  • Note that Clover can only acquire one of these on the Genocide Route

Misc

• Solves Martlet's extremely complicated lava rock puzzle
• Beats the infamous Shuffler gang at their own game
• Uses flint and a steel buckle to burn a thick stick that was jamming an elevator
• Keeps up with El Bailador during their dance off, who was out of breath after the fact
• [Pacifist/Neutral] The Doc in the Wild East can overcharge Clover's health with a one time extra 15HP (nearly double their health at LV 1)
• Stealthily creeps around the Steamworks factory, figuring out a passcode while staying out of Axis' view
• Clover has incredible willpower, since even after Flowey kills them and attempts to absorb their SOUL, Clover is able to resist him for the entirety of the ensuing boss fight which ends when Flowey realizes they'd be fighting for all eternity if they continued and opts to simply reset the timeline instead
• Breaks it down

Somebody calls for help
You answer the call

Following up on my previous thread.
tl;dr; I am still satisfied with my purchase and will consider another Blazer EV in the future.
Mechanically, the Blazer EV is great. It drives nicely and handles well. Coming from a Chevy Volt, the turning radius is surprisingly similar for a vehicle about a foot longer and wider. It doesn't feel like driving a tank like other SUVs.
The software, aside from bugs, is a mixed bag. The UI could use a redo. It feels like too much form over function. The use of space is questionable, and some of the touch buttons are small enough that they aren't easy to press in a moving vehicle. The screen is so large, but with so much empty space, it could have been smaller, and nothing would have been lost.

Stop Sales, Software Updates, and Recall Updates

• The February update caused my wireless charger to stop working randomly, and the recall update didn't fix the issue. I have seen the same complaint in CadillacLyriq, so it must be some software bug with the platform.
• The Recall Update took about two days to complete. It fixed several minor bugs, and Ambient Lighting is working now.
• The downside of the Recall Update is it introduced a new software bug. The charging door no longer closes after 30 seconds. Even after disconnecting the charging cable, the green light on the dash still pulses.
• Chevy could have communicated more effectively about the stop sale. After the fact, it was a software issue, but I wasn't sure if it was a mechanical issue at the time.
• I still haven't received an OTA update (if one is even out). I am worried because dealer-installed updates seem complicated, and an OTA update may brick my vehicle in my garage.

Software

• As far as I can tell, there have not been any significant updates to the software or new apps added to the market.
• The entire package still feels like a downgrade from Android Auto as it will not display messages from Google Chat, Discord, or Messenger.
• I don't know the roadmap or what features are coming, but the software is still the Blazer EV's weakest point.
• This is a hard sell for the software as a service subscription model.
• When using the cameras, I wish the screen would zoom in a bit more. The UI needs more space for such a large screen.

Rebate Check and New Pricing

• I received the rebate check for the new price difference within two weeks. Chevy deserves credit for a goodwill outreach.
• The new prices make a lot more sense and distance the Blazer EV from the Lyriq enough. It also better aligns with other mid price EVs.
• I am still slightly salty about missing out on the Ultium Promise rebate because I purchased the Blazer EV in December. I had no way of knowing that deal was coming.

Interior

• The piano black panels are just the worst. Around the cup holders, I have a few faint scratches despite being careful with microfiber cloth wipe-downs. I would pay extra money not to have these in a future vehicle.

Accessories

• Basic accessories, like a console organizer or cargo cover, are still missing. Third-party vendors like BestEvMod have them available, but I'm not really sure what Chevy is doing.
• There is an official Tesla charger adapter coming from GM. It seems like Chevy should have gotten on the ball after Ford did theirs.

New Options

• The dealer order site added Super Cruise in March, but it isn't an option on the customer's website. That package also includes the Enhanced Parking Assist, which I am disappointed that the parking assist wasn't included in the RS trim.
• The Ambient Lighting is just for the tabs on the air vents. I wish there were more substantial lighting options like my Volt had.

Things I would like to see in a future Blazer EV

• There should be more interior color options. All black is boring, and the red is a bit much for me. Maybe a dual-tone grey/black.
• There should be more options, such as stereo upgrades, Super Cruise, sunroof, etc. I am sure that will be resolved in the 2025 models.
• The RS trim with 102kwh battery on all motor configurations. The 85kwh should be for the LT trim.
• The RS motors performance upgrade. For a "Rally Sport" it is a little slow for an EV.
• Eliminate piano black or glossy surfaces on parts that are touched often.
• Camera upgrades. The dead zone in front of the car still feels janky. The front camera position makes it hard to park even with guidelines. While parking on an incline/decline, the 360-degree cameras get visual distortions.
• I would like more position adjustments on the steering wheel. I am slightly tall, and the wheel obscures part of the instrument panel for me.

Fletch gently pushed open the large and lavishly decorated bronze doors of the university administration building and ambled out into the portico. He set his cup of coffee down on the pedestal of a granite pillar and pulled his cigarette case from the breast pocket of his tan trench coat. The old chief inspector plucked a cigarette from the ornately engraved case with slender fingers and wondered why the Kael let him come at all.
Something felt very off with the whole thing. The more he thought about it, the more he questioned the story he got. Mike Anderson was certainly depressed, but as far as Fletch could tell, he had not displayed any suicidal behavior. And why now? Fletch thought. Things were on the upswing for the kid. His grades were excellent, his family situation was good, and he was out of the house more this term than the last. Fletch scratched his mustache. Why would the seals hide the autopsy and the gun? He brought the cigarette to his lips, snapped the filigreed case shut, and slipped it back into the breast pocket of his coat. Fletch flicked open his lighter and sighed as he lit his cigarette. Murder.
It was a hopeless case. These days, warrants were approved by the seals, and even if they weren't, he doubted that he could get one anyway. His suspicion of foul play was backed by nothing but his instinct.
Fletch watched students hustle and bustle through the plaza in front of him as he puffed away at his cigarette and pondered his theory.
But why kill him now? They could have done it in complete secrecy while he was a POW. And it couldn’t be to keep what happened in Philadelphia under wraps. His death brings more attention to it. And he wasn’t a rebel. So why? Fletch sipped at his coffee as he flicked ash from his cigarette. Vengeance? Did he kill some noble brat during the war?
Fletch scratched at his grey mustache and glanced at his watch. I’ll have to follow that thread. He tossed his half-smoked cigarette into a puddle as he briskly walked down the steps and through the university plaza.
The withered investigator was deep in thought when he entered the parking lot. What do I tell that Enrique chap? He unlocked his car and crawled in. I certainly can’t tell him that his mate’s been clipped with no evidence. Fletch turned the key, and the engine of his little Volvo sputtered to life. It’s no bleeding use. I’ll just tell the lad they weren’t interested in sharing and keep my suspicions to myself.
As he reached for the shifter, Fletch noticed a delightfully thick manilla envelope stuck in the gap between the center console and the passenger seat.
He pulled the envelope from the crack. Gingerly, he opened it and pulled out a small note. It read We’re even now, prick.
Fletch smiled and couldn’t help but mutter, “The game is afoot,” as he flicked through the stack of documents inside.
Isabella poked her head into the large office and saw Professor Dret’la with a ball of dark green yarn on her lap and bone darning needles beset with carvings in her hands.
Isabella was struck with confusion. What? She crochets!?
The professor looked up from her labor, spotted the confused girl outside her door, and called, “Come in.”
Isabella walked into the office and took a seat. She gestured to the yarn in the professor's hands. “What are you making?”
The professor smiled as motherly as one could with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. “It will be a hat for my son. He just received his commission as a junior biologist, so he has to rummage around in freezers to get samples for his whole research team.”
Isabella blinked. This was not characteristic at all for the quick-tempered professor with a penchant for launching chalk across lecture halls at the mildest provocation.
Isabella shook off her shocked expression and gave the tall professor a dimpled cheek smile. “That’s so sweet! I’m sure he’ll love it. One of the best gifts I’ve ever received was a thick wool sweater from my mamma during a training exercise off the coast of Norway.”
The professor, still smiling, sat up straight. “I hope that’s the kind of reception I get.”
The professor’s demeanor hardened as she stowed the yarn and needles in the desk drawer. “Now, let's get down to business.”
Isabella gulped.
“To start, congratulations. You’ve passed our testing and been selected for officer training.”
Isabella asked, “Who else was selected?”
“There are nine others: Robert Rhodes, Elena Pavel, Hal Jellico, Zheng Li, Brooke Halsey, Colow Aden, Magnus Tordenskjold, Bill Lee, and Kazuya Yamamoto.”
Isabella didn’t recognize all the names.
“Should you choose to accept, you will be taking a prep course taught by Colonel Ocidea and I starting next week and lasting all through the summer. If we deem you ready, you’ll ship out for basic training and then off to the Royal Military Academy, where you can earn your commission.” Dr. Dret’la leaned in close to Isabella. “Do you accept?”
Without hesitation, Isabella answered, “Yes.”
“Mike, come over here. You’re going to want to see this.” Calty voiced from her seat in the front of the cockpit.
Mike rolled off the couch and walked into the front of the cockpit as the captain shouted, “Decelerate!” Mike couldn’t help but grab onto the back of Calty’s seat as the FTL drive kicked into gear. The cockpit glass dimmed just before blindingly bright blue jets of fire from the front-facing engines came into view. A bright green circle flickered onto the glass surrounding a marble-sized dot darker than the rest of the now dim screen. The dots and circles expanded at an extreme pace until they took up most of the display. Another dot appeared—minuscule compared to the other—surrounded by a red circle. The growth of the shadowy dots and the circles around them slowed and then stopped entirely as the engines sputtered out.
The HUD faded out of view, and the tint of the glass slowly lightened, revealing a vast planet embraced by blue-green ice with a colossal foundry in its orbit. The planet, a gas giant called Drassus, was orbited by four rings. One was made of containers, and the other three were made up of loose ore gleaming in the nearby star's light. Exhaust chimneys spewing gas and fire sprouted from the otherwise spherical foundry, giving it a sea urchin-like profile, which, together with the weave of pipes bringing fuel from beneath the icy surface of the planet below, made the foundry resemble an old naval mine.
The captain strode up to the front of the cockpit. “One-third ahead and steer 14 degrees left. We’re unloading in bay three.”
Six mech suits and a tug exited a plasma-shielded hanger as the ship came to a halt. The mechs glided to the front of the ship and started dismounting the external cargo bay from the Broken Fin while the tug hitched onto the opposite end of the ten-kilometer-long rack of containers.
A little while later, the tug pulled away with the load of containers, and the comm system blared to life. “Broken Fin, you are cleared to leave. The UO corporation thanks you for your business.”
The captain replied, “Our pleasure. Broken fin out.” as the ship pulled out of the loading bay.
He turned to the navigation officer and said, “Lock in coordinates for jump to Kael Prime.”
The captain went to the central control board and pulled up traffic control. “Tower 1, this is the Broken Fin. We request a jump slot to Kael Prime from Drassus.”
“Broken Fin, request granted. Your departure slot is at 16:33.”
Mike glanced at the top right of the ship's HUD and looked at the time. 16:21.
Better get my stuff together…
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The ship shuddered ever so slightly despite the inertial dampeners as it exited FTL. Mike was lounging on the couch with his bag at his feet. He was ready to get off this tub.
Mike idly watched flames lick at the cockpit window as the ship descended into the atmosphere of Kael Prime. He looked at Dreki, who was sitting on the other couch. His muscles bulged through his clothes despite wearing a white sweater so large it could be mistaken for the sail of an average-sized boat. Mike asked, “Do you know anything about what’ll happen to me now?”
The big Kael shifted in his seat. “Technically, I’m not supposed to tell you anything, but what the hell.” Dreki pulled the collar of his sweater down, revealing an angry white number burnt into his iron-gray skin just below the collarbone. “First, you’ll get branded.” He released his shirt and pointed to a small scar on the side of his head. “Then you’ll get an AR implant.”
“Where will I be getting that?” Mike asked.
“The Imperial Science Academy. We’re going to be staying there for a few days. They’ll run a bunch of tests and get you fitted for equipment there. After that, I’ll drop you off at the spaceport, and you’ll be off to Tlaxcalssus for basic training. After that, I don’t know.”
“Thanks.”
The ship shook as it touched down on the landing pad. “Time to go.” Dreki shouldered his pack and walked out the door. Mike fiddled with the straps of his bag as he followed Dreki down the ramp and to the far side of the ship, away from the rest of the passengers. Mike's nose was immediately assaulted with the acrid smell of sulfur from where the fiery exhausts of engines had melted asphalt. The spaceport was swarming with vehicles and filled with the constant roar of ship engines and a symphony of smaller equipment. Power loaders and mechs loaded and unloaded heavy cargo, shuttles bustled to and fro with passengers, baggage carriers snaked through the crowded landing pads, and vehicles that looked like floating garage doors zipped through the air at ankle height, bringing pilots and crew to their ships. Mike couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the absurdity of it all. Here he was, in the heartland of the enemy, walking through what was essentially a ten-acre parking lot.
Dreki plopped his bags on the ground and yawned as he stretched his arms over his head. “Our skiff will be here in a minute.”
Mike tuned out the beeps and whirrs of the tank-sized forklifts and mechs unloading the ship and gazed out beyond at the horizon. You’re not in Kansas anymore, bub. Mike thought as he studied the skyline of the imperial city basked in the glow of the early evening sun. Some of the buildings wouldn’t look all that out of place on Earth, but the skyline was assaulted with abominations that pissed on the laws of physics as Man understood them. Tusk-shaped skyscrapers defied gravity with their seemingly unsupported curves, and even more absurd were pyramids stacked atop another point-to-point like hourglasses. Any delusion of normalcy that Mike could come up with was shattered.
Dreki picked up his bag and pointed to a slab of black marble speeding towards them at ankle height. “Here’s our skiff.” A railing popped out of the center as the skiff came to a gliding halt. Dreki boarded the skiff and took hold of the rail, and Mike followed suit.
They sped through the spaceport and stopped outside what looked to Mike like a train station. Dreki shouldered his bag and stepped off the skiff. Mike stepped off and quickly fell in pace with Dreki. The big Kael led Mike into a grand station bustling with people. Most were Kael, but there was a smattering of other species. Some stared at Mike, others glanced, but most completely ignored him as he followed Dreki through the hall and onto a platform. Unfamiliar aliens clearly weren’t an uncommon sight here.
The walls of the station were covered with mosaics depicting Kael warriors from the distant past. Dreki noted the human's curiosity and said, “The founders of the clans.” He leveled a massive hand toward an opulent, towering mosaic of a Kael warrior wielding a bronze falx. The imposing figure's body was made of blue gemstones, the eyes rubies, one tusk silver, and the other gold. “That’s the founder of my clan, Drekalla Gold Tusk.”
Mike asked, “How’d he manage that?” As he followed Dreki into a mostly empty train car.
Dreki plopped down on a bench. “He was the war priest of Hroptaug the Conqueror during the unification wars. After the wars were won, Hroptaug granted us the Steam Hills.” Dreki pointed through the train window at the mosaic of another warrior whose body was made of milky white pearls. “That one,” He paused and spat on the floor, “Tiblan the Terror, challenged Drekalla to a duel for most of that land. Drekalla was cutting him to pieces, but the craven poisoned his blade. Just before Drekalla could deliver the final blow, the poison reached his heart, and Drekalla died. The only wound on his body was a cut across his forearm that barely drew blood.” Dreki rolled up his sleeve, showing a scar that reached from his elbow to the middle of his forearm. “Every K’alla is cut the same way to remind us of the blood feud.”
Mike inwardly sighed. Kael and their damned feuds… “How long ago was this.”
“Seven thousand four hundred and fifty-one years ago.”
Mike held back a snort. The absurdity of it all. The first human law codes came about to stop blood feuds, and out here, they have feuds that have lasted longer than Earth's recorded history.
“How’s that feud been going as of late?”
Dreki’s face sagged, “Not good.”
They both grew quiet. Mike shuffled uncomfortably.
Mike glanced at the route display and broke the silence, “What's with the middle city, inner city thing?”
Dreki relaxed slightly. “Oh, so the city used to be a fortification. The inner city is actually a volcanic island. The middle is built over the river, and the outer city was built on the banks.”
“I see.”
The doors closed, and the intercom sounded, “Next stop, the inner city.”
Dale Robert’s wrinkled face was unreadable, and his highly decorated black and blue dress uniform immaculate as he led a horse through the street. He felt the eyes of thousands of onlookers on him, and he hated it. The pure black horse had a black leather saddle on its back. Two tall, glossy black boots were placed backward in silver stirrups, and the elaborate hilt of Mike’s basket-hilted broadsword jutted from the top of a black leather scabbard buckled to the saddle. Roberts followed the horse-drawn caisson bearing the flag-draped coffin of his old commanding officer. Not much farther now, he thought. The sounds of the cartwheels rolling and the horse’s tack jangling were wholly drowned out by boots stamping the ground in unison. Almost all of the 1800 survivors of the 801st regiment were there, resplendent in their dress uniforms, marching behind Mike one more time. The local police and fire departments joined them.
Roberts was unsure about it all. He felt that the poor kid's family would have preferred a smaller service back home in Colorado instead of this damn near royal procession. And Roberts was damn sure that the seals did not give their permission for this, no matter what the police chief said.
A reporter ducked through the police barricade and tried to ask the marching soldiers questions, but they remained stone-faced as the procession marched nearer to the gates of Philadelphia National Cemetery. Roberts handed the reigns of the riderless horse to another man in uniform and joined seven other members of Charlie platoon in pulling the casket from the cassion. They silently began their march to the grave, closely followed by General McCarthy, the man who was Joint Chief of Staff, and the color guard. Bagpipers began to blare, “Going Home.” Roberts heard the sound of gravpulse engines and looked up in dismay as a Kael gunship broke through the low clouds and descended to just barely above the cemetery. A loudspeaker blared, “Disperse at once.”

Looking to GM a rules-light longterm sandbox. Play by post RP, posting an average of once per day with as many as 3 times per day and at least every two days. Open to one on one text based, group/party text, group voice and/video, etc.
About me: I'm a Cis Het male, married, caucasian American. Very LGBTQIA+ inclusive and welcoming to any and all ethnicities. Experienced with dnd 5e, pathfinder 1e, daggerheart, and freestyle text rp.
Writing sample: Your eyes flitter open as you come to, not a hint of grogginess or fear, just the light awakening that follows a perfect night's rest. Dawn begins to seep through the shuttered windows of the inn. You breathe in the cold air and shift in your rented bed. You look over towards the water basin and mirror, with your bags packed and ready to go under them. That’ right, you have places to be! In a flury you jump from bed to the door, splash cold water into your face, and look in the mirror. who do you see?
Apply here: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSf8diq5TiaxUoOZI_4IPhd_LC-DHpLHErnd0KEc3fnQ9sEQgw/viewform?usp=sf_link

Chapter 3: Dynamic Exist
Memory transcript : Farusl Archivist Tyka Date: 2277 August 21st [human standard time]
Tyka yawned, he had been monitoring several of the predator cages for a while trying to gauge their reactions, these were new catches from another region which was vastly different to the other side of the continent which by comparison was stable, these more eastern humans were almost all completely feral, ascribing totemic tribal practices with lethal weaponry, it was saddening.
“Terrifying creatures these humams….even the Arxur wouldn't be able to survive a total atomic annihilation yet these humans, who by all accounts are physically weaker than the Arxur, seem to have survived remarkibly well”
The calculating tone of the elder Officer Netly said peering over into the security monitor watching the newest catches, most of whome seemed to be violent marauders of some kind,and if the toxicology reports were to be believed extremely intoxicated prior to capture
“Well HC-1380 was clean….it why we've placed HC-2251 with them, they both passed with a clean bloodstream and 1380 seemed….mildly more docile than the other recent arrivals”
Tyka said as Netly raised her muzzle in contempt
“A predator is a predator, docile is not in there nature no matter how docile it may seem”
She said as Tyka openly scoffed
“I will admit many new acquisitions may be more feral than expected but the fact that we HAVE found humans who are not as violent should be seen as a boon, infact the nuclear devastation could be a benefit, they may be more willing to partake in the cure if it means that they can live out of the Wasteland”
“And how exactly would we do that, most of there genomes Are irreparable damaged by atomic Fallout and residual radiation, it would take decades to repair there existing genome let alone provide an appropriate Cure for eating flesh. Let alone there awful gaze” Netly spat indignantly, clearly insulted at the notion of a feral species could ever be uplifted to a proper sentient species is laughable
“Ahh But that's where you are misinformed Netly, you see her?” Tyka said tapping a paw to the monitor, it was the two new arrivals he had discusted eariler
“The scavenger and the pale one? What significant are they?” She asked confused as Tyka let out a slight smirk
“There genetic code suggests limited to no genetic damage, HC-2251 for example has no significant radiological degradation, she's as close as clean as you can get, And according to the lab, her UV intake, the thiny that gives humans bare skin there pigments? Its limbited suggesting a sheltered lifestyle, possibly one with a stable, equally pure gene stock of other untouched humans!”
Netly was shocked to say the least, from virtually every other predator they had captured they had all shown signs of genetic damage or severe mutation due to radiological exposure, of Tyka was correct…there was a possibility that the Original cure that was designed for humanity could be distributed
“If that is true, where could they possibly be located? We have satellites pointing All over the continent and wed be able to see a large, functional human tribe, like those desert tribes to the east” Netly said as Tyka nodded
“If they were on the surface, i postulate that they may be subterranean and i believe the answer likes in 2251s arm mounted computer. We plan on removing it after another checkup but the lab has had troubles devising a method of removing it without killing her since the device Is somehow attached to her by some biometric seals were having difficulties cracking but by her next interview”
Tyka said, and before Netly could respond a security alarm blamed, forcing the two to shift their focus away from there Conversation to the monitors, it was HC-2251 and HC-1380, the two were fighting, Tyka could only imagine it was for dominance, predators were such a precious bunch but at least they lacked claws, that was the thought until a trial of blood was seen spilling from 2251's nose!
“Ancestors! Netly send a security team to break that up and isolate 2251 as soon as possible, if she dies then we loose any lead on finding more undamaged human stock!”
Memory transcript: Abigail Nelson, vault dweller and current show fighter
The hits were all staged but every so often to get across the idea they Were real every other hit randomly connected with enough force to show it, that was Somah’s plan, make them think They were fighting for some reason, Somah had said that fights like these were was drew in security to stun them and break up the fight, which was also Why they didn't want to actually hurt one another, because if one or both of them got hurt they'd not only be separated and isolated like Somah was after her first attempt, and after getting socked In the face and giving her a light bloody nose. It worked as the door opened and in poured…..cocker spaniels? Chest-tall, wall eyed, cocker spaniels in rubber suits welding cattle prods.
In a flash Somah kicked up the metal tray that the measly alien veggies were delivered on, using it to bash in the muzzle of one, drawing the other three's attention away letting Abigail slam her bawled fisted into the temple of one of the aliens, causing it to slam into another causing them both to frankly…..easily drop to the floor, the lot of them whining and whimpering, clutching their heads as Somah grabbed one of their weapons, tossing one to Abigail as Somah made for the exit, having to brush off the shock of alien dog men she followed her new companion close behind.
“Were those…..dogs?” Abigail asked in surprise running along side Somah as the two raced down the hall as alarms blared overhead
“Yeah, I kinda forgot to mention that, didn't I? They look like Pre-War dogs with weird Brahman eyes,” she shrugged nonchalantly to Abbies confusion. The two suddenly stopped in a side room with an air vent, somah watched the corners and seemingly satisfied pulled Abigail in, and motioned her to be quiet. Before she could question why she heard the squeaking of booted paws run past them and somah only spook once the sound seemed sufficiently distant.
“Alright …..we're in the clear, are you ok-” Before Somah could continue she was meet with a smack across her face from Abigail
“That was for hitting me in my nose!” She spat rubbing her once prestigious white jumpsuit with her red viscous fluid leaking from her nose.
“Okay…I deserve that,” Somah admitted, rubbing her cheek “Honestly, I expected something worse, but I deserved it,” She says as Abigial noticed exactly where they were exactly. “Wait….are we in a alien supply closet”
Somah looked around, noticing the abundant sealed boxes written in alien script, one slightly open revealing some kind of rag or cloth That Abigail readily swiped to help stem her nose’s red trickle.
“Okay so, back on track, we need to find a way off this ship, last time I checked were still over Earth” Somah said as Abigail looked back at her
“How would we know?” She asked pinching her nose*
“Because you can feel when the ship moves, and they have announcements in English” She says which just made Abigail’s eyes go wide.
“They speak english?!” Abby said shocked as Somah nodded, “Then why the FUCK would they lock us up without saying anything?!”
She spat as Somah tried to get her to calm down “Honesty, I don't know, the only thing I do know is what I've heard from some of the guards, something about us being Acquisitions and a cure…I think there trying to collect us a labor force for whatever reason”
That reason resonated with Abigail in a disturbing way, the way the cells were arranged reminded her uncomfortably of Paradise Falls
“But why us?” She asked as Somah began looking around the small storeroom
“It makes sense to me, humans survived a nuclear apocalypse and they want a slave force for there homeworld, it's not like humans can fight back in any way, swoop down, suck up a town into your hold and zip away. They're probably checking to see what diseases we have to make sure we don't bring back any plagues and to inoculate us to theirs.”
The logic tracked, Paradise Falls had a rigorous system for assessing new….cattle to ensure they weren't feeble or lame, Just thinking that alone made her sick to her stomach.
“Alright, but we should stop them, force them to capitulate, somehow, and free everyone onboard!” Abby declared as Somah scoffed.
“And how exactly do we do that, Vaulty? “Ask nicely and hold out a flag of peace and tranquility?” She asked sarcastically as Abigail tried to rack her brain. What would Dad do in a situation like this…. This wasn't like the vault….but that's when it hit her. This alien ship…. Maybe it was like a vault, if it's so big and would need alot of…. Well, everything, to move from planet to planet. Maybe, like a vault, if they crippled certain systems, maybe, they could stop them.
“As a matter a fact, I do have a plan”

Abigail said with smirk, removing the now stained towel as Somah raised a brow to her as Abigail regained her plan to her scribe accomplice.

Chapter 3 is done and I feel pretty good about it but escape scenes Aren't my forte im afraid, as usual I adore everyone who reads and enjoys it, I'll have proper links set up to go back to previous chapters sometime later I hope yall enjoy!

I don't even know where to get started. I'm mainly writing to get everything off my chest in a community of folks who may or may not have had similar experiences in the past or present. I'd also like to add that creepy, unexplainable things have always happened around me since I was a little kid. So, here it goes:
I moved into my apartment in September 2023. I've always felt comfortable and calm in my home. Besides my usual nightmares (always had them, generally not too scary), everything was copacetic. Either at the very end of December or January 2024, things started getting weird.
It's important to note I live alone in a 1 bedroom apartment. The first time something happened, I was sound asleep and was awoken to 3 knocks on my bedroom door at 3 am. I usually slept with the bedroom door open and just started closing it at night. It was loud and deliberate. I just told myself I'd imagined it and while I was very scared, I drifted back off to sleep. The next day I was on the phone with my sister and told her what happened. Out of curiosity I knocked on my bedroom door and it was the exact same sound.
Over the next few months I heard 3 knocks at my bedroom door, bathroom, or front door around 3 am, 1 am, or 11 pm. I even had a friend visit in March and he was awoken to 3 knocks at the front door at 1 am. Around this time is the first time I heard my daughter's 7-8 year old voice say "Mom?" next to my bed then again a couple weeks later behind me at the head of the bed. My daughter is 12 and lives full time with her dad, so I knew and told myself "that isn't my daughter". I also expierenced what sounded like claw scratches across my stand up heater across each metal section (looks like a radiator) when I was fully awake laying down in bed. Another time I was in bed and for a couple seconds smelt sulfur next to my bed and got up and left my bedroom. After this I took my first actions.
I have a favorite tarot readepsychic I found on (a popular social media app I can't type because it isn't allowed) last year when he was first starting out doing free readings. I was on his live the night after hearing my daughter and asked him and the 13 other people in the live for advice. Him and a few people suggested burning sage (I cannot because it would set off the smoke alarms in the building). Next suggested using sage incense, making loud claps all over the apartment, in the nooks and crannies, to break up energy and get it moving throughout the apartment. Lastly, to open a window and ask whatevewhoever is they to please leave through that designated window. I couldn't find sage incense at Walmart so I got a plug in wax warmer and picked up palo santo/sage wax melts. I went home and did the ritual and I didn't have disturbances for 3 weeks.
During this time, I started leaving the bathroom light on with the door cracked, the bedroom door cracked, and the kitchen light on in the kitchen every night and slept with my winter hat with the top open for my hair as a face mask. Cut to Sunday night, I was woken up to the sound of wooden "pop!" hit the floor, like a staff or the wooden end of a broomstick next to my bed. I thought it was time to get up to go over to get my daughter up for school, but noticed it was completely dark outside. I had my hat over my eyes and told myself to stay calm and rolled over to pretend like I went back to sleep. A few minutes pass and I hear it again and this time feel the vibration on the floor (I sleep on an air mattress on the floor). I ignore it, then it happens 2 times in a row, I keep ignoring it, then it happens another 2 or 3 times in a row. I jump up and say "fuck this shit!" and dash to my living room, grab my purse, shoes, and leave my phone. When I got to the bottom floor I noticed it was 12:15 am. I slept over at my ex-fiances on the couch because I was so scared.
I go back to my apartment Monday night and start hearing a loud wooden "pop!" noise like when a house settles, but live in a concrete building and never heard it before. I was on the phone with a friend until midnight and kept hearing the loud crack/pop noise in the bedroom, kitchen, bathroom every 5-10 minutes for around 2 hours. I fell asleep on my papazon chair (ouch) because I was nervous about sleeping in my bedroom again and was woken to another pop at 2 am. I decided to just bite the bullet and fell asleep on my bed, but woke up every half hour or so, but no disturbances that I noticed. I left my apartment at 5:50 to get my daughter up.
I get back home at about 7am and decide I needed to take a nap from not getting a lot of sleep the last couple days and doze off at about 8 am. I was awoken at about 9 am to what sounded like a loud flick against the air mattress and I felt it, said "nope" and went to lay down (in a ball) on the papzon chair. I was woken up to the loud flick of the air mattress twice, then was awake and heard it again (like flick and air mattress moved). I decided I was leaving, packed up, wen to the bathroom and heard the same sound of the air mattress moving, got in my car and drove to my Dad's a hour in a half away, in part to see him, but mostly to get away from my apartment.
I'm still here now. I've told this all to my friend, sister, and Dad every step of the way and yesterday my therapist and peer support in detail. I'm nervous about being back at my apartment. I have so much fear in my heart and am just scared. I checked with my apartment manager today and no one has died in my apartment in the past. I called a local Catholic Church and left a voicemail with a preist to call me for guidance and hopefully meet up and discuss coming to my apartment with me. I have always been non-religous, but am open to anything at this point.
It's worth noting that I was having horrible, disgusting, wicked thoughts that were so bad I cannot tell anyone what they are because I don't want to be arrested when the disturbances started escalating.
Has anyone had similar experiences? How did you get them to stop? Do you now feel safe and secure in your home? Are you still living with (whatever) today?
Edit: I will not be checking this post while I'm at my apartment so fear of stirring up whatever is there. So my responses might be far between.

So this was in November 2023 and due to my wack ass immune system, I (15M) had gotten myself extremely sick to the point where I was vomiting almost every time I'd eat. And my body has a way of cascading things like this, so I it was no surprise when I started sickling.
I'm laying in bed, nauseous and in pain, just praying for the oxy to kick in so I can fall asleep and not deal with this hell anymore when this sharp pain starts stabbing me in my chest and I feel like I'm literally DYING. This pain I was feeling in that moment was worse than any sickle cell crisis I've ever had and I just assumed the jig was up and organ failure was imminent.
I couldn't get up from where I was laying (my mom's bed) because of the severe pain so I'm just crying so loudly and my mom wakes up annoyed and tells me to lay on my back and go back to bed but as i shift over a wave of nausea crashes over me and i begin vomiting all over my mom and her bed (woops).
Fully awake and freaking out by this point my mom picks up her phone and dials 911 for an ambulance to get me and I'm just crying like a little baby now in a pile of my own bile (too scared to eat anything because I didn't wanna barf) praying for the ambulance to get here. And after what only felt like 5 minutes, my mom runs to the front door to open it for the paramedics who lay me onto the stretcher and give me this drug I'm in too much pain to notice.
And then it calms me down. A lot. So much so that it feels like whenever I breathe, I'm breathing out all the air in my lungs and taking my first breath again like I've just been born. I vaguely feel the pain in my chest but my mind is so empty I cant even bother to think about it. I take a few deep blinks and then wake up in the ER with my mom sleeping in the chair beside my bed.
After this, it becomes a cycle of them giving me medicine, the pain subsides somewhat, and then the medicine wears off and my chest feels like it's getting knifed by a million UK roadmen. They start me off with morphine, and that doesn't do the job like it usually does, so then they give me Dilaudid AND morphine, and still yet I feel like the end is near. So they decide to pull out the big guns that worked on me when I was in the ambulance. Fentanyl.
Initially I was very skeptic and lowkey refusing treatment because of the stigma around it and the doctors reassured me over and over that it was safe and I had been given it before and blah blah blah even though these were the same doctors that would ask me how long I've had sickle cell for. But I was in so much pain that I just gave up and gave in and gave them the a-ok because their nagging was just too much.
They set me up with this little green button thing attached to my IV, that would allow me to press it whenever I felt severe and constant pain but would not allow me to exceed the "maximum dosage" they had put in place for my body. And to be completely honest this little button scared me at first. The entirety of my night nurses shift I didn't press the button once and just writhed there in the cold hospital bed because I'd rather die than willingly administer my own fentanyl.
But I wouldn't even be typing this story if I simply just hadn't pressed the button for the entire duration of my stay. It was now day 3 in the hospital and I hadn't got a single wink of sleep in the past 32 hours so I decided to press the button. It didn't hit me like it had in the ambulance, but when i tell you i relaxed, i RELAXED. I was finally able to shut my eyes and go to bed and stop myself from shaking my leg (self soothing thing I do when in pain). I woke back up to my nurse doing my 8 hour check up and for some reason, she was still bringing me morphine and Dilaudid despite me having the fentanyl push button thingy, but I was so out of it I just took the medicine so I could go back to sleep. It became I cycle of me pushing the button, falling asleep, being woken up to take additional opiates i did NOT need, then going back to bed, until early on day 5 in the hospital, my friends from school came to visit me. So obviously I try to be a good host and not to fall asleep despite me having pushed my button already for more fent (clearly addicted but oblivious because of this phantom pain my body is forcing me to experience) and coincidentally as my friends are still here, my nurse comes in for the 8 hour check up and gives me the Dilaudid and morphine again. I take the medicine and I look down at my green button because I'm not sure i've been awake this long in days and I see its glowing again so I press it.
bad idea.
I'm talking to my friends but something seems off, their voices seem so far away and there is black dots clouding my vision, I of course am so out of it that I somehow don't see any issue with these two things until I realized I hadn't said a word in like 2 minutes. Matter of fact, I hadn't even spoken for 2 minutes. My eyes go wide because I can feel my vision fading, but for some odd reason it was all black except a tiny pinhole in the center of my vision. I hear this faraway annoying beeping that I realize is the pulse-ox thing going kookoo bananas because I haven't breathed in so long and I see shapes moving around and my friends running to the hallway to get me help and all I can focus on is "If I'm not breathing, why doesn't it hurt?"
The nurses rush in and can clearly tell I'm overdosing so they put an oxygen mask over my head and say "Can somebody give him some Narcan?" and I'm laying here spectating what's going on to my own body from inside of my head wondering "I wonder what narcan is"
WELL I SURE KNOW NOW
The nurses push the Narcan in through my oxygen mask and I can suddenly hear everything perfectly. I say "woah" and then my entire body gets a flash of heat all over so I jolt up and say "WOAH" again and I look to the left to see like 6 nurses with 3 of them doing something with my arm that I obviously just messed up. But then the heat is gone, replaced by this freezing cold feeling all over and INSIDE my body. I can feel every one of my organs touching each other and they all feel cold and I just feel nauseous. By this point i was just in agony. It wasn't like any pain I've ever felt before I felt like not only was I gonna die, but it was gonna be painful and I'd feel each individual organ dying from inside my body because of how hypersensitive I was to everything around me. I could feel the scratchy hospital blanket and the way the grip of the hospital sock felt against the bed and it was all just too much for me and my head cocked straight up and i began vomiting so much liquid it was scary to watch. Feeling each chunk of food run down my throat was a sensory nightmare and it caused me to KEEP VOMITING and every time I'd move one of my limbs, it would completely jerk itself all the way to a full extended position which would shake my body and all my senses would be on fire and I'd cock my head back and continue vomiting. This was a pediatric hospital so the nurses had never dealt with anything this severe before so they were all just freaking out because I was actually tweaking so hard and I had knocked over everything they had put on my bed to help me. In addition to all this mess, I'd torn out my IV and started bleeding all over the sheets and the smell of barf mixed with blood was just such a strong smell I had continued barfing onto myself. My entire being felt cold inside and out so I was trying profusely to wrap myself in a cocoon but the nurses were so fixated on my blanket being covered in vomit and me like "contaminating myself" but I did not give a single fuck bro I was in so much pain and was so cold the only thought on my mind was the fetal position, and a cocoon. two nurses jammed those tubes that they have at the dentists office to suck your saliva down my throat so I didn't continue choking on my vomit, while the other 4 removed the fitted sheet from the bed trying their best not to interfere with my tweakage.
After they removed the sheet I had laid down and then I felt my organs shift in my body so I began vomiting again because anytime I sensed a new sensation, the big kahuna of nausea would hit me. I threw up onto the plasticky cover that goes over the mattress of the hospital bed but at this point there was only like so much left to throw up so a nurse wiped it away with an alcohol wipe. And the SMELL of that wipe gave me such sensory overload that I began crying to the point of basically screaming. As I shut my eyes really hard praying I'd fall asleep and escape the pain and coldness of my insides.
And the weird thing about all this is, I was there the whole time, y'know? Like I felt perfectly conscious throughout the entire process of being Narc'ed. I had no control over my body and anything I did, it just felt instinctual and had no thought behind it, but I was still actively thinking throughout all of it. I felt shame, embarresement, surprise, all like I was watching a movie. Except it was one of those 4D movie theaters where you can feel whatever is happening on screen, but not control it.
Eventually sleep overcame me and I woke up in the ICU with like 40 million wires attached to me a heating pack over my belly, and these bags around my legs that would inflate and deflate over and over. And all I could think in my head, was thank GOD it was over.
I had ended up getting myself a bone eating staph infection because some of my vomit got into the IV hole I'd torn out (I see why there were trying to take the blanket off) and ended up having to stay in the hospital for 10 more days so they could give me heavy antibiotics,, and had to do an additional 5 days at home self administering the medicine through a PIC line that went all the way from my wrist into my heart (it was so gross because they kept me awake while they removed it and it felt so weird).
A few weeks later the hospital called us back and apologized but they were using so much avoidant language and deflecting blame off of themselves so hard that it was pathetic to watch. Like you gave a 15 year old kid fentanyl through a SELF REGULATED SYSTEM and didn't expect the worst? Especially since I was being given Dilaudid and morphine on top of the fent? Get out my face with that smh.

So I never really cry, at least in front of others. This final was for stats, I pulled a near all-nighter with my roommate because we were studying for it and doing the practice exam. I usually don’t do all-nighters, but my final exam schedule was horrible this semester leaving me little to no time to really study between subjects. Plus, I’m usually ok as long as I get 3 solid hours, which I thankfully did.
I was so prepared for this exam. I was feeling confident in the concepts and I did well on the practice exam. I commuted there with my roommate, about 20 minute drive. We got there 30 minutes early and was waiting around in the hall for the doors to open.
About 15 minutes before the exam time, I realized I forgot my calculator. I was so upset with myself because how in the world could I grab everything but probably the most important part of a MATH exam? My roommate was trying to calm me down and started to ask around for an extra calculator but there was absolutely none. One of the TAs said it’s okay, that my roommate could give me hers if she finishes early but try my best to write down all equations so show that I understand what I’m doing. Even if I don’t do the calculations I could get partial credit.
I calmed down a little, sat down for the exam. I could probably only answer like 15% without calculating stuff. Ofc it was the one exam which you need to calculate something in part a to do pretty much the rest of the questions. I started to have a panic attack and just couldn’t breathe. I sat there crying quietly trying to get some air in without being too noticeable but I probably was. I was so upset that I stayed up so late, was fully prepared and I was about to fail an exam just because I was an idiot and forgot my calculator. There were tear stains all over my exam.
My friend did finish early and handed me her calculations so thankfully I was able to get most calculations done before I ran out of time. But I still feel so embarrassed over the fact I was sobbing the entire time, I tried to stop so hard but it’s been such an exhausting week.
Anyways just wanted to share this to some people who can probably relate. Hope your finals are all going well

Tuesday May 7th 2024
Wolstein Center, Cleveland, OH
WBW Presents: Tuesday Night Spectactle
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This theme plays as KO comes down to the ring. Kevin grabs a microphone and says “CLEVELAND! 2 nights ago I had a classic match with my best friend Sami Zayn.. Then the Nemeth Brothers decided to get involved and for whatever reason chose me to win. Now tonight I am in the main event against Drew Mc-”.This theme plays and Drew McIntyre comes down to the ring with a microphone. Drew says “Kevin would you please stop worrying about my friend Nic. This is going to be your downfall my friend. Focus on our match tonight. We are supposed to have a 5 star classic but instead you're worrying about a cheerleader. But if you want to keep focusing on the Nemeth’s they are here!”. Drew exits the ring much to KO’s confusion. Nic and Ryan hop the barricades and surround KO on both sides of the ring. KO throws a strike at Ryan first but the number’s game catches up to him fast. Sami runs down but is intercepted by Claymore from Drew. Drew hits Sami with a Futureshock DDT on the ramp and throws him into the ring. Drew says “Get a referee down here. I got confirmation already its Sami Zayn vs my boy Nic Nemeth next!”. A referee comes running down to the ring as Drew gets on commentary for the match.
This segment takes 10 minutes (2:50 left of show time)
Sami Zayn w/ Kevin Owens vs Nic Nemeth w/ Ryan Nemeth
Sami is still down after the vicious attack from Drew McIntyre. Nic hits his 10 Elbow Drops going for the pin right off the bat. Sami kicks out at 2. Nic hits the ground in frustration expecting an easy win. Nic sets up in the corner for a Sweet Chin Music connecting! Nic falls into a pinfall. Sami kicks out at 2 and a half. Sami finally begins to fight back with a few strikes and goes for an Exploder Suplex. Nic lands on his feet. Sami turns around right into a superkick. Nic sets up in the corner connecting with another superkick. Nic then climbs the turnbuckle and goes for a big Elbow Drop. Sami gets to his feet and connects with a Blue Thunder Bomb out of nowhere going for the pin. Nic kicks out at 2 and 3/4 much to Sami’s shock. Sami lifts Nic up and hits a Exploder Suplex into the corner. Nic stumbles into the corner and Sami backs into the other corner for a Helluva Kick. Ryan grabs his legs and drags Sami into the turnbuckle. The referee was busy checking on Nic! KO grabs Ryan and hits him with a powerbomb onto the apron. KO turns around right into a Claymore Kick from Drew. Drew taunts KO and Sami as Sami turns his attention to Drew upset at him. Nic sneaks up behind Sami and hits him with a Zig Zag going for the pin. Nic gets the 3! Nic slips out of the ring as Drew joins him on the ramp. Ryan holding his back joins them laughing. KO checks Sami, staring up the ramp at Drew pissed off.
This match takes 10 minutes (2:40 left of show time)
Sami is seen backstage with KO. KO is pissed off saying how he is going to make Drew pay for this. Sami calms KO down and tells him to just be prepared for his match. KO agrees and walks off. Sami walks up to Mark Steel’s office door and knocks. Mark yells “Come in”. Sami walks in and Mark ushers for him to sit down. Sami says “Mr Steel you have to realize that if nothing is done the Nemeth Brothers will get involved in the main event”. Mark looks at Sami and says “I've already dealt with that. They were asked to leave the arena. And as such you will too. That way neither Drew nor KO will have unnecessary help tonight. Do I make myself cl-”. Drew bursts into the room and says “Mark I don't care if the Nemeth Brothers are there or not. Unlike Kevin I don't need their help to win”. Drew walks out as Mark and Sami stare at each other in shock.
This segment takes 5 minutes (2:35 left of show time)
Seth Rollins vs Carmelo Hayes - Round 2 of Winners Bracket for World Title Tournament
Seth and Carmelo begin circling each other. Seth offers a handshake and Melo takes it. Seth quickly rolls Hayes up for a quick kick out at 1. Melo and Seth both get to their feet at the same time and Seth laughs. Hayes throws a right fist sending Seth right to the ground. Hayes lifts Seth up and hits a Suplex into the Spinning Back Elbow combo. Hayes climbs the turnbuckle and hits a Fedora Frog Splash going for the pin. Seth kicks out at 2. Hayes climbs the turnbuckle again going for a Nothing But Net. Seth gets to his feet and hits Hayes with a Revolution Knee in mid air. Hayes hits the ground with a thud and Seth takes advantage with a Pedigree going for the pin. Hayes kicks out at 2. Seth backs into the corner stomping and preparing for a Curbstomp. Hayes throws Seth up into the air and hits a Samoan Drop on the way down. Hayes follows up with a Fedora Frog Splash going for the pin and getting a 2 and a half on Seth. Hayes doesn't stop as he climbs again and hits Nothing But Net going for the pin again. Seth kicks out at 2 and 3/4 which makes Hayes hit the ground in frustration. Hayes backs into the corner with his eyes glazed. He sets up to hit Seth’s curbstomp. Seth rolls out of the way and Hayes turns around right into a Spinning Elbow. Seth drops into the corner and hits a Curbstomp. Seth connects and goes for the pin. Hayes kicks out at 2 and a half. Seth hits the ground before throwing Hayes up the Turnbuckle going for a Falcon Arrow followed by a second Falcon Arrow. Seth climbs again going for a Frog Splash but Hayes rolls out of the way. Hayes quickly climbs the ropes going for a Nothing but Net but Seth rolls out of the way before connecting with a Superkick to Hayes while he was on his knees. Seth climbs to the second Turnbuckle and hits a super curb stomp right then and there going for the pin and getting the 3. Seth sits on his knees as the announcer announces his victory! Seth is going on to Round 3!
This match takes 15 minutes (2:20 left of show time)
Austin Theory and Grayson Waller ambush Seth from behind. MJF jumps the barricade and joins the assault when Laredo Kid, Myzteziz and Artemis come running down to the ring. They chase off MJF and A-Town Down Under before helping Seth to his feet. Seth grabs a microphone and says “Hey Max. I'll see you next week”. Seth stands tall with the Air Riders as MJF and A-Town Down Under retreat up the ramp!
This segment takes 5 minutes (2:15 left of show time)
This theme plays and out comes AJ Styles. AJ grabs a microphone and says “Last Sunday in Pittsburgh I lost everything. The Judgement Day attacked me before my match and broke my arm. Now I make no excuses cause at the end of the day I am the one who tapped out. But now I must focus on whoever wins next week to decide who will face me next week as well in the Second Round of the Losers Bracket. Whoever it is just know I will walk through the fucking fi-”. This theme plays and Finn Balor comes down to the ring with JD and Dom. Finn says “Next week I have to face the winner of the main event but before that. Thought I would pay you a visit. To make sure you remember.. THE JUDGEMENT DAY RUN WBW”. Out of nowhere AJ is attacked from behind by Chris Ridgeway. Judgement Day has a new member! This theme plays The Calamari Catch Kings theme plays and Chris Brookes runs down to the ring with the Lykos Gym. The Lykos Gym and Chris Brookes even the numbers and chase the Judgement Day up the ramp. AJ puts out a Bullet Club forever sign and CCK joins him! Judgement Day has bigger worries now as Chris Ridgeway’s first round opponent in the Battleground Tournament is in the ring with Judgement Day’s biggest rival!
This segment takes 10 minutes (2:05 left of show time)
The Riott Squad vs Shafir and Duke - Qualifier for 6 team Ladder Match for Women's Tag Titles
There are currently 3 titles without champions crowned. The World Championship, The Battleground Championship and the Women's Tag Championship. The latter is the only one not in a tournament. Instead there will be 6 qualifiers, 2 per spectacle. Where the winners are added to a 6 team ladder match. Tonight we get the first of 6 qualifiers as Liv Morgan and Ruby Soho team up once more in WBW to take on 2 enforcers of the ring in Marina Shafir and Jessamyn Duke. It starts with Liv Morgan and Ruby Soho on top. They have slightly more chemistry and experience allowing them to take the early edge. However as the match goes on it gets more balanced as the technical duo begin to roll in the later half. The match reaches its boiling point when Shafir locks Liv in an arm bar. Liv manages to get out, tossing Shafir into the ropes. Duke tags in but gets off the apron. Liv doesnt know as she hits a ObLIVion followed by a tag to Soho. Soho sets up and hits Shafir with the Soho Kick going for the pin. Duke comes out of nowhere and hits Liv with a German right onto Soho. Liv and Shafir both roll out of the ring as Duke drops into the corner. Soho stirs to her feet and Duke connects with a spear. Duke falls into the pin and gets the 3 on Soho. Shafir joins her in the ring as they celebrate one step closer to the Women's Tag Titles!
This match takes 15 minutes (1:50 left of show time)
After the match The Riott Squad attack Shafir and Duke from behind clearly upset about their loss. Lola Vice runs down to the ring with a steel chair and chases them off. Liv and Ruby retreat up the ramp as Lola grabs a microphone. Duke and Shafir stand at either side of her and she says “WE ARE THE HORSEWOMEN” to a massive cheer from the crowd!
This segment takes 5 minutes (1:45 left of show time)
This theme plays and the Rated R Superstar makes his WBW debut! Edge comes out to a loud pop. He enters the ring with a microphone and says “CLEVELAND OHIO! I HAVE BEEN ALL AROUND THE WORLD. I HAVE BEEN IN COMPANY AFTER COMPANY. AND NOW I'M HERE IN WBW. Man it feels good to be here. A Lot of great men in that locker room. The Judgement Day, Seth Rollins, Matt Cardona and Brian Myers. All these men I have history with. And all these men I suspect I will have a match with at some point in my tenure here. But enough talking cause I'm itching to step in that ring once again. So if anybody in the back wants a shot at beating one of the greatest to ever step in the ring, come out right now.. THIS IS AN OPEN CHALLENGE!”. This theme plays and out comes WBW’s newest star, A little less massive but still a great get, the ever talented Cara Noir!
This segment takes 10 minutes (1:35 left of show time)
Edge vs Cara Noir
Edge offers his hand for a handshake but Cara bats it away. Edge looks shocked and before he can react Cara hits him with an uppercut. Cara Noir begins hitting aerial offense in hopes to put Edge on the back of his feet. It works at first until he goes for a springboard knee and gets speared out of mid air. Edge stomps into the corner and prepares hitting a second more impactful spear going for the pin. Edge gets the 3 over Cara and stands tall after a 5 minute match!
This match takes 5 minutes (1:30 left of show time)
Edge stands up after getting the 3 on Cara Noir to a load of cheers! His head then turns to the ramp as This theme plays. The crowd pops once again as Randy Orton slowly descends down the ramp. He begins circling the ring like a shark. Edge prepares for a fight as Orton reaches the front of the apron. Orton acts like he's gonna jump up but backs off laughing at Edge. Orton turns and returns up the ramp and the only question of Edge, and the crowds, mind.. What is Randy Orton up to?
This segment takes 5 minutes (1:25 left of show time)
The System are backstage celebrating their title win when The Premiere Athletes walk up to them. Woods says “Moose I could care less what you think I want my rematch”. Moose just starts laughing at him and then says “You just lost the Scramble Match you're gonna have to earn that rematch”. Woods responds with “Oh don't worry i'm well aware which is why I came back here to inform Brian Myers. It's me vs him next, sanctioned by WBW Owner Mark Steel himself. Cya out there Champ”. Josh Woods puts his hand on Brian’s shoulder for a second before walking off. Daivari and Nese follow him out.
This segment takes 5 second (1:20 left of show time)
Josh Woods vs Brian Myers w/ Eddie Edwards
Josh Woods and Brian Myers circle each other as the bell is rung. They quickly get into a technical lockup which Woods gets the better of pushing Myers into the corner. Woods backs up as the referee tells him too and Myers takes advantage with a low knee. The referee yells at him but Myers doesn't care going for an early pin. Woods kicks out at 1. Brian continues his assault for a little bit before climbing the ropes going for a Heat Seeking Elbow. Woods rolls out of the way and tries to lock in a Knee Bar. He cant get it in properly and Myers escapes with a Enzuigiri followed by a Roster Cut going for the pin. Woods kicks out at 2. Myers climbs the turnbuckle and hits a Heat Seeking Elbow. He climbs up one more time to hit a second one once again going for the pin. Woods kicks out at 2 and a half. Myers hits the ground and is frustrated. He then lifts Josh up looking for a Taste the Danger. Woods drops down behind him and catches him in the Knee Bar. Myers screams in pain as he's in the hold for well over a minute before finally tapping out. Woods has just gotten a massive win!
This match takes 10 minutes (1:10 left of show time)
After the match Moose hits Woods from behind with his belt. Daivari and Nese try to intercept but the tag champs get in their way and the 2 teams begin brawling through the crowd and out of the arena. Moose now has Woods all to himself as he sets up Game Changer. This theme plays and the Monster Among Men runs down to the ring. He hits Moose with a shoulder tackle sending him flying. Moose quickly slides out of the ring and retreats up the ramp as Braun helps Woods to his feet. Braun and Woods stand tall as Moose stands at the top of the ramp outraged.
This segment takes 5 minutes (1:05 left of show time)
Mark Steel is backstage talking to KO. KO says “Why did you tell Sami to go home, It was the Nemeth Brothers and Drew getting involved not him”. Mark responds with “It is my job to focus on safety and wellbe-”. Moose interrupts him, as KO storms off, “Wellbeing my ass. Braun just showed up and attacked me. I demand retribution”. Mark says “That's funny cause he only came out to protect Josh Woods who you attacked first. Instead i've decided it's going to be Josh Woods and Braun Strowman next week to decide who will be the #1 contender for your WCW Intercontinental Championship. Oh and if you or any other member of the System show up.. You will be forced to vacate your title immediat-”. Josh Woods walks up interrupting “Next week I'm gonna beat Braun Strowman and then I'm going to make you regret attacking me tonight”. Woods walks off as Mark takes a deep breath clearly annoyed about being interrupted yet again.
This match takes 10 minutes (0:50 left of show time)
Stupid Youth Project vs Paige Sisters w/ Ella Envy - Qualifier for 6 Team Ladder Match for Women's Tag Titles
Alice Crowley and Billie Starkz team up to take on Pretty Empowered’s Kylie and Kenzie Paige. Alice and Kenzie have a powerhouse display while Billie and Kylie use their high-flying ability. Both teams wanted to win badly. In the end it comes down to a last second ditch effort from Billie to connect with a frog splash and pin Kenzie for the 3 count. They will be joining The Horsewomen in the 6 team Ladder Match!
This match takes 10 minutes (0:40 left of show time)
Drew Gulak and Alpha Academy w/ Maxxine Dupri vs Legado Del Fantasma w/ Elektra Lopez
This match is a very chaotic match so like the Women's Tag Qualifiers I decided to just give it a basic description. All potential encounters happen as everyone from each team fought everyone from the other team. In the end Maxxine and Elektra argue and Elektra lays Maxxine out. This takes Otis’ attention for one second and the Los Lotharios take advantage with double chopblocks. Garza forces Otis to his feet and hits a Wingclipper as Humberto hits a Suicide Dive wiping out the rest of the Academy. Garza goes for the pin and Gulak attempts to get involved when he's hit with a Canadian Destroyer by Aeroboy. Gable gets to his feet and attempts to slide in but Escobar grabs his legs as Garza gets the 3! Legado Del Fantasma stood tall together in the ring celebrating.
This match takes 15 minutes (0:25 left of show time)
Chad Gable begins yelling at Otis. Drew Gulak gets in the way and tells Gable that's not how you treat your student. Gable shoves him and Gulak delivers a stiff kick before locking in an arm bar. Otis gets to his feet dejected as Gable yells out “Remember No Matter What”. Otis mutters under his breath “No Matter What” before lifting Drew off Gable and sending him crashing through the barricade. The rest of Alpha Academy meet them on the ramp as LDF watches the chaos in awe.
This segment takes 5 minutes (0:20 left of show time)
Drew McIntyre vs Kevin Owens - Round 2 of Winners Bracket for World Title Tournament
We finally reach the main event. Sami Zayn isn't allowed to show up, nor are the Nemeth Brothers. It's just Drew and KO. The match starts with KO lunging at Drew with a stiff kick before hitting him in the back sending him to the ground. Drew rolls out of the ring but KO follows persisting on the attack as the count starts. KO bangs Drew’s head off the announce table before throwing him into the steel steps. KO follows and Drew manages to get to his feet connecting with a Claymore. Drew quickly ducks in the ring looking for an easy 10 count. Kevin gets in at 9. Drew persists on the attack hitting a Futureshock DDT going for the pin. Kevin kicks out at 1. Drew looks shocked and backs into the corner. Drew begins counting down from 3 and goes for the Claymore. Kevin catches him mid air and hits a Powerbomb on the spot going for a pin. Drew kicks out at 1. KO hits the ground in frustration as Drew stumbles into the corner. KO kicks Drew in the midsection before backing up. He turns around and goes for the cannonball but Drew moves out of the way just in the nick of time! Drew connects with a Claymore going for the pin. KO kicks out at 2. Drew gets in the referee's face and asks him why it wasn't a 3. KO takes advantage pushing Drew into the referee knocking the referee out. KO then hits Drew with the Stunner followed by a Powerbomb. KO goes for the pin but Drew kicks out at 2.. Not that the referee was up anyway. KO climbs the turnbuckle and goes for a frog splash. Drew rolls out of the way and connects with a second claymore as the referee gets to his feet. Drew goes for the pin but KO kicks out at 2 and a half. Drew hits the ground in frustration, confused how it wasnt a 3. Drew lifts KO up for a Futureshock when KO reverses into a stunner. KO then lifts Drew up but his knee gives out and Drew lands in front of him connecting with a Glasgow Kiss followed by a Futureshock DDT going for the pin. KO kicks out at 2 and 3/4 and Drew goes absolutely crazy dropping back into the corner and connecting with another Claymore. Drew isn't done as he drops into the corner a second time hitting yet another Claymore. Drew doesn't care as he drops into the corner for a third time and begins counting down from 3. KO gets to his feet and hits a pop up powerbomb out of nowhere going for the pin. 2 masked men jump the barricade with “3MB” shirts on and pull the referee out of the ring. KO gets the 3 before he realizes the referee is gone. The 2 men remove their masks and climb onto the apron on both sides, thus revealing themselves to be Heath Slater and Jinder Mahal! The crowd pops as Drew’s buddies enter the ring and go after KO. At first KO does alright but then the Numbers Game catches up to him when Drew gets involved. Drew drops into the corner and begins counting down from 3 as Jinder and Heath force the referee up and toss him into the ring. Drew connects with the Claymore for a 6th time in this match going for the pin. This time Kevin cannot answer the 3 count! Jinder and Heath join Drew in the ring as 3MB celebrate together!
This match takes 20 minutes (Show Finish)

I'm a 29 year old male and i will try to summarize the horrendous situation I find myself without leaving to many crucial details out. I was with my ex girlfriend for nearly 6 years. The red flags were present fromn the beggining but looking back I had no way to understand what they were at the time partly due to my young nievete and partly due to the fact that coming from a emotijallyabusive household I had normalized many of the more subtle behaviors and therefore they fell within a blindspot of my cognitive distortions at the time. From the very start she would begin punching herself in her own head if i ever became upset with her in any way or during any attempt to verbally work a problem out. I thought she was just a bit flippant and intense. Dare I say I almost found it attractive in a strange sense. She was and still to this day, stunningly beautiful and menacingly seductive and knows how she can have a significant effect on males especially without doing very much in the way of actions. Fast forward she unknown to me at the time discontinued her birth contorll pills while still assuring me she was taking them and ultimetly lied by telling me she had just to fund out she had become pregnant herself after missing a period. We were both in our mid to early 20s still more or less financially dependant on our parents and were living on public city streets in our tow behind rv with our 2 dogs. She was idealizing me and to be frank I remebr this period of time as the happiest iv been eever before and up untill now. This memory of "happiness" I think was the biggest reason it took me so long to finally start trying to advocate for my self respect instead of hanging my head and just ignoring the abuse so that I would get the sweet reward of psedo- intimacy with her a few times a week. Despite my fond memories looking back I see now what could only be described as patterns if coercive control that seriously escalated over the 5 years we were in a relationship with each other and included her beggining to cheat early on and the resulting systemic lies and relational damage from needing to formulate and bend the nature of reality around those lies. Her hot and cold treatment of me with any postive(hot) behavior usually at least in the last few years being exclusively sexual in nature and cold behavior usually manifesting as her stonewalling me and or simply disappearing for multiple days at a time sometimes. The day my son was born i accompanied her to the hospital and sat with her the entire time helped her push ans enouraged her with love. She treated me with indifference and disdain. Once our wonderful little boy came along this a became even worse. The sense that she was making it about him and her vs everyone else including me was strong. She became quite introverted secretive and "cliquey" with my newborn and at the same time seemed to loose all desire to be physically or emotionally intimate with me. (Of course i gave her plenty of time and space right after she gave birth amd was understanding that it might be a while before things were back to normal).it was almost like she had a new partner-our child. she refused to fully move in to the apartment my grandparents had spent a huge amint of money on to give us a chance at raising our soon in a healthy environment. She would start random and seemingly pointless arguments often escalating into her screaming mean things at me innfront of our 3 month old son like she ****ed me and then raging followed by quickly slamming the door and taking our infant son backto her mother's house where she would stonewall me for a few days then send me. A message that emotionally blackmailed me into taking full blame for the rupture and apologizing profusely. In addition she did not trust me with our son but had no reason not too and as a result gatekept him in an extremely overcintrolling and damaging(for him and for me) manner. to this day (he is 3.5] I have never spent the night alone with him and have had him 1 on 1 dad and son time signifigantly less than I should have and not for lack of trying on my part. Despite her overcontrolling coercive sabatoging and alienating actions my son and I formed a loving and beautiful bond that up untill I saw him last a few months ago has amazingly endured through the storm. The tradegy goes on and on but to wrap up ultimitely she purposefully betrayed me by starting a relationship with my good friend and had him suggest to me that he should move in so he became my roommate all the while lying to my roommate that I ht her and simultaneously having him report back to her on my whereabouts at any Givin time and the things I said about her when venting after a prticulringly humiliating attempt to see my son or similar interaction and also give her info about what I was doing during the day. He became quite controlling himself and severed to further isolate me from people that weren't trying to ruin my life. They started to play mindgames with me that ibsee now attempts to gage how much I knew or suspected about what was going on. Mind you my son who was around 2 at this point was privy to the whole thing it was only kept a secret from me and due to this my son was coached to not tell me about it although what was actually said I will never know. Eventually a mutual friend of my roommate and I reached out and told me he had seen my roommate "playing dad" with my girl and son at dollar tree that day. I remebrr that day I sat at a local park in my car sullen and confused having been led on via sms from her only to randomly stop responding and never managing to get any time with my son. This sort of thing had become a regular occurance She then began withholding my son all togethar simply not answering at all or lying about him being asleep ridiculously early in the afternoon etc etc. My own parents failed to suppprt me and are still failing to show any sort of care other than somehwat monitarily. In fact my mom and her were two peas in a pod and my mom activly participated in the emotional abuse partly becauee of being manipulated by her partly because my mother is emotionally abusive. If I had better support or access to court resources at the time I'm confident things would have gone much differently but I was so isolated and lonely and in a deep state of despair at this point and the only thing I still was enduring for was the brief and inconsistent times i got with my boy whom I love more than life itself. I managed to get a hold of her via phone at this point and said i was going to go to court and pursue custody since she seemed unwilling to value my valid role as father. Her mom and her immediately became overly nice and invited me over where they sat me down and offered to make a visitation schedule and kindly suggested I dident go to court. It wasent much but it was signifgantly more respect than I had been shown any instance prior so I gobbled up the manipulations and left feeling invigorated and hopeful. The schedule was never adhered too and within a few days it was back to me not even be able to get a hold of her let alone see my son. The final day I saw him before things blew up I went over to her house in the evening. My son wanted to play hot wheels so we began to line them up on the floor but my ex was hovering over us with a hostile air. I asked if we could have some space or if at least she could sit down and play with us and she just kept standing there glaring at me. This made me uncomfortable and my son noticed this by sayig daddy play with me! Upon hearing this she in a angry tone said "play with your effin kid isent that what you wanted to do soooooo badly" right in front of him. I asked not to be spoken to in front of him like that and she went and got her mom and started whispering abut me to her mom in the hallway while they watched my son and I. I got up and said I'm leaving this is innappropriate and she said "wow that checks out you harrass me to see your son and then you don't even wanna see him. how pathetic and typical" " you just want to stress me out dont you" you don't actually give 2 you know what's about him" right in front of my son again. I speechlessly went to leave and my son comes running after me begging me to wait. I'm on the verge of tears and i picked him up cherishing how warm he was and how lovingly he was clinging to me. I tentatively requested I be allowed to go for a walk with him around the block and her mom this time dismissively says ya go and shoos us out the door. I get down the driveway and my ex comes sprinting out of the house tears streaming down her face and a look of rage and starts hitting me while I'm holding our son. Amazingly he start4d pushing her away saying mommy stop mommy stop. She says you have 5 minutes or I'm calling the cops and goes back in. I walk him around the block and say "mommy's feeling sad right now but it doesn't mean that either one of us loves you any more or any less than we used to and it's absolutely not your fault." I go back inside and without saying anything I walk up to her and give her a hug wich my son joins in too. All the sudden she is happy again and trying to speak to me in a casual tone but I basically just leave without saying much else. After this a week of no contact with my son occurs which at the time was the longest we had gone apart I felt like I had no choice but to confront her and assert my rights AGAIN although looking back I feel terribley silly for thinking she was going to repsect me at that point. Keep in mind i ALWAYS was extrmely respectful of her space and never would just show up at her moms house even though our relationahip by many accounts was more than informal ennough to make an occasionaI drop in to say hi. In addition she on Many occasions had told me that I could just come by if she didn't Answer her phone or simular situation arose. I texted her I was coming by to say goodnight to my son and phrased it as a statement not a question or request. I was already on the way when I sent the message and so I arrived (unintentionally)before her being able to fully respond to it to see my romate come running out of the front door (this is when I first had proof ab about all the stuff I mentioned earlier about their secret relationship) and go hide in the bushes, her poke her head out the door and then shut and lock it and turn all the lights in the house out and close the blinds. I walk up to the door and knock to no avail and so I confront her about what i know and saw via sms. She directly denies all my proof and accusations and then after calling me crazy and a stalker blocks me on all channels of communication. I go back to my car and collapse in tears and ultimtly fall asleep. I wake up to see her quickly shoving a duffel bag and my son into her moms car and her and my roommate get in and she pulls quickly away. Upon passing me on her way to the main road she becomes aware that im still there in my car and she burns rubber and begins driving extremely fast and erratically. In a moment of panic I knew she was probably trying to go into hiding with my son to prevent me from evrr seeing him again and I fearing for the safety of my son and our relationship I regrettably felt compelled to follow. We got on the freeway where she initiatied speeds of 100 plus miles perhour weaving in between semi's and this sort of thing continued d for an hour in the interim I had called 911 and also she had pulled up too a gas station casually got out and pumped gas upon her getting back in the car I witnessed my roommate making derogatory and taunting sexual gestures referring to my ex and also what i can only describe as cuddling with my son in the back seat and became enraged and made some threatening motions with a large wooden shovel handle while standing next to her car that were directed at my betraying friend and I feel terrible for doing in front of my child but in the moment I was so desperate and upset by the psychological torture i had been through it clouded my normally good judgment. In the end the police couldn't locate us due to my 911 call continually being transfered fron highway patrol dispatch back to whatever city we were in at the times dispatch. Also ultimetly no physical harm or even any other attempts happend or anything to anyone of the people involved and eventually I gave up and drove back to my hometown. She immediately filed for a domestic violence restraining order and used a recording she took of me looking aggressive and threatening outside her car as proof im abusive and violent even though i have never been either of those things. Especially not violent. I may not have been the most mature or experienced or attentive partner for some of our relationship but anything I did was truly a far cry from the serious emotional anguish I have ben subjected to here and not abusive. I did not lie, cheat,manipulate, gaslight, trick, triangulate, turn family againts or ever feel superior or entitled to harm or use her in any way. I loved her and she did all those to me and now is trying to steal the most precious thing I have left in the world from me so she can emotionally scar him with her idea of what good parenting is which in truth is emotional abuse.. She moved my old roommate in to her moms house full time the very next day and from what I hear they both are abusing meth and who knows what else currently plus this guy is not somone that is safe around my son to that degree. He is not a healthy safe adult for such a young boy and in addition he is vindictive and dislikes me mostly because my ex told him I hit her and abused her which are absolutely complete lies. I'm facing a situation now where I have to sit by and watch my son turned agsints me and withheld from me and abused and eveyone treats me like im the abuser. I have tried to contact every dv organization in my local area and as soon as they hear what happend it's almost like I can Feel the switch flip and in the moment it's evident that all the abuse that I had recounted surviving through doesn't matter because I'm some "unhinged abusive guy that chases people down the freeway" eveyone I have reached out to locally has invalidated me and berrated me for "what I did" and successfully pathologized what I consider to be a huge mistake that I feel very regretful for loosing my composure but also a rather understandable emotional reaction to severe mistreatment and fear for my son. I'm beggining to feel so isolated riding the emotional Rollercoaster of self doubt and powerlessness that this abuse at the hands of my ex but dare I say worse yet the abuse by way of victim blame and invalidation from these people and organizations that exist to help dv survivors has caused me. which because I reacted I'm not worthy of being included as a survivor. Cn you offer any advice or support or suggestions? I'm terrified for my sons wellbeing currently and haven't been able to see him in going on 2.5 months now clear and to be clear the domestic violence restraining order is still temporary. I have the final hearing in August.i

This is...a little embarrassing.
I got a new job this year that I love working in a small office that manages local sewewater projects. The office is old and construction crews come in and out all day every day. So there's always kinda a weird smell but you get used to it. Everyone who works in this office is very dedicated and super friendly...except the cleaning lady.
I have rarely ever spoken to the cleaning lady since I've started. I've never been impolite or openly rude to her but I get the impression she hates me. My only real complaint is that there is one bathroom for the entire office that's right in front of my desk. Lots of people use it throughout the day but I noticed that since I've gotten here she makes a point to go in after me every single time I go and spray like half a bottle of air freshener and cleans the toilet. All with the door wide open. It's incredibly obvious to the point everyone in the office has noticed that she does it. Hell, a director from another department came here for 2 meetings and told me she noticed.
I know I should just ignore it...but it bothers me so much. I'm pretty self-conscious already so I've asked other people in the office if I'm especially bad/noseblind and no one thinks I am. I've even started cleaning and spraying before I leave the bathroom just in case and she still makes a point of it. I sometimes wait until she leaves the building to use the restroom but if she sees me come out she immediately goes in after me and cleans. She doesn't if she doesn't see me exit. I want to say something but I have no idea how to even begin approaching this. It feels petty and stupid to be upset over but it's giving me anxiety around using the only restroom in the building I spend most of my day.

I'm a 29 year old male and i will try to summarize the horrendous situation I find myself without leaving to many crucial details out. I was with my ex girlfriend for nearly 6 years. The red flags were present fromn the beggining but looking back I had no way to understand what they were at the time partly due to my young nievete and partly due to the fact that coming from a emotijallyabusive household I had normalized many of the more subtle behaviors and therefore they fell within a blindspot of my cognitive distortions at the time. From the very start she would begin punching herself in her own head if i ever became upset with her in any way or during any attempt to verbally work a problem out. I thought she was just a bit flippant and intense. Dare I say I almost found it attractive in a strange sense. She was and still to this day, stunningly beautiful and menacingly seductive and knows how she can have a significant effect on males especially without doing very much in the way of actions. Fast forward she unknown to me at the time discontinued her birth contorll pills while still assuring me she was taking them and ultimetly lied by telling me she had just to fund out she had become pregnant herself after missing a period. We were both in our mid to early 20s still more or less financially dependant on our parents and were living on public city streets in our tow behind rv with our 2 dogs. She was idealizing me and to be frank I remebr this period of time as the happiest iv been eever before and up untill now. This memory of "happiness" I think was the biggest reason it took me so long to finally start trying to advocate for my self respect instead of hanging my head and just ignoring the abuse so that I would get the sweet reward of psedo- intimacy with her a few times a week. Despite my fond memories looking back I see now what could only be described as patterns if coercive control that seriously escalated over the 5 years we were in a relationship with each other and included her beggining to cheat early on and the resulting systemic lies and relational damage from needing to formulate and bend the nature of reality around those lies. Her hot and cold treatment of me with any postive(hot) behavior usually at least in the last few years being exclusively sexual in nature and cold behavior usually manifesting as her stonewalling me and or simply disappearing for multiple days at a time sometimes. The day my son was born i accompanied her to the hospital and sat with her the entire time helped her push ans enouraged her with love. She treated me with indifference and disdain. Once our wonderful little boy came along this a became even worse. The sense that she was making it about him and her vs everyone else including me was strong. She became quite introverted secretive and "cliquey" with my newborn and at the same time seemed to loose all desire to be physically or emotionally intimate with me. (Of course i gave her plenty of time and space right after she gave birth amd was understanding that it might be a while before things were back to normal).it was almost like she had a new partner-our child. she refused to fully move in to the apartment my grandparents had spent a huge amint of money on to give us a chance at raising our soon in a healthy environment. She would start random and seemingly pointless arguments often escalating into her screaming mean things at me innfront of our 3 month old son like she ****ed me and then raging followed by quickly slamming the door and taking our infant son backto her mother's house where she would stonewall me for a few days then send me. A message that emotionally blackmailed me into taking full blame for the rupture and apologizing profusely. In addition she did not trust me with our son but had no reason not too and as a result gatekept him in an extremely overcintrolling and damaging(for him and for me) manner. to this day (he is 3.5] I have never spent the night alone with him and have had him 1 on 1 dad and son time signifigantly less than I should have and not for lack of trying on my part. Despite her overcontrolling coercive sabatoging and alienating actions my son and I formed a loving and beautiful bond that up untill I saw him last a few months ago has amazingly endured through the storm. The tradegy goes on and on but to wrap up ultimitely she purposefully betrayed me by starting a relationship with my good friend and had him suggest to me that he should move in so he became my roommate all the while lying to my roommate that I ht her and simultaneously having him report back to her on my whereabouts at any Givin time and the things I said about her when venting after a prticulringly humiliating attempt to see my son or similar interaction and also give her info about what I was doing during the day. He became quite controlling himself and severed to further isolate me from people that weren't trying to ruin my life. They started to play mindgames with me that ibsee now attempts to gage how much I knew or suspected about what was going on. Mind you my son who was around 2 at this point was privy to the whole thing it was only kept a secret from me and due to this my son was coached to not tell me about it although what was actually said I will never know. Eventually a mutual friend of my roommate and I reached out and told me he had seen my roommate "playing dad" with my girl and son at dollar tree that day. I remebrr that day I sat at a local park in my car sullen and confused having been led on via sms from her only to randomly stop responding and never managing to get any time with my son. This sort of thing had become a regular occurance She then began withholding my son all togethar simply not answering at all or lying about him being asleep ridiculously early in the afternoon etc etc. My own parents failed to suppprt me and are still failing to show any sort of care other than somehwat monitarily. In fact my mom and her were two peas in a pod and my mom activly participated in the emotional abuse partly becauee of being manipulated by her partly because my mother is emotionally abusive. If I had better support or access to court resources at the time I'm confident things would have gone much differently but I was so isolated and lonely and in a deep state of despair at this point and the only thing I still was enduring for was the brief and inconsistent times i got with my boy whom I love more than life itself. I managed to get a hold of her via phone at this point and said i was going to go to court and pursue custody since she seemed unwilling to value my valid role as father. Her mom and her immediately became overly nice and invited me over where they sat me down and offered to make a visitation schedule and kindly suggested I dident go to court. It wasent much but it was signifgantly more respect than I had been shown any instance prior so I gobbled up the manipulations and left feeling invigorated and hopeful. The schedule was never adhered too and within a few days it was back to me not even be able to get a hold of her let alone see my son. The final day I saw him before things blew up I went over to her house in the evening. My son wanted to play hot wheels so we began to line them up on the floor but my ex was hovering over us with a hostile air. I asked if we could have some space or if at least she could sit down and play with us and she just kept standing there glaring at me. This made me uncomfortable and my son noticed this by sayig daddy play with me! Upon hearing this she in a angry tone said "play with your effin kid isent that what you wanted to do soooooo badly" right in front of him. I asked not to be spoken to in front of him like that and she went and got her mom and started whispering abut me to her mom in the hallway while they watched my son and I. I got up and said I'm leaving this is innappropriate and she said "wow that checks out you harrass me to see your son and then you don't even wanna see him. how pathetic and typical" " you just want to stress me out dont you" you don't actually give 2 you know what's about him" right in front of my son again. I speechlessly went to leave and my son comes running after me begging me to wait. I'm on the verge of tears and i picked him up cherishing how warm he was and how lovingly he was clinging to me. I tentatively requested I be allowed to go for a walk with him around the block and her mom this time dismissively says ya go and shoos us out the door. I get down the driveway and my ex comes sprinting out of the house tears streaming down her face and a look of rage and starts hitting me while I'm holding our son. Amazingly he start4d pushing her away saying mommy stop mommy stop. She says you have 5 minutes or I'm calling the cops and goes back in. I walk him around the block and say "mommy's feeling sad right now but it doesn't mean that either one of us loves you any more or any less than we used to and it's absolutely not your fault." I go back inside and without saying anything I walk up to her and give her a hug wich my son joins in too. All the sudden she is happy again and trying to speak to me in a casual tone but I basically just leave without saying much else. After this a week of no contact with my son occurs which at the time was the longest we had gone apart I felt like I had no choice but to confront her and assert my rights AGAIN although looking back I feel terribley silly for thinking she was going to repsect me at that point. Keep in mind i ALWAYS was extrmely respectful of her space and never would just show up at her moms house even though our relationahip by many accounts was more than informal ennough to make an occasionaI drop in to say hi. In addition she on Many occasions had told me that I could just come by if she didn't Answer her phone or simular situation arose. I texted her I was coming by to say goodnight to my son and phrased it as a statement not a question or request. I was already on the way when I sent the message and so I arrived (unintentionally)before her being able to fully respond to it to see my romate come running out of the front door (this is when I first had proof ab about all the stuff I mentioned earlier about their secret relationship) and go hide in the bushes, her poke her head out the door and then shut and lock it and turn all the lights in the house out and close the blinds. I walk up to the door and knock to no avail and so I confront her about what i know and saw via sms. She directly denies all my proof and accusations and then after calling me crazy and a stalker blocks me on all channels of communication. I go back to my car and collapse in tears and ultimtly fall asleep. I wake up to see her quickly shoving a duffel bag and my son into her moms car and her and my roommate get in and she pulls quickly away. Upon passing me on her way to the main road she becomes aware that im still there in my car and she burns rubber and begins driving extremely fast and erratically. In a moment of panic I knew she was probably trying to go into hiding with my son to prevent me from evrr seeing him again and I fearing for the safety of my son and our relationship I regrettably felt compelled to follow. We got on the freeway where she initiatied speeds of 100 plus miles perhour weaving in between semi's and this sort of thing continued d for an hour in the interim I had called 911 and also she had pulled up too a gas station casually got out and pumped gas upon her getting back in the car I witnessed my roommate making derogatory and taunting sexual gestures referring to my ex and also what i can only describe as cuddling with my son in the back seat and became enraged and made some threatening motions with a large wooden shovel handle while standing next to her car that were directed at my betraying friend and I feel terrible for doing in front of my child but in the moment I was so desperate and upset by the psychological torture i had been through it clouded my normally good judgment. In the end the police couldn't locate us due to my 911 call continually being transfered fron highway patrol dispatch back to whatever city we were in at the times dispatch. Also ultimetly no physical harm or even any other attempts happend or anything to anyone of the people involved and eventually I gave up and drove back to my hometown. She immediately filed for a domestic violence restraining order and used a recording she took of me looking aggressive and threatening outside her car as proof im abusive and violent even though i have never been either of those things. Especially not violent. I may not have been the most mature or experienced or attentive partner for some of our relationship but anything I did was truly a far cry from the serious emotional anguish I have ben subjected to here and not abusive. I did not lie, cheat,manipulate, gaslight, trick, triangulate, turn family againts or ever feel superior or entitled to harm or use her in any way. I loved her and she did all those to me and now is trying to steal the most precious thing I have left in the world from me so she can emotionally scar him with her idea of what good parenting is which in truth is emotional abuse.. She moved my old roommate in to her moms house full time the very next day and from what I hear they both are abusing meth and who knows what else currently plus this guy is not somone that is safe around my son to that degree. He is not a healthy safe adult for such a young boy and in addition he is vindictive and dislikes me mostly because my ex told him I hit her and abused her which are absolutely complete lies. I'm facing a situation now where I have to sit by and watch my son turned agsints me and withheld from me and abused and eveyone treats me like im the abuser. I have tried to contact every dv organization in my local area and as soon as they hear what happend it's almost like I can Feel the switch flip and in the moment it's evident that all the abuse that I had recounted surviving through doesn't matter because I'm some "unhinged abusive guy that chases people down the freeway" eveyone I have reached out to locally has invalidated me and berrated me for "what I did" and successfully pathologized what I consider to be a huge mistake that I feel very regretful for loosing my composure but also a rather understandable emotional reaction to severe mistreatment and fear for my son. I'm beggining to feel so isolated riding the emotional Rollercoaster of self doubt and powerlessness that this abuse at the hands of my ex but dare I say worse yet the abuse by way of victim blame and invalidation from these people and organizations that exist to help dv survivors has caused me. which because I reacted I'm not worthy of being included as a survivor. Cn you offer any advice or support or suggestions? I'm terrified for my sons wellbeing currently and haven't been able to see him in going on 2.5 months now clear and to be clear the domestic violence restraining order is still temporary. I have the final hearing in August.i

So here was my experience taking my G in Cornwall. I heard from multiple people that I would be lucky to get 1 of 3 women because the 1 guy is a bit of an asshole.. So to my dismay.. I see a guy walk up to my car looking quite angry and throwing his hands into the air.
I rolled down my window and the first thing he tells me is that he was searching around the parking lot for my car and almost gave up and went inside. I let him know that I mentioned to one of the employees that the numbers stating which parking spot you are in are so faded I couldn't tell what my number was. The man inside kindly assured me that they are aware of this and not to worry, the examiner would find me.
Upon entering the car after the initial inspection, he immidiately started complaining about the heat. He was sweating and I couldn't relate. I had 2 layers and a heavy sweater and felt the temperature was fine.. But I immediately nodded, apologized nicely and made sure the heat was adjusted.
The entire test he had the window down with his head sticking out of it whenever he got a chance. This guy was sweating bullets. I kept thinking.. Is he sick or like.. Wtf is going on here.
Then his real personality began to shine. The way he talked to me could only be described as someone trying to punish a 2 year old by VERY slowly and sarcastically spelling out every syllable of a word. " NOWWWW yOuUUu TuUurn LeEefTaaah"
Anyway, other than his sarcastic mood swings.. Everything seemed to go well. I made one mistake turning into the middle lane on a left turn because there was a bunch of construction on the original lane and I probably made the wrong call - fair.
One thing I knew from practice and reading up on the test was that you need to check your mirrors in a very obvious way, and to do that every 10 seconds. So I would count my tapping my hands on the steering wheel, making sure I'm always checking regularly.
We finish the test and he proceeds to raise his voice at me. " You obviously didn't practice! you lied! you didn't prepare! you don't know how to drive! etc". I'm thinking to myself, holy shit. I actually thought I passed. Why is this man raising his voice at me. What is going on. (I am not a fighter, I tend to get quiet when people yell at me) So - I calmly looked at him and said, " I practiced and prepared the best I could" To which he got more angry and yelled again " OH YEAH, HOW DID YOU DO THAT GIRL. I DON'T BELIEVE YOU"
I told him my bf and brother have been testing my, I actually paid a retired examiner to take me out and test me, and I read the rules.. He then told me. " yeah RIGHT. You know why you failed?? because you didn't check your mirrors - barely at all! ".
This surprised me. I thought I failed because I went into the wrong lane once, but the mirrors? That's the one thing I was so obvious about I felt like I was being over the top every ten seconds. Every time I turn, every merge.
So, I said exactly this: " ohhh! I'm so sorry, I really thought I did" (in a very calm but sad way) I was blaming myself in that moment and trying to understand how that could be the case. He then OUT OF NOWHERE raised his voice again and said " YOU ARE NOT BEING COMPLIANT - I DON'T HAVE TO TELL YOU ANYTHING MORE" Im like.. I'm sorry.. What?! "You lost your chance. YOU'RE NOT BEING COMPLIANT. RULES STATE I DON'T HAVE TO TELL YOU WHY YOU FAILED, LOOK IT UP YOURSELF."
He then gets out of my car, slams the door, and walks off.
OK sir, who hurt you? Because this is the most UNHINGED experience I've had in a minute.
Needless to say. Won't be booking my test in cornwall again. Maybe I deserved to fail, maybe I didn't. I'll never know because this guy was literally a crazy pants who can't take 17 degree weather and acts like he's coming down off some kind of substance.

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

Forget the Farmer's Market - I’m hosting a moving sale this Saturday on the outskirts of McGolrick Park by Little Dokebi starting at 10 AM. Come by, find some great deals, and help me lighten my load before I GTFO of town. Some of these items will be in my apartment; we can arrange delivery if you're interested.
Here's a sneak peek at some of the items up for grabs.

• West Elm Couch - $200: A stylish and comfy sectional that's perfect for small living rooms. https://ibb.co/Xxnj2c5
• Vintage High-backed Morpheus Chair - $100: Looks just like the chair that Laurence Fishburne sits in in the Matrix. https://ibb.co/TvMmFYb
• Roku TV - $25: Still kicking, about 40 inches.
• Vari Desk Standing Desk - $100: This was $500 retail a year ago. Only defects are a bit of bong resin that got stuck to the left corner.
• 8,000 BTU Air Conditioner - $25: The little engine that could. This guy has kept my hot wife cool for years.
• Coat Rack - $25: Slim, stylish, lightweight coat and hat rack. I'll help you carry it over.
• Brother Laser Printer - $20: This printer has never failed me and seemingly never needs a toner refill.
• TV Stand - $10: Sturdy and stylish to support your TV setup. This was like $150 new about a year ago.
• Mac Desktop Computer - $10 - The computer works but is pretty old. Maybe you'd like it for a prop or to smash with a baseball bat, which I would do, but unfortunately do not have the time.

All items are negotiable – let's haggle!
But wait, there's more! I'll also have dozens of books available for just $1 each, along with various tools, kitchen supplies and bric-a-brac. Some stuff will just be free too.
See you at McGolrick Park this Saturday from 10 AM onwards.

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.