Club Vlad sat near the confluence of Central Avenue and Washington Avenue, Albany’s two main thoroughfares. Two stories with blackout windows and a box office from when it used to be a movie theater, it was swarmed with people when Dom first spotted it ahead. He was somewhat familiar with it: He passed it every day on his way to work, and it was always busy around his time of evening, even on weeknights. Part of him always wanted to go inside and be a part of the scene, but he never did.
The man in sunglasses - his name was Joe - led Dom toward the club, and even before Joe spoke, Dom somehow knew that it was their destination. “There,” Joe said. “We’ll go around back.”
Dom and Joe had been walking for what seemed like an hour but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. Dom stuck as close to Joe as possible as if for protection, and had become accustomed to his pungent smell. It was noticeable only at extremely close range, part sickly sweet and part…something else, something Dom could not place but still somehow recognized. They were two blocks from the club, maybe three, and Dom could hear the pulsing techo/house/whatever music as clearly as if he were standing in the middle of the dancefloor. He could hear the chatter of the people inside, or at least he imagined he could. He could smell them too: Beneath the odors of perfume, desperation, and spiritual rot was something richer, something blissful. Dom realized for the first time that he was parched - so parched - and drool filled his mouth.
A crowd of people waited outside Club Vlad, talking and laughing; some vaped, some stared down at their cellphones like Gollum with his precious ring. Dom’s first reaction was to avoid them. Perhaps sensing this…or perhaps feeling it himself…Joe ducked into an alleyway two doors down from the club. “We’ll go in the back,” Joe explained.
The back entrance to Club Vlad was a single door underneath a bare bulb. The music was so loud that Dom’s head began to throb. Inside, a dark hallway terminated in an archway filled with throbbing white light. Dread filled Dom as they approached it - he didn’t want to be around people - but thankfully they went into a room off the hall instead. An office. A cramped desk, a filing cabinet. A set of stairs disappeared into shadows.
“Sit,” Joe said.
Dom obeyed, sitting in the swivel chair.
Joe went up the stairs and Dom was alone. The deep coldness that had long settled into his bones made itself known again, and Dom leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his chest for warmth. The muffled music vibrated in his skull, setting his teeth on edge, and the various smells wafting in from the main room assaulted his senses. He was alternately repulsed and aroused by the crashing din of scents: The good, the bad, and the mouth watering. A sharp pain cut through his stomach like the killing edge of a knife, and Dom hugged himself tighter. Had his throat always been this dry? His throat felt like sandpaper; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and getting it unstuck hurt so badly that tears sprang to his eyes.
Dom rubbed his arms with his hands and tried to still his chattering teeth. He looked around for a blanket, a discarded jacket, something to cover himself with, but there was nothing. Only drifts of glitter on the floor and walls. He supposed it came from a party or something. He’d never been to a night club but it seemed fitting.
A sound drew his attention to the door leading back into the hall. A woman - no older than a girl - stood there, looking confused and unsteady. She was dressed in black, wore glow sticks around her wrists and neck, and held a red solo cup. “I have to pee,” she said drunkenly and laughed. “I thought this was the bathroom.”
A cold wind washed over Dom, and Joe was standing next to him. “The bathroom’s up here,” he said.
“Oh, good,” the girl laughed, “I thought it was here but I didn’t know. This is my first time here.” She held her cup aloft. “Take me to it.”
Joe glanced at Dom. “Come on.”
They formed a party as they climbed the stairs, Dom in the tear and Joe at the head. The girl stumbled and held onto the railing, talking incessantly. Her voice hurt Dom’s head, but the hot smell wafting from her was intoxicating. Drool coursed down his chin and his breathing came in short, hot bursts. Another sharp pain rent his stomach, and he winced.
At the top of the stairs, where the lights were cold and white, a woman in black stood by a doorway, her back ramrod straight and her eyes vacant. Her face was gaunt, her white flesh pulled tight across her skull. She wore a black dress and her black hair long and straight. Dom only caught a glance at her before looking away again.
She looked like a ghost.
“Show her the bathroom,” Joe said.
The woman’s eyes slowly, ponderles, went from Joe to the drunk girl. Her expression, like Joe’s, was dead. She had no expression. “This way.”
She and the drunk girl disappeared down the hall, and Joe led Dom into a room. Though it was pitch black, Dom could still see; not very well…but he could see. Suddenly, a blinding white light flicked on in front of him, causing him to stop and fall back a step. Ahead, through an archway, sat a vaulted chamber, at the center of which sat a man. To Dom’s light dazzled eyes, he seemed a proud king perched upon a throne, the skulls of his many enemies piled around him. Dom blinked and turned his head slightly to the side. His eyes began to adjust, and the world came into focus.
The man was not, as it had first seemed, sitting on a throne. Instead, he was esconded in a motorized wheelchair. The piles of skulls were actually various pieces of machinery, the kind you’d find in a hospital room. A clear tube extended from one of them to the side of the man’s neck: Yellow liquid flowed from the machine and into the man. Another tube, this one in the other side of his neck, filtered out a mixture of what looked like yellow pus and black sludge. An infected malodor filled the air, and the machines whirred softly as they worked.
As for the man himself, his appearance was normal at first glance, Dressed in a flowing red velvet robe, a blue and green blanket with a plaid pattern draped over his shoulders, he was portly, about fifty, and had shoulder length grayish hair with a bald spot in the middle. If the local theater put on a production of Hamilton, they could cast a worse Ben Franklin than him.
On closer inspection, he was not normal at all. His complexion was yellow and waxy, like a statue, and his body was lumpy, misshapen, resembling an overfilled trash bag stuffed with cotton. His eyes were sick and yellow, and something about his posture seemed…off. It didn’t make sense, but the only thing Dom could think was: He looks impossible.
Joe stopped at the edge of the shadows, where the line between light and darkness lay. He seemed to stand up a little straighter, a general greeting his king. “Here he is,” Joe said.
The man squinted slightly against the glare of the light and motioned with one gnarled hand. “Step into the light,” he said. His voice was soft and kind, that of a senile though loving grandmother. Dom imagined he felt a pull toward the man, and did as he was bidden, wincing as the light stung his eyes.
For a moment, the man stared at him, his waxen features frozen fast as stone. Then, a subtle look of compassion flickered across his face. Dom did not believe in God, but he suddenly felt like a man standing before God, his every thought, feeling, and transgression laid bare. He had never felt so naked in his life, so exposed. He had the sense that the man before him could see everything, knew everything.
“You’ve been through a lot,” the man said. It was not a question, but a statement.
Everything Dom had been through over the past couple of days came back to him in a rush, and hot tears filled his eyes. He nodded.
The man nodded slightly, more to himself than to Dom. “Kneel down,” he said, “I want to look at you.”
Dom knelt without question.
The man lifted one hand and touched Dom’s face, tilting Dom’s head from one side to the other like a farmer appraising a horse. His fingers were long and bony, his nails ragged and unkempt; his touch was like ice. He brushed his knuckles over the purple bruise on Dom’s cheek, and there was such gentleness in that one act that Dom broke down sobbing. He leaned into the man’s touch like a cat and gave voice to his misery.
“Shhh,” the man said, “it’s all over now.”
“W-What’s happening to me?” Dom asked.
In his heart of hearts, however, he already knew.
“You died,” the man said patiently. “And you came back.”
Hearing it stated so plainly, Dom cried even harder.
“Only a handful of people throughout history can claim to have defeated death,” the man said, stroking Dom’s hair, “and you’re one of them. You should be proud.”
“How?” Dom asked between sobs. “What am I?”
The man stroked Dom’s cheek. “You’re the same thing I am.”
At that, Dom looked up at the man. “What are you?” he asked.
A little, knowing smile touched the man’s lips, and when he spoke, his canine teeth were longer and sharper than before. “I’m a vampire.”
“No,” Dom moaned and shook his head, “no, no, no.” He grabbed the man’s hand and held tight, his tears coming faster. He trembled like a frightened animal and squeezed his eyes closed, as if by doing so he could escape the hell his life had become.
But there was no escape.
“You have a lot of questions,” the man said, monologuing now rather than speaking directly to Dom, “I had the same questions when I was your age. I have spent the last forty-two years of my life trying to answer them, but every answer I find leads me to still more questions. There’s one thing I’m certain of, though.”
Dom blinked the tears from his eyes. The last of them had been squeezed from his dead tear ducts and he had no more to give. He simply stared into space, trying to come to grips with his situation.
“There is freedom in death,” the man said. “Death is easy. It’s simple. Once it’s over, you feel no pain, no sadness, no grief. It’s living that’s hard.”
As he spoke, he brushed his long nails across Dom’s scalp. It was a soothing feeling, and served to calm him. “People have so many troubles.” A note of revulsion crept into his voice. “So many needs, so many desires. People are complex but we’re not. We’re easy to please. A vampire wants only two things: A little blood and one more night.”
The combination of his touch and his voice had pacified Dom to the point of almost tranquility. “I’m scared,” Dom heard himself mumble.
Nodding almost reluctantly, the man said, “Fear is one of the only emotions a vampire can’t escape. Everything feels fear. Do you want to know a secret?”
Dom nodded.
“I’m afraid too,” the man confessed. “I’m afraid of death. Well…death as it were. I’m terrified that my body will rot away and leave me a pile of bones somewhere, unable to move but still aware”
A shudder went through Dom.
“As I’m sure you’ve seen yourself, the movies lied. We rot just like any other dead thing. Our flesh decays, our organs turn to sludge, and we go from rational men to monsters whose only thought is feeding.”
Now it was his turn to shiver.
“But…you’re not like that,: Dom said.’
The man smiled. “I’m lucky, I guess” A thin yellow fluid began to drip from his nostrils. He did not seem to notice. “What is your name?”
“Dominick,” Dom said.
“I’m Merrick,” the man said, “and this is my family.”
Dom realized that they were now surrounded by others, ten in all. They stood ramrod straight, their eyes vacant and their faces devoid of humanity. They were mainly men, though one was a woman. Some were pale, others were blue or black, and one was little more than a skeleton clad in withered brown skin, a white button up and jeans hanging from its frame.
A thought occurred to Dom. “You said my brain was going to rot…”
“Not necessarily,” Merrick cautioned, “though it’s possible.”
“Am I going to be…?”
“Like them?” Merrick asked. “Braindead and staring?”
Sheepishly, Dom nodded.
“Maybe,” Merrick allowed. “But these people are free of everything that troubles humanity. You were human just a short time ago. I’m sure you remember all too well what it was like. The constant politics, the moral quandaries, the philosophical pontificating. Human beings - and make no mistake, we are humans - were not meant for all of that. We’re animals. We were made to hunt, fuck, and sleep. Somewhere along the way, we got pretentious and started complicating things.” He looked at Dom, sizing him up, seeming to read him. “Things that animals take for granted, people work their entire lives to achieve. If an animal wants to fornicate, it fornicates. If a man wants to fornicate, he needs to be tall, handsome, rich, funny, progressive when it suits women but traditional when it doesn’t. If a man wants a home, he has to work thirty years for it. An animal has only to dig a hole in the ground.”
Every word struck a chord with Dom.
Because every word was true.
“Unfortunately, the living won’t allow us to live that freely, so we have to hide. These people here - my children - need a guiding hand, a protector, someone who can lead them. And I, an old man, need help.” Here he smiled playfully and patted his bulging stomach. “My body is mostly sawdust and cotton balls at this point, so I can’t do much. I share my wisdom and my knowledge with them, and they take care of me.”
“Why haven’t you…rotted?” Dom asked.
“Embalming fluid,” Merrick said. “Blood doesn’t sustain you. Embalming fluid does.” He smiled at Dom. “It can sustain you as well. If you’ll stay with us. We’re not the most attractive bunch, but we’re a family, and we really wish you’d join us.”
A family.
Dom’s parents had broken up and he lived with his mother. He had never had a family before, and had always wanted one, a real one, like in the movies. Even as a grown man, he sought the love, acceptance, and belonging that a family brings. He sought it in the wrong ways, but that - and not sex, not romantic love - is what he had really wanted all along.
This is what he had wanted all along.
“I want to,” Dom said.
Working quickly, Merrick slashed his wrist open with his thumbnail. An ugly mixture of stale blood, siphoned from someone else, and embalming fluid leaked out. “If you choose to drink, my blood will be in you. You will be my son and I will be your father. You will obey me as your father. You will do whatever is asked of you for this family, as this family will do for you. You will not reveal the secrets of this family to anyone outside of it. You will protect this family from all threats, both inside and out. Do you accept?”
He held his bleeding wrist out to Dom.
Dom did not question, nor did he hesitate. He grabbed the hand of his father, brought it to his mouth, and drank from the seeping wound. The fluid was cold, thick, and vile.
It tasted like belonging.
“Have you fed yet?”
“No,” Dom said.
“Before you do, I have a question for you. Who did this to you? Who made you?”
Dom thought. Everything was hazy. “Was it someone in this room?” Merrick asked.
Dom shook his head. “Her name is…” he wracked his brain. “Heather.”
Merrick nodded. “So there’s another out there.” He looked at Joe. “Did you turn her?”
“Yes,” Joe said.
Merrick looked annoyed. “I’ve told you not to go out and feed on your own. You have no self-control. You drink too much and create others, which creates headaches for the family. Tomorrow night, I want you and Dom to find her and bring her here.” “Okay,” Joe said.
Merrick looked over Dom’s shoulder. “Jess? Can you come here?”
The black haired woman from earlier came out of the shadows, the drunk girl with her, arms tied behind her back. The girl looked dazed. “Max,” Merrick said to the skeletal corpse-thing, “help her.”
Max, Jessie, and another vampire named Matt tied chains around the girl’s ankles and hoisted her aloft via a pulley system. Upside down, she swung back and forth. Merrick instructed the others to leave the room. “Max,” he said.
On his way out, the corpse-thing produced a knife and dragged it across the girl’s throat, slicing her skin; blood spurted out. Max leaned in to taste it, but Merrick shooed him away. When he and Dom were alone, Merrick told Dom, “Go to her.”
But Dom was already on his feet, his eyes transfixed by the crimson life flowing from her pumping throat. The hot, rich smell filled his nostrils and tantalized his senses. Saliva filled his mouth and his stomach panged with hunger. Some small, human part of his decaying brain screamed at him to stop, but he did not listen to it. He had been human for almost thirty years, and he had been miserable. Now, in this chamber of the undead, he gave himself over to his dark thirst. Like a man in a dream, he shuffled to her, inhaled the sweet scent of her blood, and shivered. He was so lost in lust that he hardly noticed the strange, cumbersome feeling of his descended fangs.
“Drink,” Merrick said.
Opening his mouth wide, Dom sank his teeth into the girl’s neck. Her blood filled his mouth and splashed down his throat. Warmth thawed the ice in his marrow and spread through him. His dead heart began to flutter, then to pound. His knees shook, his body trembled, and his mind rolled away on a tide of ecstasy.
As it was his first meal, he couldn’t drink much. Before long, his stomach was hard and distended and his body burned with fire. He collapsed to a heap on the floor and twitched as random nerve endings, stimulated by the blood, began to misfire. He felt full, warm, and drunk. He closed his eyes and let himself drift.
Dominick Mason had died.
And this…
This was heaven.
***
With all that was happening in the city of Albany, the last thing Bruce Kenner needed on Thursday morning was a visit from Bertha the bitch, but that’s exactly what he got. She flew into his office like she owned the place and instantly started in on him. Young man this and have you talked to Joe Rossi that. You’d think she was his boss. And if she were his boss, he’d quit and find another line of work. He heard McDonald’s was hiring.
Bruce almost snapped at her. He’d been up most of last night riding around Albany and looking for Dominick Mason. He and Vanessa expected him to drop dead somewhere close to the medical examiner’s office, but if he had, he’d done so in a super secret location.
“I’ve been busy,” Bruce said, “but I’m going to go by his place of work today.”
Tired and still confused over that bullshit from last night, he had no energy to argue with the old crone. He could spare a few minutes to talk to Joe Rossi, he figured. He assumed that Jessie was safe but he owed it to her to check. If he found the girl, he’d take her back to her grandmother (sorry, kid, really) and try to avoid arresting the guy. Unless he came off as a creep, then he’d bust his ass. See, people assumed that an older guy with a younger girlfriend was some master manipulator hell bent on evil deeds. Sometimes they were, but hell, his grandparents married when his grandpa was twenty-one and his grandma sixteen. They were married for fifty-five years and loved each other to the end. Maybe it was innocent, maybe not. It wasn’t his job to judge either way. Just gimme the girl so I can get her grandma off my back and no one gets hurt.
“It’s about time you started doing your job,” Bertha said, “I heard on the police scanner last night that you people lost a body. What kind of town is this? Your coroner is a drunk who makes up stories about bodies walking away. He probably sold it to black people.”
Bruce couldn’t help it; he snorted laughter.
“Now what would black people want with a dead body?”
“Probably to use it as a prop in one of their rap videos.”
Bruce didn’t know much about music videos, but he was pretty sure that the people who made them didn’t like the smell of corpse any more than the rest of us. “I’ll be sure to round up all the local rappers for questioning. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Luckily for him, there was not, and Bertha left shortly thereafter. Alone and able to hear himself think, Bruce sat back in his chair and went over his mental checklist for the day. First order of business, go to Club Vlad. Second, find Dominick Mason. There were others, but that was the most important. He wanted the body found so someone could get to work explaining this whole weird thing. There had to be an explanation. The thought that there wasn’t, that a dead guy literally rose from the grave and disappeared into the night, deeply disturbed Bruce, and the more this whole thing remained ongoing, the more disturbed he would become.
Needing some fresh air, he decided to hit up Club Vlad.
Outside, the day was hot and sunny. Waves of heat shimmered from the pavement and not a single breath of air stirred in the whole world. Bruce slipped on a pair of sunglasses and drove over to Club Vlad. It occurred to him that the place might be closed during the day; it was the only place Joe Rossi was associated with. His address in the computer system was Glens Falls, far to the north. The messages he sent Jessie indicated that he lived onsite at Club Vlad.
The build, wedged between a corner store and a check cashing place, was as grimy and dumpy looking as it had always been. The front windows were blacked out and covered with posters and fliers for punk concerts, house bands, and far left political organizations: The Albany Social Justice Center, something called Bash the Fash 2025, and Bruce’s favorite. ACAB. He caught some kid spraying that on the side of the police station once, and under extreme police torture (ie, a good tongue lashing), the kid told him it meant All Cops Are Barnacleheads.
Bruce shot the kid on the spot and planted a gun on him.
How's that for barnaclehead?
Calm down, he didn’t really do that. He made him clean the graffiti off with a toothbrush. LOL he was out there for hours.
The sidewalk in front of the former theater was empty save for some little. The box office was abandoned. There was no open sigh, but then again, there was no closed sign either. He parked his cruiser at the curb, killed the engine, and got out, sweat instantly springing to his brow.
To his surprise, the door opened. Inside, a couple steps led down to a dance floor. A bar lined the wall to his right, and a couple more sets led up to a railed platform filled with tables. Above, a huge balcony looked down on him. A giant disco ball hung from the ceiling like a pair of glittery nuts and there were cages here and there. Presumably where girls danced go-go style. Oh yeah, nothing hotter than a woman behind bars. Why do you think Bruce became a cop in the first place?
Speaking of glittery nuts, there was glitter everywhere. On the floor, on the tables, on the bar. It twinkled like flecks of diamond and swirled around your feet when you walked. Bruce imagined big buckets of the stuff raining down on the dance floor at midnight and he shuddered. Imagine having glitter stuck in your hair. That shit would never come out.
Music played from the sound system, not as loud as it would be during operating hours. It sounded like ‘80s metal, not exactly what he expected from a place like this.
Some say life she's a lady
Kinda soft, kinda shady
I can tell you life is rich
She's no lady, she's a bitch
Being morning, the place was deserted except for a man behind the bar, busy at cleaning the countertop in anticipation for the night’s events. He was tall, Hispanic or Italian, and feminine, with a single earring and a tank top.
Bruce moseyed over to the bar and the barkeep looked up, missing a beat when he realized the fuzz was here. He sat down his rag and walked over. “Can I help you?” he asked in a whispy voice.
“Yeah,” Bruce said, “I’m looking for Joe Rossi. Is he here?”
“I don’t know,” the bartender said. He looked nervous. “I can check.”
Before Bruce could answer, he scurried off, leaving him alone.
They suck my body out
But friend there is no doubt
I'm gonna pay the devil his dues
Cause I'm sick of being abused
Bruce looked around, his fingers absently drumming on the countertop. Club Vlad was a clashing mix of grunge and glam that made his head hurt. He imagined what the place must be like at midnight, packed and noisy, and nodded to himself. Yeah, this was the spot, he guessed, the place all the cool kids went, if they went anywhere anymore. Hell, if he was thirty years younger, he might come here.
He had been waiting for almost twenty minutes when a voice spoke behind him. He turned with a start, and beheld the strangest man he had ever seen in his life. Short and plump - lumpy, even - he sat in a wheelchair, a red blanket draped over his shoulders and his hands resting on his knees. He was about fifty with sparse gray hair falling to his shoulders and a plastic-looking face. He looked like a wax statue of Ben Franklin come to life, and a deep sense of disquiet stirred in the pit of Bruce’s stomach.
Just can't fight the temptation
It's become my inspiration
Gonna get myself an axe
Break some heads, break some backs
It was only then that Bruce noticed the sickly sweet smell of death.
It seemed to come from the man in waves.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” the man said, “my name is Merrick Garvis and I own Club Vlad. Maybe I can be of assistance.”
Bruce grew up in the south where manners and saving face were paramount. His mother and his grandmother both taught him that it was impolite to stare. Maybe he'd been in New York so long that he’d forgotten himself, or maybe Merrick Garvis was just the strangest looking man in the world. Either way, Bruce couldn’t help gaping at his strange appearance. Recovering, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I -”
Merrick smiled and waved one hand. Why was it so goddamn skeletal? “Don’t worry. I was injured in a fire a long time ago and this is the best they could do for me. To be honest, I’d stare too. What can I help you with, officer?”
“I’d like to talk to Joe Rossi,” Bruce said. “I understand he works for you.”
“He did,” Merrick said, “but I had to let him go. Did he do something wrong?”
Bruce sighed. “Well, yeah, he’s shacked up with a sixteen year old runaway.”
A look of concern crossed Merrick’s features, such as they were. “Oh, my, that is concerning. I haven’t seen him in several days. I assume he went home. He lives in Glens Falls.”
Bruce nodded, his mind working. If Rossi really was in Glens Falls, that meant the whole mess was someone else’s problem. He could send Bertha up there to bother some other poor barnacle head and be rid of her. Yet…he didn’t think Rossi was in Glens Falls. Bruce had a knack for knowing when people were lying, and he was certain that Merrick Garvis was doing just that. It couldn’t be a facial tick, as his features were largely unmoving, like clay. Maybe it was something in his cloudy eyes. Maybe it was the tone of his voice. Or maybe Bruce had the shining and knew things just for the hell of it. In any event, the certainty that Merrick Garvis was lying grew stronger with each passing second.
“Why’d you fire him?”
“He got drunk and hit one of the customers.”
“What did he do?” Bruce asked. “What was his position?”
“He was a bouncer.”
“Aren’t bouncers supposed to hit people?”
Merrick fumbled. “Well…not to punch them in the face for bumping into them.”
“How long did he work for you?”
“Six months.”
“Did you ever see him with an underage girl?”
“Of course not,” Merrick said, “you have to be twenty-one to get in. I make sure everyone’s ID is checked at the door.”
“What if she had a fake ID?”
“Then I guess she’d get in, but I’d assume she was of legal age.”
“You said he shoved someone, when did this happen?”
“Last week,” Merrick said.
“I thought you said he hit someone.”
Merrick again fumbled. “I did.” Now his face seemed to darken a little. A strange yellowish liquid, too thin to be snot, began to drip from his nostrils. Bruce barely suppressed a smear of disgust. “I understand you have a job to do but playing mind games with me isn’t going to solve anything. I can give you his address. Other than that, I can’t help you further.”
“Fair enough,” Bruce said. “But I’d like to see your ID please.”
Merrick glared at him. “I suppose you want my name, rank, and serial number as well.”
“Actually, yeah, I’d love that.”
Merrick drew a deep sigh. “Okay.”
In five minutes, Bruce had Merrick’s ID, social, and all other relevant information. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have bothered, even though he was well within his rights to ask for this information from someone he was questioning. But something about Merrick Garvis was off, and not just his weird face or strangely bulbous body. Bruce was just smart enough to realize that something was going on here, but not quite smart enough to even begin to imagine what.
When he had everything he needed and saw no reason to stick around, Bruce bid Merrick farewell and left the club. Before he could do anything else, he got a call from dispatch: Officer needed assistance in Pine Hills. Bruce slipped behind the wheel and went forth to help, momentarily putting Merrick Garvis out of his mind.
But soon or later, he would get back to him.
Oh yes he would.

MDP(Most Demonic Perverts).
They will repeat “Join us” until you go insane. What throws these deranged psychopaths into a frenzy is when their evil venomous words do not bother, reach or harm the person
Each and every night, MDP conducts an air raid of High Altitude Pseudo Satellites, swarming the atmosphere, hijacking actual satellites to spy for their human trafficking and prostitution organization.
Each MDP facility contains a male homosexual drill instructor training prostitutes on how to capture people, how to trick people into signing a contract.
Do not let these extremist radical terrorists force you into suicide or anything, hold out! The more that are resilient, the quicker this will be resolved.
Once these radical terrorist biohackers successfully causes an individual to commit suicide or die in anyway, they burst from the persons dead body, giggling and laughing as they kill humans for fun and infects another person as if they were a horrific virus.
They bulge and twitch the persons eye lids as a sign of their technology’s existence within the person. If you notice any of these signs in either you or your family, you and/or them have been hijacked by biohackers.
This is an outbreak of radical terrorists in high platform airships and drones, illegally eavesdropping and trafficking humans into sex prostitution utilizing electromagnets, radio waves, and radiation
They can force a person to cough with sonic weaponry, imitating illnesses on a wide scale for control and as well, to assimilate identities illegally.
Don’t believe me! Research it!
STDs are being used to keep a person stuck within their prostitution rings.
MDP is an entire organization of drug addicts with advanced technology trafficking humans. They are all the same, against the people, not one of these demon-lovers are on the people’s side.
Cesspool homosexual orgies with drugs and STDs are systematically given to new cult members to keep them stuck in one place.
Whatever you do, do NOT care about them. They will try to use your empathy to have you kill yourselves.
Don’t panic! The hostiles are on Debilitating/Sedative drugs. Stop your bitching and fight your way through it until the threat is resolved. Keep relaxed. Let your friends, family, and kids know! Awareness destroys their recon
It’s NOT the “Illuminati”.
Keep Calm/Be Confident and Live.
Study magnets/Electromagnets.
You are not missing out on anything if someone or a group is pressing on you. Go do you! Do not let anyone influence you!
Their command centers are hidden within some call centers (Do not be paranoid!). It is urgent that you stay on the surface if you work around them. Do not let them systematically control or allure you into signing a contract to an unknown authority to make love with their merchandise in plain sight as spies or to be involved in illegal reconnaissance operations.
As long as you do not sign a contract for, and I quote, “everything you always wanted!” You will be fine.
YOU ARE NOT INVITED! Do not submit to any of their offers! They can alter words in the mind with their weaponized drones.
Stop Feeding This World Wide Threat!
Stop Surrendering because it’s too much to deal with! They are on high class drugs nearly 24/7 everyday!
Reclaim your identity or have it taken away by a criminal organization!
Non-lethal weapons modified to be lethal weapons!
Their captive women/children are their front line against men! They WILL try to force you to kneel to the their dictator, Solih, the shapeshifting hybrid. You will then be susceptible and subjected to heavier sonic attacks as well as abuses.
Do Not Quit! Do NOT Surrender!
Observe them for one year if you do not believe me. Take notes, keep quiet and carry on with your own personal life in the meanwhile. You will take notice of their patterns.
MDP terrorists are pretending to be schools as part of their scripts! They murder doctors and healers of any kind if they do not submit to being trafficked into human/sex trafficking facilities/homes!
They are not Authority of any kind, unless you surrender and you sign their contract and accept them as your handlers.
THIS IS NOT A GAME!
Stall them out! Do not move!
I can’t believe I am stating this. What is written below is not intended to be satire or a joke. This has actually contributed to their narcissism, their abuses, and mass murders
Stop masturbating to these terrorists! They are raping and abusing you and your fellow citizens, HEAVILY! Your fellow Maldivians are being raped over sonar hearing that only YOU can hear, and you masturbate to the Maldivians moaning, being raped??
You do NOT need to sign a contract to the MDP using sonar hearing to be allowed to marry, be intimate, or are subjected and forced to “marry” their trained terrorists.
They are paid liars and spies that trains prostitutes how to screw their targets exactly the way their targets want. This is done to have the target “test” the human traffickers prostitutes before they sign to keep them. Instead, you are selling yourself into human/sex/drug trafficking rings
Do not accept their “lust” they do have spies in person that are drug abuse/humans traffickers. They will bribe with sex and “free housing” then make you sign your life away, with you under the impression that you are going to some brothel or “sex club”. You will be susceptible to extreme abuses revolving around rape, drugs, and traumatic physical and mental abuses. Sound Proof Your Homes!
THEY ARE ALL THE SAME!!
They use prostitution to allure their new victims! DO NOT BELIEVE THEM!
The MDP consists of homosexual elitists, human traffickers, terrorists, Eavesdroppers/Spies utilizing sonic weapons/sonar hearing weapons to euthanize/Traffic and enslave the general public. DO NOT GO!
They will go to war with federal officials/agents to keep their bodies enslaved!
Their cults authority are primarily shapeshifting Reptillian-Jinn-Human hybrids that are seeking “World Domination utilizing Sonic weapons” in an attempt to force the innocent and the vulnerable into surrendering themselves to human/sex/drug trafficking ring.
They are not the police!
Spies are very obvious to point out!
They are illegally eavesdropping families to extract their young. Their groups primarily consists of autistic and the mentally ill, that abuses a series of class A drugs to traffick and create new slaves.
Do NOT sign the contract! It’s ridiculous! They have two contracts, one for you to surrender, and the other for you to contract yourself into surrendering voluntarily. They also wordplay aggressively.
( I am disclosing the depths of their criminal business for abusing sonar hearing technology to assimilate identities, killing ruthlessly while induced under highly potent drugs, mass kidnappings, weapons, and prostitution/pedophilia. You will be stripped of all privileges and rights to these lifelong detention facilities!)
The threat progresses like humans, but the hostiles are progressing entirely against your person.
They are trying to steal your entire identity, do not sign the contract! Otherwise you will never make choices in your own lives again!
They look like everyday people, but do not be paranoid. Be aware of your surroundings and leave a way out for yourself if you are ever caught in a potentially dangerous situation. But do NOT be paranoid, delusional, or psychotic about it as not only would you be more susceptible to any abuses, your vulnerabilities may force you to make the wrong decisions. Man/woman up if you want to keep your own free self.
Do not give into extreme paranoia!
Most Demonic Perverts human trafficking networks has expanded. Be weary of unknown terrorists/individuals giving victims rides to parties, “mansions”, or a trip to the ghetto islands for drugs
They are not the police! They are not aliens!
They will use love to manipulate you.
Think of online scams or common pop up scams you would receive on your daily Internet commute. Same thing except, they want you to traffick yourself into a entrapment facility. Using various sexual exploitation tactics, infinite gaslighting strategies to force negative emotion to their targets and threats a long with actions of inhumane abuse cycles in hopes of subduing their targets
If you accept any bribes and sign the contract offered, you will be paying taxes to a criminal organization/network, times the current state and/or government taxes you already currently pay for, along with any other extra expenses that will occur if you sign the contract.
Ex: Government Taxes + Criminal Organizations Taxes = Taxes x2 or more since you will not be in control of your currency any longer.
If you do not see actual law enforcement individuals in front of your physical self, DO NOT GET ON THE GROUND! They are NOT any authority to the people outside of their trafficking homes!
Drug abuse/Addictions attracts these hostiles. They WILL psychologically trick you into subduing yourself.
Do not be fooled by their fake friendly appearances and smiles. You will be robbed!
Pay attention to your aiground horns! But do not panic!
They are NOT the government or federal agents. They are spies from criminal organizations worldwide!
If you do not believe me, then what I am speaking of may not not make any sense to you now. (Do your own research, don’t take only my word for it) But a great number of those who reads my news update will understand that we are dealing with outlaws that are mainly responsible for the random disappearances of children.
Be aware of homes with “No trespassing” signs, unusually high activity and surveillance cameras in ghetto islands.
They are not the MNDF/MPS/NASA/God/You/yourself/or anybody else you know. Even though some has defected and joined this horrific network full of criminals and pathological murderers, pretending to be friendly or family.
Global Human Trafficking Evolution
They want to ultimately farm your kids and sell them into prostitution!
Human traffickers will start a ground war to capture their victims and to keep spying on them with aircrafts.
Cyber ventriloquism/Sonar Hearing, common tactics.
This has been worsening since 2008.
The criminal agents will immediately disinform and satire this disclosure or any as if nothing was wrong or happening right now.
Educate yourselves to save yourselves! This is NOT a test from any governments within the security fields (MNDF, MPS or any other) though these organizations may or may not be involved, credible evidence is needed to prove that these organizations are apart of the worlds most inhumane experiments utilizing electromagnets and radiation to subdue any man or woman.
Disinformation campaigns are set up and used by the villainous organization to keep the public from knowing about their “spying” on various individuals around the world and from raising awareness on their secret experiment using electromagnets and a machine that rewrites the brain in a flash.
The threat mimics medical conditions to stay hidden. Very heavy human/sex trafficking organization and operations getting worse everyday.
This is NOT a special or a unique opportunity for anyone, do not fall for this! You will be chipped, trapped, and abused inhumanly like a wild animal.
They also possess disinformation campaign divisions made solely for the purposes of covering their trafficking and tracks.
The technologically driven human traffickers will preemptively meditate on murdering you if you do not reclaim your identity!
Do NOT surrender yourself to MDP! Traffickers are seeking your signature to lock you away inside a facility.
Do NOT play hero or games with extremists. They are studying every word, step, and actions you make. With the goal to either capture, subdue, or mind break an individual into harming theirselves and/or other’s.
The traffickers wagers that they can defect millions into trafficking the victims into their criminal networks/organization and facilities around the globe, the organization calls it “hiding bodies” utilizing the individuals past as their entire method to cause the person as much psychological harm as inhumanly possible.
Powerful electromagnetic radiation is beamed into the victims skull to send and receive data, bypassing the skull to access the brain as if it was a computer hard drive. The program is only to torture and ruin lives. If not forewarned about it, lives will be abducted, or killed secretly.
Traffickers can completely invade and compromise a person and force the victim into either surrendering theirselves to their abusers and never be seen again, or the victim is left with nothing, outstripped from jobs through 24/7 focus groups to psych a person out of a job and attempt to have their victims deconstruct theirselves and others around.
This is an everyday 24/7 torture system designed to traffick, kill, torture, and molest an individual.The traffickers breed with their brothers, sisters and other blood related individuals for experimental and pedophila is a major part of their cult, DO NOT BE FOOLED!
PEDOPHILIA, TORTURE, NECROPHILIA, RAPE! These are four pillars of the Most Demonic Perverts.
Silent/Covert inbreds are waging war against innocents
All out war with mankind on one side and Most Demonic Perverts on the other.
Hostiles are taking hostages secretly through aggression and various fear tactics. MDP terrorists can cut breathing with their weapons.
Love your spouses and who you are and they may spare you by moving on to someone else.
Protect yourselves with neodymium magnets!! Protect your brain with magnets! Hover the magnets over your head.
(This is NOT fake news, we have been compromised, completely and utterly compromised!)
DO NOT GO!!! There is nothing there that will benefit you!
MDP preys on any vulnerabilities that a human possess. Stay strong to those that are affected, investigations are becoming more widespread
They entrap individuals for experimental purposes in a room with 1 bathroom and 40+ prostitutes and drug addicts, and other mentally ill criminals who enjoys their jobs in systematically destroying human lives in the most inhuman and extreme ways.
They are lead by drag queen homosexuals with a goal to create slaves by converting them into homosexuals, making it easier to control individuals.
They also have these systematic gay orgies where they abuse a plethora of drugs (crack, meth, cocaine, scopolamine, etc) before severely abusing and raping a singular victim inhumanly. The victims were once a targeted individual before they gave up and accepted becoming a sacrifice for MDP.
If you are a new victim of these crimes, do as much research as possible and disclose, disclose, disclose. DO NOT MOVE TO VOICES THAT ARE NOT AROUND YOU!
Schizophrenia is NOT the reason due to the lack of evidence, proving that schizophrenia does not exist. Do not keep silent for this horrendous criminal network! They are all traffickers and they kill in the most inhumane way and call it their “fun”.
TLDR: MDP is a nefarious organization of drugged up lunatics. The are traffickers and are replicating theirselves to be your spouse, military officials, or any government identity to force and fool any person into trafficking theirselves into a criminal network through endless gaslighting through megaphone like devices that targets one individual at a time and projects their voices bypassing their targets auditory cortex. Once the drone targets a person, they stay on that person 24/7 everyday. If you are instructed to move to Winnipeg Canada or anywhere for bribes, sexual favors, money, and/or free housing through any means of transportation, Do Not Go! You are a victim of a class action crime that has gone out of hand. Do NOT give these criminals anymore power by giving yourself up to them. You did not win anything and being targeted by these drones means that they chose you to either traffick or to be murdered covertly using drones with electromagnetic weapons attachments and technology which allows sonic hearing that the MDP criminal organization network uses to communicate directly to one another without needing to use a phone. Captured victims are forced into unpaid labor and forced prostitution. The targeted victim will be missing and stored away within one of their run down homes/facilities, unable to escape or leave. The handlers forces their new members into various ritualistic initiations cycles within their cultist group kneel, to sniff up drugs.
Once captured, they immediately commence their routines of total control and exploitation of the fully captured person. The victims are broken down to less than nothing due to repeated rape and abuse sequences. Felons within the MDP organization are to either traffick or murder a victim because their data brokers does not want to exposed and has paid a great sum of currency to illegally purchase the personal records of their targets and to send a weaponized drone to the illegally purchased individual, equipped with biohacking weapons to break down their targets into trafficking themselves, committing suicide or murdering others. They run criminal schools/organizations that breeds more human traffickers and prostitutes into the public. They Will Say Anything to Force You to move!
“We need you!” “We love you, Move!” “We want to lust your body.”
They work on every emotion within their targets brain and force the individual either into a blind rage or to try to confuse the person with their own emotions through a series of gaslighting and abuse, into moving their targets to them (I can not stress this enough, do not let them force you into trafficking yourself.
The felons also pretend to be some type of close friend to their victims in order to keep control over them. They are fully trained and prepared personally to place severe torture on one individual (they pair up and gang up on one individual at a time and “jumps” said victim. They act like grade school kids, but that’s due to the heavy influence of their handlers, crack and cocaine that has degenerated them. They also are heavily involved in the drug/prostitution ring where everyone gets raped and are all under heavy mind control from a cocktail of different drugs including cocaine.
The felons has their victims set up as empty puppets who are under complete control. The victims now turned felons/rapists/addicts are raised specifically to absorb abuse, while abusing drugs to remain numb during their operations, scopolamine, crack and cocaine to remain numb to any words from their victims.
They train individuals this way so they can deal more damage than receive it during their illegal operations. They are completely separate from reality and are all under one criminal control.
They are aware of people resisting and they promise to do everything to try to force their targets into submitting to their handlers. Warning! These Malicious Drone Operators WILL Say ANYTHING to force a person to move!
The terrorists all have their handlers speaking directly into their ears during their operations to murder or capture the innocent, giving them orders on their scripts made to place torture and destroy random individuals, innocent or not.
They tend to target the innocents more since these felons find it more satisfying to rape, brainwash, and intoxicate the innocent heavily until the innocent is completely empty. As soon as as they’re successful, they turn the captured individuals into drug addicts, whores, and forced laborers, working for gift cards and sexual/party favors.
They will always refuse to leave their targets unless the person gives in and moves to them. Or if the victim gathers any evidence leading to the arrest and shutdown of MDP
To the many different individuals that takes the time to read this, I am taking the time and energy out of my life to warn everyone about a massive data breach that has occurred and that is endangering many lives, including my own at this very point in time.
This type of data breach is the very worst of its kind. Before, the biggest threat was internet crimes, malware, and viruses that may have affected your assets if you were to click the wrong link. Now your actual physical being is at risk by MDP data brokers who are currently funding these criminal networks and are providing illegally purchased records of random individuals around the world.
Now, the MDP criminals today have gone above and beyond the internet and are sending drones with biohacking technologies attachments to random individuals. These weapon attachments magnetizes to specific muscles within the human anatomy of the hijackers choosing. This allows the hijacker to manipulate small muscle tissues within the human body such as rotating an individuals eyes at the hijackers will to keep their victims sleep deprived. They focus on the genitals primarily to exploit the human desire to make love with another individual through the manipulation of their genitals such methods, human traffickers and terrorist organizations are now utilizing these magnetic weapons attached to drones to lock a persons own body up for ransom which could be assets, or force you to sell your body into slavery.
They offer the remote of the victims body, to the victims they use to manipulate certain muscles and veins in the body in exchange for the capture of the victims body.
MDP human traffickers have evolved from footwork to airborne to stay covert. Hiding behind custom biohacking drones ordered online and through various other biohacking black market trades.
“Voices in the head” has been declassified and debunked as electronic biohacking through electromagnets, radiation, drones and neurophones funded and powered by criminal Fusion Centers, MDP who fund radical extremists and terrorists around the world. This was thought out to be a medical condition that is often confused with schizophrenia or another mental illness. But I challenged the theory and discovered that the public has been heavily misinformed.
If a person never had a history with voices in their head that were not of their own voices, and they have proof of their attackers transmitting these frequencies, how could it be a medical condition if the person has evidence of the voices being transmitted directly to his/her skull? So, not only the voices are there, they are also instructing people to either murder, rape, or traffick themselves to one of the many fusion centers, human/sex trafficking homes within undisclosed locations, “ghettos”, and divisions that could be in any closed off homes, (homes with unusually active activities) so they could focus and convert their captives through a series of abuse and ritualistic routines 24/7 everyday.
They force the individual to impregnate one of their paid prostitutes that are doppelgängers to their targets. They do this to raise another human into being another drug addict/trafficker, born and raised into the criminal network so it’ll appear more natural to kill, traffick and brainwash victims.
The MDP pretend to be on the victims side, but they really are not. They all have an illegal drill instructor that only teaches the trafficked “warloot” abuse, rape, and how to torture.

Previous
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So, if you’re just joining us, I work at a haunted zoo now. Since I’ve gotten some rest, it feels like I’ve got my head on straight, at least, so I’d like to continue where I left off.
I sat on the floor in the office after meeting the ghost until I’d settled my rattled mind (and realized I’d forgotten to ask her name, how rude is that?). I took a deep breath and got up off the floor. Walking over and falling into the rolling chair in front of the large screen of camera views, when I brought up the camera that covered the area in which I’d spotted her, she was still there, and it seemed she hadn’t moved an inch.
Sitting there, at a loss, I continued to watch her. The ghost hung around for another five minutes or so, appearing to look at a few things off-screen, though I’m not sure what. Then she walked off into the forest and left the view of the cameras. I wasn’t sure if she vanished into the ether or if she’d gone looking into the trees to look for something.
But that wasn’t the end of the job interview, so let me jump back there. It continued into what kind of animals the zoo had, with Andrew asking me how much experience I had with dangerous animals.
I took a moment to consider the question. “So, ah…I’ve been going hunting and fishing with a neighbor since I was sixteen,” I told him. “We always have to keep an eye out for gators, bears, and hogs. Then there’s snakes, of course…snapping turtles… Since I’ve lived here my whole life and been aiming for a job with wildlife for a long time, I know a lot about the animals in Arkansas in general. But good advice for all of the above is avoid them, so I’ve had encounters, but I don’t know if you’d say I have experience with them.”
“That’s fine,” Andrew said, nodding. “That’s an answer I’m satisfied with. Now, the ghost was the appetizer, Ripley; here’s the main course. To start with, the pay isn’t twenty-five an hour. It’s fifty.”
Staring in shock for a moment, I asked, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. But that’d be weird to post online considering what applicants think we need, so I halved it.”
“That’s… Okay, why?”
“The animals are already here. You just can’t see them.”
I stared at him for a long moment, some disbelief worming its way into my expression, before saying, “Sorry, what?”
“There’s a chance you’d naturally never see them, or at least some of them,” he continued casually. “It depends on both your genetics and how long you stay on the job. I can naturally see six of them, but that’s it. Suzanne can see all of them, and more. Some are what people would label demons or ghosts. Or magic. Mostly you’d call them cryptids. The ghost was just a warm-up; I mentioned her first because it never takes more than a week to see her if you work the night shift. If you manage to handle her okay, soon you’ll be able to see the animals too. The more time you spend on the grounds, for weird reasons,” he said, wiggling his fingers in the direction of the back door, “the more you’ll be able to see.”
“So, this…this is a zoo for cryptids,” I echoed slowly. He nodded once, waiting to find out what kind of reaction I would have. I gestured vaguely around the room. “If this is a hidden camera show, will you cut me a check for showing up and participating?”
Andrew coughed out a chuckle and shook his head. “No joke. There are a ton of stories out there that have been written to death, pulverized until they’re not the Grimm stories of old and instead they’re Disney films. A lot of those stories come from what some humans have seen. There are dozens of other worlds pressed up against ours, and occasionally things come through by accident. If they’re smart, they’ll lay low and then make their way back when they can. If not, they become local folklore until someone helps them back. I’m just from London, but Suzanne is from somewhere else. She hires people like us for this zoo. Humans.”
Sighing, I shook my head. “That makes no sense. Why would she hire a muggle for a magic zoo?”
Andrew burst out laughing at that, and then waited to gather himself before he continued. “Fair point, but this is less about magic and more about animals, and you’re missing some information that will explain it. First of all, if I misjudge an employee, and they think they can make bank by outing the endangered and valuable animals we have, it’s easy to relocate the zoo.”
“Because magic?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he replied, ignoring the thread of skepticism in my tone. “That means it isn’t the end of the world if that happened, though it is a pain in the arse. But second…let me ask you a question. Speaking of reality shows, say the Discovery Channel put out a call to replace Steve Irwin when he passed. Imagine they had a line out the door,” he said with a gesture, “of people who thought they had the skill and natural talent to replace him, to take on everything he’d been doing his whole life. How many do you reckon would lose an arm, a leg, or their life, by the end of the day?”
My lips parted in surprise and I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re saying people from…wherever…they’re just as dumb as humans, but they’re worse, because they actually think they can handle these things.”
Andrew pointed the pen at me. “Things. Exactly. You called them things. Suzanne and her friends grew up with them and would call them animals. These animals have dispositions and temperaments that we’ve studied for as long as there have been scientists. Where Suzanne’s from, they know the weaknesses of these animals, and also they’re in enclosures here, even if you and I can’t see the walls because they’re invisible things called ‘wards’. If I hire someone who’s got magic on top of all that, they’ll have almost no instinctive fear.
“Everything here is nocturnal, and every one of them is a hunter. Some of these things? Humans see them and they pass out. Not that I want you passing out, but I need someone who is scared of these things, who knows to stay out of the enclosures no matter what. Not someone who thinks they can train them to do tricks, who gets close enough for them to grab a mouthful of hair and drown them. Once, we had a night shift manager injured, and once killed, because they didn’t take these animals seriously enough.”
Thinking back to the Sea World orca incident I knew he’d been referencing, I remembered wondering how someone at that level of her profession could be so careless as I watched the video on YouTube. It made sense when he explained it like that. I hesitated before mentally throwing my hands up and going all in. “So, why put this place here, then? If they’re endangered and also dangerous, why have a zoo at all instead of just a small reserve?”
He pursed his lips, looking disappointed in me. “Ripley. You know that already. You already said as much.”
Thinking back through our conversation, I said, “The rich humans who pay top dollar to see supernatural animals.”
“Not humans,” he told me. “But people, yes, and they are rich, and they’re making donations and spending their money on a ticket here because everything we have is endangered.”
“So…”
I just let my voice trail off and my mind started to drift. Andrew remained silent, letting me do so. There’s that thing people say, ‘I believe that you believe it,’ which is just a kinder way of saying, ‘Bullshit.’ Parents say it about closet monsters. Psychologists say it to people who say they’ve been abducted and probed by aliens. I wanted to say it to Andrew.
But I also wanted a job. If it meant working overnight at an empty zoo, that was fine. When it came down to it, especially when I took the tone of our conversation into account, this was a zoo specifically focused on preserving endangered ‘animals’, and it was allegedly doing important work. Also, if this turned out to be the real deal and I started seeing the animals, I would deal with it, just like I would deal with an enclosure that had a lion or tiger or gorilla. If it came with a ghost and invisible creatures, I really didn’t see what the difference was, if I couldn’t go in the enclosures either way.
On that note, I’d like you to imagine a kid who looks at a roller coaster, watching everyone screaming and grinning as they go up and down and all around and they’re like, ‘Heck, I could do that! That looks like a blast!’
Then they get on, the first drop hits, and they realize they’ve made a terrible mistake.
“All right,” I sighed. “I can’t say I’m going to turn down a job just because it’s going to be scary. Especially not one with this paycheck.”
Andrew smiled. “Awesome. There’s an adjustment process for anyone working here, similar to a dog that gets adopted, actually. I know the general guidelines of, ‘three days, three weeks, three months’ in terms of milestones, until they finally feel they’re where they’re supposed to be,” he told me, “and you can think of your time here along those lines. I really think you’re a great fit, and once you reach the milestone of working here for three months, I’ll officially consider you our new night shift guard. And I hope you’ll stay with us for many years.”
I nodded and smiled at the flattery of an employer wanting me to work a great job for them for a long time. I’d never had a dog, but those milestones were well-known among anyone who knew animals, especially dogs. The first three days, the dog is getting to know its new digs, exploring, and decompressing. At three weeks, they’ve gotten used to their environment and are starting to get comfortable with their surroundings and the routines of the humans they live with. By three months, they know the rules and follow them, they trust you, and they feel they are where they’re meant to be. I could only hope to be so lucky.
I saw the ghost two days ago and she has yet to make another appearance (for those who are curious, I asked, and her name is Leila), and I still hadn’t seen any animals. I did hear one, though, I feel compelled to note. A growling roar sounded from the lake on occasion, echoing across the vast zoo, sending a shiver down my spine. Whatever that animal was, it sounded gigantic.
Andrew said there was apparently a group that wanted to visit for a birthday and they were offering a huge donation, so he let me know they were making an exception and that this group would be walking through the park that night. That meant I’d be watching people watching animals that, as far as I could tell, weren’t there.
It was anticlimactic. Even the three people who came for the tour just looked like people, not like aliens or something eldritch from another dimension, and I stayed in the security office the whole time. Andrew was the one giving the tour. I watched them spend about five minutes at each enclosure, the hour or so that they were there passing without incident. It was clear that they were able to see all the animals, though, since they motioned excitedly at each enclosure and spoke to Andrew, who presumably answered any questions they had.
If they could see the animals, that was that. There was still that niggle in the back of my head, from my twenty-three years of life never encountering anything like ghosts or cryptids, telling me that this was ridiculous. Waiting for someone to knock on the door, a camera mounted on their shoulder, to tell me that it was a big joke and they wanted to see how long I’d play along. But from all I saw, this was a real place with real, invisible animals.
I do carry a taser and pepper spray in my capacity as a security guard. Though it isn’t for the animals, since they’re in the enclosures; they’re actually for the rare instance of a break-in. Andrew mentioned that it had happened several times it the past, someone trying to steal an animal in the hopes of selling it on the black market. They’d been successful before, but apparently my predecessor Roger was good at his job, and mostly they left in handcuffs.
I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of confrontation, but my job was to call Andrew and then confront the person, not kick their ass. That’s what the police were for, or rather, the people Andrew would call in lieu of police in certain situations.
Fifty bucks an hour. That’s the key here.
Andrew hadn’t set up direct deposit, since he was sticking with a strategy of waiting to see if I’d continue to work there once I found out myself dealing with the animals (I’ve decided I am going to just call them animals). Instead, I got an old-fashioned check after my shift every Friday. The number on the first check was delightful. I went out that evening and had a big dinner at the local diner, order my most expensive favorites on the menu and a big slice of pie for dessert.
When it came to the paychecks in general, though, I had this weird feeling of not wanting to tell my dad and brother about the fact that it was actually $50/hr. I previously mentioned that my dad, his name’s Nathan if you’re curious, works at a local grocery store. Our town has a couple food franchises, but I think its size is just short of whatever threshold Walmart uses to decide where to open. He earns $14/hr. and that’s after the tiny raises he’s gotten over the past thirteen years.
That’s not to say he’d feel bad about not making as much as me. On the contrary, he would be ecstatic for me and really proud. But, like me, he’d be suspicious. That hourly rate was the biggest hint that this was more than just a private zoo for cryptids. And as soon as that fat check cleared without problems, my dad wouldn’t be satisfied with reassurances; he’d want to come visit the zoo and look around.
I’d told him it’s a private preservation with scheduled (expensive) visits only and that it had only eleven animals, so he’d been appeased by me brushing off the idea of a visit. Also, I took a few photos of my workplace; one of the security room, one of me sitting in my chair, one photo of the many screens I watched, and a selfie where I was feigning sleep out of boredom, slouched in my chair with my mouth open in a faux snore. That let him feel like he knew where I was and what I was doing, and that I was safe.
But if I told him I was making double what he thought, my father would practically order me to quit. No job was worth my safety, he’d tell me. I was quite of the opposite opinion, however, considering how crucial any and all conservation efforts were these days. Especially with the steep extinction levels due to humans competing with other animals for space, not to mention climate change. Working in any job that helped preserve species and keep ecosystems in balance, or put them back in balance, was so important.
Then again, my father would also point out something I had realized right away: the fact was that I was working with endangered species that were not from Earth. I wasn’t helping my planet. To be honest, though…that didn’t matter to me. Especially after that talk with Andrew about why he hired a human for this job, I figured whichever dimension these animals came from had the equivalent of us, razing forests to the ground, clouding the planet with pollution, and leaving the animals with no avenue of recourse when yet more land was taken from them.
I really do hope to keep working here for a long time, though, and not just because of the money. I can’t help it; I want to know what these things were, and I want to work with them, to do the job of a zookeeper. The same way you go up to the chain-link fence to get close to a carnivore on the other side who thinks you’d make a nice afternoon snack. You just want to be closer to them, to experience that incredible, daunting feeling of being in their presence.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before I got what I wanted.
The day after we had the tour go through, I was doing my sweep when I saw the ghost again. She was sitting on a small boulder in the same area I’d seen her the first time, looking identical, blood covering the front of her slashed shirt, the wounds visible underneath. I stopped and stood there for a moment before I decided to raise my hand in a small wave.
The young woman cocked her head at me and raised a hand in the air in an imitation of my gesture, her expression showing a bit of curiosity.
She was low-key, seemingly not concerned with my presence, looking at me as a novel phenomenon in her world. I wondered what that world consisted of. Was she always here, sometimes visible and sometimes not? Or did she have another world next to ours, in the ether, where she left everything in this world behind and floated in her disembodied form? Did she still feel emotions? Was that really curiosity on her face, or was I projecting? Did she feel happiness? Fear? Did she have the option of moving on, or was she stuck here?
Many questions that I might never get the answers to. And that was assuming Andrew knew the answers, since I’d never met Suzanne Cooper and he hadn’t even mentioned that possibility. This place was clearly her baby, but I’m sure running it was a lot of work. Plus, if she was rich enough to own it, she was rich enough to have other businesses and charities to run.
When it comes to the enclosures, they’re all wrapped by a barrier of some kind, though never one that seems adequate. There was not a single place with the ugly metal weavings of a chain-link fence, and no stretches of circular razor wire. Instead, there are nice fences. Black iron, or wrought steel fencing in a similar style to the one circling the perimeter of the zoo, just shorter and with different patterns. Or a spaced picket fence, the wood stained in some tone of brown, or a split two-rail fence. As if to say, ‘This is the border of your enclosure, but we’re just letting you know out of courtesy.’
When I started to pass enclosure number seven last night, a young woman’s voice spoke, “Hello.”
I startled, unaware that I hadn’t been alone. “Oh. Hi,” I said, staring at her standing a few yards in.
She had been next to a large tree and I hadn’t seen her. This enclosure was behind a picket fence, and she walked through the large area of wild grasses and flowers that stretched across the other side of the fence. There were fewer tall grasses closer to the fence, which I guessed was because it had been tromped down by her regular pacing along it when there were visitors, or if she wanted to see the various enclosures of the zoo. Her sudden appearance was a bit weird, considering I had been expecting to see a cryptid and instead I was looking at, it seemed, an attractive Asian woman.
She wore a black kimono, the soft silk robe draped gently over her body, with beautiful patterns of cherry blossoms, more so over her left side, and red and blue birds with their wings spread. A sash wrapped around her abdomen, she wore socks and sandals on her feet, and her hair was up in those rolls that gave volume to the style.
I was no expert on any fashion, much less that of another country, so I just assumed it was all traditional Japanese clothing. Most likely, the visitors who came liked to see a certain time-honored style and that’s what she stuck with. Or maybe she played on stereotypes. That would be amusing.
“I’m Yui. It’s nice to meet you,” she spoke, arriving at the border of the fence and holding out a hand for me to shake.
I’d been standing about three yards away from her, and I’ll be honest, muscle memory tried to kick in. But I only made it two steps, my hand starting to rise, before I froze, the hand falling limply at my side. “Nice to meet you, too,” I answered, my voice quiet.
Damn. I wonder how many times that honey trap works back where she comes from.
The pleasant look on her face faded, and she lowered her hand. “You won’t shake hands with me? Isn’t that rude?”
“I mean, I kind of like my hand where it is. You know, attached to me.”
Her demure smile widened into something more amused. “I would never do something so revolting.”
Looking her up and down, as if more visual information would give me more knowledge of what she was, I asked her, “What would you do?”
“I would be less wasteful,” she said softly.
A finger of ice trailed down my spine, and I had the sudden image in my head of her grabbing my outstretched hand in an iron grip and yanking me over the fence, leaving me to sprawl on the ground. Then killing and consuming me efficiently, without a single careless step, the same way humans slaughtered pigs, using everything from the hog but the squeal. I was struck with a shiver at the idea of her consuming everything from me but my screams.
Slowly, I took one step further down the path, then another. Just as I got to a walking pace, though, I realized the woman had started walking too, in the same direction. I’d have eventually gotten to the end of her enclosure and keep going, leaving her behind, but she spoke up. “Are you leaving?”
I came to a stop, meeting her gaze again. “My job is to walk the zoo every hour. Then I’ll get back to the security room and stay there until my next walk.”
“Have you met the others yet?”
I hesitated before saying, “Just Leila.”
She blinked languidly. “That means nobody welcomed you here.”
“Andrew did.”
She didn’t reply to that. Instead, she slowly started to lean forward, and I flinched backward a few steps further as I saw insect legs start curling out from her back.
No. Not insect. Arachnid.
The eight legs ended in small ‘paws’ with tiny claws, a layer of hairs covering the leg from top to bottom, like any typical tarantula. I took two more slow steps back and my mouth went dry as the jointed legs just kept lengthening, until they were large enough to lever her off the ground.
My gaze had been on the spider legs, but my heart skipped a beat as I realized her human legs had melded together and turned into a bulging abdomen. Her skin was shifting to a carapace, eventually all the way up to her shoulders and down her arms, her fingers elongating and her nails stretching to claws. From there down, her body was that of a pale tarantula with pedipalps the size of my arms and piercing fangs in her jaws that looked like they could take my head off.
There was a moment, my vision blurring, where I was worried that I might piss myself. The part of my brain that still had its humor intact in that moment told me that I should keep an emergency set of clothes in my car, or at the very least, start wearing Depends to work.
“I show you my true form,” she said softly, her voice now raspy like an eighty-year-old after a lifelong smoking habit. “Welcome to Suzanne Cooper’s zoo. The night shift guard for many years was Roger, before he retired and the zoo moved, and I miss him dearly. What should I call you?”
I choked on my words. There was no way my throat was going to cooperate enough for me to clearly get a sentence out. Instead, I realized my legs had taken control of the situation themselves, unsatisfied with my conscious brain’s decision to stand and stare, taking steps backward. I backed up a yard, then five yards, then ten.
My mind focused on the fact that spiders don’t waste anything, and pictured my demise. I’d be wrapped in a cocoon, killed, and made nice and mushy before she had me for dinner.
The whole time, my brain was a frenzied mess, my pupils were probably the size of dimes, and I was staring at that tiny, pathetic fence between her and me. There was so much adrenaline pumping through my body that I felt like my bones were vibrating. The fence was, to my eyes, the only thing between us. The only thing keeping her from tackling and killing me. My only hope was that she’d do it quickly.
But she didn’t move. As I absorbed her innocent, polite words, the look on her face was calm, and I wondered if this was typically the way a conversation went before she devoured her prey. I wondered how many people she’d eaten. Not humans, not people from Earth, but the ones from where she came from. The fact that she doesn’t scare the shit out of those people means they’re staggeringly dumber than humans.
Finally, I rounded a corner, both relieved at having her out of my sight and worried that she would take that moment to come find me. When she’d been within eyeshot, I had at least known where she was and could run in the other direction. But I didn’t hear the sound of faint footsteps moving rapidly toward me. All was quiet, in that deep, smothering way that only an empty business in the middle of the night in small town America could be.
My hands trembling, I barely paid attention to anything but the confirmation that my surroundings were free of the colossal spider as I finally got back to the door. Grabbing the handle and letting my eyes dart around for about ten seconds and my ears prick for the slightest sound, I finally swiped my key card across the pad and went inside, shutting the door behind me and engaging the backup deadbolt.
Maybe that was why they had decided on keycards. If I was running from something and panicking, using an actual key or inserting the card like at a hotel would keep me from getting to safety considering my hands were shaking enough to mix a margarita.
Walking over to my chair, I fell into it, letting my body flush itself of terror as I looked up at the cameras. There she was, still in arachnid form, exactly where I’d left her behind that rinky-dink fence, casually looking around and slowly pacing back and forth. I stared at her as my racing heart gradually slowed, and a minute or so later she turned on her eight legs and walked back into the trees.
Whatever invisible fences the enclosures have apparently work, which is nice, because I wasn’t keen on getting killed by one of the creatures here. And that’s what brings me here, spilling out everything that’s happened so far. Because nearly passing out from terror isn’t something I wanted to deal with at work, obviously, but I keep going over what she did in my head again and again, and I feel like I reacted like a child who spotted a wolf spider on their bed. I started to worry for my overactive sense of self-preservation, at least in my capacity as an employee here.
The spider didn’t even try to hurt me, and so I was feeling a bit foolish. Even annoyed, actually, at the fact that I’d freaked out so hard and took off instead of trying to engage in at least basic conversation. I got the sense that she wasn’t at human-level intelligence, but I was never going to be able to hold any level of conversation with an alligator.
Sure, she did mention that she wouldn’t be so crass as to yank off my hand because she’d rather just have my entire corpse, but wouldn’t a wolf do the same if it was hungry? Wouldn’t any carnivore? Actually, they probably would’ve been satisfied with one of my hands. The fear here was from the fact that she turned into a giant spider. If she’d turned into Clifford, I would’ve reacted the same way, if not better than, meeting Leila.
With that, I decided I’m staying on the job. Considering how frustrated I can get with foolish people, it’s a bit hypocritical, and I’m being a bit of an idiot. But…there are definitely wards keeping them in their enclosures. Also, I signed up for creatures for another dimension, whether or not I believed in them at the time, and I will not let encountering my first one in an objectively boring way be the reason I quit.
The money is a factor, I’ll grant you. Of course it is. And I can’t spend it if I’m dead, but all signs point to surviving as long as I don’t do anything dumb. Also, yes, I’ll admit there’s a not-so-little voice in the back of my head that’s desperate to know what else is here. I never thought I’d do something like this, but finding out these things are real, I honestly do want to learn more about them.
Still, though, I decided to call Andrew at the end of my shift to ask if the pepper spray and taser I carried worked on a certain spider, as well as the other animals I’d yet to meet.
​
Previous
***
/storiesbykaren

“Would you sacrifice yourself to save your entire species?” Carl talked through the intercom in the reactor room as he fiddled with more and more wires. He was looking for a very special wire and a very special place to stick it in. The quiet thunks on the other side of the door quieted down. They had been trying to breach the door for over an hour, and really, it hadn’t done much else but annoy everyone involved. If the aliens on the other side of the door had any humor, Carl would have told them that shoving a cactus in their rectums would have been a better use of everyone’s time.
“Of course I would.” The intercom spat out an answer from the not so professional ‘professional negotiator’. Their offers for Carl to open the door had been promises of great wealth, safety, and accommodations. To be clear, Carl did believe the xeno’s offers, its kind were notorious for being devilishly anal about following the letter AND spirit of agreements. If Carl opened the door, he would most likely receive the benefits and live the rest of his life in comfort.
“Would you sacrifice yourself to save a planet of your people?” Carl had walked over, ripped open, and looked through another set of wires as he spoke to the negotiator. He was glad that the room blocked not only the sight of the ugly bastards, but their stench. Before the war, he’d been on one of their stations. Genetic tampering had been rampant in their culture for millenia, and it meant that their appearance had been turned into a fashion of sorts, though a slowly shifting one. It was too bad that they had apparently taken some very, very strange ideals this time around. Abstraction was the name of the game for them, and Picasso would have been proud of what these aliens had made themselves into. Colors, shapes, and even the smell of their bodies were up for fuckery.
“Of course, would you not?” The alien sounded exasperated, and after the roundabouts Carl had spent the first hour talking to them about, it was no surprise. He was pretty sure that he’d spent at least twenty minutes talking about clowns and cocaine. Carl knew that there were only a few more panels where his prize would be waiting inside of. The ‘red wire’ was randomized in every ship. It was crucial, it was very important to the functioning of the reactor, and by extension, the orbital station. Gravity manipulation wasn’t easy. It wasn’t supposed to be easily found by any normal engineer. Its existence was kept down-low and close to heart. People spilled their hearts out over drinks.
“I’d like to think I would, though you never know until the moment arises. How about a continent? Save a few hundred million for your life?” Another panel down, and no wire to be found. A small notion of doubt had entered Carl’s mind by this point, it was pretty unlikely to not have found THE wire yet. Ten panels down, two to go. He spent a small moment playing eeny meeny miny moe between his two choices. The song said ‘right’. His gut told him to break the rule of the song, however, and he started taking the left one apart.
“If I had to.” And there it was. Carl could see that he had been right about the xenos. Little by little, Carl had started to see why this war had begun in the first place, and why these pricks would eventually lose it all. They had none of that go get em attitude to offset their bulging egos. They expected everyone they met to work off of a calculated list of pros and cons. Every action should be explainable by numbers, logic, and personal gain. Though even they had a small sense of collective good, not much, but a little.
“How about a city, let's say. . . 5 million people?” Carl just wanted to know how the negotiator’s personal scale weighed life. He felt like he was getting real close to the creature’s balance point. He also knew that the negotiator was grasping at straws to get the ‘illogical and unpredictable’ human to open the door for the xenos. If the negotiator was a human, they’d be ordering every type of explosive to blast the door before Carl could finish cooking up his plan. Carl took all the joy he could from the situation. He honestly felt like Bugs Bunny in the moment, the other side was simply so, so fucking dense to his plans. They’d probably hold a wrench for him if he just quickly opened the door and told them to. Fucking xenos.
“Hmmm, I would.” Carl had found the special wire that he’d been searching for. It wasn’t red, but it was as thick as his forearms. He carefully inserted a wire of his own into a joint on the wire, making very sure that it was attached properly. He wanted the following moments to have some theatrical value. Something to really talk about in whatever afterlife there was or wasn’t.
The intercom started buzzing for a moment, but he quickly screamed at the top of his lungs into the transmitter to shut the xeno up before it could start talking again.
Carl had his own monologue to get through while he dragged the massive wire across the room.
“You people work with variables and numbers so much more than we do, you’ve certainly realized that by now. You’ve had to really sweeten the deal you originally offered me and STILL nothing. We must be a very interesting debate subject in your universities. A statistical curiosity that befuddles the known models and expected values.”
“And you really fucked up when you thought we were almost like you. You saw our math, you saw our logical arguments, and you thought us to be mirrors of you. The problem with that is that we sent the people most like you to talk to you. Not a good decision for either of us. Good thing for us is that even our people who most resemble you are still human. They told you to fuck off real fast when you gave them a spreadsheet of expected taxes, exports, and laws. You started the war because we gave you more shit than your asses could handle.”
“AND THEN you tried to handle the war like it was a particularly ornery business meeting. You still are. I have been holed up with the MAIN REACTOR CORE for more than an hour. I have been insulting you, playing dumb, playing smart, and talking about SACRIFICING YOURSELF for most of that time. Why, most humans would have BLOWN UP with rage after all the shit I’ve been pulling. The situation would have gone CRITICAL if you had any sense.”
“It’s like you want this all to come CRASHING DOWN.”
“But hey, don’t worry about that, would you sacrifice yourself out of a personal vendetta against a single individual? No lives saved, nothing particularly impressive gained, really just an all in all stupid thing to do. Would you?” Carl was holding the door open switch in one hand, and the special switch in another. For him the scene would end in what he expected to be a very bright light. But there was a bit of foreplay to be had before going all in.
“No, of course not, that would not be good for anybody.” The slamming on the door started again, it was impressively fast, but still useless. Carl pressed the switch as far as he dared before he felt it teeter on the very, very edge of activation. He smiled and thought of the last good steak he’d had, some months ago now.
“On the contrary my friend, why if you only add spite, revenge, and everything sweet to your little calculations, you’d know that it would be very good indeed.” Carl pressed the door open switch and watched as four shapes crashed through and fell on the floor. A fifth one peeked through the doorway. Carl waved at him with the fun switch.
“My favourite explosives are flashbangs.” Carl twitched his thumb just the tiniest bit, and the reactor started to laugh in response. The reactor’s laugh was very quickly getting louder, so Carl had to yell at the very top of his lungs to get the last part across to the negotiator.
“ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY HAVE A LOT OF BANG IN THEM!!!”
The reactor thought this comment was especially funny, and broke down in laughter.
The light was red.
This one was very fun to write, I am not good with writing serious stuff, but I think I do a good job with using expressive language and shitting out references.
I hope you enjoyed reading!

Hey guys I have an interesting situation here. My company was subbed out through a designer to install some wool carpet in a house. Typically no problem at all. This stuff however was not normal and around a quarter inch thick. It was an all natural fiber with zero backing, just stitch and latex. The customer was concerned with the height difference so I was told by my boss to turn and tack it. Not my favorite thing in the world and typically It will look fine but this stuff is so thin you can see everything even when you bury the staples.
Info: 5/8 hardwood on top of 1/4 luan=7/8" 3/8 fiber pad with 1/4 inch wool=5/8"
So the difference being a quarter inch. So I overlapped the carpet over the tack strip and had to staple down. The pictures make it look like its bulging more than it is...however I hate it.
What would you have done differently? I said that it needs (most likely) a custom wood transition because the carpet is so thin. Poor choice by the designer all around

Hello all. If by any unfortunate chance you were on the 07:15 Red Line train to Miyapur and the whole train, especially the last compartment (not ladies, the other one) was stinking, you have my solidarity. WHAT IN THE FUCKS’S NAME WAS THAT SMELL! I could not fucking breathe.
Well, let me tell you, it was not that guy who was eating lays. Even I thought it was him.
The real culprit and their situation is ridiculous. I don’t know whether to laugh or judge them.
After careful observation I saw that the lady wearing a light green Salwar Kameez had a little wet patch around her calf. It was bulging. I stared long enough and figured she was moving her entire body but not that calf. On closer inspection, you could see yellowy outlines here and there.
GUYS I’M NOT SHITTING YOU, BUT THE LADY SHAT HERSELF.
Easily in her early thirties if not older. She confidently acted like she was talking on the phone and all but it was all a show of bravery. I mean she was the only person who did not even act like it was stinking whereas the whole compartment were cupping their nose and mouth. My sister and I were the only ones who figured out the true culprit.
I did one additional test just to make sure. I swung by her when getting down. Let me tell you it was the most unnecessary thing I’ve done in my life. The smell filled up lungs and the ceiling of my mouth. Fucking pungent shit. Literally.
As we were getting down though one uncle was taking the biggest of yawns. A real lion roar face. That man had no clue what he was stepping into. It was not just air he was breathing in. It was the deadliest substance active in Hyderabad at that hour.
Lady in green, if you’re reading this, you should’ve got off the train and washed up. It happens. Next time don’t persist. Please. For fucks sake.

Ok, I was listening to the pod (I don’t remember exactly which episode bc I’m listening out of order but) Drew and Enya were talking about the person that shit all over the plane and Drew said something like “I don’t understand how they effortlessly shake the turd out of their pant leg like they’ve been doing it their whole life.”
This reminded me of a memory I BURIED yall so here it is
When I was in 1st grade, my teacher went on maternity leave early because she went into premature labor, so they didn’t have subs lined up and for the week, they just combined both of our small 1st grade classes. The other 1st grade teacher, Mrs. Joan (name drop bc she’s probably dead by now), she was old as actual dinosaur jizz like that bitch was taking her last breath basically.
Anyways, picture day happened and we all went in Mrs. Joan’s room and she had our 2 classes line up with each class next to the other. An important part of the story is that I was this week’s line leader. As we were walking down the hallway, that bitch started STANKIN. So all of us little 6 year olds were holding our noses and laughing like “oh this bitch crop dusting the hell out of us.” So like, I turned back to look at the boy that was standing behind me with my shirt held over my nose, and as I do I see his eyes widen and he points at her ass and when I turned there was a booty hole BULGE.
By this time, my class was convinced that Mrs. Joan wore diapers because she was that damn old. So everyone started chattering that she shat in her diaper. And she was also kinda deaf, so if you talked quietly she couldn’t hear you. But the tea was so hot that she turned back to tell us to quiet down. That turn dislodged the booty bulge and before my little 6 year old brain could process that that bulge was traveling, it rolled out the bottom of her pant leg and plopped onto the carpeted hall in front of me, so close that I couldn’t react and I kicked that damn turd. After that, I stepped out of the way but I think I was in such shock that I didn’t say anything and as I stood to the side, I watched the chaos go down as the people behind me stepped in the turd, more smaller turds fell out, and it all just got crushed into the carpet.
And I do wanna say, this was traumatizing to the point that I remember specific details. That shit turd was not a softy. That was not a “I think it’s a fart.” It wasn’t even something that could have slipped if you genuinely couldn’t hold it anymore. It was a solid scat. And BIG. Like the kind of thing that too much fiber builds in you. This bitch was dehydrated. Which means that unless she has been doing an ungodly amount of anal her entire life, that bitch had some force behind it.
The whole 1-3 grade wing got out of school early and got the next 2 days off because it was so squished in the carpets all up and down that hallway that they had to replace them and it was a biohazard.
Anyways, she wasn’t fired, because our town was so tiny there was literally not a single soul within 100 miles to fill her spot that quickly, but she was asked to not come back next year. And with our town being so small, a lot of the staff and teachers were close friends with my parents so not long after my teacher had her baby, they had a lil get together so that everyone could meet the baby and while us kids were playing, I went in the kitchen to eaves drop and my teacher was talking about the shit situation and I guess Mrs. Joan tried to blame one of us students but she had shit stain skid marks on the back of her ankle and cuff of her pants so she did not get away with it🫶

be me; ex LizarDM
be also me; Adonis Valintellis (Tiefling Paladin), Thalia Milakos (Human Ranger) and Zaahir Kehmet (Earth Genasi Wizard)
the soldier stifled a yawn as he patrolled the sandy beaches of Kalikos
clouds hid the island from the moon’s spectral glow, casting the land into darkness and turning the often silver seas black as coal
his shift had been a long one and just as boring as expected
where once his mind had been sharp and alert, it now lingered on thoughts of a cold drink and a warm bed
his eyes scanned the shore superficially, passing over the same stones and grassy knolls he’d seen a hundred times before
on any other night, he may have noticed the discrepancies in the shoreline
the new rock that appeared almost boat-like on second glance
but alas, his mind was a thousand miles away, and the javelin hit him without warning
the soldier collapsed to his knees, gasping for air like a fish on land
his armour had spared him from the worst of the damage, but the javelin had done its job
stunned and winded, he was rendered defenceless against the four figures that emerged from the darkness
a thought crossed his mind to sound the alarm; but his limbs refused to move and his lungs pleaded for breath
one member of the pack split from the rest. A stout dwarf with a full beard and a grim expression
they approached the helpless man, drawing a sharply curved short sword from their belt
the soldier tried to move
tried to yell
but the dwarf closed the distance between them and cut his throat, putting a violent end to his struggles
wiping the blood clean from his weapon, Oryk hauled the body behind cover before jogging to catch up with his companions
the Order of the Twins moved like shadows in the night. Their passage muffled by the spells woven about their feet
that said, their infiltration still proved easier than expected
skirting the edges of the island, the party avoided common paths and watchful eyes; slipping between gaps in the meagre defences they encountered
their route took them just below the peak of the island; where a lavish home stared out across the ocean
in the distance, tiny twinkling lights just barely outlined the Athosi mainland
the house itself was lit up like a beacon in the night, and roaming globules of fire identified the few guards on rotation. Six or seven at most
less than a third of what they had anticipated
counting their blessings, the small band of adventurers navigated the narrow pathways around the house and approached the island’s southern side, where a lonely dirt road wound its way towards a grove of trees
they moved swiftly and silently through the long grass that grew on either side, but they needn’t have bothered
the road was unguarded, and the entrance to the grove lay bare
“this is too easy,” Cyrene whispered; fidgeting nervously with an iron band around her wrist. “Where are the rest of the guards?”
she, like the rest of her companions, had a dishevelled look to her appearance
a thinness to her features that implied more than a couple missed meals
Oryk shot her a stern look, and the half orc immediately shut her mouth
turning his gaze to the two half elves to his rear, he was answered with obedient silence
Maia had always been thin, but now she was practically gaunt
her eyes carried a weight, and an ugly scar split her lip on the left side
Iris, her sister, had once identified herself with long curly hair
now, it was cut short, and crudely so. As if done with an altogether uncaring hand
both twins wore the same iron band as Cyrene around their left wrist
a thin piece of metal that coiled around their limb like a snake
with a commanding wave of his hand, Oryk led the party through the grove’s northern entrance and into the trees beyond
moving like ghosts between the thin trunks and shallow underbrush, the group made good progress before they heard the sudden snap of a twig in the darkness
Oryk raised a fist and the advance came to an abrupt stop, scanning their surroundings with tense expressions
a series of soft whispers drifted between the trees, accompanied by the rustling of leaves and groaning of branches
the dwarven fighter drew his sica and his companions complied, unsheathing their weapons in response
they began to spot lithe, feminine figures peering out at them from behind the trees. Staring at the strangers with bright, emerald eyes
the women had skin like mottled bark, and hair that plumed about them like foliage
“dryads,” Cyrene declared, lowering her rhomphaia with the faintest hint of relief
Iris and Maia exchanged a look before lowering their own weapons, albeit keeping them close at hand
Oryk, however, raised his short sword threateningly, and pointed it at the nearest nature spirit
“get back in your trees and stay there. Interfere, and we will not hesitate to kill you”
the dryad in question retreated, but the others stood their ground as a frantic whispering filled the trees around them
something dangerous glimmered in Oryk’s eyes, and his fingers tightened around the hilt of his sica
“NOW!” he suddenly bellowed, his voice deep and commanding
the drayds scattered into the trees, leaving a myriad of foul curses and even fouler odours in their wake
Oryk gave a satisfied grunt and turned to leave, only to nearly walk into the dryad that now stood in his way
a spirit with speckled, ashy skin and a stern, stubborn expression
Oryk approached them with his weapon raised
“get out of my way,” he growled. “I won’t ask a third time”
the dryad stared down at him like a disapproving adult would a petulant child, and when it spoke, it did so with a voice like wind through a canopy
“if you were wise, you would return to your masters. You will not find what you seek here”
its eyes lifted to the party, as if directing its words to them
with a snarl, Oryk swiped at the dryad, only to be met by a cloud of pollen and stinging nettles
cursing aloud between bouts of frantic coughing, the dwarf fled the swarm and started rubbing his eyes, which had already begun streaming with tears
muttering under her breath, Cyrene approached his side and laid a hand on his shoulder
“come now, let me see”
lowering his hands to his side, Oryk turned to face her with a grimace, his eyes puffy and red
“Archons above, Oryk,” Cyrene cursed. “You should know better than to taunt a dryad”
as the words left her mouth, the band on her wrist suddenly tightened and the half orc gave a small yelp of pain
glaring at her through bloodshot eyes, Oryk gave the cleric a venomous look
“and you should know better than to speak out of line”
Cyrene’s hands fumbled at the metal around her wrist, refusing to meet the dwarf’s cruel gaze
the cuff continued to coil and squeeze; writhing like a living being as Cyrene frantically whispered a foreign chant beneath her breath
the words seemed to appease the magic item, and it loosened its grip in response
witnessing this cruel display of discipline, the twins began unconsciously massaging the band around their own wrists; as if reminiscing on a similar experience
shaking the pain from her arm, Cyrene set to work curing Oryk’s ailment, uttering a slew of healing spells
with his eyesight restored, Oryk sheathed his weapon and pushed past Cyrene, wandering into the trees
with little other choice other than to follow, the group set off after him
the party walked for some time before a sound other than buzzing insects and murmured curses reached their ears
a low, rumbling that echoed through the trees. Like a dull droning that came in ebbs and flows
once more the group came to a stop, and before Oryk could even turn to look towards the twins, they had already begun to move
creeping forward with the lightest of footsteps, Maia and Iris stealthily approached the sound, deftly avoiding any stray branches or betraying stones
the droning grew louder and louder, until the pair had stopped just shy of its source
peering around a trunk with sharp blue eyes, Maia scanned what lay ahead
the trees parted around an ancient oak, its roots deep and its branches tall
a hollow sat about half way up the trunk. A small opening just wide enough to put a hand or two inside
but the tree was not so interesting as what lay beneath
coiled around the trunk was a creature with a long, serpentine body
its scales, green and flecked with brown, were hard and interlocked like shields in a phalanx
its head, immense and filled with razor sharp teeth, lay curled just below the hollow of the tree
the low rumbling emanated from the monster’s chest, as it uttered a long, prolonged snore
Maia’s jaw tightened and her eyes flitted over to her sister
Iris’ face had gone pale, and her hand had instinctively dropped to grab at the empty sheath on her belt
a prize taken by their employer
the twins locked eyes, and shared a moment of profound fear
wetting her suddenly very dry lips, Maia gestured back towards the trees and Iris nodded in silent agreement
the two stealthily retreated, keeping their footsteps light all the way back to their comrades
Oryk almost jumped when the twins materialised beside him, emerging from the darkness without warning
“well?” he hissed, his voice rising above the droning snores. “What did you find?”
Iris frantically gestured for the dwarf to quiet down, as Maia shot a terrified glance back in the direction of the oak tree
only when they heard the low droning of the monster’s snores did the pair relax enough to answer
“dragon”
the word held in the air like a curse
Cyrene’s eyes widened, and had it not been for the band on her wrist, she most certainly would have uttered a prayer
even Oryk’s permanently affixed scowl faded as the blood drained from his face
when he finally spoke, he did so with no semblance of his usual condescension
“...how big?”
“8 meters,” Iris answered. “No more than 12”
Oryk nodded, his brow knitting together as he dropped into a crouch
“a juvenile,” he thought aloud. “Hasn’t reached full adulthood. Scorch marks?”
“none that we could see”
“good. Then either it’s too young to breathe fire, or it spits poison”
his eyes narrowed to points as he mulled things over in his head
the group kept quiet, forced to listen to the distant, droning snores as their leader considered their options
after a long stretch of time, Oryk took a sharp inhale and straightened his posture
“it’s asleep?”
his eyes shifted to Maia, and the half elf tensed
“we think so but…”
“we don’t know for certain,” Iris quickly interrupted. “We’ve never encountered a dragon before. We should call off the mission and come back more prepared”
a deadly silence fell over the group as the dwarf went still
“call off the mission?” he repeated
his voice was calm, but the words held a distinct edge to them
like the blade of a meticulously sharpened knife
“and since when did you make the calls in this party?”
Maia shot her sister a look, and Iris lowered her eyes
“never,” she answered
“that’s right. Never,” Oryk reiterated, holding the half elf in his steely gaze. “We do things my way, as we always have”
Iris’ clamped her mouth shut and the dwarvish fighter turned to look at his other companions
“unless you have all forgotten what awaits us if we fail? What will happen if we come back empty handed?”
he was met with silence and a slow shake of Cyrene’s head
“failure isn’t an option,” he continued. “If the drakon is asleep, we need to act now”
his gaze shifted to Maia
“so can you do what I need you to?”
the half elf swallowed and tried to slow her racing heartbeat
“I think so,” she meekly answered
“good. The rest of us will wait in position. We’ll flank the tree from three sides and-”
“-I’ll do it,” Iris suddenly interjected
Oryk’s teeth flashed in a grimace before he turned to face her
“I’ll retrieve the objective,” Iris clarified, meeting the dwarf’s gaze
“Maia is quieter,” Oryk bluntly retorted. “She stands a better chance of getting to the tree than you do”
“but with my magic-”
“-your magic that we need for the escape,” he interrupted. “We have a plan, stick to it”
he turned back to the front and began drawing out a rough plan in the dirt with his sica
“-while Maia sneaks in, we hold here to provide support. Once we have what we came for, we leave back through the northern exit”
Iris’ eye twitched, and Maia reached out to drop a hand on her sister’s arm
“Iris-” she quietly started
but her warning went unheeded, and Iris spoke up again
“what’s the point of saving my magic if we don’t get what we came for?” she argued
Oryk spun with a stormy expression, pointing his blade to her chest
“because I said so!” he snapped. “And you will do what you’re told!”
he may have stood half a head shorter than Iris, but in that moment, Oryk felt like a giant, and in the silence of the trees, his voice sounded like a clap of thunder
Iris’ face paled and Oryk realised what he had done
instinctively, the party held their breath; anticipating a monstrous roar, or the crash of falling trees
but after a few tense seconds, all they heard was the rhythmic rumbling of distant snores
the group letting out a collective sigh of relief that cut through the tension like a knife
tension that returned the moment Oryk opened his mouth
“do you want to be sent across the Chronaean?” he hissed. “Do you want to leave your sister alone?”
Iris’ eyes shifted to Cyrene, searching for some glimmer of support
instead, the half orc looked away, leaving the half elf to face their leader alone
“of course I don’t,” Iris mumbled
“exactly,” Oryk spat. “Stay in line, do what you’re told, and keep your mouth shut”
he turned to Maia with an expression that encouraged absolute obedience
“get the objective, and get out. Nod if you understand”
Maia gave a slight jerk of her head
“good. Now get moving”
the dwarf stormed off into the trees, and Cyrene quickly shot up to follow him
Maia and Iris exchanged a look of resignation before joining their trusted comrades

Maia stood in position by the edge of the clearing, mentally projecting her path to and from the hollow
it was a simple job, really
dart across the open ground
jump up to the low branch on the left side
climb over to the main trunk
grab the objective
and do it all again
simple
if it weren’t for the dragon in the way
Maia's heart began to pound in her chest until she felt a hand fall gently across her arm
she turned, meeting Iris' concerned gaze
“you don’t have to do this,” her sister whispered; practically breathing the words into Maia’s ear
“yes I do,” Maia answered, keeping her voice just as quiet. “You heard Oryk. We can’t go back empty handed”
“f*ck Oryk,” Iris cursed. “We’re only here because of him”
in spite of herself, a grim smile lifted the corner of Maia’s lips
it was a rare thing to hear Iris curse
“we could run, you know. Make a break for the mainland”
Maia’s smile dropped in an instant
“Iris, no”
“why not?” Iris replied earnestly. “We can make it. I know we can”
“they’ll catch us. And even if they don’t, what then? We’ve got nowhere to hide. No friends to help us. We’d be on our own”
“we’ve been alone before. We survived, didn’t we?”
Iris’ words were hopeful, but they couldn’t hide the desperation beneath
when Maia didn’t seem convinced, Iris took her sister’s face into her hands
“please don’t do this. I can’t lose you”
Maia’s eyes softened, and she placed her hands atop Iris’
“that’s why I have to do this”
she took a deep breath and tried to put on a half convincing smile
“you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve got this. I promise”
Iris’ thumb traced the scar across her sister’s lip
“I’m older. It’s my job to worry about you”
a frown fell across Maia’s face
“older by 10 minutes”
“and I’ll never let you forget it”
Iris pulled her sister into a tight hug
“don’t you dare get yourself caught”
“when have I ever?”
the two reluctantly parted, and Iris held her sister at an arm’s length
“remember. Once you have it-”
“-run like the Hounds of Chaon are after me”
a smile touched Iris’ lips, and the shadows rose up to swallow her
when they parted, the monk was gone
inhaling a slow, shaky breath, Maia composed herself, and refocused on the tree
30ft to the centre
branch on the left side
over the dragon
down to the hollow
reverse and get out
she exhaled slowly, letting the shake fade from her breath
she had this
Maia broke from the tree line, moving in a swift but stealthy manner
every step carefully laid. Every movement intentional
the dragon’s snores rumbled like thunder, growing louder with each step
before she knew it, she was beneath the low branch
taking a quick stutter step to gain momentum, she threw herself upwards, catching the branch with both hands
thankfully, the branch held firm, and Maia swung her legs up and around it
shimmying along inch by inch, she drew closer to the trunk itself, inadvertently holding her breath as she passed over the sleeping body of the dragon
its breath reeked up close. Like spoiled fruit and vinegar
it took all her strength not to gag
before she knew it, she was at the trunk of the tree and at the next step of her plan
hoisting herself up to a crouched position, she flattened her body against the side of the trunk and began sliding her foot along its length
eventually, she found a suitable foothold and began clambering across to a more central position
the hollow was just beneath her now
and beneath that, the massive head of the dragon
this close, she realised just how easily such a creature could snap her up
with her small frame, she’d be gone in one or two bites
pushing such morbid thoughts out of her mind, she leaned down until her head and arm were low enough to reach inside the hollow
her lungs were beginning to burn from holding her breath for so long, but she dared not exhale
she wasn't sure how good a dragon's senses were, but she wasn't keen to find out either
reaching her arm into the hollow, her fingers touched loose leaves and knotted wood
she pushed a little deeper, searching for any sign of her prize
something cold
something metal
but instead, she felt the hard back of the hollow
frowning, she pressed again, but still felt only the rear of the hollow
had she somehow missed it?
her fingers scrambled around, but continued to feel only wood and leaves
her lungs were really burning now, and she could feel her face flushing with colour from being upside down
regardless, she removed her arm and leaned her head down further, trying to peer inside
in the black gloom of a moonless night, a human wouldn’t have been able to see a thing
but even with her enhanced elvish sight, Maia was granted only the slightest advantage
just enough to make out the shape of the interior and the contents within
dried leaves
knotted wood
a couple insect husks
and nothing else
sure she had somehow made a mistake, she looked again and again
but with each scan, the truth became undeniable
“you will not find what you seek, here”
the dryad’s words echoed in Maia’s head, and with a cold sense of dread, she realised that the spirit hadn’t been speaking rhetorically
the amulet wasn’t here
and with that realisation, Maia’s lungs could hold on no longer
her breath escaped all at once, her awkward position driving the air out in an undignified huff
she clamped a hand over her mouth, but the damage had been done
she had made a sound, however small, and already her breath was mixing with the cool air
time slowed to a crawl as the dragon’s snores came to a stop
she watched in terror as its head, mere inches below her, began to stir
its nostrils flared; drawing breath with a deep, rasping inhale, and its eyes rolled in their sockets
the dragon’s jaws cracked open, revealing a black, forked tongue and rows of fetid teeth
rancid breath assaulted Maia’s senses, making her stomach turn and her head spin
she waited for the creature to open its eyes
to see the tiny morsel dangling helplessly above it
but they never did
to her greatest relief, the dragon remained asleep and blissfully unaware of her presence
relief swiftly turned to dismay, however, as the dragon proceeded to shift; its scales rippling like water across its long, serpentine body
the tree shook violently as the monster scraped against its surface, shearing away bark and causing branches to groan and sway
wrapping her arms around whatever she could find, Maia clung desperately as the shaking threatened to throw her loose
after what felt like an eternity, the vibrations mercifully ended, and the dragon returned to its snoring
but even after the tree had long fallen still, Maia found herself unable move; as if every single muscle in her body had frozen solid
in a moment of clarity, she realised that her hand had found her dagger in the chaos, and that the weapon was now clutched in an iron grip at her side
she almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation
as if a dagger would keep her safe if the dragon had actually awoken
nonetheless, she kept it in her hand, unwilling to relinquish the one defence she had
lifting her gaze to scan the surrounding treeline, she spotted the pale faces of her companions waiting in position. Intently following her progress with their eyes
Iris looked just as high sprung as she was. All but ready to throw herself into the open in order to save her sister
Maia silently prayed that her twin could keep her composure for just a little longer
wetting her incredibly dry lips, the rogue began scaling the tree; taking care to avoid any of the small twigs and leaves that had been shaken loose by the dragon’s shifting
upon reaching her chosen branch she paused, taking a moment to slow her racing heart beat
in spite of everything telling her otherwise, she needed to calm down
stress would lead to mistakes
and mistakes would lead to her death
feeling her muscles relax ever so slightly, Maia continued, stretching her body out to reach the low branch
her feet found purchase, and the rogue began creeping along its length
a few more steps and she’d be home free
“Maia!”
a single word
muffled and distorted, and yet agonisingly loud
Maia’s eyes dropped to the bronze surface of her dagger and saw a young woman’s face staring back at her, their eyes grey and piercing
there was a flash of familiarity in the half elf’s mind, but in that moment, she could barely recall her own name
a million thoughts raced through her mind as her heart pounded like a drum in her ears
one thought, however, screamed louder than the rest
run
Maia’s feet moved before the thought had even finished forming, propelling her from the branch a split second before it detonated into an explosion of jagged splinters
she hit the ground hard, feeling something give in her shoulder
she didn’t have time to dwell on it, as an earth shattering roar tore the world asunder
her feet were under her in an instant, and she broke into a sprint, not daring to look behind her
she knew that if she turned, all she would see is a flash of green scales and a mouth full of fangs closing in to end her life
the air began to reek of rotten fruit and then a body collided with her, throwing her aside
a cloud of noxious fumes ripped through the space she had just occupied, causing grass to shrivel and trees to wither
she felt hands on her arms and shoulders, and then Iris was yelling at her, hauling her to her feet amidst pained racking coughs
they didn’t have time to stop, barrelling through the trees in a mad dash to get away
as furious roars filled the air behind them, Iris stumbled through the underbrush, her legs unsteady beneath her
Maia looped an arm under her shoulder, and now the twins were supporting each other in a tangle of limbs
minutes passed. Or maybe just seconds. And then the two broke from the tree line onto an open road
sea winds rushed up to meet them, and Iris' legs fully gave out as she began greedily sucking in gasps of fresh air
“come on!” Maia urged, trying to drag her sister to her feet
but Iris was of no use now, her eyes bulging and her face flushed with colour
something ripped its way out of the underbrush and Maia turned sharply, instinctively raising the dagger that was still clutched in a death grip
instead of the dragon she was expecting, she found Cyrene and her rhomphaia, halfway through a cut that would have cleaved her in two
recognising each other at the same time, the pair lowered their weapons and turned to the wheezing half elf at their feet
concern flashing across her face, Cyrene dropped to her knees in preparation to cast a spell
before she could begin, however, Oryk emerged from the grove, blood splattered across his hands
“we don’t have time for that. Get her up!”
he raced past them, leading the charge back towards the beach
with a grunt of exertion, Cyrene lifted Iris into her arms like a baby, shoving her rhomphaia into Maia's hands
keeping a wary eye on her sister, Maia followed the half orc as she began jogging after their leader
as they ran, Oryk settled into pace beside Maia, shooting her a questioning look between grunts of breath
“do you have it?”
the half elf's shoulders fell, and she quietly shook her head
“it wasn’t there”
Oryk’s face turned a dark shade of red, and a vein bulged in his head
“what do you mean it wasn’t there?!”
“the amulet is gone. We missed it”
a stream of vile curses flowed from Oryk’s lips, and Maia wisely chose to keep her eyes forward and mouth shut
they reached the beach in record time, and Cyrene carefully laid Iris down into their waiting boat
as Oryk and Maia began pushing the vessel into the rolling surf, the dwarf gave her a hateful glare
“hells spare you when they find out we failed”
“we...haven’t...failed...yet”
Oryk turned his ire on Iris, who lay curled across the edge of the boat trying her best to suck in what air she could
“we...know...where...its...going,” she continued between strained, wheezing breaths. “We...still...have...time...”
leaping into the boat with a splash of water, Oryk waited just long enough for his companions to get in before heaving away with the oars
“we’d better. For all our sakes”
he sliced through the water with powerful strokes, driving them into deeper and darker waters
Maia slunk down beside Iris, taking her sister’s hand into her own
Iris dropped her head onto Maia’s shoulder, and the twins watched as the shores of Kalikos drifted further and further away

First Post: https://www.reddit.com/CradledDnDStories/comments/x8zwpv/athos_1_a_new_world_of_opportunity/
Last Post: https://www.reddit.com/CradledDnDStories/comments/1b2taqi/athos_35_mirror_mirro
Next Post:

Hey people. I wanted to share my long ass story about how nitrous used to be one of my most favorite things in the world and now my relationship with it is complicated and twisted.
A lot of this will tackle interpersonal relationship dynamics, but I’m trying to illustrate to the reader the progression of how this drug took my ex’s mind. This is more of a thorough essay about my experience than a rant. When I was going through what I went through at the time, I wished there was a story like this out there to help me know better and understand. This is how I watched the love of my life melt away his brain on this drug.
I will try and keep this brief, but it probably won't be. I wish to convey the addictiveness this drug can have and the toll it can take on your mind and body. In the summer of 2022 I met my then bf who introduced me to the rave scene and drug scene he was a part of. He really only used K and Nitrous (which I will refer to as N going forward). He told me about his 1.5 years of being addicted to K, but did not inform me of his also 1.5 years (at the time) addiction to N. He told me after meeting me he didn’t want to abuse K anymore so as far as I knew when we started dating he got better about that.
It all started very early in the relationship. We went to a weekend festival together and both found doing N together was so fun. We continued on using and abusing N every weekend, and sometimes many weekdays. Probably going through 6 or 8+ tanks a week, this went on for like 3 months. Sadly, I do look back on those days fondly, despite what would happen later down the line. We had so much fun together and yes sadly it bonded us in this weird way. Using it causes you to feel more open and positive in the beginning, and we had so many heartfelt and deep conversations. And it felt like a little special world we could go into together.
At the time I had no clue how much those small-medium sized tanks cost ($65 and up for just one where we live). And he never told me how much they cost, and didn’t ask me to chip in, so I had no idea he was throwing himself into financial ruin buying them all the time. Looking back I have no idea why I didn’t ask, I just figured they were only $25 or something, or his friend was giving them to him, and I was aware it was probably a poor financial decision, but figured he could bounce back after the summer. You have to understand I thought I had him figured out, but I didn’t really know him that well at this point, or know about the drug scene at all. Before this I really only drank and smoked weed with the occasional cid or shrooms trip.
Three months into us dating and abusing N we come to the conclusion we just need to stop and take a break from N as this had all become quite excessive. Still he doesn’t explain to me how much debt he is in from buying all of those tanks over the summer. Two months into the break and he’s starting to crack, asking for me to be okay with us using it regularly. I tell him that I think it’s okay for us to just do it once and awhile. It was hard to not cave in because truthfully I missed it as well, I myself was starting to feel the addictiveness of this drug, so I reserved it so that I only ever did it with him. We go back to doing it occasionally on the weekends. Over the span of 1 month my bf started to constantly complain of having nerve issues, his feet and legs and hands were numb, I also noticed that he seemed really depressed. This is when he started to experience the vitamin B deficiency, although both me and him didn’t realize this at the time.
Around this time is when he finally and unceremoniously reveals to me how much these things actually cost. This is the tricky aspect of his personality I would go on to experience more of. It was clear he was resentful towards me, that I had no idea how much money he was spending, but the reality is if I had known how much those things cost I would have ended it a lot sooner. I didn’t even understand how he had the ability to spend so much money, I don’t even want to do the math. I would find out later he would just take out credit cards and max them out. In addition to him doing them with me occasionally, he was also doing them behind my back, which I had caught him doing several times and was always forgiving over this.
So, because of this constant spending he was in a substantial amount of debt. What he told me at the time was around $6,000. Knowing him, this was probably a generous assessment. This is definitely a point in the story where I should have left him. Clearly he was developing this addiction towards N and spent an ungodly amount of money that was beyond even my comprehension. But, I was head over heels and believed that he could figure this out. People go into debt all the time, I would tell myself. But I told him, this all needed to outright stop. No more N, not even occasionally. Unfortunately while he of course agreed to my face I have to suspect now, he was doing it behind my back all the time. Around this time he wouldn’t come home from work until 7 or 7:30 which didn’t make sense as his hours at work would fluctuate from time to time, but he was usually always off at 5. He would lie and say his work was very busy and made him stay later, which I believed at the time.
Maybe about a month later we are in bed together sleeping, it’s the middle of the night. He wakes me up and explains he literally cannot feel his feet or legs and has been having trouble walking for the past several days. I take him to the ER that night. This night and the following weeks after were some of the most heartbreaking and emotionally terrifying times of my life so far. At this time neither of us had any idea or reason to suspect N was the reason for this. We actually talked to the doctor there and ran tests for over 3 hours, he got an MRI and a spinal tap which was so hard to watch being done to him. It wasn’t until I desperately did research on my phone in the hospital room and suddenly see all of these remarks and reddit posts and studies about N causing paralysis and nerve damage. I tell my bf and the doctor and they have no trouble assessing that is what is causing this. They give him a regiment of vitamin B shots as you typically do in this situation. The doctor even said that they hope they can stop permanent damage from happening, because if not he may lose control of his legs and it may spread to his pelvic area (IE dick don’t work) etc, he had to do physical therapy and see a drug counselor.
The following days and weeks after I was constantly on edge worrying and wondering if my bf and love of my life would lose his ability to walk. Thankfully, the treatment took and he didn’t even end up needing physical therapy. This is when I truly believe or would like to hope he actually quit and wasn’t doing N behind my back. Unfortunately it wouldn’t matter, as I’ve learned, a lot of symptoms of N abuse don’t show themselves until after you stop. Shortly after this event is when our relationship took a nosedive. He had also ditched the drug counselor. To compensate for no N he was drinking so often. He started to become aggressive and violent. I remember it all started in a fight where he got real close and in my face and stared me down to try and intimidate me. In a way it was both terrifying and laughable (because he’s only a few inches taller than me), I couldn’t even comprehend the kind of person he had turned into. After that came the months and months of never ending name calling, insults, degradation, and constant arguments over every little thing I did. He became so addicted to the high of his power trip of making me feel small and weak he would find any excuse to fly into a rage at me, even when we were tripping on mushrooms together.
Nothing was ever the same after that. We didn’t go out, didn’t do dates, and every activity together felt like it was all a big chore to him. I could look in his eyes and see he was constantly thinking about N, and when he would do it next. He really changed, and what I am now realizing is he was probably starting to experience the effects of pure brain damage. My close friends who knew him even agree with me that there is a huge change in his demeanor around this time in April of 2023.
I also want to add more info about his bizarre behavior. He started to develop an unhealthy obsession with social media, scrutinizing what I posted and what he posted. He started to obsess over current events of any kind, any breaking story or ongoing conflict and he would rant and rant about the current state of the world and destruction of humanity all the time. He started to get obsessed with mental health and psychology and pathologize me and himself and other people in our lives. He would send me 10 videos everyday about mental health and relationships and expect me to reply and have a response for every single one like a book report. This obsession with the destruction of humanity turned into a paranoia about the world, he would often say no one understands him, and he is all alone. He turned on his best friends of several years because he was paranoid they were racists or had bad morals (they were all pleasant and nice people who enjoy edgy humor from time to time). There was no more middle ground for anything, you either loved something fully, or hated it fully. Somewhere down the line he actually got his account banned on Instagram for the craziest reason. He couldn’t stop or control himself from having heated arguments with random strangers in comments sections, of almost any video of any topic. He would insult people there constantly.
Here is another big mistake I made.I allowed him to live with me, and we moved in together. At this point we had been dating for a year. Before this I lived on my own and didn’t want to renew my lease, and he was living with his dad who was abusive and financially took advantage of him. At the time I was convinced that this bad behavior would go away if he could get away from his dad and his toxic household. Well the toxicity only followed. That summer we went to another weekend festival and he revealed to me when we got there he had purchased N and brought it. I was so conflicted as I myself had missed it quite a lot, and I had to deny myself my healthy regulated usage of it in order to not trigger him. I caved again and said we could do it only for this weekend. You may not at all be surprised to learn it didn’t end that way.
After the festival everything truly fell apart. He continued to buy tanks of N and do them behind my back constantly. He would say he was just going to his car to talk to his friends, or his mom, and be gone for hours. Because he was totally abusing me and I had no idea because I was under his spell of manipulation, I had no recourse. Any comment of mine asking why he was gone for so long, why can’t he just talk to his friends inside our apartment, I’ll go in the other room for privacy, was only met with complete indifference. These questions only pissed him off. He would say it’s because I was so exhausting and demanding he needed a break from me. When I would call him when he’s on one of these “excursions,” he would every so often mute the call while I was talking or in a silent moment. I eventually realized he was hitting the tank every time he muted himself. When I finally called him out on this he gaslit me and told me he just does this all the time because he coughs and clears his throat, fyi he had never done this before in our relationship. Because I had no recourse I just had to agree and move on. And because his mind was deteriorating more and more each day he would go on to make randomly muting himself in calls as a common, thing so as to keep up the facade he told me. Actual crazy behavior.
He even started doing K again, he would clearly be f-ed out of his mind by both K and N, and stumble around our apartment with crazy red bulging eyes and again and again tell me he was just drunk. Around this time is when he finally divulges to me not only had he been abusing K for the 1.5 years before he met me, he had also been abusing N for 1.5 years before he met me. And it wasn’t actually the case that he only “began” to become addicted to N when we started dating and doing it together. This really started to put a lot into perspective for me, and it made sense how he had almost paralyzed himself over this, now at this current time 3+ year addiction to these substances, and it made me realize how psychologically and cognitively he was failing based on changes in his personality. You also have to understand he explained to me before he met me, he was doing 1.5-2 grams of K or more and N, EVERYDAY.
And still at this time the name calling, insults and manipulation continued. He of course was no longer experiencing any true “high” from the N anymore, it would just simply dull his senses. It was like a stereotypical violent alcoholic husband comes home from the bar and berates his wife, kind of situation, except with N. And I became obsessed with figuring out how to get him to stop and go back to the loving person I remembered meeting and loving. I began to do very toxic things, going through his backpack, going through his car, and constantly always finding tanks and balloons and all kinds of paraphilia everywhere. I would find tanks in our recycling bin, like he actually thought I wouldn’t notice. I would come home late from being with friends and catch him passed out on the couch with an empty tank in his hand. He couldn't be left alone anymore. If he wasn’t with me, 100% of the time he was sitting in his car doing N. At this point in time there was no forgiveness, I was completely broken. I would yell and scream at him or wake him up and demand he stop and choose me or the drugs, all terrible things to be doing. I know that.
Eventually it got so bad I felt I had no other recourse other than to call and inform his mother of his behavior and what he had been doing all this time. Me doing this is probably what saved his life, as there was never anyway I was going to get through to him myself. But it did not save his mental health. Even having his mother involved didn’t stop any of it. He still went out and bought it behind my back like nothing happened. Another painful painful aspect of how his personality had changed is he would constantly have crazy back and forth mood swings, one minute showing me the sweet man I had fallen in love with, thanking me and praising me for having stepped in and put a stop to this, the next minute he hated me and I was the worst thing in his life and I could never tell what was even real anymore.
But did I leave, oh no, that would have been the smart thing to do.Instead at the time I was seeing a therapist who also specializes in couples therapy. I get us started with counseling and during our second session he gets called out by my therapist and yells and screams and berates her, it was actually insane. That is when things really ended between us. He moved out and moved into his moms apartment 30 minutes away that night. Even though the breakup was traumatizing and painful I still had hope that even if he isn’t with me, now he will receive help from his mother. Well, she didn’t place him in any special drug counselor program or rehab, she just severely cut off his finances so that he could pay off his debts, which she had bought back from several banks so it would not gain more and more interest. I do believe now his debt may be somewhere in the $10,000-$20,000 range. So now he, as an almost 30 year old man, needs to ask his mother in order to buy or purchase anything. Somehow, despite all of this I would learn he was continuing to do N and K.
Amazingly, we still tried briefly to even make our relationship work after he moved out. At this point he has mastered the art of manipulation and being fake, and convinced me he was getting better, he had even started to look better too, but he was still up to his old BS. He came over to the apartment once for us to have a mini date. Because he went on and on about how he was getting more and more into walks he said he was going to take a quick stroll around the block to get some fresh air. Well a quick stroll turns into 30 minutes, and I start to notice his car is gone from our street. I call him and he says now he is sitting in his car talking to his mom, I tell him I don’t see his car and it’s been a long time, he clearly had left to buy N. He becomes irate and claims he simply moved his car down the block for “reasons” and I was in the wrong for being accusatory and not trusting him. P.S. I went down the block and he just was not there. This guy is either absolutely crazy or thinks I’m some kind of imbecile, or both. It basically ended from there.
We tried to be civil, but he cannot control himself from completely going ballistic on me anymore, or his mother. And it is so painful when he is remorseful and doesn’t remember all the things he said to me. At this point I have had to realize I am basically talking to and trying to reason with a mentally disabled person. The fun loving, easy going, creative, altruistic, thoughtful, smart and attentive man I met doesn’t exist anymore, and I don’t think he will ever come back. All that remains is the shell of a confused and angry person.
Some small things to address, how it came to be that he abused these drugs all the time before he met me is because his best friend was a drug dealer and in the beginning would give him all of these things for free. Once he was hooked and doing it everyday it seemed he would stop at no end to spend money and buy them. Yes K was definitely a contributor into his mild psychosis but I still think it would have happened even from the N abuse alone, based on research I’ve been doing lately. And yes I have to admit I think he had bad and malignant psychological traits before abusing drugs, and doing that made it all worse.
So that is the story of how I watched this man ruin his life, and scare away maybe the only person who could withstand experiencing all of his BS and still wanted to love and help him. There are SO MANY things I too should have done differently. There is also an age gap between us of 3 years, so I naively thought he had a better handle on his life than he really did. I do find it hard to understand how people can be so addicted at times, but in the end like my ex, everyone is trying to chase some kind of feeling or experience that came with it, rather than the drug itself.
Thank you for reading if you made it to the end.
TLDR: Two years ago I started dating a guy who wasn’t honest with me about his 1.5 years of Nitrous abuse before we started dating. He was a sweet and honest and caring man when I met him. Sadly most of our relationship was spent on doing lots of Nitrous together. He eventually developed health problems like a vitamin B deficiency and even almost got paralysis and permanent nerve damage, which was hard for me to watch and witness. His health issues didn’t deter him away from Nitrous and he was constantly buying tanks and doing it behind my back. The more he abused Nitrous the more abusive towards me he became as a person. Our relationship crumbled and not even getting his mom involved helped. He was also clearly experiencing psychosis and mental deterioration. We broke up because he yelled and screamed at my therapist and he had to move in with his mom. Moving in with his mom didn’t stop his addiction even though she cut off his finances.
Even when we tried to make the relationship work he still abused it anyway. I would now consider him a mentally disabled person and I don’t recognize who he even is anymore after 3+ years of abusing Nitrous almost everyday. Please use Nitrous responsibly or don't at all.

Today I am 7 days sober.
I am 29M and got drunk for the first time when I was about 13-14. Even though I was an athletic kid and did sports, I drank heavy at parties throughout my high school years like a lot of teens do. The alcohol consumption definitely got heavy when I graduated and lived on my own.
Drank pretty heavy and partied from 18-21. I moved away to Cali when I turned 21 and cut back at first but started back drinking heavy.
I have had a few sobriety stints since. The longest being a year (June 2021-2022). Mainly because I started to develop pain in my back, abdomen, and around my sides. I started to panic about liver failure, cancer, and all the horrible stuff that comes with alcoholism.
I had about a 2 year period where I went to the ER 7-8 times and was CERTAIN that I permanently damaged myself but every time they would tell me nothing is wrong, even though I felt something constantly gnawing at my back and right side of my body (neck down to back of right leg). It was so hard to tell what was actually wrong with me though… I’ve had 2 bulging discs for a while (since 2021). One in my neck that causes right arm pain / tingling, and one in my lower back that causes sciatica in my right leg. This was all confirmed and diagnosed by a doctor btw. The “worst” thing they told me that entire time going to the ER’s… was when I was 26-27. The doctor said all of my organs looked fine on CT scans and ultrasound. My bloodwork was good… BUT I did an endoscopy and did have mild gastritis along with GERD after binge drinking.
When I quit drinking for that year. It took some months for the fatigue and anxiety to go away… and another few months for the pain to be completely gone.
Sadly… My mother (48) was just diagnosed with stage 3/4 cancer of the pancreas, liver, and kidneys a few days ago. She used to be a very heavy drinker but stopped a few years ago when she started facing a bunch of mental issues. She has ALWAYS been a cigarette smoker though. This whole situation has me devastated and scared all over again.
7 days sober again… and I get so worried because I can never tell what this pain is and I’m trying to be strong for my mother right now. Maybe it’s just inflammation from drinking before? I know the body takes a minute to heal after drinking. Is it my bulging discs that are causing the pain in my right shoulder, side, hip, and leg? Is it my pancreas/liver too?
Soo much anxiety. I can’t wait to continue this journey, because I know last time was so much worth it after that year of sobriety. I pray that I have another chance to make this right and recover again. I plan on seeing a doctor to be safe, but won’t be able to for awhile because of everything happening with my Mom right now.
Any words of encouragement, advice, or wisdom would be greatly appreciated. Thanks.

Breston Boobilay
Breston Boobilay meandered his way along the sprawling New York sidewalk, stifling a stagger as he lurched forward. He was on a drunken mission like so many others he’d set out on before, and this mission, like all others, entailed the timely acquisition of cheap, night-time cooze. Air to the vast Boobilay Meat Pie fortune, Breston rarely had trouble sniffing out hole. But, out there, gripped in the chill of the brisk winter wind, he found himself with his balls as blue as his icy fingertips.
Breston rubbed his palms together and shuddered, watching the breath escape him in thick, swirling plumes. That’s when he noticed the flickering red neon through the gloom ahead, and he couldn’t help but smile as he felt himself instantly become warmer. He lit a cigarette in an effort to restore his sobriety, however briefly, as he thought about what potentially awaited him beyond the door he now found himself in front of. Pussy, and more booze, and maybe even a plug that wouldn’t turn out to be just another irritating, time wasting dipshit. Breston took one last satisfying drag from his smoke before tossing it in the slush on the curb as it sizzled and died. Then, he opened the door and went inside.
Breston Boobilay 2: Electric Boobilay
Breston came inside and a thick fog of lingering smoke whipped by his head out into the icy chill of the New York City winter he’d just left behind. The door slammed through the force of an incoming gust and Breston shivered as a conglomerate of weary eyes turned to meet his reddened, eager face. The patrons of the bar were hardly the fresh meat he’d been hoping to encounter in a shithole like that. The collective weathered faces, likely habitual fixtures of the place, turned back to their drinks and their dull, mumbled conversations as Breston made himself at home on a stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a J&B on the rocks. Breston reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a new cigarette, lighting it and inhaling deeply. The smoke escaped him, and as it dispersed across the room he noticed the only remotely fuckable woman there as she eyed him with intrigue from the other side of the bar. Breston clutched up his drink, drained it, and moved in for the kill.
“Got a light?” She asked, seductively, after he had closed the distance having brushed his way through the decaying bodies of the scant Tuesday night crowd.
“No,” Breston replied smoothly, “But I have an eight-point-five inch long penis.”
Her bleach-blond bangs ruffled in excitement, the way a cat’s fuzzy face might if you were to hold a fishy treat up to it. There was only one kind of pussy that Breston was interested in, and only one type of fishy treat.
“Is that right?” The pussy purred, her blue green-flecked eyes brightening. “You wouldn’t lie to a lady now, would you?”
Breston felt his four-point-eight inch long member stiffen in his jeans and he readjusted his posture to conceal it.
“How about that light?” Breston murmured sensually, offering up his burning tip for the lady’s smoke.
“My, my,” She said, the words passing her lips in slow rolls of erotic delight. Pouting them around the slender filter, she moved in closer to Breston, taking her sweet time before finally allowing the cigarette to burn. “what a gentleman…”
“How old are you, by the way?” Breston interjected flirtily, “Like thirty, or something?”
“I’m twenty-eight…”
“Good enough,” Breston didn’t usually bang out grandmas, but in a drought like the one plaguing him, he knew it best to seek out any port possible to wait out the storm of pussilessness until the opportunity for a half-decent fuck with a youthful lay presented itself like that sword in the stone, or whatever the fuck it was. The thought occurred to Breston as if a crotch lightbulb had lit up around his midsection: ‘Perhaps she has a younger, hotter roommate…’ “Your place or mine? I have to warn you, though, my shitter is all backed up.”
“I… guess… we could go back to my-” The pussy stammered.
“Great, Let’s go.” Breston interrupted, sexily.
“Aren’t you at least going to buy me a drink first?” The pussy pleaded, motioning towards the disinterested bartender presumably getting ready to close up.
“Sure, we can stop at a liquor store on the way and grab some forties. If we move fast, we can make it before they stop selling booze. Come on, hurry!” Said Breston, throwing up an arm in the direction of the door like some mad conductor in the throes of a beautiful symphonic din.
And so Breston and the cheap night-time cooze bounded out into the darkness from whence they’d came, moving swiftly, lest the hour evade them and Breston be forced to grunt atop the relatively sub-5 geriatric female in the midst of returning accursed sobriety. An outcome which, he knew, simply wasn’t an option.
Breston Boobilay 3: Curse of the Cooze
“We have you now, Mr. Boobilay!” Malphus Mephistopheles cackled menacingly, relishing in his imminent, long-awaited triumph over renegade superspy Breston Boobilay, who lay helpless, strapped to the long metallic table as the laser beam drew ever closer to his bulging crotch. “Tell me, how does it feel to know that you will never get pussy again? Bwahahahaha!”
Breston could feel the billion-degree heat running along his exposed thighs, threatening his tighty-whitey clad dick and balls with extinction. That’s when he remembered; the tabs of flunitrazepam contained in the secret toe compartments of his shiny black loafers, of which Malphus’s underlings had neglected to remove along with his tuxedo pants. Breston began to chuckle a cackled laugh of his own, drawing the ire of his bedraggled captor.
“You know what your problem is, Malphus?” Malphus moved in closer, slamming a pale, thin palm down on the table by Breston’s head. Breston didn’t even blink. “You never got pussy. That’s why you hate me so much.”
“That isn’t true!” Malphus shrieked, the remainders of his long scraggly hair standing on end. “I’ve got pussy, lots of times!”
“Oh, yeah?” Breston replied coolly, “Who from?”
“You wouldn’t know her. She goes to a different school…”
The laser beam was just a few inches away from destroying Breston entirely, the distinctive burning stench of singed pubes beginning to fill the small subterranean chamber. He knew that he had to act fast.
“You wanna know a secret, Malphus?” Breston half-whispered.
“What?” Malphus replied, leaning in.
“SURPRISE ROOFIE!” With a flick of his loafer, Breston discharged a fleet of small pills into Malphus’s’s shocked, wide open mouth. He began to gag as they became lodged in his throat. ‘Bullseye’, Breston thought to himself smugly as he smirked, reaching out his hand and snatching the insane scientist's keys from his belt beneath his stained lab coat. In a flash, Breston was free and on his feet. By the time he was straightening his tie, Malphus Mephistopheles was passed out on the cold, metal floor; drooling.
Breston laughed, dropping his underwear and proceeding to teabag the unconscious man. Breston’s laugh erupted into a cackle surpassing that of any villain he had previously encountered, loud enough to alert Malphus’es’s throng of penguin-like minions. They gasped in horror as they witnessed the violation of their master.
“Who’s next!” Breston roared, the weird little penguin freaks fucking off in abject defeat, screaming as they went.
“I’m unstoppable! Do you understand that! I’m a god! I’m Breston Boobilay! Look at my work, and tremble!”
All of a sudden, Breston felt that familiar dreaded feeling begin to rear up from inside him. It stabbed at him with doubts and the incessant pain and the anxiety that made his body tremor. In an instant, he felt the power drain from him, replaced by something else. Something terrible. He looked down at his quaking hands, and saw that they were dripping with blood.
Breston awoke with a scream, as did the cooze he’d shacked up with. She hissed at him, still very cat-like in her manner.
“What the fuck, dude! Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Breston sighed, rubbing at the beading rows of sweat dangling from his manly brow. “Just another night terror…”
“Why is my bed all wet?..” The girl questioned hesitantly, “Is that… is that piss!”
“No!” Breston felt himself beneath the sheets, soaked to the bone. “No, it’s just sweat! See?”
Breston removed his hand from his soiled groin, lifting it up to her face so that she might smell that it was in fact only sweat. She screamed, penguinishly, as she fled from the room in hysterics. Breston stood and began to put his clothes back on, eyes never moving from the large dark stain covering the pink bedspread. It was a stain as dark as his soul, and Breston knew that he couldn’t hide from it deep in a pussy hole for very much longer…
Breston Boobilay 4: The Quest For Peace
Breston glared into the steam rising from his coffee cup, the sinuous curves of its alluring dance making his dick twitch minutely in subtle arousal. The hangover was debilitating, but he told himself that it would pass with the caffeine and the shower he longed for back at home. However, to his despair, Breston knew better. How many times had he been there before, like that? Not in that exact diner, in that exact situation, mouth dry as an old nun’s cooze and smelling faintly like urine, but simply infirm, haggard, and desperate for some kind of meaningful relief? Breston knew, in that uniquely lonely moment, that he’d never find it.
The waitress breasted boobily across the diner floor, carrying Breston’s pie aloft in the air towards him. He couldn’t help but take notice of the way that her uniform hugged her body as her bosom heaved heftily as she walked, and, yet, Breston’s manhood remained as limp and placid as a premature baby’s pinkie. She reminded him of her, when they first met. She set the plate down, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she smelled Breston’s undying shame.
“Will that be all, sir?” She said, already preparing to turn and leave him there, all alone. Just like she did.
Breston wanted to scream ‘No!’. He wanted to yell at her and spew out all the things that he should have said, before it was too late. Breston wanted to spring up from the booth and grab the woman by the knockers and say ‘Were they worth it! Does he love them better than I did!’, but, he didn’t. Instead, he said nothing. The waitress was already gone, along with Breston’s will to live. The coffee’s steam had diminished down to small, dwindling whisps. He scooped up the mug and finished its contents, focusing on the lukewarm liquid as it spilled down his throat as if it might quell the shaking in his hands. Breston knew that only one thing could do that. He glanced at the clock behind the counter. It was eleven-thirty AM. Time to hit the sauce, he thought, grimacing.
Breston Boobilay 5: A Long Way Down
The chilly afternoon stung at Breston as he brought the bottle back up to his lips for another sickening hit of brandy. The shakes had left him, but his despair had only grown. It had calcified, made clear in his mind in a way that was truly unignorable and utterly undeniable. Everything good that Breston had ever had; his wife, his upper management job at the Brooklyn meat plant, his youth. It had all gone away so quickly. Breston thought of his parents, and the beginnings of a tear began to form before being swept away across his temple by the incoming wind. He thought about the last thing his father had said to him before he had stormed out to go drinking the previous weekend: ‘Breston, you're forty-two-years old. It’s time you moved out of the house.’, and he remembered how angry he’d been; yelling and cussing him out as a ‘frigid dinosaur’ who refused to take the time to understand Breston’s ‘alternative lifestyle’, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Father could never understand.
Breston tipped the bottle over his mouth and gulped down the remains of the liquor as he savored every last, overpriced trickle before shambling over to the guardrail at the rooftop’s edge. He eyed the distance between the two buildings, then he took the drop into account. After a moment, he took a step back, raised the bottle over his head, and launched it. It arched high over the street below before clattering against a tall windowpane of the office block opposite the building he was on.
“Bullseye…” Breston said aloud, to no one.
Suddenly, he got a flash of the dream he’d had the night before when he blacked out in that cooze kitten’s piss pad, and the urge to run and jump doubled in intensity. Breston didn’t like to remember. He didn’t want to. But, even in his nightmares, Matty was still there. Matty was always there. He was their favorite. Always was. It was always, ‘Breston, why can’t you be more like your younger brother?’, ‘Why can’t you be more like Matty?’. Always so perfect, with his good grades and mommy’s constant approval. Breston hated him. Oh, how he hated Matty with every fiber of his being, and he made that clear when Matty reached highschool. Breston was supposed to look out for Matty, protect him. But Breston did anything but. Matty was shy, and insecure about himself, but, most of all, Matty was ashamed of the fact that he’d never had a girlfriend before. Breston would make a big show of bringing whatever hoe-bag he’d seduced with daddy’s money back home so that he could flaunt her around like some prize that Matty could never earn, which crushed him, but not nearly as much as when Breston began spreading the rumors around school about how his dick didn’t work. By the end of the week, Matty was little more than a laughing stock and an emotional, broken wreck, and by the end of the month, Matty was dead.
“It wasn’t my fault, you stupid fuck!” Breston screamed into the dispassionate, gray New York sky within which no God could ever dwell, flashes of his mother screeching, ‘You did this! You!’ tearing at him like sharpened, savage claws ripping their way ravenously through a model’s skimpy lingerie. “I could have helped you! I could have made it all okay again!”
Breston fell to his knees and began to sob like the sad little boy he’d always known he was, feeling more alone than he ever had been before in his entire life. He had made so many mistakes. So many people hurt, and for what? His passing, childish amusement? His bottomless desire for gratification? A cover to hide from the hurt of it all? Breston didn’t know anymore, and he didn’t want to. He couldn’t think about it anymore. He couldn’t take it.
Standing on trembling legs, Breston tentatively put both hands on the railing before gripping it firmly, whimpering as if it produced some sort of electric shock with his touch. He tried to remember when the last time he had felt scared like that was, but he realized that there was nothing even remotely comparable to hold onto. Before another thought could pass through Breston’s head, he took a quick, deep breath, closed his eyes, thrust one foot over the waist-high metal railing and allowed himself to fall. The wind whipped him with the force of a jet engine as he soared towards the ground, half-screaming, half-choking as it knocked the air out of him. Despite the unimaginable terror, and all the regret and the shame and the misery and the abject disappointment that was his nothing of a life, Breston couldn’t help but feel at peace now that it was finally all over. For a fraction of a second, Breston opened his eyes, and he never closed them again…

“T-this! This is madness!” Count Harmswid, one of the very few Human nobles of the Seraphic Empire, bellowed as his hand slammed into the table, sending scrolls flying onto the floor of his luxurious tent. “You’d be leaving me defenseless! I already have a manpower shortage, and now you’d deprive me of not just Wyverns but all of my mana users!?”
Standing across from him, seemingly unphased and unbothered by the outburst, was Tharivol, the Duchesses Dark Elf spymaster. Tharivol remained stoic as Count Harmonswid's face turned a shade of deep red; the veins on his neck bulged with every word. As the tirade continued, spittle started to fly from the human’s mouth, landing on the polished surface of the table and even on Tharivol's dark cloak. Yet, the spymaster's demeanor did not change; there was no sign of disgust, no flinch, no reaction whatsoever.
“Do you truly expect me to comply with such an insane request!? You and that damned charlatan have both lost your minds!” The Count sneered before spitting on the floor. “I cannot, and I shall not!”
Count Harmswid's rage seemed to swell within him, growing more intense with each passing moment. "I'll drag both you and that insufferable wench before the Court of Houses!" he thundered, his voice echoing off the high walls of the chamber. "You think you can force a noble of my standing to forfeit his property and forces unjustly? The court will see you stripped of your titles, your lands confiscated, and the Duchess fined! Perhaps you would even find yourself exiled, you insufferable curr!"
The air in the room grew heavy, charged with the count's threats and the tension of the confrontation. Yet, through it all, Tharivol remained as impassive as ever, his expression never wavering from its cold neutrality.
Once, the count's rant had finally run its course, leaving him panting and glaring across the table. "Do you truly intend not to comply with the Duchess's order?" Tharivol's voice was so calm and devoid of emotion that it seemed as if he was simply discussing the weather.
"NO!" The count's response was a furious shout, his hands slamming down onto the table with such force that it splintered beneath them. "I will not bend the knee to such outrageous demands!"
Unphased by the outburst, Tharivol eyes scanned the room, looking at all the Count's personal guards in attendance. Two mages and six mana-capable knights stood uncomfortably against the wall of the tent, just behind the count. "Is there nothing that will convince you otherwise?" The Dark Elf asked, bringing his eyes back to the Count. “Coin? Concessions? Favors?”
The count's face twisted with hatred at the mere suggestion of compromise. "I'd sooner turn my blade towards the Duchess herself than comply with anything that whore demands!" he spat venomously, the words dripping with disdain and loathing.
Tharivol simply nodded as if the count's refusal and insults were nothing more than he had expected. "Very well," he said, his voice still calm and unbothered, before looking behind him to two of his own guards who accompanied him.
These individuals wore unassuming attire, their features obscured behind black mosaic masks that shifted and morphed in subtle ways. Anyone looking at the masks would find their gaze unfocused, slipping across them as if they were merely part of the background. Beneath their dark cloaks was sleek armor made of a substance unfamiliar to the count, a strange blend that was neither quite metal nor leather.
"Take the Count's head and slay any who resist," Tharivol commanded his guards and turned back to the Count.
But before his eyes could leave the two shadow-like figures, their forms surged forward like a wisping darkness, their movements far too fast for any being's eye to comfortably track. Each unsheathed, jagged, wicked-looking blades, as long as one's forearms. There were subtle differences between each weapon, but they all had one thing in common. And that was the fact that they seemed to be forged from a strange blood-red metal that made people’s blood run cold.
The Count and his guard's eyes widened as they flinched back and grabbed at their weapons. However, before they could properly react, these ghosts were faster. Not a single sword left their sheathe, and not a word was chanted before blood was drawn.
As Harmswid opened his mouth to scream, a terrifying silence took hold instead. The world spun into a vortex of chaos, colors blurring and shapes warping as if reality itself was unraveling around him. Orders died on his lips, replaced by a mute plea for his men to save him.
Then, he crashed to the ground, dizzy and disoriented. All sense of time and place dissolved while his mind struggled to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before him. He was trapped in a maelstrom of motion where his guards – his paragons of strength – were being ruthlessly dismembered.
The dark figures moved with a terrifying and unnatural speed. They were blurs of motion armed with those wicked, crimson-tinged blades felling season knights that were once symbols of power and protection as if they were pigs lambs brought to feasts. Their armor offered no resistance as it was pierced effortlessly, and their cries were cut short, transforming into wet gurgles and sickening thuds as they collapsed.
Blood splattered the interior of the tent, a gruesome crimson rain painting what had once been a place of noble authority into a scene of carnage. His loyal protectors, those who were supposed to be his shield, were now nothing but lifeless corpses strewn across the ground.
Through his terror, the Count saw Tharivol out of the corner of his eye. The dark elf stood unmoved, a cold spectator observing a symphony of violence orchestrated by his will. With one more attempted gasp, Harmswid’s world plunged into darkness.
With an air of nonchalant finality, Tharivol strolled forward. He bent down, not a hint of bother on his face, and retrieved the severed head of Count Harmswid. The dark elf held the head aloft, examining it with a clinical detachment as if it were merely a curious specimen and not the remnants of a once powerful man.
"Hopefully, this will deter others from such foolishness,” Tharivol remarked with a chilling yet humored voice. “I’m sure there will be a few more unwise enough to disobey our mistress, but let they and Count Harmswid serve as… palpable enough deterrent to insubordination.”
The Dark Elf spun on his heel and strode confidently towards the tent flap while his masked guards moved like shadows in his wake. What had transpired was as swift as it was horrifying, from start to finish. The once opulent pavilion, a symbol of the Count's authority, had become a macabre slaughterhouse in mere seconds, and the air hung thick with the metallic tang of blood.
Tharivol moved with the grace of a predator. He grasped a fistful of the Count's hair, casually swinging the severed head as he left the carnage behind. Stepping out of the tent, a scene of utter chaos greeted him.
A cataclysmic roar had ripped through the air, an earth-shattering crash rattled the bones of every being within earshot. Tents flailed wildly, torn from their moorings and scattered like scraps of paper by the force of the blast. Men were thrown off their feet, rolling across the dirt in a desperate bid for stable ground.
And the source of such devastation was the immense silhouette of a black dragon. A very old and very powerful black dragon of monstrous proportions. Its landing had been a display of raw power; the earth itself sundered from its weight, cracking and buckling as the beast settled into place, and smoke curled from its nostril as its massive wings slowly unfurled.
To Tharivol's left, a figure stood resolute against the swirling chaos. Clad in heavy plate armor, augmented by the bones and scales of vanquished wyverns. One of the Duchess's most powerful and he was a testament to the mistress’s influence and strength. The great warrior's hide cloak buffeted violently in the maelstrom, yet he remained steadfast, utterly unmoving. His massive sword was driven deep into the earth, his hands folded gently over the hilt, as he stared maliciously towards the soldiers and mages toppling head over heel.
Striding past the warrior, Tharivol moved effortlessly underneath the dragon's colossal wingspan until reached the other side, where a panicked crowd was already gathering. He held up the Count's head for all to see and amplified his cold voice with magic, causing it to reverberate across the encampment.
"YOUR TREACHEROUS LORD IS NO MORE!" Tharivol bellowed, "HE CHOSE DEFIANCE! HE CHOSE DEATH! AND THUS THE FATE OF ALL WHO CHOOSE SELF-INTEREST OVER THE IMPERIAL WAR EFFORT!”
The gathered soldiers gasped, their faces twisting into a mixture of shock, disbelief, and abject terror. This was a display of power unlike anything they had ever witnessed - the swift brutality, the utter disregard for a noble life, and now, the raw might embodied by the massive dragon that cast its imposing shadow over them all.
A wave of shock and outrage swept throughout the Count's retinue. They stood frozen for moments, hands clenching around sheathed weapons, before the reality of the situation sunk in. Their lord was dead, his head held aloft like a grotesque trophy a damned dark elf who stood before them. Yet, their fury was tempered by the sight of the colossal monstrosity looming above the foul man.
Not even the stoic knight captain, his battle-scarred face creased in anguish, dared break the uneasy silence that had descended upon them. His eyes flicked between the severed head and what he considered the largest and oldest dragon he’d ever seen in his damnable life. It was bad enough one of the Duchess’s hero showed up, but with this monster here, all thoughts of vengeance were crushed beneath the weight of gaping maw staring at him.
Tharivol lowered the head, allowing it swinging morbidly in his grip as he marched straight to the knight captain. Halting mere inches from the man, the Dark Elf looked down at him through his nose despite the fact that he was a head shorter than the gruff knight. But how tall one was mattered very little at the current moment. For the poor captain fought to maintain any semblance of calm as his entire body trembled, not from mere cold, but from a primal, instinctual terror.
"Gather your mana users. Assemble the wyverns, good captain." Tharivol commanded, his voice still magically amplified. "You will report to the Duchess in Aldenshore, and with haste. I trust," here Tharivol's gaze flicked meaningfully towards the dragon, "that you understand the urgency of this order?"
His tone carried not a hint of a question, but the chilling finality of an ultimatum. The Duchess' word was now law and the dragon was both enforcer and a grim reminder of the consequences of disobedience. Should the captain hesitate, should he choose to dally, the monstrous creature would likely make a far bloodier example than even the Count's brutal end.
The knight captain could only bow his head and utter a hoarse, "Aye, my lord." Compliance, however grudging, was the only path to survival. Defiance meant not just death for himself but the annihilation of his men. No amount of courage or pride could bridge the chasm of power that lay between them.
An expression like a viper's grin spread across Tharivol’s face. A macabre amusement flitted into his eyes as he raised Count Harmswid's head once more, slapping the lifeless cheek in a grotesque mockery of applause. "Very good!" he declared, his amplified voice carrying an undercurrent of cruel delight.
"You shall rest this day and prepare. But," his tone turned as sharp as a dagger, "do not keep us waiting. To delay the Duchess... well, that would be oh so very unwise."
With a final flourish, Tharivol spun on his heel and marched away, but just before the Dark Elf disappeared below the hulking mass of the Dragon, The Knight Captain attempted to rise to his feet. "Wait, my lord!" The man stammered out as his hand reached out.
However, the sudden movement had caught the dragon's attention. With a rumble that reverberated through the encampment, its massive head dipped low. Twin nostrils flared, expelling twin plumes of superheated plasma, as its eyes narrowed, burning with fury.
The knight captain let out a yelp, a terrified sound he hadn't made since childhood. His body recoiled as if struck, and his legs had given way beneath him as he fell on his rear.
Tharivol paused, turning back with feigned concern. His voice dripped with theatrical sympathy, "Oh dear, is there some problem, good captain?" He let the question hang in the air before bursting into a peal of chilling laughter.
With a dramatic gesture, he addressed the knight captain once more. "Well then, Captain, go on! What is it that troubles you so?" There was an odd playfulness in the dark elf's tone that sent chills down every man in the Count’s army’s spine.
Panic surged through the knight captain. Caught between the titanic dragon and the mocking presence of the dark elf, fear threatened to swallow him whole. Each raspy breath seemed to drag against his throat, the super-heated air of the dragon's breath filling his nostrils. It was an intoxicating mix of molten metal and sulfur, a scent that seemed to speak of fiery annihilation.
He scrambled back even further as the dragon's head moved closer. Desperation lent his words a frenzied edge. "W-what of the food stores, my lord? Our gathered supplies? And the men – the rest of the soldiers? Shall they march to Aldenshore with us, or... or remain?" The words tumbled out, laced with the fear of asking the wrong question, of drawing further ire.
Tharivol approached the man before halting a comfortable distance away. The knight captain flinched, averting his gaze from the dragon, and fixing it on the ground and started whispering prayers and reciting passages from the holy text of his god. Tharivol tilted his head, a curious, almost amused glint in his dark eyes.
For a tense moment, he simply observed the knight captain, letting the silence stretch between them before heaving a heavy sigh. “Do you speak of the mundane?" His tone was flippant, laced with a hint of disdain. "Take them, leave them – it is of no concern to me.” He answered, waving his hand dismissively. “Now that you have your answer… do not bother me with such trivial matters again. I have much more pressing concerns and so little time."
As Tharivol walked away, the knight captain scrambled to his feet. “Y-You heard ‘em! Git yer asses movin’ less ya want to be Dragon feed!” The man ordered with fear evident in his voice as the Dark Elf disappeared beneath the dragon. “And send word to the Wyvern camps of our new orders!”
Silence reigned at the order as everyone stood stock still, but everyone was kicked into overdrive with one last snort from the monster. Soldiers, mages, and workers of every type scramble about with panicked efficiency. Carts were hastily loaded, men and women ran to and fro with bundles of supplies, and the injured were loaded onto wagons with utmost care. Within minutes, the once serene camp was transformed into a whirlwind of purposeful chaos.
And as the madness unfolded, in a distant tree line, Coleman and his ODA team watched silently, peering through the optics of their weapons and purpose-built surveillance tools.
“Fuck… is that our target’s head?” Schwarz suddenly spoke up hushedly as he peered through the high-powered optic of his precision rifle. “I think that’s his head…”
Coleman released an exasperated sigh as he watched with a camouflaged high-powered surveillance device as the strange dark-skinned man walked away with the noble's head in hand. “Yep… Yep, that’s his head…” He nearly growled in annoyance. “Damnit…”
"Wait, isn't this a good thing? We don't gotta kill him," Bennett piped up, a note of confusion in his voice.
Elijah cut him off, the usual lighthearted tone gone from his voice. "No, dipshit, we wanted to bag 'em for questioning," he gestured at the chaotic camp with the barrel of his rifle, "and we can’t question a corpse."
“All units, this is Baron actual.” Coleman quietly spoke into his headphones as he informed the litany of multinational special operations forces that were positioned or prowling around in preparation for the assault on this camp. “Change of plans, our targets KIA from internal fighting.”
“Baron actual, this is Warlock actual.” An Australian Special Air Services Regiment (SASR) team came over the net. “That’s a BIG fackin’ cunt, mate... I’m not so sure about this one.”
No one could fault the assessment. That monstrosity of a dragon was well over 100 meters from snout to tail, and hefty enough to tank most of their firepower. "Baron actual, copy that Warlock. Standby, we’re trying to figure something out."
“This is Bravo actual. Yeah, I have agree with Warlock. This suddenly got a lot more dangerous. I don’t think the operation’s worth it with this thing hanging around." A new voice came over the net belonging to the Polish Commandos, the Jednostka Wojskowa Komandosów (JWK), and gave his opinion on the matter.
The chatter from other teams confirmed the general sentiment. They came in relatively light hoping to do a lightning raid and bug out. Engaging this creature felt like a suicide mission. Sure they could hit with every Javelin or Anti-Tank weapon they had, but no one was convinced they’d be able to land a killing blow and unless someone got lucky and domed the fucker.
“I can’t believe we’re blue balled by a big fackin’ lizard.” The Aussies voice echoed throughout everyone headphones. “What do ya think? Should we pull out?”
Coleman rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. The Aussie had put it crudely, but the sentiment was spot on. The mission was a bust. The tactical dilemma they faced had become far more complicated with the appearance of these newcomers and their dragon.
“Warlock, hold one.” Coleman responded before leanning back against a fallen tree.
A frustrated and heavy breath left the ODA team leader’s mouth as he popped off his helmet, exposing his hair to the hot summer air. As he contemplated his optins while his hand rubbed across his admittedly greasy hair. It had been quite some time since he had a proper shower and, the dirt was starting to build up.
As he thought of way to continue the mission, every scenario he spun out in his mind unraveled before it could take shape. Assault the camp now? With that dragon in the mix, it was madness. Their firepower was decent, but not against a beast of that size and unknown resilience. The thing would torch them before they knew what was going on.
Sneak in, grab what intel they could? Nah… that was stupider than whatever some private fresh out of bootcamp would think up. The goal was not to be decisively engaged.
The Poles and Aussies had a point. Maybe the best course of action was to just to bugger off and keep and element here to observe and mark the location for when the ground pounders came in. But that almost felt like it was a waste… Here they had a prime opportunity to turn a village into a clandestine staging point and letting go of that idea felt… wrong.
Just as another sigh left Colemans mouth, an earth-shattering roar split the air. The team leader whipped his head up, expecting the worst case scenario. The dragon had erupted into flury of motion, as the whirlwind of claws, wings, and raw power tookeof, blowing debris across the camp and scattering tents like leaves in a storm.
But it didn't attack.
The gargantuan creature circled for a moment, leaving a sinister shadow against the clear blue sky, before banking and soaring eastwards.
Coleman blinked, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift in the situation. A hundred thoughts raced through his head. Where was it going? It didn’t notice us? Would it return? But Within seconds, the beast had vanished into the distance.
Then, a flicker of opportunity flashed across his eyes. “This Baron actual, let’s wait a bit and see what happens...” Coleman suggested with a predatory grin spreading across his face.
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(Welcome to the Orion Arm Grand University Archival Browser!)
(Please Select a Date: [OCT 31 2136])
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Archived Closed Circuit Security Video - Establishment: Exterminator’s Office - Dawn Creek Division - Date Recorded (ST): OCT 31, 2136 - Timeframe (ST): 11:37 - 11:45
Dozens of people sit in the meeting room, staring intently at a screen. It freezes when Nikonus reaches out a tentacle to slap down Cilany’s broadcasting camera. The feed cuts and leaves the meeting room staring at nothing. There is no noise for a moment as everybody looks at everyone else. The body languages of all in the room are tense in response to the information the broadcast had just provided them. This peace does not last long.
In the corner of the room, one black-suited Exterminator stands and attempts to raise their flamer. The perpetrator appears to be Venlil. Many other members of the room, particularly those of species mentioned in the broadcast, shrink away. Another Venlil rises from their seat and attempts to push the weapon’s nozzle down. They attempt to reason with the instigator. “Mafchi! What are you doing?? Put that thing away now!”
“Are you kidding?” The armed Venlil, Mafchi, responds. “We finally know why we’ve set up all those camps! It’s to corral all the predators into one place and purge them from the world! No wonder so many have tried to cozy up to the humans, predatory taint has been inundating us from between our eyes this whole time! Even here, in this very room!” Mafchi makes a sweeping gesture across the room. Exterminators who belong to omnivorous species shrink, except for one.
“What are you talking about, Mafchi??” A Tilfish officer lifts themselves from their thorax and points at Mafchi. “This is as much news to us as it is to you! Do you think that I, that any of us, knew about this?? I didn’t, that’s for damn sure! Now put down the brahking flamer and let us get scanned like all the others we’ve collected!” The screen comes back to life with the face of a Zurulian, but the focus is no longer on it.
“What, so you all can falsify yet more brain scans? That’s probably how you all have managed to keep yourselves hidden! Of course, how could I have not seen it before?? You! You’re all in cahoots with the Humans and Arxur! Making us tainted enough to where we willing turn ourselves over to be eaten! The humans they- they were just a test! You can’t hide your intentions anymore, vile predator scum!!” Mafchi attempts to raise their flamer again, but is once more stopped by the Venlil by their side.
The pair scuffle as they wrestle over the weapon. The rest of the crowd starts to murmur and move. Some Venlil and other herbivorous species distance themselves from their omnivorous companions. Some begin to apply their masks. A gap starts to form.
“Mafchi, that’s enough! You’re talking completely crazy! Drop the flamer and come with u-” The other Venlil is cut off by an elbow impacting their lower jaw. Their teeth audibly clack together before they fall to the ground. The situation rapidly worsens as many Exterminators grab their arms, pointing their flamers at one another. Omnivorous species point at herbivorous species, but several of the herbivores also join the side with Tilfish and Gojid. The gap grows wider as even more silver and black suited exterminators zip their masks over their heads.
“STOP!” A Kolshian stands from their seat and rushes into the middle of the fighting. They still have their mask hanging behind their head, their face fully visible. They hold their tentacles out to their sides in an attempt to keep hostilities from rising further. “Please, this doesn’t have to end in bloodshed! This is upsetting news, I know that for certain, but this is not the way to resolve it! We can’t just panic into madness and just start killing people! Mafchi, Iltivik, lower your weapons now!” Their tone is commanding, and for a brief moment, both parties obey. However, that is short lived.
“... Why are you saying this, Nhilasi?” Mafchi asks, leveling their weapon at the Kolshian, Nhilasi. “As a matter of fact, why don’t you tell us just how long you knew about all this?”
Nhilasi appears taken aback and her body language becomes far more animated as the situation devolves. “Me?? How could I have known? I just learned about this now!!”
The body language of the people on Mafchi’s side shifts. Tails lash in skepticism and hostility. “You think we’ll buy that for a second? It’s been through you that the predatorshit High Magister has been giving us orders! They had to have known about this before us, and that means you. And- and you’re a Kolshian! Nikonus said what the Kolshians did, it was your species that’s responsible for doing all- all this and then covering it up! It’s your fault that we’re so immolated by taint, you and your whole spehking species!!”
Nhilasi attempts to reciprocate, but is cut off by Mafchi yelling to all the others in the room. “Exterminators! This is clear and distinct evidence of predator taint on a scale that we could not have imagined before! If you have any sense of duty left, you’ll help me subdue these predatory infiltrators and purge this district- nay, this planet of taint! Once! AND FOR ALL!” A solid majority of the herbivores raise their paws in solidarity. The omnivores and sympathetic herbivores are outnumbered at 2 to 1, which proves disastrous once Mafchi speaks again. “SEIZE THEM!!”
The meeting room descends into chaos at a moment’s notice, as every hostile officer goes after and attempts to subdue an omnivore or sympathetic herbivore. The camera’s microphone peaks multiple times during the chaos, in which the hostile attackers appear to be winning. Yet suddenly a group of three Venlil and two Gojid burst from the fray and stumble out of the room, the running out of sight. Over the sounds of distress and anger coming from the room, Mafchi’s voice can be heard as they speak into a comlink.
“Attention all True Exterminators, capture the predatory impostors in your midst and meet the rest of us out front. We will burn this building to the ground to wipe the taint from its very foundation! Our traitorous High Magister seeks to have us merely scan and release the predatory influence? We shall not let him! We will burn every last predator and sympathizer from the face of this district! From the face of this very planet!! We shall do what we have so long been incapable of now that we are freed from our false comrades! For the glory of the Federation! FOR THE GOOD OF THE HERD!!”
They pant as they deactivate their comlink and look at the terrified mass of omnivores and herbivores crowded against the corner of the room. Among them are the Venlil who attempted to stop Mafchi, Iltivik the Tilfish officer, and Nhilasi. The latter struggles against her restraints, her face contorted with anger at Mafchi. “You can’t do this! You’ll be facilitating a slaughter the likes of which can only be compared to the Arxur! Please, Mafchi, don’t do this. Let us all free and talk!”
Mafchi looks at Nhilasi and stops moving. Other screams and shouts can be heard faintly through the walls. They kneel down next to the group of restrained officers, their tail wagging gleefully. “Your predatory deception won’t work on us anymore. All of you will meet the ends your kinds should have seen hundreds of years ago. We will fix the Federation’s mistakes and finally clear the galaxy of predators once and for all! Starting. Right. Here.” There is venom in their voice as they bring their monologue to a close. They motion for the “True Exterminators” to follow them out the door, locking it behind them as they leave.
There is not much movement in the following minutes. The primary actions caught on tape are crying and pleading to be let go. Some hang their heads and others scream out in desperation. After a few minutes pass, Nhilasi grunts and manages to wiggle her tentacles out of their restraints. Her success is met with more pleas and sounds for her to help them. Once she undoes her leg restraints, she starts trying to free everyone else as well. “I know, I know! Damn it, I should’ve known that those new transfers would be nothing but trouble. If I meet that spehkbrain bird Estela again, I’m gonna-” She takes in a deep breath as she unlocks the restraints on a frightened Gojid officer. “Nope, I’m going to firmly scold her, that’s what I’ll do. Yep.”
She works on freeing others restraints, who in turn aid in her effort. Before long, all the officers are freed and nervously conversing amongst themselves. Among the murmurs are mentions of “maybe we are dangerous” and “what if we suddenly want meat?” These conversations are interrupted by Nhilasi, who stands on one of the desks. “Everyone, please listen to me!”
The voices die down and attention falls on her. She takes another breath before continuing. “I-I know that things seem bleak. Believe me, I had no idea this was what we were preparing for, but I don’t think that your species' past deserves for you to get burned! I was born and raised on Venlil Prime, and I have known many people from the races mentioned by Nikonus! In fact, I know a fair few here in this very room! You have dedicated your lives to protecting the weak of the herd, and nothing in your genetic past can change that commitment! I have no intention of you dying here today! We can take them! Come on!”
Nhilasi hops off the desk and rushes to the door, using a keycard to unlock it and hold it open for the rest of the room. They start to filter out at varying paces, but do eventually vacate the room. The room is empty for 92 seconds before screaming can be heard from somewhere else in the building. Immediately following this, a bright flash engulfs the camera lens and the feed goes dead. The error code is consistent with that of electrical interruption.
(Specified Media Concluded.)
(Watch Another? [Y])
(Searching for Similar Media…2 Found.)
(Playing…)
{Oh, oh, we need to check on Sol-Vah next! Things are bound to happen with her!}

{Isn’t that the reason we should look?}
<…Damn you for weaponizing my curiosity.>
(Playback Paused.)
(Command: [minimzeprogram])
(Are you sure? [Y])
…
{-Welcome To: Terra Technologies Transcription Hub!-}
{-Choose Service: (Transcription Playback)-}
{-Restart From Last Playback Point? Y/(N)-}
{-[USERID-11229KMD]: procViewHist -}
{-Retrieving Transcription Viewing History…-}
{-List Retrieved - Select Desired Subject: (Sol-Vah)-}
{-Restart From Last Playback Point? (Y)/N-}
{-Playing…-}
Memory Transcription Subject: Sol-Vah, Gojid Citizen. Date [Standardized Human Time] October 31st, 2136
As I laid on the bed, I started to get concerned. It shouldn’t have taken Orhew this long to get the Strayu out of the forge given that he wouldn’t need to use protection to retrieve it. I tried to push my worries to the back of my mind, but I was ultimately unsuccessful in my endeavors. Furthermore, I could hear voices coming from the central room, likely from the holovision. Is he watching something?
Unable to contain my curiosity, I managed to hop down from the bed and make my way towards the door. My steps were unsteady due to the pleasure Orhew had bestowed upon me during our mating, but I was able to push through. As I placed my paw on the door, I heard something drop to the ground, the definitive sounds of other people talking echoing through Orhew’s abode. I had no idea what was going on, so with a moment’s hesitation, I slid open the door.
The previously muffled voices roared to life as I heard what sounded like a male Gojid speak through the screen. “No. You’re lying,” the Gojid said, the holoscreen showing him on his hands and knees as he panted heavily. He looked to be in immense pain, something which I couldn’t quite understand as he was unscathed. Orhew was standing still, both eyes affixed to the screen with a Strayu knife in his left hand and the loaf we had made fallen on the ground.
…What’s going on?
I decided to watch silently as g gthe scene continued. “I am not. See, Cilany? It’s cruel.” Another voice piped up from the screen and the shot rapidly changed to a familiar face. Is that… Chief Nikonus? How are we getting a feed from Federation space? The camera shook slightly as the recorder’s voice, Cilany I presumed, came from the screen in turn. “I don’t know what to say. This is a lot at once.”
As the camera panned back to find the Gojid completely curled up on the ground sobbing, I grew more and more concerned. What was this? Why was Orhew watching it? What’s a lot to take in at once?? My focus darted between the screen and Orhew, who was starting to shake. I could hear his heavy breathing even from across the room, and I wanted to go and comfort him from whatever this w-
“Now, you see why it’s important to protect these secrets. People like the Gojids can live in peace from their past. We’ve made it possible for them to walk among us, without threatening stability. We saved them.”
…What?
“What you did is wrong. You’ve been conducting genetic engineering, on innocent species, at…I don’t even know how large a scale. Your actions are going to kill us all, between the Arxur and the humans!”
Genetic engineering? Saved us? What…what does that…
“You haven’t learned a thing here. If you publish any of this, I’ll shoot it down as a wild fabrication. There’s no proof. Nobody would believe you.” Nikonus sneered at Cilany and whoever the Gojid was, the camera quickly panning down to him before Cliany chuckled darkly. “They don’t have to believe me. You just told everyone yourself.”
Nikonus’s eyes bulged from his head and he started to shout something, but my attention was drawn away once I realized that Orhew was no longer facing the screen. He was facing me, directly. Both of his eyes stared at me, sending chills down my spines in a way not even Humans could muster. What’s going on?? What was Nikonus talking about?!
“Orhew, wh-” I started to ask, but the [second] I took a step towards him, he leveled the knife he was holding directly at me. What- why- he- this- “Orhew, w-what’s going on? Why was Nikonus on the HV?? W-Why are you holding a knife at me?!” I can barely breathe, oh Protector what’s happening??
He was silent, scanning me up and down as his body shook uncharacteristically. I had never seen him like this before, and it was scaring me. After an agonizingly long and silent moment, he finally spoke. “is it true?”
“W-What?” I stammered, barely able to hear his voice over my racing heart. I heard strange noises coming from outside, but my focus was entirely on him. “Is what true? Orhew, what was that on the screen? Please, tell me!”
His ears wavered slightly at my admission of fear, but that moment of hesitation was followed by a fiery anger the likes of which I’ve never seen from him before burning in his eyes. He bared his teeth at me and violently pointed at the screen with his free hand, just as a Zurulian appeared in what looked like the district’s PSA format. “you can’t deceive me anymore.”
I looked back at thes screen as the woman began talking, but I couldn’t pay attention to what she was saying, not through my confusion and terror at the situation. Not even a few [minutes] ago, he and I were the happiest we’ve ever been, and now he thinks I’m deceiving him? “Orhew please, I don’t know what you mean! Tell m-”
“DON’T YOU DARE, PREDATOR!!”
…Predator?
Orhew nearly collapsed into a coughing fit after he attempted his scream at me. His voice, normally soft and raspy, was a gravelly mess raw with rage and sadness as he had tried to use them without his electrolarynx. But why would he call me a predator? What did he…
“Now, you see why it’s important to protect these secrets.”
“You’ve been conducting genetic engineering, on innocent species, at…I don’t even know how large a scale!”
“We saved them.”
…No. Nonononononononononono pleasepleaseplease Please No. Protector PLEASE NO!! NO!!! NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN-
{-ERR: Altered State Of Mind - Extreme Emotion-}
{-Attempting Recovery…Recovery Success-}
{-Adjusting Playback Parameters…Success-}
{-Playing…-}
I had to steady myself against the table to keep from falling over from shock, my arm barely strong enough to keep me upright. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the noises from the world around me as I struggled to remain conscious. No, no I couldn’t- That’s not- I’m not a-a…
Orhew was crying. The knife trembled in his paw as he stared at me, muttering to himself under his breath. I was only barely able to make out “pure” and “tainted” as he stared at me, full tears nearly pouring from his eyes. My own face felt wet as I realized what this had to mean.
Gojids are Predators.
“why?” Orhew asked me, his breathing almost as ragged as mine. I tried to tell him that I didn’t know, that I would never hurt anyone, but how could I know that was true? Was that what my impulses were? Predatory instincts reawakened?? …No sound came out of my mouth.
I heard Orhew gasp as he choked on his own mucus, followed by another horrible, wheezing attempt at a yell. “WHY?!” His legs gave out from under him and he collapsed to his knees, sobbing to himself next to the loaf of Strayu we had made. I almost reached out to help him, but I withdrew myself at the last second. He wasn’t safe around me, nobody was. How many things might I have tainted without even realizing?? I…I tainted him, didn’t I?
“O-Orh-hew, I-I-” I barely managed to choke out through my own tears and mucus, taking a step back for fear that my presence was only making things worse. My heart yearned to do something, anything, to ease the pain Orhew had to be feeling, but I refused it. Is that just another predatory trick I’m playing on myself? Who am I? What am I?!
“i-i trusted you,” Orhew coughed out, still reeling from raising his voice so much. Every syllable that came from his mouth stabbed me with another pang of sorrow. “how c-could you…you were pure…b-but I…” He shakily rose to his paws and started to stagger towards me, knife still in paw. I didn’t want him to be anywhere close to a monster like me, so I slid away on the ground, my spines fully flexed to the point of pain.
“i-i need…n-need to purge the taint,” he said, drawing closer towards me with the cooking instrument. How, how could this have happened?? Why did I have to be a…a… It only then occurred to me what he meant by that as his features bubbled with a mixture of agonizing emotions.
“i need to purge you.”
Even through the chemical cocktail that was my brain, my flight instincts kicked into overdrive. “N-No, Orh-hew, please! Please! I-I didn’t k-know about a-any of this!! I-I don’t wa-ant to hurt you!! Please, d-don’t ki-kill me!!” I pleaded for my life as the tears streamed from my eyes, my chest feeling so tight I thought it was about to implode. My vision was bleary with tears as I begged for my life to the man I love, unsure if it was even the right thing to do.
As Mute towered over me, I was unable to look away as he raised the knife above his head, his eyes alone conveying a tidal wave of pain and suffering hidden beneath his short wool. I closed my eyes and waited for him to do what needed to be done…only to be met by the sound of steel clattering against linoleum.
The strike never came.
After a moment, I opened my eyes to see him shaking and muttering to himself words that I could no longer hear from him. From the one I had unknowingly ensnared into whatever dastardly predatory deception I had created deep in my psyche. Even though my body was screaming at me to run, I couldn’t. My mind wouldn’t let me because I knew that I was a danger to everyone else, no matter how good I thought I had become. Because I’m nothing more than a filthy predator. Because death by his paws is what I deserve for everything I've done.
“...go.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Mute looked at me with a mixture of anger, pain, and sorrow in his features as he pointed sternly at the door. I looked between it and him, my adrenaline-addled mind struggling to comprehend what he was doing. My look only seemed to worsen his inner turmoil, as he clutched his head and screamed at me one last time.
“GO!!!”
That was the loudest I’ve ever heard him speak, even while using his ‘voice.’ The very floor shook with the force of his words, shattering my heart into a billion pieces from the sheer torment in his voice. Mute quickly descended into a violent coughing fit, and suddenly all the inhibitions I had melted away. With a speed beyond my physical limits, I bolted out the door of his house, my reality, and our life together in the unknown streets of the city. I was vaguely aware of people screaming and bodies littering the roadways.
Without thinking, I started to stumble down the road as fast as my paws could take me. I was heading towards the Exterminator’s office, they-they could tell me this wasn’t true, right? That this was all some big misunderstanding, and that I could go back to my happy life, right? I heard a terrible scream from behind me, its baritone raspiness serving to pulverize what was left of my soul. If I even have one.
I just need to get to the office, they’ll be able to help. They’ll be able to save me, just like they did all those [years] ago. Yeah, Nikonus said they saved us! They can do it again! They have to. They have to. They have to. They HAVE TO! Please, oh Protector Please let this be a bad dream! I want this nightmare to end, I want him to wake me up!
I just want my Kavelun back.
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