As the title says, I was “fired“ alongside every other head of department in a rather legally questionable manner. Needless to say, everyone got paid way over the odds for what was required (payment in lieu) / plus extra “severance”.
Needless to say, I was able to land another role within a week that was on an overall better package.
This leaves me with around 6 months salary paid in lieu and starting a new role in two weeks. Naturally from a taxation perspective I’ll be earning substantially more this tax year via PAYE so the first 6 months can be expected to be within the 50% tax bracket.
My question was mostly, if any of you were in this situation would you be inclined to use up your ISA’s first and foremost or start focusing on diversifying investments. There’s some credit card debts to clear first and a car loan that i was tempted to clear off / sell. Conversely, my monthly run rate is around £3700 from mortgages / personal expenses and some minor unsecured debts. The other part of me is thinking to save the money incase of a rainy day as the new role and payout would extend my runway to just over a year if I cut back costs back and just continued plodding along paying off the debts as before.
Thanks I’m advance all

"Behold, He is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see Him, even those who pierced Him; and all the knees of the earth will weep for Him. Yes, indeed."
Rev. 1:7
Here in this verse, John gives us a brief insight into the events that follow and are described in the Revelation. In the following chapters, the events are described in detail and the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ will be in two parts. First, he will come in the clouds and take the church and that can happen. every moment and the second coming is on earth with the Church. The first part is also described as a secret because it was revealed to Paul but not before and the apostle Paul writes about it:
,, Here I am telling you a secret: because we will not all die, but we will all be transformed... Once, in the twinkling of an eye at the last trumpet; for the trumpet will sound and the dead will rise incorruptible, and we will be changed."
1 Cor. 15:51-52
And this event refers to the coming of Jesus to earth with the Church, and the believers of the Third Testament also had information about it, and it was not a secret, and this event will be at the end of the great tribulation that will last seven years.
"Behold, He is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see Him" ​​we mentioned a little while ago that the believers of the Third Testament also knew about this because they had information from the prophet Malachi who wrote:
"For, behold, a day is coming that burns like an oven, and all will be proud, and all who work wickedly will be stubble, and the day that is coming will burn them up, says the Lord of hosts, and will leave them neither root nor branch."
Mal. 4:1
and this was also confirmed by Jude in verse 14.
"Look, the Lord is coming with thousands of his holy angels"
Jude 1:14
Here we can notice that Malachi and Judas used the warning words "behold it is coming" and for them this was the future and they practically warned the listeners to pay attention to this event and John says "here it is coming" which is another proof that Jovan saw these events in real time, for him it is the present, he sees it now and not as some future event.
This event is something that will happen in the future and the Bible clearly describes it, however, a large number of people doubt or do not believe that this will happen. And it is not strange, although they have a lot of evidence, the Bible foretold this in advance:
"And know this first, that in the last days scoffers will come who will live according to their own desires, And say: Where is the promise of his coming?"
2 Peter 3:3-4
Regardless of the fact that someone does not believe what the Bible warns in advance, this event will be real and many will not like it, but God does not change his plans and what he prophesied in the first book of Moses will soon be fulfilled, as well as other prophecies written in the Old and New vow.
"The ruler's rod will not be separated from Judah nor from his feet the one who sets the law, until the One to whom it belongs comes, and the nations will obey Him."
Gen.49:10
So from the tribe of Judah will come someone who is called "The One" and that someone is the Lord Jesus Christ and he will be the ruler and the nations will obey him and he will rule throughout eternity.
"Look to me, and I will give you nations as your inheritance, and the ends of the earth as your kingdom."
Psalm 2:8
"And His feet will stand in that day on the Mount of Olives, which is towards Jerusalem from the east, and the Mount of Olives will split in the middle to the east and to the west, so that it will be very large, and half of the mountain will give way to the north and half to the South. And you will flee into the valley of the mountains, because the valley of the mountains will reach Asal, and you will flee as you fled from the ruins in the time of Uzziah, king of Judah; and the Lord my God will come, and all the saints will be with you. And in that day light and darkness shall not be seen; But there will be one day, which is known to the Lord, it will not be day and night, because there will be light in the evening. And on that day, living water will flow from Jerusalem, half to the eastern sea and half to the western sea, and it will be both summer and in winter. And the Lord will be king over all the earth, in that day the Lord will be one and His name will be one. And the whole earth will be turned into a plain from Gibeah to Rimmon on the south of Jerusalem, which will be raised and settled in its place from the gate of Benjamin to the place where the first door is, to the door at the corner, and from Ananeil's tower to the emperor's father-in-law. And they shall continue in it, and there shall be no more curse, and Jerusalem shall stand without fear."
Zechariah 14:4-11
We have seen that Jesus is surely coming, but in this age of grace there is an intention or a plan for non-Jews as well, and that plan is to build the Church of Jesus made up of saved people in the time after the cross, including our time.
,,Simon said that God first visited and received a people from the Gentiles to his name. And with this are struck the words of the prophet, as it is written: Then I will return, and I will build the house of David, which has fallen, and I will repair its ruins, and I will raise it up, So that the rest of the people and all the nations in which my name is mentioned will seek the Lord , says the Lord who creates all these."
Acts 15:14-17
The Church is the building of all nations in the New Testament time, and the Church should be built first, and then comes the kingdom.
"And do not make any differences between us and them, having cleansed their hearts with faith. Now then, why do you tempt God and want to put a yoke on the disciples' necks, which neither our fathers nor we could bear? Rather, we believe that we will be saved by the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, just like them."
Acts 15:9-11
"Then I will return, and I will build the house of David."
Acts 15:16
And when that happens, Jesus will reign over all nations, but before that, Armageddon will be the last great battle where many will die in the fight against God.
"I will gather all the nations, and bring them down to the valley of Jehoshaphat, and there I will judge with them for my people and for my inheritance, Israel, whom they scattered among the nations and divided my land;"
Joel 3:2
"Proclaim this to the nations, declare war, raise up heroes, let all the soldiers come and go." Break your plowshares into swords, and your sickles into spears; let him who is weak say: I am a hero."
Joel 3:9-10
,,...for I will sit there to judge all the nations around."
Joel 3:12
And after the terrible battle:
"And the Savior will come to Zion and to those of Jacob who turn from their sins, says the Lord. And this will be my covenant with them, says the Lord: My Spirit, which is in you, and my words, which I have put in your mouth , will not depart from your mouth, nor from the mouth of your seed, nor from the mouth of the seed of your seed, says the Lord, forever and ever"
Isa.59:20-21
,,Behold, the days are coming, says the Lord, in which I will raise up for David a righteous Seed, which will reign and be happy and do judgment and justice on earth. In His days, Judah will be saved, and Israel will dwell in peace, and this is his the name by which he will be called: Lord our justice."
Jer. 23:5-6
This has not happened yet, but it will happen soon to fulfill the prophecies, and when Jesus came the first time, they did not accept him and did not believe him, even the high priest asked him:
,, And the chief priest answered and said to Him: I adjure you by the living God to tell us if you are the Christ, the son of God? Jesus said to him: You said. But I say to you: you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of power and riding on the clouds of heaven. Then the chief priest tore his clothes, saying: Blaspheme God; what do we need more witnesses? Now you can hear his blasphemy. What do you think? And they answered and said: He deserved death."
Mtt. 26:63-66
And then they concluded that He deserved death, but they were mistaken, they could not kill Him. He is alive and will return again in glory as it is written in the verses of the prophets and apostles.
"There it goes with the clouds" is something that will be and through the Bible the cloud is a symbol of God's glory and presence and the Jews knew this because the "cloud" led them through the desert:
"And the Lord went before them by day in a pillar of cloud, leading them on the way, and by night in a pillar of fire, giving them light, so that they could travel day and night."
Exod.13:21
and also filled the tent of meeting with the glory of God.
"Then the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the tabernacle of the Lord's glory was filled."
Exod. 40:34
Danilo saw this "cloud"
"I saw in the visions of the night, and behold, one like the Son of Man came with the clouds of heaven, and came to the old man and stood before Him"
Daniel 7:13
On the Mount of Transfiguration one could see:
"While he was still speaking, behold, a bright cloud overshadowed them; and behold, a voice from the cloud, saying: This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; Listen to him."
Matt. 17:5
and also at the ascension on the Mount of Olives:
"And having said this, they saw where a cloud lifted up and carried Him away from their eyes."
Acts. 1:9
The return will be similar, "clouds" are mentioned, but these are not ordinary clouds that we can see every day in the sky, these are clouds of glory.
"And then the sign of the Son of Man will appear in heaven; and then all the tribes of the earth will weep; and they will see the Son of Man riding on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory."
Matt. 24:30
"and every eye will see Him" ​​at that time the light of the Lord's glory will be even more pronounced because the sun and the moon will lose their light:
"And I saw when he opened the sixth seal, and behold, the earth shook very much, and the sun became black as sackcloth, and the moon became like blood"
Rev. 6:12
and then the glory of the Lord will shine so brightly that everyone will see and everyone will know what it is about, that's why many unbelievers will try to hide in caves and holes to avoid the Cross of Jesus Christ
"And he said to the mountains and rocks: Fall on us, and hide us from the face of Him who sits on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb."
Rev. 6:16
Throughout history, God appeared in a "cloud" and the glory of the cloud is the light and the glory of God, and it is such a strong light that it is blinding, and man cannot look into it and see God in fullness and remain alive, it is God himself said to Moses:
"But you will not be able to see my face, because a man cannot see me and remain alive."
Exod. 33:20
Therefore, no one can see God and stay alive, the only thing he can see is a ray of God's glory in the form of light, but practically he can't look at it either, but only see it for a moment because neither Ezekiel nor Paul wrote, "I looked" someone,, saw " so they saw it briefly.
"And I saw, and behold, a mighty wind came from the north, and a great cloud and a burning fire, and around it a light, and in the midst of the fire like a bright light;"
Ezekiel 1:4
"And behold, the glory of the God of Israel came from the east, and its voice was like the voice of great water, and the earth trembled from His glory."
Ezekiel 43:2
Paul saw that light while he was still Saul in the middle of the day and here is the description after which he fell to the ground and became blind:
"And when I was going and got close to Damascus, it happened to me around noon that a great light suddenly shone on me from the sky."
Acts 22:13
"At noon, king, I saw on the way from the sky a light greater than the brightness of the sun, which illuminated me and those who were going with me.
Acts 26:13
"And when I became blind from the strong light of it, those who were with me led me by the hand, and I came to Damascus."
Acts 22:11
"and those who pierced Him" ​​Jesus was pierced by Roman soldiers, but they are not meant here because these are events that are yet to happen, and Roman soldiers pierced Jesus almost 2000 years ago, here we mean the generation of Jews who will live in that time. For them it says:
"And I will pour out on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem the spirit of mercy and prayers, and they will look at me whom they pierced; and they will weep for him as for an only child, and they will sue for him as for the firstborn."
Zechariah 12:10
"They will look at Him whom they pierced."
John 19:37
This is written because the Jews were responsible for Jesus' death even though the Romans carried out the crucifixion.
"People of Israel! Listen to these words: Jesus of Nazareth, a man confirmed by God among you by the powers and miracles and signs that God did through him among you, as you yourselves know, having received him delivered by the specific counsel and providence of God, you nailed and killed him through the hands of the lawless;
Acts 2:22-23
"And you renounced the Saint and the Righteous, and begged the executioner to give you gifts; And you killed the Prince of life, whom God raised from the dead, of which we are witnesses."
Acts 3:14-15
"and all the knees of the earth will weep for Him" ​​We have reached the last part where we can see that at the coming of the Lord Jesus, people will cry and it will not be from happiness that Jesus is coming but from despair and fear of the wrath of the Lord Jesus Christ.
,, And then the sign of the Son of Man will appear in heaven; and then all the tribes of the earth will weep; and they will see the Son of Man riding on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory"
Matt. 24:30
And he said to the mountains and rocks: Fall on us, and hide us from the face of Him who sits on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb. For the great day of His wrath is coming, and who can remain?"
Rev. 6:16-17
In the next verse we see that they did not repent of their sins:
"Neither did they repent of their murders, nor of their witchcraft, nor of their fornication, nor of their thefts."
Rev. 9:21
"Yes, indeed." John wrote this, but the Holy Spirit practically confirms what was described in the previous part of the verse. John seems to say, "Let it be as you planned and said because it is your will, I fully agree"
"Yes, indeed."

My registered vehicle was parked at a shopping centre for 3 weeks. In this time, allegedly, the shopping centre advised that the licence plates were removed and tires slashed. They proceeded, without any attempt at notification, to donate my vehicle to the fire department who used it for crash training and fully wrote off the vehicle. In the car park terms and conditions there was no mention of maximum stay/abandoned vehicle etc . Now my totaled car is sitting at the contractors ready for collection. Is there any way I can seek remuneration from the shopping centre that gave away my car or is this above board?

I work hourly at a DC, and without going into detail, their one size fits all attendance policy has landed me on a final CA for attendance. My question is 1. Can I apply and be considered for other positions within the warehouse? 2. Can I change shifts or departments per my workday preference? 3. Can I still get a childcare exception to work on another shift temporarily while I arrange better childcare?
Also, just out of curiosity… is anyone else experiencing an overwhelming amount of tenured people getting fired and new hires overwhelmingly being hired and put on equipment far too soon? ? Or is it just me?

After months of careful anthropological study of this sub, this is a profiling of the Probergers - a compendium of case conspiracies, a folio of framing felonies which have been suggested by those convinced of Kohberger's innocence. It has been added to by contributions from various commenters and (believe it or not) a post has been requested by a few to preserve the list / allow further additions. Thanks to u/prentb and u/rivershimmer for many contributions, and apologies if I have not correctly attributed any specific sighting/ classification of a Proberger sub-type spotted in the wild.

A Proliferation of Probergers:

Probergers - avid and vocal fans of Kohberger who staunchly believe in his innocence
Nobergers - have no strong fan feelings or admiration for BK, tend toward guilty
SoSobergers - undecided/ indifferent to BK and guilt/ innocence
Brobergers - those who think a rampaging group of Sigma Chi frat bros were involved
Snowbergers - those who think visual snow means BK could not be the killer
Cobergers - those who think BK had a co-conspirator
Double-"O"Bergers - believe BK is a secret agent with CIA type links, of the 007 ilk
MowBergers - believe rage about an unreturned, borrowed lawnmower was key to motive
KoCoBergers - those who think BLK was the accomplice, a subset of Cobergers
Slowbergers - those who think the 10 minute time frame is far too short / unrealistic
GoBergers - those who think the 10 minute time frame is more than sufficient
In-N-OutBergers - were known as GoBergers before a cease & desist order, tx: u/TwentyThree
Wash-N-GoBergers - claim massive clean up by friends at 9.00am including shampooing of Murphy
AnnoBergers - think the year of the Elantra of 2011-2013 vs 2016 shows a vast police conspiracy
DominoBergers - dispute that the DoorDash was a Jack-in-theBox order, think it was pizza
Blowbergers - those who think cocaine is involved in the motive, a subset of NarcoBergers
Doebergers - those who think the killer is involved in deer hunting, hunting knives
Flowbergers - think flushing of evidence down toilet at King Rd is key to the case
H₂OBergers - think water sounds in bathroom are important (poor cousins of the EauBergers)
Glowbergers - think "Good Vibes" sign dazzled BK and so missed DM (tx u/chickensquit)
KnowBergers - who know top secret details about drug cartels and who owned the King Rd house
WindowBergers - think BM looked out her window and saw a naked man streaking about
MicroBergers subset of naked streaker theory, by which Kohberger is cleared by what was not visible
Hoebergers - those who think OnlyFans/ sex work is connected to the case in some way
GoGoBergers - entertain the possibility of dancing in bars for cash or stripper poles as relevant
HoHoHobergers - think Prosecutor Thompson looks like, or is, Santa Claus (he knows who's naughty or nice, he's making a list and he's checking it twice)
Lowbergers - those who think subterranean drug cartel tunnels are key to the case
FoShobergers - are sure BK is guilty but this does not diminish their fevered support
BrickaBarlowBergers - have at best a partial and ambiguous understanding of DNA evidence
NarcoBergers- think drug cartel assassinations/drug money is key (tx: u/DaisyVonTazy )
Mexikobergers - those who think drug cartels from Mexico are involved
Rowbergers - think BK used a small boat to cross the arboretum pond to get to King Rd
MoscowKnowsBergers - think 590 students, their families and 4 party catering agencies were texted at 8.30am Nov 13th about the murders tx u/jbwt
Fauxbergers - use many alt/ puppet accounts to gaslight/ downvote, pretend to be undecided
Locobergers - those who are driven a tad nonsensical by strong para-social feelings for bK
Stowebergers - those who believe BK hid himself in the attic or a cupboard before the murders
GoProBergers - think murders were filmed on a sports camera possibly hidden in the trees
IdahoBergers - think the Tourism and Sport Science Dept of UoI is part of powerful drug cartel
YoYoBergers- think Kohberger's to and from, back and forth return to the crime scene is crucial
DoughBergers - those involved with case for financial gain, or think money is key tx u/dorothydunnit
AnnoDominoBergers - think that Koberger's second coming to scene at 9.12am is critical, cf YoYo
CirqueDuSoBergers - think juggling, especially of fire sticks, was involved. (tx: u/Got_Kittens)
MartinScoBergers - think video of the murders was framed in moody, lengthy artistic shots
AfriGobergers - those who think a suspect fled to Africa shortly after the crimes
HiHoBergers - think that LE agents seen entering King Rd house wearing hats were cowboys
Goldbergers - think the tunnels are mining related, or that this was an assassination for money
Icebergers - subset of the drug motive crowd, often themselves meth p0ssessors
BushyBergers - think BK fits DM's description including in the eye hair coiffure department
Brow

The short version of this is that my (20F) mom (40F) is convinced that my boyfriend (23M) is transgender, this is not true. We have tried telling her that this is not true multiple times and she will not believe it. This has caused multiple issues within the family because of her telling people this, us denying it, and her getting mad about us denying it. She got this ‘information’ from my ex boyfriend, with whom she is still in contact with ( and his entire family) even after a very bitter break up.
This has been going on our whole relationship (a year). My mother has made it very clear she does not like my boyfriend and has tried telling me on many different occasions to break up with him.
Me and my boyfriend showed her his birth certificate to prove to her that he was in fact born male and her response was “You can get that changed, I can pull up his records at the health department and prove it.” We didn’t report her the first time she threatened this because A. it isn’t true so who cares what she finds anyway and B. It would just cause more fighting. But after her threatening us again we reported her and she wound up getting fired for multiple Hippa violations including pulling my (her daughters) records.
Now we are excommunicated from the family. Blocked by her, dad, and all siblings but one who doesn’t care.
They think we reported her out of revenge because in her words she “won’t lie to people”.
So AITAH for reporting her even if we just could have continued ignoring her?

AITAH getting my mom fired for Hippa violations
The short version of this is that my (20F) mom (40F) is convinced that my boyfriend (23M) is transgender, this is not true. We have tried telling her that this is not true multiple times and she will not believe it. This has caused multiple issues within the family because of her telling people this, us denying it, and her getting mad about us denying it. She got this ‘information’ from my ex boyfriend, with whom she is still in contact with ( and his entire family) even after a very bitter break up.
This has been going on our whole relationship (a year). My mother has made it very clear she does not like my boyfriend and has tried telling me on many different occasions to break up with him.
Me and my boyfriend showed her his birth certificate to prove to her that he was in fact born male and her response was “You can get that changed, I can pull up his records at the health department and prove it.” We didn’t report her the first time she threatened this because A. it isn’t true so who cares what she finds anyway and B. It would just cause more fighting. But after her threatening us again we reported her and she wound up getting fired for multiple Hippa violations including pulling my (her daughters) records.
Now we are excommunicated from the family. Blocked by her, dad, and all siblings but one who doesn’t care.
They think we reported her out of revenge because in her words she “won’t lie to people”.
So AITAH for reporting her even if we just could have continued ignoring her?

On Monday, an ex-Indian Army Officer, Col. Vaibhav Kale, who was working with the UN Department of Safety and Security in Rafah, was killed in a purported Israeli attack. My family knew Col. Kale and his family, and all of us here believe that his death should not have happened. Col. Kale joined the UN just six weeks back because he wanted to make a difference. He and his family had nothing to do with either Israel or Palestine.
As Indians, particularly those coming from military families, patriotism runs in our blood. We are willing to die for our country and to die doing what is right, but what did Col. Kale do wrong? He was in a marked UN vehicle. Yes, he was in an active conflict zone, but so what? Did he or anyone traveling with him harbor terrorists in his vehicle or fire shots directly at the Israeli military? The answer to all of these questions would be no. The facts all point to the same conclusion: Col. Kale was part of an international organisation, and his marked UN vehicle should not have been targeted.
I thought the Israeli military had learned from its mistakes in the accidental missile firing incident that killed six humanitarian workers, and from its own forces killing three of its own hostages in Gaza, but it seems not. The Israeli military apparently believes in shooting at any person or vehicle it feels threatened by. Some of you might say that "this happens in war zones." That should not be an excuse for the loss of innocent lives, especially of those individuals who are there to help and protect. War zones must operate under international laws and respect for neutral entities like the UN and other humanitarian aid organisations.
I have always tried to be extremely neutral on this issue, but not anymore. The Israeli Defence Forces need to be held accountable for their actions. Conducting their "own enquiries" into the incident, publishing their "own reports," and then apologising for what happened doesn't suffice. Gandhi was right when he said that an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Enough with this war, enough with all this suffering. Be it Israelis, Palestinians, or Col. Kale's family in India, no one deserves any of this.
Col. Kale leaves behind his two teenage children and wife. Yes, an Israeli official from the Mumbai consulate might visit their home today to apologize and offer condolences, but it will never change the fact that what happened to Col. Kale should not have happened in the first place.

Wonder Women

Issue Fifty
Written by u/VoidKiller826
Edited by u/Predaplant
Arc: Revelations
*************************************************************
Greetings, people of Gateway City. This is your new peacekeeper speaking. You might know me as the White Magician, a rather crude name, but I will accept it considering Man’s World's lack of creativity. However, you may also call me Circe, and I am here with an important message that your news station will deliver for all to hear.
SCYTHE is no more: their HQ is under my and the Red Centipedes’ command. The Commander and his soldiers are dead and buried, as you all wished to happen. I was more than happy to oblige you if it meant depriving your stupid President of her next chance for reelection. Any survivors of the prison break are being hunted down by the people they locked in cages, who are more than happy to round them up as they once had been themselves.
But none of that’s important, for this recording is only to be heard by one person: Olympos, Wonder Girl, or whatever the fuck new title name you want to be called. This message is for you: You are to surrender yourself to me here in SCYTHE HQ in the next five hours, and in turn, I will not destroy this piss-end of a city. If you fail, I promise you, I will make Coast City look like a picnic by the time I finish with Gateway.
That cow you call Wonder Woman is dead, and I will make sure everyone else will follow her if you don’t comply with my request.
Your mentor learned a valuable lesson when she tested my patience.
*************************************************************
Spears Apartment - Gateway City:
[...President Cale has announced the complete closure of all access to Gateway City following the prison break that occurred in SCYTHE’s holding facility hours ago,] said Cassandra Arnold from GateNews, the city’s main news station. [We still have an unconfirmed number of escapees following the message sent by the White Magician, but the President has assured GateNews a solution will be found.]
Vanessa Kapatelis watched the TV in dismay. Pacing back and forth in the Spears duplex apartment, she had the TV on to pass the time while Ares worked on helping Helena and Cassandra upstairs.
“Here,” Vanessa turned away from the TV to see Tanya Spears handing her a bottle of water. “Something for you to drink.”
“Thank you,” Vanessa accepted the bottle. “I would prefer a beer, but this will make do.”
“My mom has her wine collection in a locked cabinet,” Tanya noted, pointing at the kitchen. “She doesn’t know that I know that, but I can get you a bottle?”
Vanessa chuckled. “Thanks, but I don’t want a girl your age to be walking around with alcohol or to get you in trouble with your mom.” She twisted the bottle cap and slowly drank. “I needed that… it feels like I’ve been dry for months.”
“It’s actually been 3 hours,” Tanya said, sitting on the sofa and opening her tablet to look over the internet. “I hope what she said wasn’t true… about Wonder Woman not being around…”
Taking a seat by her side, Vanessa saw that Tanya was reading through the report on what happened to SCYTHE. The escaped convicts had taken control of the SCYTHE headquarters and equipment after killing many of the agents that had stood in their way.
Seeing the photo of SCYTHE HQ burning angered her. That place should represent the absolute shield of Gateway. Now, it had come under the control of the convicts that they were supposed to stop because of Aeeta Branwen. A name that had made her happy now belonged to a stranger who had lied to her all this time.
Memories of their most intimate moments came flooding back: their first conversation, their first date, their kiss, and the morning after their date in her apartment. It was a moment when she thought she could finally stop grieving and move on from what happened to Coast City. And now, that had been disintegrated into oblivion.
In anger, she crushed the bottle with her hand, spraying water all over the table and the floor.
“Shit!” Vanessa stood up, finally realizing her mistake. “I am sorry!”
“Oh, it's fine!” Tanya ran to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. “It’s just water.”
“I know it’s just…” Taking the paper towel, the two began wiping the floor and the table. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“I’ll bet with everything that happened,” said Tanya, giving Vanessa a supportive smile. “Your friends are getting hurt, and you can’t do anything but watch. It would piss anyone off. I know it did with me when the RedCent guys invaded EE Tower.”
“Yeah…” Vanessa sat back on the sofa. “But this… I not only possibly lost many friends, but I was betrayed by someone I loved, someone who I thought was the one for me…” she said, distraught, as tears ran down her face.
Tanya, without saying anything more, hugged Vanessa closely. Despite them knowing each other for only a few hours, Tanya knew that Vanessa was in pain. Watching her loved ones being hurt by someone that she trusted must have been a hard truth to accept.
The doors upstairs opening and closing caught the two’s attention. Looking up, they saw Somya Spears descending, looking exhausted, like she had gone ten rounds in the ring. As she reached the ground floor, Tanya ran up to her mother, hugged her close, and guided her to the nearest chair to rest.
“Is everything alright, mom?” Tanya asked, worried.
“Yeah… just felt that I might take that long overdue vacation…” Somya answered, leaning against the soft chair with a tired sigh. “Maybe we’ll go to Paris like you wanted, Tanya…”
More steps followed, and Ares, or Mars as he insisted to be called, followed Somya, pulling his folded-up sleeves back. Unlike Somya, he didn’t seem any different from when he went upstairs to help the Sandsmarks, but the few strands of hair on his face told a different story.
“How are they?” Vanessa asked, walking up to the former God of War. “Are they ok?”
Ares turned to Vanessa. “The girl has a lot of heart, far too stubborn to let a beating keep her down.” He said with praise, impressed with the former Wonder Girl’s willpower. “Her Sumerian blood will help her heal in only a few days, but it won’t help her mental wounds after I told her the news about her mother.”
Vanessa had a lot of questions about what he had said, especially the word Sumerian; perhaps Cassie was not simply half-Olympian. However, she focused on the most important detail in his explanation. “What happened with Helena?” She asked in a worried tone. “Is she-”
“She is alive,” Ares said, but his expression shifted, frowning, making her nervous. “Physically, she will recover, she has only a few cuts and bruises. Even a human like her can heal those.”
“But?”
“But it's the spell Circe struck her with. It is unlike anything I’ve seen because it is of her creation,” Ares explained, and Vanessa ground her teeth together when she heard the name belonging to the stranger who hurt her and her loved ones. “Whatever she used, it is affecting her very soul, slowly killing her.”
“Like a virus?” Vanessa asked, and Ares nodded. “Magic can do that?”
“It does,” Ares answered. “Magic can create a nuclear bomb if the user has the patience for it. And Circe is a master at it, one of the very best and most gifted witches on the planet, so making something like this would be as easy as making a cake for her.”
Magic had never been SCYTHE’s priority, but the Commander still made them study anything related to the subject in case they had to face it. Vanessa had never expected to see it at this scale.
“Can you break it?” Vanessa asked. “Find a way to break the curse from Helena’s soul?”
Ares took a deep breath, pocketing his hands. “It’s too complex to break. I will admit Magic is not my strongest suit, but even if you bring in someone knowledgeable, it would be a while for them to break her creation,” he explained. “You need someone at her level of knowledge when it comes to magic, and I am not the best person to face her in that department.”
“Then we call for a specialist, anyone, really,” Vanessa said in desperation. “If this is like a virus, a curse, then we bring a surgeon to cut it out! Maybe Cassie can use her Justice Legion connection, or maybe you can call someone for a favor.”
Vanessa's desperation was clear. She was willing to call for the Justice Legion, the very people she swore to go against for their vigilantism, if it meant saving Helena Sandsmark, her promise be damned.
“The spell is growing far too rapidly. By the time you find someone, it will be far too late,” Ares said solemnly. “The only person in the world who can break the spell without any problem or fear of failsafe is Hecate, the Goddess of Magic. She was Circe’s mentor, and she taught her everything she could about magic. No matter how complex it is, Hecate would understand it.”
“She can help us?”
Ares shook his head. “No, she has no interest in helping the world unless it is connected to her directly, and even then, dealing with her is the worst-case scenario because there is a chance she’ll side with Circe before she even thinks of helping us.”
“So what now?” Vanessa asked, sounding defeated. “Just let Helena die? Let Cassie suffer? Let Circe win?!” she shouted angrily, finally addressing Circe by name. All of this explanation from Ares told her one thing: that the Witch had them beat, and they couldn’t do anything about it.
Ares didn’t react to her outburst, while the Spears looked worried. Tanya, for her part, tried to walk up to calm Vanessa, but the War God raised his hand to stop her, shaking his head and giving her the silent sign to let Vanessa be.
“There is one way: it will be quicker if we act fast enough, but it would take everything from all of us for it to happen,” Ares said, beginning his explanation. “There is a chain link connecting the spell, from the spell caster to Circe. This means it can be broken if we force Circe to release the chain connecting her to Helena…” he explained, letting his words be understood by the occupants in the room before finishing with one last note. “Killing Circe would also break the binding if she didn’t leave any contingencies.”
Vanessa gritted her teeth. “So we have to make her break the spell, and hopefully she doesn’t screw us over… or we kill her, and hopefully she still doesn’t screw us over even in death?” she asked, and Ares nodded. “What kind of person is willing to put in all that work? Just for revenge? On Diana, who is long gone?”
Ares shrugged and turned to the Spears, his gaze focused on Tanya, his daughter. Someone whom he never thought he would meet again was facing him, without knowledge of their blood relations.
“Possibly,” Ares answered, taking a step back. “But if there is one thing I know for sure, Circe does not put these kinds of bindings without any reason. Whatever that reason is involves Cassandra Sandsmark and whether she will choose to make Circe break the spell or kill her, tainting her forever.”
Silence came to the room, letting Ares’s words sink in for all occupants, which might have been the same words he said to the Sandsmarks.
*************************************************************
The room of Somya Spears was quiet, with the only sound being the breathing of Helena Sandsmark lying on the bed sleeping. The room was spacious, with an expensive queen-sized bed as expected from an interim CEO of one the largest companies in the world.
Seated a few feet away on a chair was Cassandra Sandsmark, dressed in fresh clothes given to her by Somya after throwing off the bloody tattered ones she had arrived in. Watching her mother closely, Cassandra’s mind was racing, especially after what Ares told her about the curse Circe placed on her mother, slowly destroying her soul bit by bit until she was nothing but a husk.
“Dammit!” In anger at their situation, she crushed the armchair, tearing its arm off like it was made of paper. If she was stronger, faster, and had the heart for it, she would have stopped the Witch, stopped her from hurting her city, the people of SCYTHE, and those caught in the crossfire, stopped her from hurting her mother…
She buried her face into her hands, tears running down her eyes as she despaired. Everything she worked on after Coast City evaporated was ground up under a very powerful enemy out for revenge.
Considering Circe’s ultimatum, her city could well be gone by the time this was over.
“Artemis… please be safe…” she whispered. She had nearly had a panic attack when she heard the news of the Amazon heading to SCYTHE HQ to stop the prison break, and then… nothing. No matter how many times she dialed her phone, there was no one answering, and she feared for the worst.
She heard her mother coughing, and Cassandra was quickly by her side. “Mom!” she called for her, holding her hand.
“Cassandra?...” Her mother said her name weakly. Her skin was becoming paler, a clear sign that the curse spell was working. “Are you… ok?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Cassandra answered, covering the bandages hidden inside her clothes. “We’re safe. You’re safe.” she said, tightening both her hands around her mothers.
“Did you… break something?” She asked, looking at the chair behind her. “You shouldn’t be… doing that… we are guests…”
Cassandra laughed, her tears falling away. “Sorry… it’s just… it’s been a hell of a week…”
Helena touched her daughter’s cheek, noticing the bandage on it. “You’re… hurt…”
“It’s alright, Mom. Just a few bruises,” Cassandra assured. “You shouldn’t worry, you know I can take it…”
“I am your… mother, Cassandra,” Helena said, facing her daughter. “Demi-God or not… I will always be worried… scared for my little girl.”
Cassandra’s tears came back. Seeing her mother remain strong despite everything made her happy, and she was terrified of losing her.
“So… my soul is cursed?” Helena asked.
“You heard all that?”
“Can’t not… with all the swearing…” Helena noted, giving her daughter a small smile. “You shouldn’t swear at people, Cassandra, especially those who are trying to help.”
“I know, I know,” Cassandra said. She had gone off on Ares after he explained what happened to her mother, and she might have overreacted when she put all her anger on the former War God. “It’s just… I don’t want to lose you… not while we can fix this.”
Helena sat up on her bed, fully facing her daughter. “Which is why… I don’t want you to make the wrong choice.”
“I won’t,” Cassandra said with a low tone. “I will make Circe free you from this curse-”
“No, Cassandra,” Helena grabbed both of Cassandra’s hands with hers. “That is not what I meant…”
Cassandra raised her brows, confused. “Mom?”
“I heard everything… from Circe’s spell… how it works… and how it can be broken…” Helena said, shocking Cassandra. “I know you already decided what you feel you have to do.”
Cassandra didn’t answer, avoiding her mother’s disapproving gaze accusing her. Ares said the quickest way to break the binding and the spell was either by forcing Circe to break it herself or by killing her, severing the connection.
But if what Circe said was true, that Diana decided to kill her instead of making her surrender like everyone else who faced her, that means there was no chance the Witch would submit willingly. She would rather die than give the satisfaction of admitting defeat.
Which left only one solution where she could save her mother.
Helena sighed, knowing what decision her daughter might have made. She held her hand tightly and changed the subject. “I have to tell you something…”
“No, mom. You’re not giving me the ‘Dying Speech’, not while there is a chance we can save you-”
“It’s about your father,” Helena cut her off, shutting Cassandra up. “Your real father…”
Cassandra remembered Circe calling her Daughter of Enlil, not Zeus. Ares said he was a friend of her father, which confused her because Ares hated Zeus, so it wouldn’t make sense that he would help out even if they were his siblings.
“Enlil…” Cassandra said the name aloud, and Helena’s eyes widened, her breath hitching when she heard the name. “Circe… she called me Daughter of Enlil… Child of the Sky...”
Helena took a deep breath, bringing her daughter closer. “Yes… that is true…” she began. “You are not Zeus’s daughter, Cassandra, nor you are an Olympian in any way… but you are in fact… Sumerian… Mesopotamian,” The elder Sandsmark brought her youngest closer and spoke carefully, as if worried that someone might hear them. “Your father is Enlil, the Sumerian God of Wind… and he was the kindest man I have ever known…”
From then on, Helena explained Cassandra’s origins as carefully as possible, pushing on even while the spell affected her. She explained how she met Enlil, a man with golden hair similar to Cassandra’s, who introduced himself as an expert in Mesopotamian history during an expedition in Iraq. They had become rivals at first due to their clashing personalities, but how that developed into respect, to eventually falling in love after a very lengthy adventure that sounded like the plot of The Mummy.
And that love resulted in Cassandra’s birth. He helped raise her with Helena for the first year and a half before he disappeared because he had Olympian enemies and had to leave them to keep them safe.
While she explained all this, Cassandra’s mind went to another piece of critical information. Her father’s true identity had never been the most important thing for her. But what made it important was what Circe told her about Diana’s true reason for coming to Gateway City. It wasn’t just settling in a ‘piss-end of a city’ the more she taught about it, the more she realized the terrifying truth behind her mentor’s reasoning for coming to the city.
Diana was sent to find Cassandra, a Sumerian Demi-God, the Olympians greatest enemy since the Titans, and eliminate her. The prophecy of the Godkiller that they had feared might have come from Cassandra, but all it did was start a long, personal, and bloody war between two women because of the gods' demands for blood.
And now, she, Artemis, and Gateway City suffered the consequences. Even after Diana’s death, Circe would not let her hatred for what had happened to her go, and if it meant destroying her mentor’s legacy, she would do it.
‘Diana…’ Cassandra thought in sadness.
*************************************************************
SCYTHE Sub Base - Industrial District:
“I am not sure how you were able to do it, but you somehow found an ever more depressing place than that HQ of yours. It makes the cell you put us in look like a five-star hotel room,” said one Pamela Isley, formerly Poison Ivy, seated in the middle of a large room behind a large table. Around her were what was left of the SCYTHE agents they had saved during the escape, all working to get the makeshift base they had hidden up and running.
Alexei Abramovici, the Bloodcrow of SCYTHE, glared at the former supervillain, not happy with her comment. He turned to one of his men and began barking orders, “You! Get the goddamn Black Room working! We are running blind here!”
‘Worker drones even without their Commander.’ Pamela looked on unimpressed at the agents. She had never been that sympathetic to the plight of cops getting killed, especially militarized ones. The once mighty and feared peacekeepers of Gateway, who went to war against all the crime syndicates and the Red Centipedes, were now a mere little squad that won’t be able to protect a mini-mart, let alone every escaped convict under the command of the White Magician.
“Man… the signal here sucks!” complained Miguel Barragan by her side, raising his phone and trying to catch any kind of signal. “Could barely talk to my boyfriend when I called him, and can’t connect to the internet,” he complained. He tried once again to call but he couldn’t find a signal. “Useless brick…”
“We are underground in a bunker previously owned by Neo-Nazis, Barragan,” Pamela noted. From what she had heard, this used to be an old RedCent hideout that SCYTHE took over after the war, using it as a smaller base in case of emergency. “Not receiving any signal is part of the appeal of the place.”
“Bunker, huh…” Miguel chuckled. The name Bunker reminded him of the super name that he picked out; the more time passed, the more convinced he was that it was the right one.
Pamela gave a confused look at his expression and shrugged it off. Turning to her right, she saw the silent Emily Sung staring off into the distance. Unlike Barragan, Emily had other matters on her mind. Whatever she sensed or saw back at SCYTHE HQ freaked her out, like seeing something she shouldn’t.
Just as Pamela was about to ask her how she was feeling, a knock on the large blast doors echoed around the base, loud enough for all to hear. Quickly, everyone felt tense, and the SCYTHE agents covered the door as Alexei signaled them to aim their weapons. After the news of the escaped convicts taking control of SCYTHE HQ and their equipment and weaponry, the agents knew that they were being haunted now by the convicts looking for revenge, so they were not taking any chances.
“Would you mind opening the door!” A familiar voice said behind the door, a voice Pamela recognized right away. “I have a bloody Amazon here, and I would like her off my fur!”
“Barbara?” Pamela realized.
“Minerva? As in the Cheetah?” Alexei asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “She could be working with them, with the White Magician.”
“She isn’t,” Pamela answered, glaring at the SCYTHE soldier for the accusation. “She would never ally with the psychos you had under lock and key.”
Alexei scoffed. “That woman got a cemetery filled with people who say otherwise, and she hurt the mother of someone I know.”
Before the two could argue, Miguel stood up and decided to take action. He extended his hand, forming a large arm construct from it, and grabbed the handle of the blast door. With one pull, he opened it wide. Barbara entered. Her feline form made some of the SCYTHE agents tense, and weapons were still trained on her.
“Quite the welcoming committee…” she noted in sarcasm. “Now, would you be dears and get this woman some help?” She adjusted the unconscious and bloody Artemis on her back. Her blood covered Barbara’s fur.
“Medic!” Alexei called for an agent nearby before turning to Miguel. “And you, don’t use your freaky powers until I order you to do so.”
“Sorry tin man, I don’t speak fascist,” Miguel responded with a smirk, and Alexei glared at him.
The medic quickly came to Barbara and guided her to a nearby makeshift hospital room, which had a bed and various equipment to help the SCYTHE wounded. Barbara went in haste, and gently, with the help of the medic, they placed the injured Amazon on the bed, her blood soaking the white sheets red.
“How the hell did you even find us?” Alexei asked as he and the others entered. “I made sure I covered all our steps.”
“You did,” Barbara noted, stepping back to let the medic check on Artemis. She turned to Alexei and pointed at her nose. “But one of you has a very special pheromone that I can smell for miles,” she said with a smile as she turned her gaze to Pamela. “Still with those rose scents around you.”
The redhead smiled. “Maybe it’s that mark you left on me.”
“More than you think, Pammy.”
“Christ…” the medic gasped, catching everyone’s attention. “How is she still alive? And how long has she been like this?” He asked, examining the injured Amazon.
Her armor was wholly wrecked, beyond repair. Her headpiece was half broken, and the gauntlets and braces on her arms and legs were dented and unusable. Her injuries were severe: open wounds, slash marks, and burn marks were all over her body, and judging from blows on her armor, she might have had a few broken bones as well.
“Didn’t bother to look at the time with some of the grunts that were sent after us,” Barbara answered, leaning on a nearby chair as fatigue finally set in for her. “But these Amazons are too stubborn to die, and I know that from experience…”
The number of times Barbara thought she had beaten Diana only for the Amazon to get back up and beat her back was many, and it frustrated the woman to no end, but now she couldn’t help but be in awe at the resilience of these warriors.
“Her Amazon gifts will heal her,” Barbara noted. “But I am not sure how long it will take…”
“I doubt it will take more than a few days at least…” the medic noted, bringing out some bandages and wrapping them around her arms. “She will need a miracle to even walk out of here on her own two feet.”
“Uhmm…” Everyone in the room turned to Emily Sung, who stood by the doorway. “I… I think I can help her heal faster.”
Barbara and the medic gave her an odd look. To better explain it, Emily brought her hands together, and a small flame began to form from her palm. However, they weren’t bright orange flames; they were blue flames, and they didn’t feel any heat from them.
“I developed this technique while training,” said Emily. “It's a fire spell that doesn’t burn, but it heals people. I first used it on Miguel when he hurt his hands, and it was instantaneous,” she explained, and Miguel showed his fully healed hand as if he was demonstrating it. “But this will be the first time I will heal someone with this severe of injuries…”
Pamela and Barbara looked at the blue flames with wide eyes. In Pamela’s case, she was told that Emily had powers, and from Miguel’s description, she had the power of all the elements. However, seeing it firsthand and feeling it from just that tiny flame made her sense there was power behind it, warmth, like the sun.
“Do it,” Barbara said, taking a step back. “At this point, if we need magic to get her back into the fight, we better get to it before we lose her for real.” She turned to the shocked medic. This was the first time he would ever see magic in play. “And you, guide her in whatever wounds need to be healed.”
The medic nodded. It was better than nothing. With his guidance and Miguel’s support by her side, Emily went to work to heal Wonder Woman, who was in a state of life and death if they didn’t work fast enough, all while Circe and her crew were out there terrorizing the city.
“What’s the news out there?” Alexei asked after the three left the infirmary room. “We are in the dark here, and I couldn’t radio in anyone with the pieces of junk we got. Not even my brother, who was trying to get as many agents as possible.”
“Brother?” Barbara asked before she realized who his brother was. Her expression became solemn. She remembered the Warhammer who stayed behind to slow Circe and her crew, giving Barbara a chance to escape with Artemis on her back. “The guy with the Hammer…”
Alexei furrowed his brows, noticing the change in her expression. “What happened to my brother?”
Barbara took a deep breath and began explaining everything that had happened: the White Magician’s true identity, her taking over SCYTHE HQ, her ultimatum to Wonder Girl, and finally, Anatoly Abromivici’s sacrifice to save them.
*************************************************************
Somewhere in Gateway…
With the loss of SCYTHE and their headquarters, the surviving agents didn’t have the necessary support from the intel agents in the Black Room to fight off against the newly revived Red Centipedes, now grown more powerful with the help of the escaped convicts, more than happy to exact revenge.
With the bridges closed off, SCYTHE’s weakened state, and Wonder Woman being presumed dead, the city had been thrown into chaos. Streets filled with criminals and looters taking full advantage of what had happened, stealing anything from everyone across the island.
Red Centipedes roamed the streets with military trucks, taken from SCYTHE after their HQ had fallen to the White Magician’s control, making full use of their hardware to hunt down any surviving agent, delivering the message that they were the new peacekeepers of Gateway.
“Let me go!”
A woman, a worker from Taco Whiz, was being dragged from the streets by a group of RedCent grunts. Taken into a nearby corner, the RedCent dropped the worker on the dirty ground. Their eyes had terrible intentions behind them.
“Come on, man,” one RedCent grunt said from behind to his buddy. “We are supposed to find those SCYTHE fuckers, not mess around.”
“You’re serious?” The buddy looked at his friend like he was crazy. “We’ve been locked for months in SCYTHE’s cells; we can have a few minutes of fun.”
“Please! Don’t do this!” The woman screamed, tears falling from her eyes, afraid of what they would do to her. She tried to stand up and run away but was quickly pushed back down on the pavement.
The RedCent approached the woman, who crawled away from them in fear. “Come on, girl, I just need to release all this stress after being locked up for so long!” He proclaimed, giving the woman a leery look before turning to his buddy. “Hey man, I can share! Maybe we can get someone else from the street-”
The RedCent stopped speaking, catching his breath for a moment after he saw his buddy lying on the ground face first, knocked out cold. Looking up, his eyes widened in shock when he saw the person standing before him. “You’re… you were supposed to be dead?!”
Covered in heavy bandages and wrecked NIGHT armor, and carrying a mace in his hand and a pissed-off look on his face, Commander Hector Hall stood before the RedCent grunt like a dark spectre coming back to life. Kicking the knocked-out buddy aside, the Commander looked between the grunt and the terrified woman before he hardened his glare at the RedCent.
“Stay back!” The RedCent grunt aimed his weapon, hands shaking in fear. “I said stay the fuck back-”
In a moment, Hall moved at such a speed he looked like a blur, cutting the distance between the two. With one swing of his mace, he smacked him squarely on the head, sending him to the ground.
Hall turned to the woman he saved, who looked at him in horror. “Go… get to safety…”
Without another word, the woman ran toward the exit and into the streets, away from the alley. Now alone with the two RedCents, Hall grabbed the knocked-out buddy and woke him up, making the man see the bandaged-up Hall looking down at him with hateful eyes.
“You… I want you to send your boss a message…” Hall began, making him face the Commander. “Tell the White Magician, Circe, that I am declaring war on her and on anyone who stands by her side.” He turned and walked up to the other grunt, who was crawling away from the Commander in fear, grabbing his bleeding head. He begged for his life, but Hall ignored his pleas. “And this, this is for my men that you Centipedes have killed…”
He lifted his bloody mace and brought it down like a hammer on the begging Red Centipede as his buddy looked on in horror. He lifted it up once more to reveal the man’s head was crushed like a watermelon.
Commander Hector Hall was still alive, and as long as he was still breathing, SCYTHE would remain standing to fight against all threats against Gateway City.
*************************************************************

Wonder Women Vol 3.

Previous Issue <> Next Issue

Well, Hi all! again! 4Th Wall here, I figured since I just got power back, I might as well play some catch up on both series. Hope you enjoy this episode!!
Yup, I fucked that up. This is a repost with the correct Episode number, LOL! It's been a while since I've done that.
First, Previous, Next (Patreon)
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Benjamin smiled, watching the girls skip ahead of him. Today was a testing day of sorts for him. Unwilling to release firearms into this world haphazardly, yet unwilling to go without them as a backup; he had pulled from one of his sister’s favorite video games. He had “melted down” his bowie knife, repurposing the metal to be used in his latest creation. The final product rode on his hip like a short sword, but Ben was satisfied in the design when the vast majority of the people he passed ignored it as just another adventurer’s blade. Benjamin hoped, that with the existence of Majik, that he would be able to pass off any… peculiarities... as the realm of the supernatural.

The three of them arrived at the tailor’s establishment, and the girls were met with a customary indifference that seemed to present itself when a slave’s “master” was present. The moment Benjamin entered, the seamstress ceased to pay attention to the girls, and instead addressed him directly, “Ah, The Forgemaster’s Protégé. What can I do for you this day.” She said cooly, bowing slightly in welcome. “I’m here commission some clothing for these two, a reward for good service.” Benjamin began. It was technically true; the success of the forge had afforded him much more coin than a mere apprentice could have made. Qort had taken him on as a true partner, and Benjamin earned enough to comfortably afford to cloth his “slaves” in whatever he chose.

Some stigma’s remained however, and the seamstress seemed to glare sideways at the girls as they perused the fabrics adorning the walls. “Is that wise? A slave could lose her place with such gifts.” she asked, her polite tone barely hiding her disapproval. Benjamin sighed internally, ‘oh for fucks sake’ he groaned in his own mind before putting on facad, “I find that proper reward, afforded on the right servant can result in” he paused, projecting a smug expression and blatantly looking the girls up and down. “a profound dedication to their duties” he finished with a satisfied smile as the seamstress covered her mouth with a hand to hide a smile of her own. The gambit worked, and the Seamstress was obviously satisfied that the “Aereesen slave whores” were being properly “used”. “Ah, I understand. What did you have in mind for them.” She practically moaned back at Benjamin. ‘This hag needs a good pounding….’ Benjamin’s inner monologue threatened to crack his facade, “That’s the fun part, my good lady. It’s their choice. The surprise is half the excitement.” He chuckled.

The seamstress openly smiled at him this time before nodding and stepping over to the two girls. Benjamin breathed a sigh of relief as she seemed to treat them at least marginally more warmly. The old racist bag didn’t need to know that Benjamin was secretly building a small nest egg for his girls, or that his sending them out to do errands for him was how he was teaching them about money, value, and the application of Mathematics. She also didn’t need to know that the full Cutlery set that she had purchased last week had been made by Vi’s own hand as her first full solo commission set. Benjamin had stamped his “mark” on them, because slaves were not allowed to own anything, including their own work; but Vi had begun with raw steel and finished with one of the finest cooking knife sets he had seen in this world or his.

Benjamin settled onto a bench outside, using the excuse of wanting to enjoy the morning air to afford his girls some privacy. Now that Viola and Valtrya were eating a healthy diet, and the right calorie amount; they had blossomed into absolute bombshells. Their hair had recovered, and both sported long flowing locks that boasted a silky satin black color and texture that betrayed hints of deep royal purple. The color reminded Benjamin of one of those expensive custom car paints that changed color depending on the lighting.

Their skin recovered almost as quickly as their hair. The sickly, scabbed look was quickly replaced with the same satin quality as their hair to the touch, but with a light grey coloring that almost seemed to tease the edge of hinting at a greyish purple. A dense pattern of Small freckles of the same dark, almost royal, purple as the highlights in their hair frolicked on both girl’s cheeks, and down the sides of their necks. Because of their early lack of understanding on modestly, Ben knew that those freckles traveled much further. The sad truth was that Benjamin understood fully why Aereesen’s were the prize of slavers and brothels, and he silently prayed that he could give them enough self-worth and skill to have a better life than that, once he got them out of the Principality.

A door’s soft creaking broke Benjamin from his thoughts as the two sisters stepped out smiling, “Get everything you need?” he asked standing as the three of them departed the establishment. Val nodded vigorously, and Vi smiled as she spoke, “I think so, but I had to practically beg the woman to stop showing us lingerie… what did you tell her?” Benjamin felt his cheeks heat as he responded, “What I had to. The old hag doesn’t get enough at home. It’s not my fault that your ‘enthusiasm’ is in the forge and your studies, not between the sheets. I didn’t lie to her, I just let her draw her own conclusions, sorry.”

Vi’s eyes twinkled for a second, “Oh,” She smirked, “Thaaat’s why she broke out the silk. Some of her options were..” She blatantly bit her lip at Benjamin. “You didn’t…” He asked in shock, and Vi lifted up on her tippy toes to brush her lips against his ear, “Not telling” she purred, setting Bens senses on fire. She backed up a step, openly smirking at his beet red face. “But your expression is adorable… My Lord” She stated the last two words with a deep sultry tone, knowing that Ben couldn’t scold her in public before taking his hand, “May we visit the bazar next? Val saw some jewelry she wanted to look at.” Benjamin gave her a pointed look, that turned into a smile as she beamed at him, “Ok, sounds good. I need to pick up some food for the week.”

It was later that afternoon when the three of them left the bazar. They found Jukha waiting on the bench in front of their home. “Jukha! How are you!” Benjamin called, clasping the Orc’s hand firmly as the girls rushed inside to put up their purchases. Jukha reciprocated, if somewhat stiffly, to the strange to him gesture. “Benjamin, it is good to see you well.” His tone stopped Ben in his tracks, “What is it. Is your wife, ok?”
Jukha shook his head, “Vilora is well, but I have been tasked with finding you.” He said carefully, “The slaver, the one you dueled for those two,” he nodded to Vi and Val as they stepped back out of the building, “The Heir of The Romoregin house is here. He has lodged an official demand for satisfaction, and he brought a champion.”

Benjamin stiffened, “Another duel? You said an ‘official demand’… what happens if I refuse.” Jukha winced at Ben’s tone, “It is an archaic practice of my people, rarely remembered, and even more rarely demanded. You cannot deny a satisfaction claim, but should you prevail, no further claims can be made upon your person. I am sorry Benjamin, but if you flee or refuse, your life is forfeit; and your property goes to the claimant.” Jukha looked pointedly at Viola and Valtrya. “The young puke has put me in danger as well, if I do not deliver you and them to the duel, I can be detained. If they torture me….” Benjamin’s eyes widened before hardening in understanding. “Jukha…” He turned to find Viola standing next to him, with his musket in one arm and his ammunition bag in the other, and sighed, “Fuck”. He loaded his musket with a single roundball cartridge this time, unwilling to fire buck and ball in the town streets. He pealed the ball out of the paper wading after pouring the poweder, reaching into his haversack to retrieve a small round patch made of pillow ticking. Jukha looked on in mild fascination as Benjamin spit on the cloth patch before wrapping the ball in it and ramming the whole thing down the barrel. It wasn’t much, but it reduce windage, ensuring at least reasonable enough accuracy from the smoothbore to keep from hitting innocent bystanders. It would also virtually eliminate blow-by, upping the chamber pressure and giving him a little more velocity. “I’m ready.”

The four of them entered the small city square to be met with Qort and three Org guards. These soldiers wore different insignia that Benjamin had been taught were the mark of the capital. “Beenjaymen Shayfe” one of them butchered his name, “I am.” Ben nodded firmly, the other guard nodded, “And your two slaves, good. Has Jukha informed you of the proceedings.” Benjamin scowled, “A legalized way to attempt a revenge killing? Yea, I’ve been told.” Ben didn’t bother to hide his vitriol, “So I have to kill a motherfucker for defending myself from his father?”

“Not quite. The Heir has brought a champion. The rules are simple, all forms of combat are allowed” The first guard began as the second one began chaining the wrists of Viola and Valtrya. Benjamin began to move before thinking, only to be held back by Jukha, “Peace albino. They must do this. Fighting them will cause a forfeit.” Benjamin looked at the terrified faces of the two girls. He forced himself to calm down outwardly, but Benjamin could feel the rage building. He had worked so hard to save those two, to get them out.. now some snot nosed brat was going to try to kill him because his father didn’t know when to fuck off. Benjamin stepped out from around the guards. The “heir” was a young Durr. Ben had no frame of reference for age, but the Heir was substantially shorter, and his facial tentacles were almost mere buds. Beside him stood a crimson colossus, the same species as the Hunter he had shot saving Jukha. He was taller than that female, and was wearing plate armor, gilded in silver. He hefted a great sword of some kind and smiled openly at Benjamin. It was not a pleasant expression. “Ah, so You’re the puke I’ll be cleaning from my blade. I am Krastorin. Come here, pale one, I’ll make it quick.”

Benjamin looked him over, subtly shifting into a shooting stance but keeping his musket looking like he was resting the butt of a spear on the ground. “You look accomplished, what makes you do the bidding of the boy.” He asked, blatant scorn on his tone. The Young Durr flinched, his small tentacle buds writhing violently. “H’Dare Yee!” he bellowed, voice cracking with the strain of fury, “Aye’ll ‘ave Yee Head on Me’Wall!!”
Benjamin ignored him, focusing on the Hellirine. The man looked back at the boy with a raised eyebrow, “The young puke promised me one of those.” He pointed at Vi and Val, who had reverted to their former trembling submissive postures that Ben had met them in. “It appears that they are as well kept as claimed. I look forward to sampling them.” He leered. Benjamin looked over at the Young Durr and found his face a mixture of relief and anger. ‘Ah, lied about daddy’s slaves.’ He turned to the soldier standing next to him, “Is the duel on?” he growled.

“Combatants! Begin!” was the Soldiers response, and the crimson mercenary lifted his sword from his shoulders advancing forward with a long confident stride, “at last, let’s get this over wi..” a clap of thunder echo’d through the Feral wood, and most of the crowd cried out in surprise as Benjamin disappeared, seemingly behind a bubble of fire, and brimstone. The single round ball ignored the mercenary’s plate armor. Punching straight through as the soft lead mushroomed out into a ragged disk that measured almost an inch and a half. The mangled projectile, still travelling at almost half the speed of sound, eviscerated the chest cavity of the Mercenary before blowing a one foot wide hole out of the crimson man’s back. The exit wound missed Krastorin’s spine by an inch, but it didn’t matter. The projectile embedded itself into a post, thankfully missing any bystanders by mere inches in some cases. The Young Durr, who was standing just behind and to the side of his champion, was screaming as he pawed at the bits of pale yellow blood, bones, and fragments of internal organs now covering him from head to toe.

Benjamin handed the smoking musket to Jukha, drawing his short sword and walking over to a sputtering, choking, and coughing Krastorin. The Hellirine lay face down on the ground, having fallen that way from the momentum of his initial advance. The back of Benjamins mind was sickly amused as he remembered the old Hollywood trope of bullets throwing people backward, and a pinch of regret sparked in his soul as his opponent death rattled. He stepped up to the Heir, resting the blade against his neck, “Are we done here. Be a better man than your father and learn when to save your own life.” The Young Durr froze, staring up at him in abject terror for several moments as a puddle formed at his feet. Benjamin opened his mouth to speak again when the boy simply passed out, falling into the puddle of his own mess as his mind refused to stay conscious.

Benjamin turned to walk back towards Jukha and the girls. “Unchain them.” Benjamin’s tone could have frozen a raging forge’s inferno. To his surprise, two of the soldiers drew their weapons on him, “You need to come with us. All Touched must be registered with...” Benjamin pointed his short sword at the one talking… and pulled the trigger. The percussion revolver built into the hilt of the short sword was zero’d using a notch Benjamin cut into the crossguard, and the tip of the curved blade as a crude set of open sights. The barrel of the revolver lay along one side of the blade, and was rifled. The speaking soldier orc’s took the smaller pistol round through the forehead, exploding the back of his skull in a cone of dark green and grey mist. The exit wound showered his companion in bits of bone and brains. Benjamin’s thumb found the hammer, and four satisfying clicks echo’d in the stunned silence, “HEAR ME!” He growled, “I, am touched by the Gods. I posses the power to end any life I choose using the power of Hell itself!” ‘if I have to show them a gun, might as well throw them off the trail’ “The violence of the raging volcano obeys my very fingertips.” His revolvesword bucked a second time as another soldier orc made a move to rush him. The smaller pistol round still punched through the orcs armor and out the back, but only left him screaming on the ground. Benjamin re-cocked, and leveled his weapon at the orc holding the chains to Val and Vi. “Now, release them.” This last remaining Orc did as asked, before gathering up his screaming companion as the girls rushed to Benjamin, he pulled them close, whispering, “I’m sorry we wont be able to pick up your dresses.”

The three of them packed up that night. Qort had understood, knowing all too well what the Principality would do to acquire a Touched of Benjamins ability. “Stay safe my friend. I pray our paths cross again.” Jukha snuck them out of the village that night, using his wagon to get them to his home. They stayed a week, laying low while they planned their next move. The girls spent their time learning recipes from Jukha’s wife, and ben took the time to unwind a bit. Jukha and He went on a hunt, and Benjamin was given a run down on the flora and fauna of the Feral wood. The two of them brought back a pair of Stags, and the three women cooked them a feast.

“Dinner’s ready!!” called Viola, setting the last of the sides on the table as the dutch oven roasted meat was brought off of the stove top. It was a simple yet elegant meal. Stag, potatoes, some kind of Kale style vegetable that Benjamin had never seen before. Soon enough, everyone at the table was leaning back, as full as they could make themselves. “So, pinkskin,” Jukha asked, “Where do you plan on going. I wouldn’t mind you staying with me. I could use another hunter, but I suspect that they would notice the extra product I brought to the village.”

Benjamin Hummed, “The Maridian Combine. Qort told me that they banned slavery over a century ago, the girls have learned so much already. It would be easy to find jobs for them.” Vi and Val drooped slightly but hid it well. Jukha noticed it but said nothing. “A good choice, their boarders are well guarded, you would need to free them before you cross, or end up in a dungeon yourself.”

“Good point, I can write up a simple writ of freedom. Something I can sign and give to them.” Benjamin nodded, “I can get started on that to…” he paused as a hand fell on his. He looked to see Viola staring at him, fighting back tears, “Hey, what’s wrong. You will be free…” Jukha nodded slowly and stood. “love,” he said to Vilora, “I need some help with the livestock” The Farie met his eyes in unspoken understanding, fluttering out the front door with Jukha.

“Vi, what’s wrong.” Benjamin asked gently.

“No… go… Val… stay…” Both of them turned to Valtrya in shock. She was trembling, “I wont..leave.”

“You speak?” Benjamin looked in shock, but Viola spoke next, “Benjamin, we don’t want to leave. We want to stay, with you. I…” She paused. Ben sighed, “I want you to stay too.” He said, finally admitting it to himself, “But I can’t own you. It’s killing me that you are my property.” He reached up and wiped a tear from Vi’s eyes, “You are so much more than property. I feel evil, every day that I wake up knowing that I could do anything I wanted to you, or worse, die and have someone else hurt you for the fun of it.” Benjamin bowed his head. Viola reached out, lifting his chin to look into his eyes, “Then come with us.” She whispered as Val stood up and stepped around the table, “yes.. You, come.” She wrapped herself around Ben from the side leaning in until she was resting her head against his shoulder, “I’m… staying.. with you.” she said softly. Viola nodded, “Benjamin, how old do you think we are.”

Ben looked at her in confusion, “I have no idea, I’ve always assumed you were teenagers. 13-14 years old for Val, maybe 16 for you, but that was when you were skin and bones.” He admitted.

Viola’s eyes widened in understanding. “You did not want to bed us because you thought us children.” Benjamin nodded slowly, answering. “And forcing sex on a child is the worst kind of crime on my world”. Viola and Valtrya looked at each other, before Vi spoke. “Ben, my sister will turn one hundred and three in a fortnight. I just had my one hundred and fifteenth birthday last week.” She leaned in, pressing her lips to Bens as she kissed him passionately for a moment. “We are no children,” Viola paused as Valtrya leaned in, kissing Ben lightly on the neck, “You are not forcing us to do anything, but leave.” Viola whispered as she began to close in to a surprised Benjamin for another kiss.

The door to the cabin flew open violently, and the girls pulled back to a more modest distance. Jukha walked in, carrying a panting Vilora. “What happened.” Ben asked hurriedly, hoping he wasn’t blushing as hard as the heat on his cheeks suggested. Vilora waved a hand as Jukha set her down in her chair, “The Vin… My sisters… they reached out… They wish to meet…” The Farie gathered herself, “They also sent a warning. We must leave, tonight… hunters.”
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If you made it this far, I very much appreciate it. I hope you enjoyed the episode! If you believe I have earned it, I have a Patreon that is two episodes ahead of the free releases for this series. I hope you feel taking a look is worth it. Either way, come hang out in the comments. Everyone's welcome! I've discovered Im a bit of a "warts and all" poster, so even critical comments are welcome. Hell, You might even teach me something (it happens more than I'd like to admit).
I have heard people off and on reference Royal road, So I am going to give it another shot. I'll be adding the Royal Road link from now on. If you like reading over there, It is on the same schedule as here. I would greatly appreciate a like/review/comment if you feel so inclined. Thank you again for stopping by.
First, Previous, Next (Patreon) Royal Road

Also did a Bible study devotional today on this verse (Psalm 32:8 I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.) pondering on does God still do this today? Trying to meditate on this verse and read a commentary.
Todays study was very difficult because also went into the topic of (Biblical Stewardship) it seems every sermon and commentary from multiple different denominations say we are to steward “everything” for God? But what many don’t go into is are there ever times when we shouldn’t steward everything? Does everything really mean everything or did this word mean something different throughout history? Does market driven consumer based economies ever affect how we are to steward everything for God? What happens when what man or the maybe the masses of an economy wants differs from what God may want? Are there times when we have to steward things that maybe promote things that against God? If anyone is interested in looking more into this if you type in “Biblical Stewardship” on YouTube there’s many sermons but many don’t go into many of these questions? A big one for me is “am I even stewarding this right for God? What happens when believers tell me different things on how we are to steward?
Link to the entire stream the Bible study is at the very beginning. (If anyone has thoughts on any of this or any verses to share always nice to hear and have some fellowship)
https://m.twitch.tv/videos/2146647984
Anyone interested in the process for today’s drawing here is the start to finish. If anyone would like this drawing for free as a gift let me know and I can try and mail it to you I’m reminded on many verses on gifts
https://m.twitch.tv/videos/2146952684
Some verses looked and pondered into today
Psalm 32:8
8 I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.
Proverbs 3:6
6 In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.
Matthew 6:33
33 But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.
Matthew 13:10-15
10 Then the disciples came and said to him, “Why do you speak to them in parables?” 11 And he answered them, “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given. 12 For to the one who has, more will be given, and he will have an abundance, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. 13 This is why I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand. 14 Indeed, in their case the prophecy of Isaiah is fulfilled that says: “‘“You will indeed hear but never understand, and you will indeed see but never perceive.” 15 For this people's heart has grown dull, and with their ears they can barely hear, and their eyes they have closed, lest they should see with their eyes and hear with their ears and understand with their heart and turn, and I would heal them.’
Matthew 25:14-46
14 “For it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted to them his property. 15 To one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. 16 He who had received the five talents went at once and traded with them, and he made five talents more. 17 So also he who had the two talents made two talents more. 18 But he who had received the one talent went and dug in the ground and hid his master's money. 19 Now after a long time the master of those servants came and settled accounts with them. 20 And he who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five talents more, saying, ‘Master, you delivered to me five talents; here, I have made five talents more.’ 21 His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.’ 22 And he also who had the two talents came forward, saying, ‘Master, you delivered to me two talents; here, I have made two talents more.’ 23 His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.’ 24 He also who had received the one talent came forward, saying, ‘Master, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you scattered no seed, 25 so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here, you have what is yours.’ 26 But his master answered him, ‘You wicked and slothful servant! You knew that I reap where I have not sown and gather where I scattered no seed? 27 Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and at my coming I should have received what was my own with interest. 28 So take the talent from him and give it to him who has the ten talents. 29 For to everyone who has will more be given, and he will have an abundance. But from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. 30 And cast the worthless servant into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’
31 “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. 32 Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 33 And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left. 34 Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. 35 For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ 37 Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? 38 And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? 39 And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ 40 And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’
41 “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42 For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ 44 Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ 45 Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ 46 And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”
(Gonna be going on a trip so will be my last stream for maybe like 12 days gonna try and stream but don’t think I have the right internet)

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This post is a dedicated discussion space for matters relating to the following,
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• How did the Head Coach/Manager & his staff perform over the last 6 weeks?

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• Any hiring, firing & reshuffling of Sporting Management personals at the various departments of the club?

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• Any changes/news on the various Managing-Executive-Commissions committees of the FCB organization?

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• News relating to the club's scouting networks, sporting departments, administrative developments, medical & sports science staff & their performance,

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• What was the Barça Innovation Hub and Barca analytics sphere up to lately. Any new Research, Publications or Conferences?

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• Anything interesting relating to the club's Social Media departments & engagement strategies given Barca's preeminent position on this front or any new must-watch Originals releases on BarcaTV+?

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• Updates on the Socios/Member relations, World Penya developments, Barça Foundation charity works and other upcoming administrative undertakings, construction/economic project progress or elections/drafts up for voting, etc.

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• New Barca Document releases from Statutes amendments to Transparency & Compliance disclosures.

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• General Barca News.

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Management Discussion Thread repeats every 6 Weeks on Thursdays as per the Automated Scheduled Posts List.

Shortly before a final paper with pre-assigned topics was due for one of my last courses at Columbia University, our professor sent us an email telling us to forego the previous parameters of the essay, and to instead write about the events that had occurred not even forty-eight hours earlier, as well as our reflections on them, to be done in any manner we chose. Here is a very lightly revised version of what I submitted: read it, ignore it, upvote it, downvote it, hate it, love it.
I am prefacing this essay by stating that it is the culmination of several intense emotions that I have been dealing with over the last few weeks, more specifically, the last several days. It is a free-form expression of the many things occupying my mind, and, as such, it may seem overwhelming or disjointed. Nevertheless, I will do my best to convey my feelings into something representative of my beliefs, and my time at this institution.
My time at Columbia University has been bookended in an almost comically bad way; it started with Zoom classes during the COVID-19 pandemic, and now it ends with Zoom final exams due to the lockdown of Columbia’s campus after protests regarding the Israel – Palestine conflict reached a fever pitch not just within Morningside Campus, but the international stage. My classmates and I missed in-person orientation, and now, given recent developments, we will not have a University Commencement, a fact I found out not from Columbia, but a New York Times alert, somehow lowering my opinion of this administration’s handling of recent events even more. While the circumstances around my time at Columbia have now both begun and finished in the same manner, I am proud to say that I have not. I do not mean that Columbia has simply made me a better writer, a more critical thinker, or more well read, although it certainly has done those things, sometimes forcing me to when I was not particularly in the mood to do so, but those improvements pale in comparison to the maturity and empathy my time at this university has given me.
When the decision to transition to remote learning during the Spring 2020 semester was made, occurring only a short time after I had received my acceptance letter (email), my first thought was how the pandemic would affect my transfer from community college to Columbia in September. Admittedly, this was a selfish perspective, considering the tremendous challenges that many would endure during the ensuing lockdowns and other upheavals of life. My concerns were solely focused on myself because I was on a simple track to graduate, place my degree on my resumé, and continue my trajectory of military service to college to employment, leaving little else to consideration, to include other people who were not in my immediate circle. Sitting here now, two weeks from graduation, with a job at a Fortune 500 company lined up, I should be happy, with the plans I had made years ago coming to fruition. Yet I cannot help feeling a sense of sadness and concern for the school I have spent years of my life at, and for the world as a whole.
James Hatch, a former member of the United States’s elite Naval Special Warfare Development Group, or DEVGRU, for short, more commonly known by its nickname, Seal Team Six, famous for its involvement in the killing of Osama Bin Laden and the rescue of the Maersk Alabama Captain Richard Phillips from pirates, amongst other things, spent over twenty years in the military. After being wounded on a mission to rescue American serviceman sergeant Bowe Bergdahl from enemy forces, he was medically discharged, and would eventually attend Yale University. While there, he wrote a piece titled My Semester with the Snowflakes (please give this a read, it will help people who have never been in the military understand its culture, along with some of the challenges veterans face when transitioning to college), where he details his initial discomfort with being in a vastly different environment than the military, surrounded by individuals who possessed opinions and beliefs contrary to the ones he was accustomed to. He recalls witnessing a student protest the country he spent over two decades serving by coating her hand in red paint, and leaving a palm print on an American flag, and details his shock when a classmate of his explained to him what a “safe space” was, as well as his pride when he began to understand the nuances of life both inside and outside of the nation he dedicated twenty-six years to.
I can relate to Mr. Hatch, (despite my service paling in comparison to his, as well as the fact that Columbia is far superior to Yale), because, like his friends who make fun of him for attending college with a bunch of “snowflakes,” mine do the same. More significantly, however, his personal growth during his time at school is something that I have experienced myself. When I started at Columbia, I did not even know which major I would choose, and was largely lost in a world very different than the one I had come from. Despite this, I made the decision to avoid communities such as MilVets and the students who made it very clear that they came from a military background, with their style of dress and demeanor, not because those organizations and individuals are a detriment; I know for a fact that MilVets has helped countless students succeed at Columbia and beyond, and the veterans that I have relationships with are all phenomenal people, but because I wanted to pressure myself into being exposed to something different. I was uncomfortable at first, but this turned out to be the right decision. I learned as much from simply talking to people whom I would normally never converse with about topics and ideas that I had never encountered as I did during classes about great works of art, polar and Cartesian coordinates, literature, astronomy, the list goes on.
If the protests about the Israel – Palestine conflict had occurred when I first started at Columbia, I would have been frustrated by the students taking up space, forcing us to be funneled on to campus by restricted access points and identification checks. Likely irritated by the disturbance of the quiet during finals season, I would have agreed with the people who called for students to simply focus on their assignments and stop inconveniencing others by shouting about something occurring on the other side of the world. Instead, I decided to learn about the conflict, educating myself about both sides of a war that has roots extending back millennia. While Columbia University did not agree to the demands of the protestors, they achieved something else they surely desired, reaching a goal they did not state to President Shafik and her advisors: they brought attention to their cause by educating at least one additional person about it.
After reading, talking to people, listening to input from students within various classes, and understanding that things such as the intertwined nature of financial workings, as well as conflicts not just in the Middle East, but all over the world, are a level of complexity that baffles some of the most brilliant minds of ours and previous generations, I will leave my thoughts about Israel and Palestine separate from this paper. I recognize that it is important to choose a side, as remaining impartial helps no one. However, when every news agency, group and individual makes their voice heard, satirical sources such as The Onion make these kind of posts, or Adult Swim’s Rick, the nihilistic, narcissistic, psychopathic, misanthropic lead character from the series Rick and Morty, addresses the conflict in this manner, I feel that it is better to relegate myself to a much smaller part of this debate, namely the occurrences on Columbia University’s Morningside Campus.
During basic training for the United States Army, a sense of brotherhood and camaraderie is hammered into recruits’ identities. When you graduate and are assigned to a unit, one where you could be thousands of miles from home on the opposite side of the country, or even in a completely different country, serving on one of the international bases, approaching someone who you have never met before is easy. Talking to them about shared experiences and stories you have in common, and the bonding that occurs, is the product of an indoctrination process and lifestyle that has existed longer than any of us have been alive, and is proof of its effectiveness. This sense of familiarity tends to continue even when one leaves the military. The Veterans of Foreign Wars community is a place for prior servicemembers of all conflicts to share a drink, a laugh, and sometimes a tear. When I go to the Veterans Administration Hospital for periodic check-ups or the occasional injury, men and woman wearing hats commemorating their service during Vietnam waiting for their appointments greet me with a smile and a handshake, as if we have known each other for years. While working at a golf club’s greens department before I transferred to Columbia from community college, a coworker of mine who had served in the Gulf War had heard from our supervisor that I had been in the Army, and he introduced himself to me on my first day, before anyone else, telling me that if I needed anything, I only had to ask. This camaraderie has expanded to encompass not just veterans, but first responders such as firemen, EMT’s, and the police as well.
Underneath the picture on my driver’s license, the word “veteran” is emblazoned next to a star, written in bright red text and all capital letters. I know for a fact that this one-and-a-half-inch indicator has helped me during interactions with law enforcement on multiple occasions. Only earlier this semester, during Presidents’ Day weekend, I went upstate to spend time with my family. While driving back, in an effort to make the seven-hour trip at a reasonable time, I was stopped for going twenty miles-per-hour over the speed limit. The officer who pulled me over, initially reserved, became noticeably more friendly when I handed him my license and registration. Ultimately, he gave me what amounted to a parking ticket for my actions, rather than the point-incurring, heavily fined moving violation he could have charged me with.
The ‘Thin Blue Line,’ as it is known, is a reference to the idea that the police are the barrier between law abiding citizens and criminals, order and chaos. The most common representation of this concept is a black-and-white American flag, with a single blue line in the place where a red or white stripe would normally be. This style has been expanded to include numerous other colors representing other first-responders: green for the military, red and white no longer to be interpreted as the traditional stripes of the American flag, but instead meant to represent the fire department and paramedics, and even grey for corrections officers. Seeing the appropriation of one of the most iconic symbols in the world, one that flies above the White House, schools, homes, national and international events, and even the Moon, I can say, as someone who has been unwillingly entangled within that appropriation, is nothing short of terrifying.
The fact that these entities and their supporters have literally sewn themselves into the fabric of the symbol of our nation makes one think that there is little room for the countless other occupations, aspects and people that make up this country. The idea of the police being the sole protectors of our society is patently absurd, and all one must do is point out the many instances of police brutality occurring over the years to refute it. I find myself thinking of how much power the officer who stopped me just three months ago had over me. Initially, I was happy that I had received a slap on the wrist, but recently I have found myself wondering what if my license did not state that I was a veteran, would he have charged me with a ticket that would have had much more serious implications? What if he was simply having a bad day, and he decided he did not like the look of me, or the color of my car, and I was the one who he ultimately decided to vent his frustrations on? This traffic infraction, an incredibly small incident compared to all the turmoil in the world, one that involves two strangers, supposedly bonded by our professions, on the side of a quiet, New York highway, serves as a metaphor to me, reminding me of the power structures at play on a much larger scale.
On April 22^nd, 2024, I received this email, one of the many Clery Crime Alerts that students are automatically sent. An affiliate of Columbia University had their car stolen at gunpoint by two masked men on Claremont Avenue, not even a five-minute walk from campus. I skimmed the report, and almost immediately forgot about it, recognizing that crime is an inevitability in major cities, and that I needed to start my commute to school. Days later, on the night of April 30^th, 2024, I received another email from Columbia, containing one of the most ominous messages I had ever seen, one that put the kind of fear in my heart that not even the alert of an armed carjacking could. Columbia’s Emergency Management Operations Team, offering no explanations, specifications, or even a greeting or sign-off, wrote in bold letters these three sentences: “Shelter in place for your safety due to heightened activity on the Morningside campus. Non-compliance may result in disciplinary action. Avoid the area until further notice.” Due to the protests on campus during recent weeks, President Shafik testifying before Congress, Columbia’s role as one of the main catalysts for student protests around the country, and the occupation of Hamilton Hall occurring in the earlier hours of that day, it was not hard to figure out what the email was referencing. Over the next several hours, I followed news agencies, remained glued to the Columbia subreddit, and listened to WKCR, in awe of these eighteen- to twenty-two-year-old students putting themselves at risk to deliver on the ground, accurate, unbiased coverage of one of the most significant events in the school’s history.
While tracking the events from multiple perspectives, to include the social media accounts of those near and on campus live streaming them, I held out hope that the university would make good on their promise from several days earlier to not invite the NYPD back, but a frightening picture began to unfold, one that I was intimately familiar with. One WKCR reporter stated that 114^th street had so many officers on it that he could not see the asphalt of the road beneath them, and I knew that the staging area the NYPD had chosen was one of the best routes for moving towards what the military, and presumably law enforcement, would call an ‘objective.’ The officers cleared the smaller ‘objective,’ the largely unoccupied tents in front of Butler, and then moved towards Hamilton Hall, ordering even those not associated with its occupation to disperse, raising my stress levels and likely those of others, as it is rarely a good sign when police do not want their actions recorded and archived. After the initial entry to campus and clearing of areas and people in the immediate vicinity of Hamilton Hall, came the Long-Range Acoustic Device, or LRAD, a device that makes a megaphone sound like a whisper, and one known for its crowd-control potential, capable of producing sounds loud enough to cause damage to ear-drums, nausea, and headaches, ordering individuals to clear away. The NYPD began its execution of tactics in a way that my fellow soldiers and I used to rehearse, tactics I never dreamed that I would witness outside of the military, and certainly not by police officers who vastly outnumbered unarmed students on their own campus. The NYPD created a perimeter, or a ‘second layer of security’ to both provide reinforcements for the officers entering the building, and to prevent the fleeing of what are called ‘squirters,’ or individuals who attempt to escape the building after the raid begins. While the ‘breach’ team moved towards the front doors, using tools from a ‘hooligan kit,’ such as bolt cutters, hand-held battering rams and crowbars, a siege machine was brought in to allow access from a window; when taking over a building, the idea is to enter it from as many different directions as possible to better disorient and overwhelm its occupants. Flash-bang grenades, described as non-lethal, but known to have harmful effects, were thrown inside, presumably before entering any room, hallway, or otherwise enclosed area to minimize the resistance of anyone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of what can only be described as an assault on the visual and auditory senses. According to the Manhattan District Attorney, one of the officers inside Hamilton Hall had what is called in the military a “negligent discharge,” meaning his firearm went off unintentionally. While no one was hurt, the question remains why at least one, and more likely, numerous other officers were carrying guns loaded with live ammunition in the first place, when they so drastically outmatched the protestors in numbers and equipment. Additionally, a negligent discharge is an act of incompetence that would result in an active-duty soldier facing serious consequences, and derision from his peers. So far, the officer remains defended by his coworkers, and unpunished by his superiors.
As all this unfolded, I communicated with my friends from the past and present. My friends from the military checked on me to ensure that I was okay, as did my friends from school. The difference in how they viewed these events highlights what I believe is the change in myself that I stated I am most proud of at the beginning of this paper. My friends from the military were commenting that the assertion of order and control by way of militarized tactics was necessary, not concerning themselves with the human toll and destruction of trust that came along with it. Conversely, my schoolmates lamented the brutality and overstepping of boundaries that the NYPD and Columbia’s administration committed, one that turned a place meant to be a beacon of free speech, expression, and ideas, into what is now a police-state with strict control over who enters it.
My education inside and outside the classroom at this institution has challenged, thrilled, and changed me. Sitting here now, at the end of this paper, the end of the semester, and the end of my time at Columbia University, I am left feeling confused and sad regarding recent events, but also hopeful for the future. I know from experience that the students, teachers, and culture of this school have the power to encourage critical thinking and initiate personal growth. If it did those things for me, surely it can do the same for others

I took a career break for mental health reasons, (suffering from acute PPD) and also because I was fed up with constant org changes/ management changes, lack of growth and opportunities. My new manager at the time requested that I provide a longer notice period instead of the standard 2, to help close out some projects that they needed help with and I submitted my voluntary resignation request with an extended notice period. My manager was unhappy with the pace of my handover and suddenly cut off my system access. It was never clarified if I was fired or my last date was changed with immediate effect. I want to rejoin the company after my career break, I have many friends in other departments who would gladly refer me, it’s a great place to work and my dream company - and my former manager is no longer with the company. HR will not disclose if I’m ineligible for hire. What are my options?

Same as title. About 3+ times weekly, a chirping comes from the hallway that my neighbors set off the "supervisory" alarm on the fire panel. I've been dealing with this nonstop since December and I'm frankly starting to get a bit pissed off. There's no way there's a fire every single time.
One thing I've noticed is that a there's a couple of certain apartment numbers who are culprits of setting it off a majority of the time. I know that a lot of the people in my complex smoke weed, which could be setting it off (funny story, told LL that I smelled it coming thru the vents and stinking up my place and she said "Nuh uh")
I've read countless posts online from people with similar stories about what to do, and most of them suggest calling 911/Fire department/Fire Marshall. How safe is this to do? I heard people get fined for false calls, and I'm sort of living paycheck to paycheck right now so I can't take that on. I know the landlord would probably handle that but I don't want a way that it could be tossed back onto me.
I'm really nervous and don't want to call 911 if I don't have to, because I don't want to take away from actual emergencies.. what should I do?

Hello, I need urgent help but the animal control and fire departments are not helping me. I live in Buffalo city, and my cat is stuck on my neighbor’s roof, he jumped there but cannot come back and it has been 5 hours he is there. I asked my neighbors if I could get in their house and get him from their window but they were not helpful at all. I do not know what to do anymore. I have put a wood plank from my balcony to my neighbors, so that he could climb and walk on it to cross into my balcony but he is not using it. I don’t know what to do and whom to ask for help. Please advise me what should I do.

DC Next presents:

I AM BATMAN

In True Crime
Issue Sixteen: Dark Hair And Face Paint
Written by ClaraEclair
Edited by PredaPlant & DeadIslandMan1
 
<< < Previous Issue Next Issue > Coming Next Month
 
 
Gotham University’s winter term was coming to an end, and that meant the resident varsity football team was finishing out their season — on home turf, no less. The Nighthawks were on a winning streak and were looking to finish off the season with a championship. The entire team felt the energy coursing through them as the stadium filled and crowd chants grew.
There were always major league scouts within the crowds at these types of games, especially for teams as impressive as the Nighthawks had been. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that some of the players on the varsity team would be making it to the national league. The coach, as hard as he could be on his team, felt nothing but warm pride in his heart and mind.
Zack Howard, the captain of the Nighthawks, looked over the 120 yard field from the player entrance, listening to the roaring crowd chanting for the Nighthawks — even fans of the Princeton Tigers felt the pull toward cheering on the Gotham University team. Just as much as his coach, he felt pride in being able to carry his team this far. He hoped to give the best game he’d ever played, to be noticed by big league coaches and scouts.
“Zack!” He heard his coach shout from behind him, no doubt trying to shift his attention back to the locker room and preparations for the game ahead. Zack exhaled deeply and turned around to see Coach Fremlin approaching with a light jog, holding something in his hand. “Delivery for ya,” he said, handing the envelope to the captain. “Some girl said to give it to you, said there’s somethin’ special inside.” With a smirk, Fremlin clapped Zack’s shoulder before turning back toward the locker room.
Zack’s mind flooded with possibilities and fantasies about what could’ve been in the envelope. Something special could have been anything, and it excited him as he ripped it open. His expression quickly shifted, however, as he pulled a handwritten note out of the envelope, scribbled in nearly illegible handwriting.
”Zack Howard,” it read. He opened it, his brow furrowed, and watched as an instant print photograph fell out of the fold and onto the ground. One piece of clear tape had been shoddily applied to the corner and had clearly lost its adhesion. Leaning down, Zack picked up the photo and squinted, trying to make out the subject.
It took a few moments, but the longer he stared at the photo, the more it dawned on him what was depicted in it. Instantly, upon realising what he saw, he rushed back to the locker room and forced himself through his teammates to Coach Fremlin, who was dragging out his playbook. He grabbed the coach by the shoulder, twisted him around to face him directly, and planted the photo firmly on his chest.
“What the fuck is this?” he demanded. Confused, Fremlin chuckled nervously as he tried to grasp the small photo on his chest, not able to see the subject but only the fury in Zack’s face. The room fell totally silent as the entire team watched the coach and their captain with bated breaths.
“What do you mean?” asked Fremlin, turning the image over and squinting at it, trying to make out the details. Just as fast as Zack had initially made out the details, Fremlin’s face dropped at the realisation. “Holy God, Zack, I–”
“What the hell is this?!” Zack demanded once more, resisting the urge to grab his coach by the collar and push him against the wall. “Who gave this to you?”
“I– I don’t know, it was some girl,” Fremlin stuttered, fumbling over himself. “She was short, had black hair, face paint…”
“What’s it say on the back?” asked Tim Teslow, the team’s best running back, pointing toward the image and the messy scrawls on the back of it. Zack snapped it back out of Fremlin’s hands as the coach sat down, head in his hands.
“Section 204, Row 8, seat 9,” Zack read the note aloud. “I’m going to go see what this is,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Dude, that’s across the stadium,” said Cutter Karznowski, the wide receiver that had only joined at the start of the season. “The game’s starting in a few minutes.”
“I don’t care,” Zack snapped back. “I’m going.”
 
 
Good evening, Gothamites, I hope you enjoyed that last one — Barcode by Self-Sacrificial. It’s always been a personal favourite of mine, straight to the point with the best beats and deepest riffs.
In the same spirit, I’ll get straight to the point of why today’s a big day for me — you’ve all known this was coming but I never quite said what it was. When I started this show a little over a year ago, I wanted to look at the dirt of the world. I wanted to bring you my favourite music while trying to figure out my favourite events in this city.
I’ve talked about all the legends, I’ve talked about Joker, Mister Freeze, and so many others. I’ve talked about new shooters like Man-Bat and Professor Pyg. I’ve even, unfortunately, shed some light on the unoriginal copycat hacks that have started popping up in recent years. It’s all been out of love, though. Love for the mind of those who would commit these atrocities, appreciation for what they are and what they represent.
There’s a reason why they are what they are, and it’s always been a goal of mine to love and appreciate what they put into the world. It’s all about the chaos.
But, today, I won’t be talking about that. Today, I’ll be talking about football. Before you all start booing me, it’s my special day and it’s my show, so I get final say. Specifically, it’s the big championship game for the Gotham University Nighthawks. I went to school with these guys, I feel… an obligation.
I’m excited to see how the game will turn out. I get the nagging feeling that their winning streak might come to an end.
 
 
Section 204 in the Gotham Knights stadium, on the north side of Tricorner Island, the southernmost landmass of Gotham, was filled to the brim with spectators and fans. All were cheering as they waited and watched the Gotham University Nighthawks enter the field below, while Zack spent his time searching the section for a small woman with black hair and face paint.
Despite the difficulty of sifting through the crowded seats, he couldn’t find a woman matching that description. He looked back down at the photograph’s note and read it again, making sure he was in the right spot. The location remained the same: Section 204, row 8, seat 9.
People called out his name, but he was quick to shrug them off. He was too focused on finding the woman who’d sent him the photograph. Even asking those who’d been sitting within section 204 had proved fruitless, with no one being able to say anything about the described woman.
Angry and dejected, Zack turned back toward the steps between sections to head back down to the field when something caught his eye as he moved.
“Sir!” He called out, angling his head toward a man two rows above him, pointing beneath his seat. “Sir, what’s that under your seat?” There was some sort of flashing light taped to the bottom of the seat, slowly pulsing between purple and green.
The man looked confused, leaning forward to take a look at what Zack had pointed at, eyes widening the moment he saw the wiring that he sat atop. A complex series of wires and lights traced their way around each seat in the section, though neither he nor Zack could see what, exactly, the wires were attached to.
“I don’t–”
The man could only shout out those few words before a loud explosion rocked the stadium, blasts running down the portion of the stadium from rows 12 to 4. Dozens of seats were annihilated as smoke, fire, and green gas erupted. Cries of pain and fear replaced the cheers of the spectators.
Blood tainted the intact seats while the smoke rose into the air, infiltrating the sky of southern Gotham, visible from all along the city’s coast. What fell across the stadium, permeating nearly every seat on the west side of the stadium, making its way into the halls that traced the inner workings of the building, was a thick green gas, forcing its way into the lungs of the men and women who were running for their lives, trampling each other.
Those closest to the explosion felt intense convulsions in their abdomens and spasms in their faces, involuntarily forced to bear wicked grins while their shattering breaths overtook the screams of terror in the form of wicked laughter.
Amidst the chaos, the charred photo that Zack once held fell slowly and gracefully, slightly charred, ignorant of the horror that it had been subject to. Slightly charred, it landed a few sections away from the explosions, trampled upon by infected spectators who had no idea what was being done to them.
 
 
A Few Minutes Earlier…
James Gordon’s office at the Gotham City Police Department headquarters was quiet as he sat at his desk, resting his elbows on its surface with his hands clasped, opposite Astrid Arkham, the frail-seeming daughter of Jeremiah Arkham. She had requested a meeting with him, and he had assumed it was for an update into Batman’s investigation into her father.
“Gotham City needs something new,” she began, catching him by surprise. His eyes widened slightly, then his brow furrowed. “We’ve been in this… this state of insanity for decades now, and it is only getting worse. This city is no longer livable, Commissioner.” He resisted the urge to groan. The only difference in Gotham City as it was and the Gotham City of before was that the murders had become spectacle.
When supervillains pushed out mobsters and gangsters, there was a shift in crime, but the results remained the same. Salvatore Maroni and Carmine Falcone knew how to keep their business quiet to the public unless they were in active war. Those were the good old days, now.
“Insane, maniacal supervillains,” she continued. “They rule the streets whenever they so choose. The police cannot deal with them, not under you. You rely on the Batman,” there was venom in her voice as she spoke the name, “and she sweeps up the problems while bringing deranged cultists and assassins into this city. She’s the heir of a small personal army with untold technology and she runs free. The Joker Riots, the assassin siege, Simon Hurt, all because the Batman has infested this town with these misguided thoughts of the supernatural, supposedly haunting our city.” Gordon remained silent.
“Essen’s incentives are now failing,” she said, watching Gordon closely for a reaction. If he gave one, she couldn’t see it. “How many companies that were enticed by her incentives have moved headquarters out of Gotham? They pay nothing in taxes, they have Essen licking their boots, and it’s still not enough. Despite all that’s happened, we haven’t been through hell yet, Commissioner. We’ve only arrived at the gates.”
“If I may, Miss Arkham,” said Gordon, leaning back in his chair, scanning the young woman up and down. “What’s your point?” He understood what she was saying, and he feared she was right, but he didn’t like the conclusion she was bringing forth.
“You are antiquated, Commissioner,” she replied, her face straight. “Obsolete. Your methods don’t work anymore, the law you uphold is no longer effective. Besides that, you are getting old. I can see the fatigue in your face, the bags under your eyes, your paleness. You’re not the detective you used to be.” Astrid leaned forward in her seat, putting her weight on her cane. “Gotham needs something new.”
Gordon’s phone rang, and for a brief moment he was thankful for the reprieve — but only for a moment.
 
 
I’d say I feel bad for the people at the Nighthawks game, but, if I’m totally honest, they had it coming. It’s about time everything caught up to them.
While we all ruminate on what’s happening at the game right now, let’s listen to some good music. This is Confetti by Viscera.
 
 
Batman had listened to as many notes as she could about a green gas that made anyone who inhaled it laugh uncontrollably. It typically led to suffocation through the inability to control the diaphragm, but this time it didn’t, and it confused the Dark Knight. A familiar sight, an attack that resulted in eery laughter, and yet it wasn’t what the city had seen before. None of the victims that hadn’t been in the initial blast had died, though medical care for each of them was necessary.
As much as she cursed herself for being late, not able to save anyone as the events unfolded, she knew that she needed to take control as fast as possible. She, along with every person in the city, dreaded what this attack meant. The name of a particular clown lingered on everyone’s tongues, though no one dared invoke his name.
Batman wasn’t so sure, and she hoped that her gut feeling was right. Most of the bodies that were recoverable had been extracted from the blast zone, over a dozen dead and dozens more injured. Blood and soot equally covered the destroyed seats, and even more on the concrete below.
One thing caught Batman’s eye amidst the mess, two sections away from the initial blast. A small instant print photograph, half burnt, laid on the ground, covered in dirty boot prints. She picked it up and looked it over, squinting as she studied the subject.
It was a blonde woman, head down with wet hair covering her face. Almost lost in the details was a small trail of blood behind the hair, mixing with trailing makeup. Batman frowned as she flipped the image over, seeing the note for a specific seat in the section of the stadium that had been blown to bits.
She approached the seat and kneeled, ducking down to see under the seat. It was one of few that remained intact after the explosions. Zack Howard’s Final Stop was scratched into the bottom of the seat, and at the sight of it, Batman signalled to Oracle to scan the engraving. She couldn’t identify the woman in the photograph, but she could see clearly enough that the attack was targeted at a specific person.
Another killer, she thought to herself, fearing what it could mean for the city. Pyg almost tore the richest members of the city’s economy apart, and they were ready to throw their own to the wolves. Now, there’d been a deadly gas attack at a football game — one that had been sponsored by many of Gotham’s elite.
The idea that the Clown Prince of Crime had returned was already making its way through the city — Batman knew she would have to exert control over everything she could to keep it from tearing itself apart at the seams. She was more than prepared to do so.
“It doesn’t look good,” she said to Oracle.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice distant. “I hope it’s just another copycat, they’re much easier to deal with.”
“I don’t know,” Batman replied, looking back at the photograph. “Something’s different.”

First Previous
Peering down into the now exposed cavern, I wondered what was in there and consequently how I would even get down there. Ordering my marauder to back up a bit so that they would not fall though or anything of the sort, I began floating back up to the surface before blipping over to the factory and more specifically the modification station. Flipping through the menu screen, I quickly whipped up a modification to my crabs so that they would have a searchlight sitting on their claw arm so that they would not have such a hard time seeing the mines. Drifting back over to the mining outpost, I began ordering for the on site construction crew to begin constructing the new lights onto a few volunteers. As they began the process of constructing the modifications for my crabs, I began gathering up a few flight capable drones from the factory since I doubt that my hounds and ants would have a very good time climbing down a eighty plus degree slope down to the bottom.
Perhaps I should have a few of the hornets have some of the searchlights as well. Certainly couldn’t hurt to have some extra lights. Thankfully at the factory there was a much more sizable spider drone presence so my hornets were equipped with the searchlights quickly enough and were able to reach the mining outpost just about when my crabs got theirs as well. Ordering my drones to begin venturing down into the mineshaft, I was finally able to properly see down in the mines although I suppose I had not turelly needed to. I wonder if this would help the rest of my drones ability to mine out ores. The lack of light surely hasn’t stopped them so I guess they probably can see better down here that I could. As we ventured through the mineshaft, I took the time to look around and found that the tunnels which had been carved out looked to have many small patches missing, presumably where they had found valuable ores and the like. Before long we reached the opening to the cavern which looked to be somewhat expanded by the marauders sub drone harvesters.
Ordering my newly equipped crabs to use their search lights in order to light up the cavern a little bit, I was able to quickly enough make out the forms of what had to be organic life which was rather surprising. Squinting my eyes, I was able to see the vague forms of large fungus-like shapes covering the entirety of the rather large cavern like a warping forest which seemed to be perfectly fine with growing on every available surface. Looking over to my hornets and vultures who had volunteered to take a look, I ordered them, along with the harvesters from the marauder, to begin flying down and begin looking around the area. Switching my perspective over to one of my hornets equipped with the searchlights, I watched as they began to descend down to the bottom of the cavern and where the dozens and dozens of tree sized mushrooms and fungus sprouted out from the ground and created a canopy of sorts.
As we descended, I was able to see that every available spot on the surface of the floor was absolutely covered in moss and fungus which had taken root in whatever rocky soil which they could find. As we continued to look around the cavern, one of my hornets seemed to have managed to spot some sort of constructs near the far end of the cavern and soon enough the hornet which I was watching through linked up with the rest of my force as they moved towards the buildings. As they approached the structures, I was able to make out the general shape of the buildings which looked to be rather squat with the occasional second floor which I took as a sign that they were either rather small or there was more underground. With the help of the searchlights, I was also able to see that the constructs seemed to be absolutely infested with the fungus and moss along with a large amount of other dark growths which stretched out from the insides of the building.
Huh, maybe this is where all the fungus had come from. Perhaps it’s a research building that’s focused on botany or something. Floating down to ground level with the rest of my drones, I ordered one of my hornets to open the doors leading into the building proper which they promptly did so by firing their spike launcher into the joints of the door which caused it to be blown off its hinges. A bit overkill but hey, I’m not complaining. Sending a couple drones into the breach to make sure that there were not any hostile contacts in the building, I made sure to have the rest of my drones on high alert for any signs of activity as something about this place was making my nerves stand on end. Upon the confirmation of no hostile contacts present, I ordered the rest of my drones to enter the building as well, minus a couple of hornets I decided to leave guarding the entrance while the rest of us began making our way through the maze of corridors.
Entering into the building, I saw that the place looked to be just as abandoned as all the other buildings in the city, however this place seemed to not even be touched by ferals and the like looking for shelter. Sure everything looked to be messed up but I could not see a single trace of activity in the rooms as we moved through the corridors methodically, keeping our spike launchers at the ready at all times. Entering a research room of some sort, I saw a large amount of glass containers which looked to have at one point helped strange plants and funguses although most of which had died long ago whenever this place was abandoned to its fate. I guess this helps confirm that this place was some sort of research building focused on plants and stuff. As we continued to make our way throughout the building, my drones and I found more and more of the black tendrils which covered the ground and were familiar in some way, however I could not place my finger on it.
Eventually after looking through a handful more rooms filled to the brim with plant specimens, my drones and I encountered a stairwell leading both down into the underground and upwards to the second floor. I made note that the downwards stairwell had a larger than usual amount of the black tendrils which snaked out from the stairwell before infesting the rest of the building. Deciding that I did not wish to go down there, I sent about half of my force down while I and the rest of my drones went up the stairs and checked out the second floor where there were noticeably less tendrils. As my hornets clambered up the stairs, noticeably avoiding the black vine like tendrils whenever possible, I noticed that there seemed to be some artificial light coming from above which was strange, I would have assumed that all the power had been disabled for these ruins.
Moving closer to the source of the light, we eventually entered what looked to be a control room with a large amount of screens and control panels, most of which were entirely deactivated and in some cases destroyed outright. All except for one which seemed to be a simple control panel with a large amount of lights associated with various sections of the compound like the power generators and various research rooms. Looking around, I eventually found a key stating which faintly blinking meant what and quickly began transcribing each of the dim lights which were still finding enough power to give off a noticeable glow. First to gain my attention was the power generators which were flashing a red light stating that they were completely down, however looking at the auxiliary power systems, they were glowing a faint yellow which stated that they were still at least partially functioning. Guess that explains where this thing is pulling the power from, the pitance that it is.
Continuing down the line of blinking lights, I see that most if not all of the systems making up the building and a few of the other, much smaller, buildings surrounding this one seemed to be more or less non-functional which should be expected given that this place had been abandoned for at least a couple decades. As I reached a few lights noted as containment units and found that most were deactivated or destroyed, I received a few messages from my drones I had sent downwards stating that they had found something that I should probably have a look at. Slipping out of the hornet I was currently in and transferring over to one of the hornets down stairs before coming face to face with what they had found. Floating around, suspended by some sort of force field was a disgustingly large bulbous black clump of flesh with faint blue marks and bulbs dotting around its body. Why in the seven hells does this place have a rot specimen? Sigh, I guess this explains where all the power which the still functioning generators is being pumped into. At least it hadn’t gotten out of its containment, that would make this ten times wors- … waaait a minute.
Looking down to the ground where the black tendrils snaked across the floor leading to two other containment units which were worryingly not activated and had two, thankfully smaller, iterations of the rot simply laying there, as if hibernating. Shit! Alright maybe if we back up slowly they won’t notice our presence. It was then the two rot clumps and their many tendrils began pulsating before marks and bulbs on their body began to glow a faint blue and some began to move. Alright, change of plans. Everyone RUN! My drones were quick to obey as they powered on their wings and bolted for the stairwell as the tendrils began writhing as if searching for my drones. One even lurched out and grabbed one of my hornets as they attempted to escape the building, dragging the poor drone to the ground and more tendrils moved in to help keep down my struggling troops who fought valiantly which thankfully diverted tendrils which were dangerously close to my other drones to quickly flew up the stairs and out of the building.
A few tendrils attempted to stop our escape however my hornets quickly fired their launchers and pinned those to the walls of the building and my harvester sub drones proved to be rather effective as they cut right through the rot tendrils that got close. Taking to the skies as quickly as they could, I could see that the rest of my drones seemed to have managed to get out unmolested by the rot tendrils which were definitely not as numerous as the ones underground and they were now covering the rest of my drones retreat as they fired their launchers and cut down any tendrils which got close. Linking up with the rest of my drones, my various hornets quickly turned their own spike launchers to bare against the tendrils, managing to land a few shots before I ordered them to fall back as one of the rot tendrils lashed out and nearly swatted another one of my hornets out of the sky which I decided was too close for comfort.
Turning around as we flew back to the mines and the rest of my drones, I watched as the far side of the cavern where the facility was began to pulse blue as the rot emerged from its slumber and began moving through the fungus forest. I have no idea how the rot works but given that they’re fleshy, I suspect that letting them feast off of the mushrooms is probably going to bite me in the ass later. Slipping out of the hornets as the flew back to the outpost, I began scrambling to assemble as many fire beetles as I could from all of my territories as they had been proven to be one of my best anti-rot drones meaning they would be instrumental in fending off those things from escaping the cavern. As it would turn out, I was rather lacking in the fire beetle department as I could only assemble about a dozen of them which means that I would have to wait a bit before I could start deploying them en masse.
Deciding to make the process as quick as possible, I began ordering for the construction of fire beetles from every available small drone works in my territory but it would still take a while for them to all fabricate and be transported over here, especially from places like the warehouse outpost and the newer outposts near the front lines. While I waited, I continued to watch as the rot began infesting the cavern with reckless abandon and from where my crab was standing, I could see as one after another the large fungus trees toppled over to be consumed by the rot. As the fungal forest was being consumed by the now fully awakened rot, I began wondering whether or not they would be able to use their newly acquired food supplies to create more of the damned tendrils or even more rot clusters. At least there’s only two, maybe three, of them down there. Hopefully my fire beetles will be able to burn the forest down before the rot gets a chance to eat all of it.
Speaking of which, my drones, a few of the suicidal drones had arrived from the factory and were already making their way down the mine shaft over to my position. Once they arrived, I gestured to a few of my hornets who quickly picked up the four fire beetles before flying down to the base of the cavern before placing the fire beetles amidst the fungal forest which they promptly began burning down to the ground. Hopefully they would be able to burn down at least half of the mushroom tree before the rot could eat it or to my beetles for that matter. Watching as the cavern began to glow a bright reddish orange, I decided to check up on the rest of my territory as I waited for more of my beetles to finish being fabricated and transported over to the mining outpost. Deciding to check on my forces in Ping’s territory first, I drifted over to the outpost that my forces had helped Ping take back which was now returning to what I was guessing was its full capacity.
Checking up on my drones which I had managed to rescue from enemy territory, I found that most had been repaired back to functionality and were now going about their duties which mostly revolved around helping out Pings drones with the various patrols or, if my spiders deemed them unfit, working to assist with the movement of supplies around the outpost along with some light salvaging. A fair amount of my veteran drones had been sent back to whatever force I had taken the form, mostly the force at Churn’s front line with the occasional drone working in pseudo retirement which garrison or mine work afforded them. After all, they were likely needed more at Churn's front line where active fighting was still occurring on a regular basis rather than in Ping’s territory where the corrupted AI was being pushed back as Ping got their feet under themselves as they began pumping out drones and defenses.
Checking up on the outpost which Churn had lent me, I found that the enemy force had begun moving back into the now destroyed production hub however not in any significant numbers as the outpost was likely deemed to be not worth the effort of putting a large garrison there. The forces present were likely only there to inform them if I was making moves to attack more of their territory so that they could make the proper adjustments. Thankfully this newly established enemy garrison could not stop my stealth hounds as they occasionally sent back a member or two of their number to inform me of what was going on in enemy territory. In Coopers stead, one of the next most senior drone which happened to be an ant had been receiving the most recent of reports from the stealth hounds which mostly consisted with random enemy movements and caravans which did not really affect me given that I was not willing to start sending out my force to being taking the fight to the next enemy stronghold, at least not while my forces in Ping were still criminally understaffed and my resource stocks were at a minimum.
Perhaps once things stabilize and more resources become available I will begin tasking my force with attacking however until then I was content to sit around on the defense. The thought of constructing more stealth hounds until I could start having them raid caravans briefly flittered across my mind but I quickly cut that off and stored it in my head for later use once the whole situation with the rot back in the mines is resolved. Speaking of which, as I finished reading through reports and stamping away thoughts of pressing the attack while my supply lines were strained, I received the message stating that the first batch of fire beetles were now finished construction and were beginning to be collected by the subway system and would soon be delivered to the mining outpost. Good, the longer I wait, the more dangerous those things will probably become. Hopefully my beetles will be able to handle whatever they encounter down there.
Floating back over to the mining outpost and down to the cavern entrance, I could see that the initial four fire beetles had done a good job at burning down what they could as I was able to easily see that well over half of the forest had been light ablaze as the fungal trees caught fire and whatever moisture the mushrooms had were quickly evaporated. Regardless, the rot still continued to feast upon the biomass that they could get their tendrils on and from where I was watching I could easily see that nearly a quarter of the fungal forest had been completely taken over and infested with rot puss as the area where the rot had infected began glowing blue as their residue began to take place and fester. Hopefully the fires will also be able to burn some of the rot along with the mushroom trees before the rest of my beetles arrive and with some luck take down whatever is left. But for now I watched the flames as they spread and burned down everything in its path.
Next
Sorry it’s late, I had to GM a bit of DnD which took priority over finishing up and posting this.

Aenar, Astaraxes, and Naerys had departed on Valyria’s Pride three days past, their retinue of guards and servants alongside them. Leaving Summerhall near empty with only Laena, the man, and Rhaenys herself remaining, their evenings were hardly boring, however quiet the palace was.
As Rhaenys dressed herself for flight, putting on her gloves, she called out into the open sky,

“Meraxes, māzigon naejot issa!”

She could only hope the she-dragon heard the call, or more accurately felt the call. She did not need to speak with her always, some of the magic the ancient Valyrians had employed still flourished, the link between a rider and her dragon something that did not require a physical component.
As Rhaenys turned around to embrace the man, before placing a kiss on his lips, holding it until she was interrupted by the sound of leather in the sky. My sister.
Her head spun from the man’s lips and onto the silver in the skies before she touched down. The thud and subsequent dust sent into the air, surrounding the three in the courtyard. Rhaenys began to walk towards Meraxes before saying, “Ao sagon jurnegēre gevie tubī!” She placed her hand on Meraxes lowered snout before petting it, “It's going to be a long flight, but we're going to be nearer Balerion then. We have that to look forward to.”
Meraxes’ head perked up, before she laid down, ready for Rhaenys and Laena to mount her. “There’s just something else I must do and then we can leave,” Rhaenys said before turning back to the man.
“You are to keep this palace in good order, and I know you will, but I figured I should mention it. Can’t hurt can it?” she said with a smile.
“Of course I will, I’ll be going over the tables for a majority of the time, send a raven if it goes long, I will be rather lonely without both of my women here.”
Laena rolled her eyes at the statement, walking over to Meraxes and mounting her. Rhaenys’ smile intensified, “we’re a bit old for these jokes no? Not like I’d stop you from making them, but we are a bit old are we not?” As she spoke, Rhaenys pulled a vial from her belt and removed the stopper, before pouring the contents into the cup the man held.
Inside it was dreamwine, and the vial had contained poppy that had now mixed in with the dreamwine. “Any for you Laena?” Rhaenys asked, taking the cup in her own hand. Upon seeing the shaking head Rhaenys drank, and deep, before placing the cup back in the man’s hand. She leaned over and stood on her toes, planting a kiss on his lips, leaving him with a few last words, “take care of yourself. And no matter what, if I am dead you serve Aenar. He will need you.”
As the man nodded, Rhaenys walked to Meraxes and mounted her, sitting behind Laena. “A long day of travel and then we will be there. Aenar’s throne is within our grasp.”
“Sōvegon," she whispered as Meraxes stood, the power in her steps nearly shaking the ground below her, gaining speed before her wings struck the air. Once, twice, and they were airborne. The lurch as Meraxes found her stream of air pulled Rhaenys back, as Laena’s back touched her own chest. “Careful now, I’m the one that’s dreamdrunk, not you.”
Rhaenys pulled Laena’s hood to the side as the woman looked behind, Rhaenys pulling down the mask of her hood before planting her lips on Laena’s, her hands which held onto the reins of Meraxes wrapped themselves around the reins, before landing on Laena’s waist, pulling her in closer, and closer still as their lips locked. Their hoods were less secure but with little wind, but that did not much matter to the Queen, her mind slowly succumbing to the dreamwine and poppy mixture.
Her head swam more and more with each moment, before she let her lips separate from Laena’s, barely able to hold onto the reins she shoved them into her belt before managing, “Dārys tegorīr, Merakses,” as she drifted off to a gentle sleep.
As she came to, she could smell the difference in the air. The sun was no longer rising but almost gone, hidden by the horizon until it rose again the following day. Below she could see in the distance the candlelight of King's Landing, thousands of them lighting up the small spot on Blackwater Bay.
Here was where she, Aegon, and Visenya had first touched Westerosi soil to begin their conquest, leaving thousands dead and thousands of years of tradition dead in their wake. They had done what none had for hundreds of years, bend an entire people to their will purely by dragonfire. It was once again the Andals who faced the wrath of the Valyrians, bent to their servitude, though this time it was not slavery, that was a sentiment of a different world, they were quasi-equals now.
As Meraxes flew above the Red Keep, high in the air above the capital, Rhaenys leaned down closer to the head of her sister in arms.

“Ivestragī zirȳ gīmigon iksi kesīr!”

Searing white light along with a roar that woke any unlucky enough to have gone to bed early began above the city, Rhaenys making her presence known.
“That's sure to make you unpopular today,” Laena said as she watched the flame, her eyes closed due to the light.
Rhaenys’ own face was much different, a child-like smile shining from ear to ear. The white hot flames were bright even on the sunniest of days, pure moonlight on the darkest of night. “I don’t care, I have a cause again, they shall remember the old me or die for it. I may no longer be young, but there were three conquerors, and only one of us never forgot what that meant.”
“Tegun, Merakses,” Rhaenys uttered, pointing Meraxes in the direction of the Red Keep, a freshly built new castle for the Targaryen power to impress those who looked up at it. Atop Aegon’s Hill, they built a keep for all to admire. Atop Rhaenys’ Hill, they built a pit for the dragon who had come to conquer Westeros. Atop Visenya’s Hill, they built… a monument to false gods.
Meraxes’ claws gripped the red bricks of the Red Keep as she landed, a few falling down the hill. Rhaenys slid down her wings and waited for Laena to do the same, where Rhaenys waited holding her hand out so that she might grab it, the same as a knight might do with a lady. Beneath the mask of her hood, she smiled before looking at one of the guards, taking the mask and hood off, and letting Laena pull her hair out from the hood.
Rhaenys brushed past the guard as Meraxes leered at the man, she preferred lamb but crownlander would do just fine. As Rhaenys walked down the stairs descending from the walls, she looked to one of the captains, “it seems a few of the bricks off the wall came loose, you might want to look into that. We wouldn’t want the Red Keep to be vulnerable,” as a sinister smile appeared on her face.
“Laena, I’m a bit tired after all of that I believe, maybe I should find myself a seat,” she said, walking up to the throne room, the Iron Throne looming over them. She stood for a moment, looking at the metal monstrosity as images of the Field of Fire displayed themselves in her mind, a good day if still distasteful. The smell of burnt flesh was never quite as fun as seeing the swirling of flame on an open field, and yet one couldn’t have one without the other.
“Place a pillow on the throne, I’ve a sore arse after this travel, send a message that I will arrive at the hunt on the morrow,” Rhaenys let out to one of the servants in the throne room, desolate except for a few guards and servants.
As the man disappeared and reappeared, placing the pillow in its place, before bowing to Rhaenys, she shouted out, “LEAVE! All of you! I need a moment in the memory of my brother.”
As the sound of feet across the stone grew quieter Rhaenys approached the throne, Laena a few steps behind her, before looking up at the throne. She took each step carefully as she ascended, before taking her seat and looking out across the room.
“Come, join me, you’re tired as well after this entire day.”
Each sword was a man, and there were enough swords to make this monstrosity. What they had done would be remembered by the Westerosi for all time, regardless of the dynasty that sat at the top of them all. As Laena sat in her lap she cut her hand ever slightly, the blood disappearing into the creation, almost as if the throne had drunk it. Though she winced, Rhaenys did not notice, too lost in thought, her eyes fixated on a point and yet seeing nothing.
You gave me a son who would have been your heir, yet they took you from me. I may fill my bed with others and fill my belly with wine, but the only one who has ever filled my heart was you, she thought. A tear fell onto Laena’s dress as Rhaenys seemed to be in a world of her own.