Vi walked the all-too-familiar streets of the slums. A child lay in the street, abandoned. The young girl sobbed into her dress as townsfolk passed without a second glance. Memories rushed to the surface at the sight of her. Vi fought back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. When this assignment was over, The Order would finally accept her as a member. No one would hurt her again.
Vi chewed her lip as she tapped her fingers together in succession—thumb and index, then middle, ring, and finally pinky—repeating the motion several times. I’m not ready for this. I’m going to fail. They’ll kill me if I fail.
She scanned the street, trying to disentangle her mind from the waves of customers crowding the vendors, each patron haggling for the best deal. The smells of bread and sweetmeats wafted in the air, fusing with the merchants touting their wares, composing the symphony that was the market. Finding her mark in this mob would be complicated, and The Order would accept nothing less than perfection.
Vi double-checked her disguise. Her vibrant red wig flowed down in waves to rest upon her shoulders. She wore an apple cap pulled tight to hide the wig’s shoddy craftsmanship. Accompanied by the motley of ragged clothes, she was indistinguishable from the other beggars who plagued the streets.
Satisfied, Vi twisted the ring on her finger; a small needle protruded from a hidden groove underneath. Carefully, she reversed the spin of the ring to conceal the weapon. She scanned the street for her target, ready to do what she needed.
A young man across the street caught her attention; he wore a red scarf embroidered with silver daggers, just as The Order described. Vi’s heart rate doubled as he stopped at the bread vendor directly in front of her. She took a deep breath and tapped her fingers methodically one last time to steady herself.
This is it, Vi. If you do this, there is no going back. She thought about her life before The Order took her in. She had barely survived the streets, begging and stealing what she could just to prolong her wretched life. There was no way she would go back to that now. Convinced, she scanned the exits—families, merchants, beggars, and guards flooded the streets, creating a maze of sorts.
Content, she slid down the steps and weaved through the masses towards the young man like a snake slithering towards its victim. Her hands shook as she approached him, doubt creeping up with each step. He was barely old enough to grow hair on his face. Did this man deserve to die?
The memories of that night washed over her like a wave. Her father lay on the ground, a knife protruding from his chest, the shine erased by the dark blood that surrounded it. A man with jagged teeth knelt over her mother, gradually turning to look at Vi.
He smiled at her with a crooked grin that would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life. "Don't worry, child. I haven't forgotten about you." He chortled a rough, cracking laugh that turned into a cough.
She snapped back to reality. Tears welled in her eyes as all reservations shattered. She would go through with this, no matter the cost. She twisted the ring as she advanced, her eyes blank from emotion.
Vi feigned a trip and stumbled into the man, stabbing him with the needle. "I’m sorry, sir. I haven’t eaten in a week and I just got a bit dizzy," she lied as the needle dug into the man's arm.
He regained his balance and paused before handing a piece of copper to the bread merchant. The man picked up a loaf and ripped a bit off for Vi. He smiled. "Here you go. No one should have to go so long without eating."
Her face wilted. What have I done? She spun without a word, refusing to take the piece of bread. Her eyes filled with tears as she walked away.
The sound of a thud reverberated as the young man's body hit the hard dirt. It was too much for Vi. Tears flowed down her face uncontrollably as she ran. She didn’t look back. She would never look back.

Chapter 3:
Jason hated traveling through The Void; that unknowable space between worlds, the infinite cracks in the fabric of reality, through which divinity traveled the multiverse; the bloody place was hell on his senses. No matter how many times he was sent through it, it always felt like he was somehow falling in three different directions, and a few different dimensions, all at once. The experience had left him puking his guts out on the shoes of more than one noble lord or lady, once he finally materialized onto whatever backwater planet his current mission sent him to. It had gotten better, or at least he had gotten better at holding down his lunch, after the eighth summoning... or was it the tenth? He couldn’t quite remember at the moment.

The lack of direction was hardly the only ‘selling point’ for why The Void was such a pain to deal with. As the name implied, the space between worlds was devoid of anything and everything. He could still vaguely remember the first time he was shunted through the place; he had thought he was blind. The complete lack of light in the place made it basically impossible to tell if you had your eyes open or closed at any given moment. Hell, he still wasn’t 100% if he even HAD eyes while in this place. Heck it was not beyond possibility that the more delicate organs simply didn’t exist while transitioning, only reappearing once the traveler was spat out into the new world.

Worst of all though, had to be the utter lack of ‘stuff’ within The Void. There was something... unsettling, about “falling” through space without the feeling of air, water, dust, ANYTHING touching your skin. Ok well maybe he was being a bit hyperbolic saying “anything”, he could feel the clothes on his body. He had thought maybe it was just his imagination, his mind desperately trying to force some semblance of order onto this strange and order-less place. That thought, however, had been dispelled after... was it the fourth or fifth trip? He wasn’t sure why it took him so long to finally try it, but he had finally gotten around to trying to touch something. To no one's surprise, there was nothing to touch within this place; well, nothing other than himself. His skin, his clothes, his hair; all of it was real, the only real things in this bizarre place.

He claimed that the lack of stimuli was the biggest issue with The Void, but the more he thought about it, the less sure he was that that was really the case. Without stimuli it became increasingly difficult to measure time. Each trip was somehow an eternity that passed in an instant, while also being a moment that stretched out for what felt like an epoch. Part of him assumed it had to be a fairly short period of time spent in this place, the human mind was not exactly known to do well in utter sensory deprivation. But another part of him concluded that he must spend ungodly amounts of time stuck in this perfect darkness. Why else would he always materialize with eyes dilated and skin so pale it was like he hadn’t seen a lick of sunlight for decades?

With an unnatural suddenness, Jason’s attention snapped back to the present. He could suddenly feel air rushing against the back of his head, his clothes flapped and snapped in this abrupt hurricane force gale. Even with his eyelids tightly shut, his eyes sent wave after wave of pain crashing into his brain. Light streamed through his squinted lids. He wasn’t 100%, but experience told him that he was either smack dab in front of a raging inferno... or he had just materialized in such a way as to be staring directly at this world’s star.

...Stars?

After the initial shock of materialization wore off, Jason realized quite quickly that he was in fact falling. A hiccup, made into a proper problem by the fact that he never had gotten around to trying skydiving back on Earth, so he was not really sure how to go about righting himself. He tried spreading out his limbs, having some ambient knowledge that more surface area meant more wind resistance, which meant a (albeit small) decrease in his velocity towards the ground. It had been little more than luck, but his right arm spasmed for a moment and remained locked to his side. The sudden rise of air resistance on only half of his body, caused him to flip over, finally sparing his precious eyes from the harsh sunlight.

Cracking his eyes just the tiniest bit open, the world around him was a smudgy mess. Even with his eyes having managed to adjust to some small degree, it still hurt to have them open. An experience made all the worse by the wind buffeting his face and threatening to dry them out. He closed his eyes and blinked a few times. Fighting through the discomfort, he tried opening his eyes a little more. This time as his eyes opened, the world came into crisp view.

The sky was mostly clear, allowing him to marvel at its breathtaking orange color. A few puffy green clouds dotted the otherwise unmarred horizon. He could make out the faint outline of two small moons, barely visible in the midday light. The third moon was slightly harder to miss; he had seen his fair share of supermoons back on Earth, but they paled in comparison. This Ubermoon as he decided to call it, was clear as can be and took up a good fourth of the sky.

A stray curiosity flickered through his mind about how this world’s oceans must be affected by three moons, and what kind of effects the close proximity of the Ubermoon, would have on the tides. He decided to shelve that particular thought for now, figuring that once he was safely back on Terra Firma he could spend all the time he wished admiring the sky and moons. The ground seemed particularly enamored with him, apparently wanting to get a nice face-to-face greeting, as it rushed to meet him at what he guessed was probably about 200-300 MPH.

A part of Jason had to chuckle at how calm he was. If he had to guess, he had been falling for a good two minutes now. His previous record was a measly two to three seconds before his courage had run dry and he had cast a Slow Fall spell. As the wind continued to whip at his face, Jason decided that he had had his fun. He closed his eyes, he breathed deeply, and extended his senses outwards searching for the telltale signs of magic in this world. Immediately he could feel it in the air, he could sense it spiderwebbed across the planet in great magical Leylines. Magic was heavy upon this world, heavier than he had ever felt before. He mused that with this density of Aether, even the common folk were like as not to be proficient mages. It wouldn’t surprise him if a common farmer in this world had more aptitude for magic than a few of the high mages he’d run into during previous incarnations.

So intoxicated by the power of this world, Jason decided to try casting a spell that had evaded him in many of his past lives. Pulling the raw power into himself he spoke the word, Fly. For the briefest of moments, he felt his descent slow; felt the magical power wash over his body as it tried to fight the forces of gravity. Then he felt the searing agony as this world’s mana flowed through his body. The sudden burst of pain broke his concentration on the spell. As quickly as it started, the feeling passed, his body once more becoming as buoyant as a flesh filled lead balloon. A nearly imperceptible *ding* went off as the spell failed; sadly, Jason could not hear it over the wind screaming past his ears.

He pondered why the spell had started to work, only for him to be consumed with immense pain. Stranger still was that apparently the pain did not translate to actual damage taken. It had felt like his hands were about to burn away, but according to the logs he had taken a whooping 0 damage, fire or otherwise. “Another thing to explore once I’m safely on the ground”, he thought to himself.

Seeing as how the spell had started to work, Jason deduced that he must have just used the wrong word of power. This was not entirely surprising; he was still using the language settings from his last mission... maybe this world used different terms? He thought he remembered something similar to this happening to him way back when, if he remembered right, he thought it was referred to as ‘mana burn’. Given the limited amount of time he had for trial and error, he decided to simply cut out the middleman and use Primal. Sure, saying anything, much less casting anything, using the elder tongue took far longer, but it did have the appeal of being a universal language... Real shame the Gods hoarded the knowledge of the language's existence.

Hells he had only learned about it by sheer luck. Having caught the tail end of a conversation between two Divines, after he had mysteriously dropped dead during one of his missions. Then he had had to game the system for several incarnations to squirrel away enough credits, to buy the upgrade that let him translate and speak the blasted thing.

“Grg’Thun dilock aragos nevadool IMPERITOS. Eloom daruso igora myrousnar barumbarae“, he chanted. Again, his body felt lighter than air, and again just as fast as it started his body was racked with a searing pain. Another almost silent chirp, this one just ever so slightly louder, sounded as the spell fizzled out. Once more Jason failed to notice the background noise over the gale force howling in his ears.

Gritting his teeth through the pain, he tried to understand what was happening. He noticed that his hands were covered in blisters as if he had just grabbed a red-hot coal directly out of a firepit. He checked his stats and found everything in proper order. He still had the Divine Protections, and his life bar didn’t show a single point of fire damage, so what the hell was going on?

The spell had been perfect, but for whatever reason Jason knew that it simply hadn't had enough power to activate properly. A sickening thought flashed through his head. Yes, it was possible... the world was flush with mana, but that mana was crude; unrefined. Was it possible that since this world was so rich in crude ambient Aether, that casters had to actively purify and distill their mana before it could be used? The first hints of fear started to creep into the corners of Jason’s mind. He snuck a peak at the ground, and immediately wished he hadn’t. He could already make out the rough outlines of some kind of merchant caravan traveling between the massive trees. He knew that he didn’t have time to distill the necessary mana to try and cast the Fly spell again.

Thinking quickly, he decided that the only safe option was to use a simple Slow Fall spell. It wasn’t glorious, and the abrupt change in descent speed would feel like shit, and make him look worse upon landing, but at least there didn’t look to be too many witnesses around to see him land like a goober. Taking another deep breath, he pulled in as much ambient mana as he could from his surroundings. Working as fast as his body could, he purified and distilled the mana down. He could feel the immense power of it, as bolts of magic coursed across his skin.

He could feel that mana straining against him, singeding off the hair along his arms. He tried to ignore the pain, he just needed to last a little longer, but the process BURNED. According to every system based data point he had access to, Jason was 10,000% fine. According to what his body was telling him, his blood had been replaced with magma.

Once more he spoke the word of power. He channeled every ounce of the pure mana into the spell, willing the arcane words into existence with all his might. Mana flew from his skin, infusing the script with more power than it had any right to be able to handle. Pale blue lights began to swirl around his body, he could feel the effects of the magic taking hold. He could feel his body becoming lighter and lighter. As joy flooded his heart, he heard it. A high-pitched whine, that was getting louder and louder.

Then with a sickening *snap* he saw his spell shatter apart. The excess mana, having finally strained the arcane construct to its breaking point. As if in some twisted mockery, the spell folded back in on itself. The surge of magic rewriting and reforging the spell into something new. He felt his body return back to its normal weight, then increase. Heavier and heavier he became, his weight increasing quintuple fold. In addition to the added weight came added speed, he rocketed towards the ground, faster and faster. He didn’t even have time to curse his luck, before he hit the ground, headfirst.

As his body, gear, items.... basically, everything that was even tangentially “Jason” and/or “Jason” adjacent, were turned to a fine mist. Two separate, yet equally important things happened nearly simultaneously. First, a single, otherwise unassuming, gold coin pulsed a vibrant cerulean before shattering into countless shards. As the energy rippled outwards, time seemed to slow to a nearly imperceptible stop. This first effect was both heavily fortunate and deeply problematic for Jason. As time slowed, the core of what made Jason, Jason, was able to activate a single automated ability, [Ignore Pain]. The ability did its best to bank the entirety of the damage influx, turning the sudden burst of damage into a much more manageable damage over time effect. Sadly, as would be a running theme for Jason in the immediate future, the sheer level of incoming damage tore through the ability's limiters like a cannonball through wet tissue paper.
< l l Next>

How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III

I’ll know the time is right when the howling begins. It will be after sundown of course, the Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen only scream after sundown, and only on the clearest of nights.
There is no town of Jebsen listed on any map, even in its heyday of the 1940’s it was too small to be worthy of notice. It’s nothing more than a collection of buildings at the end of a dead end road. On one side it is bordered by long untended corn fields, on the other the swampy remains of Lake Campbell. The most noticeable of the town’s buildings is a red brick edifice with a wide domed roof of fractured glass. The rest is just barns and single story homes. Along the border of the swamp is row after row of barbed wire and bear traps.
I’ll let them scream for an hour or so, let them become tired. Even now it amazes me how I had learned to pick out the individual voices in the cacophony. The Widow Toth tires easily but the Garrets will be at it until dawn.
And what will I be doing while every able-bodied adult is on the rooftops? I’ll be slipping these pages into this mason jar and sealing it lid in place with the wax from a melted crayon. The Children of Jebsen won’t miss just one, especially not purple.
Twenty-five years ago a calamity befell the town of Jebsen. The authorities blamed it all on the after effects of an experimental insecticide but the Old Book the town elders read from every Sunday said otherwise. It told the citizens of Jebsen that a curse was carried by those twinkling dots in the sky. A malevolence traveling at 186,000 miles per second that would twist their Children into nightmares should a glint of it ever touch their skin.
That is why they scream at the starlight; hating it, cursing it, raging at it.
You can’t see what their Children have become and not feel the same way. The changes are heartbreaking and horrifying all at once but after you spend time with them you feel differently. There is mockery in the mis-set eyes that peer from those mollified skulls.
They know secrets. On quiet, cloudy nights I would put my ear to one families’ basement door or another and hear them murmuring and giggling as they writhe in their basement styes.
I think of their weeping mouths and soft teeth and remember that day half a decade ago the ill-advised shortcut and along the neglected county route 99. I remember approaching the train bridge and seriously considering turning around, it looked decades out of repair and I half suspected it would collapse as I passed under it.
But I didn’t turn back, my ego wouldn’t let me. I was right and the road was wrong so I drove under the train bridge, momentarily marveling at the strange and elaborate graffiti that covered it.
I was just past the structure when a small, bent figure ran out from the long grass.
The sounds are what I really remember; the squeal of the brakes, the thud of the body on the hood of my car, the thick crack of laminated glass.
I would later learn the name of the child I had hit was Julius McCarty but all I knew then was that there was an emaciated, bloodied shape lying halfway through my windshield.
Human instinct made me reach out, to see if the little boy was alive. When my fingers brushed his skin he twisted around to face me. His mouth lashed out proboscis-like and nuzzled into the flesh of my arm.
Pain bristled out from where the boy had latched on to me. I screamed, thrashed. I shoved the car door open and tumbled out onto the asphalt. The boy coughed once and died.
At first the wound held all my attention. How could it not? I had expected to see torn flesh and blood but instead the boy’s distended mouth had left behind a cluster of thick, festering ulcerations.
But then I became aware of the men making their way out of the tall grass. These were the Fathers of Jebsen understood immediately what had happened.
They had brought everything they might need to bring one of their Children back home to its basement; rope, bandages and cudgels. It was also everything they needed to make a captive of me.
They, dragged me away from the accident site, through the tall grass and over the collapsed remains of a chain link fence to leave me in the care of the Mothers of Jebsen. Those gaunt women had cudgels of their own and I was a mass of bruises and welts by the time the hole in the Earth had been made to their standards.
The menfolk returned carrying the child wrapped in a linen shroud. They dropped it roughly into the ground. There were no ceremonies, tears or headstone. It was well after dark by the time I had filled the grave back in.
Now here it is years later and I’ve had to dig a dozen more graves, one by one the Mothers and Fathers are dying out, it’s always a surprise when it happens. Every mother and father of Jensen is withered and white haired but every year a few more die in their sleep, or at work in the fields or at prayer in their red brick observatory.
The Children are dying too, not a one has ever lived past seventeen. One by one they waste away, except of course for the occasional accident like the one that trapped me here.
Despite these curse that has befallen them the people of Jebsen continue to reproduce, each mother convinced that this time she will give birth to the Great Redeemer as was foretold in the Old Book. Each time they fail and each time the result is locked away in it’s family’s basement.
You can’t imagine those basements, the smell of rotten meat, the ankle deep fecal matter and the perfectly clean toys. They draw equations on the walls, gold and silver crayons are their preferred color. Every Tuesday I have to visit each of those cellars and scrub the theorems and postulations away.
The youngest of the Children is a newborn, still angry from the womb, the oldest is seventeen and nearly rotted away. No matter the age they all taunt me as I work, sometimes with bites, sometimes with maledictions. Both have left unimaginable scars.
So many scars now, I’m marked, I could never walk among the people I’d known before. They’d refuse to recognize me and insist I was a stranger
The Widow Thoth says this is my penance for the death of Julius McCarty, she even went so far as to cite chapter and verse on the subject from Old Book itself. The Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen, base every aspect of their lives on that thick volume of prophecies and homilies.
I wonder if anyone will notice me as leaving. I doubt it, even when they’re not screaming their heads off a long dead suns they barely notice my comings and goings.
As I said before, the Mothers and Father’s of Jebsen have become so sure of me. Some families think I’ve become a true believer, the rest think the cinder block chained to my ankle is enough to keep me in my place.
I don’t know who you are or when you’ll find this message. My only hope is that you will believe me. If you do, please bring this document to the proper authorities. Don’t let my death be for nothing.
I go to the bottom of the swamp with two regrets. One is that I won’t be there when the town of Jebsen is discovered and burned to the ground.
The other is that six months ago I accepted Father Garett’s invitation to join in their celebrations. I went willingly with them to the old brick observatory. I prayed with them. I danced with them. I partook in all of their debasements.
And for a little while, perhaps an hour, I was happy.
They even asked me to give reading from the Old Book. I eagerly stopped up to the podium and began flipping through the thick volume.
Everyone waited for me to choose a passage and speak but all I did was shake and weep at what I beheld. My knees buckled. My mind shut down. I had to be carried out and put to bed.
You see, the Old Book was blank from cover to cover. You’re even holding some of those pages in your hands now.
I used them to write my story.

How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III

I’ll know the time is right when the howling begins. It will be after sundown of course, the Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen only scream after sundown, and only on the clearest of nights.
There is no town of Jebsen listed on any map, even in its heyday of the 1940’s it was too small to be worthy of notice. It’s nothing more than a collection of buildings at the end of a dead end road. On one side it is bordered by long untended corn fields, on the other the swampy remains of Lake Campbell. The most noticeable of the town’s buildings is a red brick edifice with a wide domed roof of fractured glass. The rest is just barns and single story homes. Along the border of the swamp is row after row of barbed wire and bear traps.
I’ll let them scream for an hour or so, let them become tired. Even now it amazes me how I had learned to pick out the individual voices in the cacophony. The Widow Toth tires easily but the Garrets will be at it until dawn.
And what will I be doing while every able-bodied adult is on the rooftops? I’ll be slipping these pages into this mason jar and sealing it lid in place with the wax from a melted crayon. The Children of Jebsen won’t miss just one, especially not purple.
Twenty-five years ago a calamity befell the town of Jebsen. The authorities blamed it all on the after effects of an experimental insecticide but the Old Book the town elders read from every Sunday said otherwise. It told the citizens of Jebsen that a curse was carried by those twinkling dots in the sky. A malevolence traveling at 186,000 miles per second that would twist their Children into nightmares should a glint of it ever touch their skin.
That is why they scream at the starlight; hating it, cursing it, raging at it.
You can’t see what their Children have become and not feel the same way. The changes are heartbreaking and horrifying all at once but after you spend time with them you feel differently. There is mockery in the mis-set eyes that peer from those mollified skulls.
They know secrets. On quiet, cloudy nights I would put my ear to one families’ basement door or another and hear them murmuring and giggling as they writhe in their basement styes.
I think of their weeping mouths and soft teeth and remember that day half a decade ago the ill-advised shortcut and along the neglected county route 99. I remember approaching the train bridge and seriously considering turning around, it looked decades out of repair and I half suspected it would collapse as I passed under it.
But I didn’t turn back, my ego wouldn’t let me. I was right and the road was wrong so I drove under the train bridge, momentarily marveling at the strange and elaborate graffiti that covered it.
I was just past the structure when a small, bent figure ran out from the long grass.
The sounds are what I really remember; the squeal of the brakes, the thud of the body on the hood of my car, the thick crack of laminated glass.
I would later learn the name of the child I had hit was Julius McCarty but all I knew then was that there was an emaciated, bloodied shape lying halfway through my windshield.
Human instinct made me reach out, to see if the little boy was alive. When my fingers brushed his skin he twisted around to face me. His mouth lashed out proboscis-like and nuzzled into the flesh of my arm.
Pain bristled out from where the boy had latched on to me. I screamed, thrashed. I shoved the car door open and tumbled out onto the asphalt. The boy coughed once and died.
At first the wound held all my attention. How could it not? I had expected to see torn flesh and blood but instead the boy’s distended mouth had left behind a cluster of thick, festering ulcerations.
But then I became aware of the men making their way out of the tall grass. These were the Fathers of Jebsen understood immediately what had happened.
They had brought everything they might need to bring one of their Children back home to its basement; rope, bandages and cudgels. It was also everything they needed to make a captive of me.
They, dragged me away from the accident site, through the tall grass and over the collapsed remains of a chain link fence to leave me in the care of the Mothers of Jebsen. Those gaunt women had cudgels of their own and I was a mass of bruises and welts by the time the hole in the Earth had been made to their standards.
The menfolk returned carrying the child wrapped in a linen shroud. They dropped it roughly into the ground. There were no ceremonies, tears or headstone. It was well after dark by the time I had filled the grave back in.
Now here it is years later and I’ve had to dig a dozen more graves, one by one the Mothers and Fathers are dying out, it’s always a surprise when it happens. Every mother and father of Jensen is withered and white haired but every year a few more die in their sleep, or at work in the fields or at prayer in their red brick observatory.
The Children are dying too, not a one has ever lived past seventeen. One by one they waste away, except of course for the occasional accident like the one that trapped me here.
Despite these curse that has befallen them the people of Jebsen continue to reproduce, each mother convinced that this time she will give birth to the Great Redeemer as was foretold in the Old Book. Each time they fail and each time the result is locked away in it’s family’s basement.
You can’t imagine those basements, the smell of rotten meat, the ankle deep fecal matter and the perfectly clean toys. They draw equations on the walls, gold and silver crayons are their preferred color. Every Tuesday I have to visit each of those cellars and scrub the theorems and postulations away.
The youngest of the Children is a newborn, still angry from the womb, the oldest is seventeen and nearly rotted away. No matter the age they all taunt me as I work, sometimes with bites, sometimes with maledictions. Both have left unimaginable scars.
So many scars now, I’m marked, I could never walk among the people I’d known before. They’d refuse to recognize me and insist I was a stranger
The Widow Thoth says this is my penance for the death of Julius McCarty, she even went so far as to cite chapter and verse on the subject from Old Book itself. The Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen, base every aspect of their lives on that thick volume of prophecies and homilies.
I wonder if anyone will notice me as leaving. I doubt it, even when they’re not screaming their heads off a long dead suns they barely notice my comings and goings.
As I said before, the Mothers and Father’s of Jebsen have become so sure of me. Some families think I’ve become a true believer, the rest think the cinder block chained to my ankle is enough to keep me in my place.
I don’t know who you are or when you’ll find this message. My only hope is that you will believe me. If you do, please bring this document to the proper authorities. Don’t let my death be for nothing.
I go to the bottom of the swamp with two regrets. One is that I won’t be there when the town of Jebsen is discovered and burned to the ground.
The other is that six months ago I accepted Father Garett’s invitation to join in their celebrations. I went willingly with them to the old brick observatory. I prayed with them. I danced with them. I partook in all of their debasements.
And for a little while, perhaps an hour, I was happy.
They even asked me to give reading from the Old Book. I eagerly stopped up to the podium and began flipping through the thick volume.
Everyone waited for me to choose a passage and speak but all I did was shake and weep at what I beheld. My knees buckled. My mind shut down. I had to be carried out and put to bed.
You see, the Old Book was blank from cover to cover. You’re even holding some of those pages in your hands now.
I used them to write my story.

How I Wonder What You Are by Al Bruno III

I’ll know the time is right when the howling begins. It will be after sundown of course, the Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen only scream after sundown, and only on the clearest of nights.
There is no town of Jebsen listed on any map, even in its heyday of the 1940’s it was too small to be worthy of notice. It’s nothing more than a collection of buildings at the end of a dead end road. On one side it is bordered by long untended corn fields, on the other the swampy remains of Lake Campbell. The most noticeable of the town’s buildings is a red brick edifice with a wide domed roof of fractured glass. The rest is just barns and single story homes. Along the border of the swamp is row after row of barbed wire and bear traps.
I’ll let them scream for an hour or so, let them become tired. Even now it amazes me how I had learned to pick out the individual voices in the cacophony. The Widow Toth tires easily but the Garrets will be at it until dawn.
And what will I be doing while every able-bodied adult is on the rooftops? I’ll be slipping these pages into this mason jar and sealing it lid in place with the wax from a melted crayon. The Children of Jebsen won’t miss just one, especially not purple.
Twenty-five years ago a calamity befell the town of Jebsen. The authorities blamed it all on the after effects of an experimental insecticide but the Old Book the town elders read from every Sunday said otherwise. It told the citizens of Jebsen that a curse was carried by those twinkling dots in the sky. A malevolence traveling at 186,000 miles per second that would twist their Children into nightmares should a glint of it ever touch their skin.
That is why they scream at the starlight; hating it, cursing it, raging at it.
You can’t see what their Children have become and not feel the same way. The changes are heartbreaking and horrifying all at once but after you spend time with them you feel differently. There is mockery in the mis-set eyes that peer from those mollified skulls.
They know secrets. On quiet, cloudy nights I would put my ear to one families’ basement door or another and hear them murmuring and giggling as they writhe in their basement styes.
I think of their weeping mouths and soft teeth and remember that day half a decade ago the ill-advised shortcut and along the neglected county route 99. I remember approaching the train bridge and seriously considering turning around, it looked decades out of repair and I half suspected it would collapse as I passed under it.
But I didn’t turn back, my ego wouldn’t let me. I was right and the road was wrong so I drove under the train bridge, momentarily marveling at the strange and elaborate graffiti that covered it.
I was just past the structure when a small, bent figure ran out from the long grass.
The sounds are what I really remember; the squeal of the brakes, the thud of the body on the hood of my car, the thick crack of laminated glass.
I would later learn the name of the child I had hit was Julius McCarty but all I knew then was that there was an emaciated, bloodied shape lying halfway through my windshield.
Human instinct made me reach out, to see if the little boy was alive. When my fingers brushed his skin he twisted around to face me. His mouth lashed out proboscis-like and nuzzled into the flesh of my arm.
Pain bristled out from where the boy had latched on to me. I screamed, thrashed. I shoved the car door open and tumbled out onto the asphalt. The boy coughed once and died.
At first the wound held all my attention. How could it not? I had expected to see torn flesh and blood but instead the boy’s distended mouth had left behind a cluster of thick, festering ulcerations.
But then I became aware of the men making their way out of the tall grass. These were the Fathers of Jebsen understood immediately what had happened.
They had brought everything they might need to bring one of their Children back home to its basement; rope, bandages and cudgels. It was also everything they needed to make a captive of me.
They, dragged me away from the accident site, through the tall grass and over the collapsed remains of a chain link fence to leave me in the care of the Mothers of Jebsen. Those gaunt women had cudgels of their own and I was a mass of bruises and welts by the time the hole in the Earth had been made to their standards.
The menfolk returned carrying the child wrapped in a linen shroud. They dropped it roughly into the ground. There were no ceremonies, tears or headstone. It was well after dark by the time I had filled the grave back in.
Now here it is years later and I’ve had to dig a dozen more graves, one by one the Mothers and Fathers are dying out, it’s always a surprise when it happens. Every mother and father of Jensen is withered and white haired but every year a few more die in their sleep, or at work in the fields or at prayer in their red brick observatory.
The Children are dying too, not a one has ever lived past seventeen. One by one they waste away, except of course for the occasional accident like the one that trapped me here.
Despite these curse that has befallen them the people of Jebsen continue to reproduce, each mother convinced that this time she will give birth to the Great Redeemer as was foretold in the Old Book. Each time they fail and each time the result is locked away in it’s family’s basement.
You can’t imagine those basements, the smell of rotten meat, the ankle deep fecal matter and the perfectly clean toys. They draw equations on the walls, gold and silver crayons are their preferred color. Every Tuesday I have to visit each of those cellars and scrub the theorems and postulations away.
The youngest of the Children is a newborn, still angry from the womb, the oldest is seventeen and nearly rotted away. No matter the age they all taunt me as I work, sometimes with bites, sometimes with maledictions. Both have left unimaginable scars.
So many scars now, I’m marked, I could never walk among the people I’d known before. They’d refuse to recognize me and insist I was a stranger
The Widow Thoth says this is my penance for the death of Julius McCarty, she even went so far as to cite chapter and verse on the subject from Old Book itself. The Mothers and Fathers of Jebsen, base every aspect of their lives on that thick volume of prophecies and homilies.
I wonder if anyone will notice me as leaving. I doubt it, even when they’re not screaming their heads off a long dead suns they barely notice my comings and goings.
As I said before, the Mothers and Father’s of Jebsen have become so sure of me. Some families think I’ve become a true believer, the rest think the cinder block chained to my ankle is enough to keep me in my place.
I don’t know who you are or when you’ll find this message. My only hope is that you will believe me. If you do, please bring this document to the proper authorities. Don’t let my death be for nothing.
I go to the bottom of the swamp with two regrets. One is that I won’t be there when the town of Jebsen is discovered and burned to the ground.
The other is that six months ago I accepted Father Garett’s invitation to join in their celebrations. I went willingly with them to the old brick observatory. I prayed with them. I danced with them. I partook in all of their debasements.
And for a little while, perhaps an hour, I was happy.
They even asked me to give reading from the Old Book. I eagerly stopped up to the podium and began flipping through the thick volume.
Everyone waited for me to choose a passage and speak but all I did was shake and weep at what I beheld. My knees buckled. My mind shut down. I had to be carried out and put to bed.
You see, the Old Book was blank from cover to cover. You’re even holding some of those pages in your hands now.
I used them to write my story.

Alakhai now understood. That impossibly strong psychic force was her sister, empowered by her own emotional instability. Alakhai knew not how to help her sister, or even if she should. Perhaps it would be best to simply put her down, give her a respite from her eternal pain. But as Alakhai approached her sister, she heard a rumbling, as if the ship was coming alive once more, and she could hear the groans of Marines, horrible groaning of the nearly dead.
Morrigan looked up to her sister, eyes wet with tears, wrapped in a soft embrace of vines and flowers that were attempting to calm her down. “Sister, I will not have you hurt my Lily. I suggest you leave. Because if you keep going, I will have no choice.” She took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet smell of her flowers, the sweet smell of her Lily.
Alakhai unsheathed her sword, and her retinue readied their weapons, prepared for a fight to the death, or near death. But they didn't stand a chance, as vines from every direction attacked them in the gaps in their armor, breaking their breathing apparatuses, forcing them to breathe the ship’s toxic air, so strong that only Death Guard marines could hope to survive. The White Fang marines began to cough, keeling over in horrible agony as they tried to hold their breath and stumble back to the clear air of the stormhawk they arrived on. Alakhai rushed to attack her sister, only for a giant tree that had grown along the wall to reach out and grapple her in its twisting branches.
Morrigan approached her sister with a startling speed, her crying face now twisted in a visage of insanity. “I told you sister; you should have left when you still had a chance. I’m afraid my Lily had to do what was necessary to protect me. The only thing I can offer your sons is an eternal slumber before the fertilization process becomes….painful. Now I may let you leave unharmed, but I need to be sure that you won't hurt my Lily again. Goodnight sister.” Morrigan blows a cloud of powder in her sister’s face, knocking her out cold.
Her sons drug her sister back to the stormhawk, and the marine inside decided they didnt want to ask any questions and left immediately. WIth her sister taken care of, Morrigan inspected the White Scars that had been infected. “Oh my, it seems your mother has abandoned you. Don't worry, I’ll make sure to water and prune you once you sprout. Now sleep, my sons.” She blew more powder in the faces of the sprouting White Scars, bringing the coughing marines to a standstill.
Now that the foray was over, Morrigan began to cry once more, her tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry Lily, are you hurt? Are any of our children hurt?” The walls of the ship began to enclose upon her, wrapping her tightly in a swathe of leaves and ferns. A flower wipes away her tears as the white scars marines are taken further into the ship to gestate and sleep.
“It is alright love. I am unhurt. Our children are unhurt. Now it is time for you to calm down, you need rest.” Morrigan heard in her head. Her Lily had used telepathic messages since the accident, and it was the only thing that kept her grounded in reality. The blanket of plants began to carry their Lady to her chamber, the mass swimming through halls of the derelict ship.
“I’m fine Lily, I don't have time to sleep, I must care for our children, I must care for you!” Morrigan exclaimed to the emptiness of the ship. She couldn't bear to focus on sending her own telepathic message, but she figured her Lily could hear her anywhere in the ship.
“Love, you need rest. Just for a little while, trust me. Just….relax.” Morrigan heard in her head, as the flower released the same powder that was used to put the White Scars to sleep, though more potent to have any effect on their Lady. As Morrigan’s eyelids grew heavy, the plants lay her in her bed, still wrapped around her so she could sleep soundly, knowing her Lily was still there. As long as the plants stayed wrapped around her, Morrigan could sleep for days, without nightmares. At least usually. Their proximity to the warp would greatly affect the likelihood of nightmares, whether she snuggled tightly or not.
This time was different. Despite their distance from the warp, something about their previous encounter had shaken Morrigan, and the nightmares came like a flood. Lily did their best to cradle their Lady, but there was little else they could do, their Lady had expended a lot of psychic energy during her fight with her sister, and that had undoubtedly caused something to invade her dreams.
Morrigan saw visions of world burning, the emperor stuck to the Golden Throne, the people of the Imperium stuck in a cycle of endless fanatic violence against the enemies of Mankind. This is not what she wanted. She could help them; she could give them lives free from violence. But she also didn't want to threaten her sons, or her Lily by putting them in harm's way. And as this thought passed her mind, she awoke, shaken and in cold sweats, the leaves and vines still wrapped around her like a blanket. She began to cry once more, as her Lily tried their best to soothe their Lady, trying to give them some semblance of comfort as Morrigan struggled with the reality that faced her.
Morrigan decided that she would be able to think while she worked, and kindly asked the plants to let her go, which they did. Once again, Morrigan roamed the halls, prune growths, watering buds and checking the health of her new sons, those gestating, and the White Scars taken from her battle with her sister.
Now calmed by her work, Morrigan put thought to her predicament, mumbling to herself about not putting her sons in danger, whether she could save a world on her own, or take over other ships so Lily could be safe. Resolved to act, but with the safety of her Lily in mind, Morrigan made her way to the bridge, awakening the captain, instructing him to set course for the nearest derelict ship. The captain groaned in the affirmative, steering the ship towards the intended target, the ship's sunlight engines gently taking the hulking mass into close proximity.
Over the next several days, Morrigan seeded new ships with her sons, so that they may grow to become the ships new crew, all connected by her psychic energies. WIth her fleet now in a decent shape, she directed the flight to the nearest conflict zone. She would bring humanity from the brink. She would succeed where her father had failed, where her sisters had failed. She would cultivate a new future for humanity. They would. Together.

Gheinar City: Imperial Occupied Northern Front
General Redlina's lone transport arrived at Gheinar in the early hours of a particularly cold morning. The large abhuman marched down the ramp flanked only by two Valyrrans & two Minthelians. Her aide Lieutenant Luciel who was coughing regularly and barely able to stay standing straight after the wounds she had sustained and still not gotten treated properly. And a lone stormtrooper who hid her face behind her visor and rebreather but her armour was scarred and scratched telling a tale of a violent and chaotic battle. The two Minthelians Captain Poppy and Flo had tagged along with the general on route to the northern front.
Redlina however was as she always looked, her bulky uniform and coat billowing behind her, red abhuman eyes hidden under the peak of her iconic officers cap. She was ignoring the pain from her own injury but unless those watching paid close attention it was hard to tell she was still recovering from a stab wound by the traitors knife.
Redlina was here to speak with McMahon, the 532nd was the backbone of her main force after the Sigmauer task force had been pulled out from under her and she was here to answer whatever questions the colonel might have in person, as promised. She had not spoken to him since contingency V7 had been enacted. She marched through the cities citadel following firections to the main HQ saluting every guardsman she passed.
////
East of Crowton & Burron: Imperial Siege Lines
At the Rok, Colonel Zerac was awoken to another explosion and the sounds of ork warcries. The orks were launching another attack, the 9th this week alone. Most never even got close to the lines but this one sounded bad. He rolled off the ammo crate he had been using as a bed collected his kit and rushed out of the deep dugout and into the trenches passing scrambling formations of Valyrran troops that rushed to their positions. Amidst the shouts of "Bayonets" and barking orders, the colonel walked on nodding to the young nervous looking troops under his command or giving them brief words of encouragement and pats on the back. Meanwhile explosions rained down all over the trench network from innaccurate ork fire and the crack of imperial artillery firing in reply, waging a war of counter battery across the snow filled warzone.
As he arrived at the command dugout the sounds of battle began in earnest orks had reached 1k meters from the first line and lasguns, heavy bolters grenade launchers and more had started opening up. The Colonel found his other half, Colonel Mirai already barking instructions into a voxset and moving icons around on the command table. Ebkirche had been summoned and warnings had been issued to the Kriegers to the south about the scale of this attack.
The Valyrrans would not falter and stood ready to weather the green tide once again.
////
Outskirts of Waycross: Northern Front
Bluekilla Snazzda had recieved the bosses orders not long ago. "Find da nearest humie settlement and krump em" His roving band of orks numbering some 5 thousand had seen the explosions and fighting happening over by Waycross and had not wanted to be left out, thing is he realised very quickly he was outgunned and outnumbered and in an odd show of competency had elected to launch a dawn attack on the humies from the northwest and western directions as they started moving north. It remained to be seen if his boyz had been seen sneaking closer using their peculiar white camouflage to mask their approach, he had a lot of looted tanks and warbuggies ready to begin a frantic armoured charge when the fighting got tough but he himself was outfitted with his meganob armour and customshoota ready to have a good fight.
5k orks with mechanised troops, artillery and tanks are launching a surprise raid, their bloodlust is high so dont expect any retreat.
////
North of Fort Ko'Var: Formerly Saints Gate
Task force Liberation was on the move, thousands of infantry and vehicles began moving out from Liberation heights only a few miles from the fort. They had plans to begin setting up siege lines, digging in their artillery while they still had the element of surprise the idea was to keep the tanks hidden in the forest for now, ready to begin the attack at any time. Troops sat in fox holes and prayed to the Emperor awaiting the word to bring the fight to the T'au.
Colonel Lilzton Stood on the back of a command salamander scout vehicle with a detailed map of the fort and all current force positions outlined, Morale was high he just hoped it stayed that way once the casualties started coming in.
////
Westbridge: Northern Front Imperial Mountain Command
Lion had been woken once again to the sound of another incident he was beginning to get very tired of it and Valtin was really pushing for a crackdown on the civilian populace after last nights attack on the warehouses.
When Valtin came to see him for the 6th time that morning Lion nodded. A demonstration needs to be made. Valtin had left with a terrifying smile on his face, what he might do remained a mystery.
////
Major Minton and the very large Valyrran force with her set out today towards Waycross with the intention of joining the frontline and setting out for the fort itself. The Valyrrans had gone from the smallest contingent to probably the largest now and the rows of heavy armoured vehicles poured out of the town for hours all heading south towards the newly found crossing, squads of centaur light carriers, hydras and hellhounds set out for the bridge itself eager to get to Waycross as quickly as possible under Captain Donly's command while the infantry, Crassus and Macharius heavies went south.
As reports of fighting at the river had reached command, waves of Vulture gunships had been scrambled to scour the snowy plains and find the escaped T'au force, Minton had orders to divert a hunting party which would cooperate with the Rathian scouts in the area to find and eradicate this potential thorn in their side.
Squads of elite Valyrran specialists now began a search pattern if they found anything or a team didnt call in Vultures would descend on the area in minutes. Command was not taking any risks as all logistical supplies needed for the siege had to pass through these areas and there was zero tolerance for any losses.
////
Fortress Sha'Yo: T'au Northern Frontline.
At Sha'Yo Fortress Captain Finn stood on the battlements looking out south, he had been told the stealth convoy had returned across the icebreaker plains and was due to arrive today. He had still been waiting on reports of how the rest of the fighting had unfolded across the frontlines after his own only semi successful strike, he atleast hoped the enemy no longer underestimated them going forward. His forces morale had stayed steady despite the losses and he had doubled the number of drone patrols incase of any Imperial counter attack, he would not be caught unprepared.
////
Both Imperial and T'au commands in the area looked at meteorological reports and both sides came to the same conclusion. A potent winter storm was about to hit the northern front which would drop temperatures considerably. All forces were advised to prepare themselves for a period of intense snow, with -30 to -50 degree weather with even worse conditions in the mountains and low visibility expected until the storms pass. These conditions will hamper air support especially.

DC Next Proudly Presents:

THE NEW TITANS

In Shadow of Kestrel
Issue Nine: War Dove
Written by AdamantAce, GemlinTheGremlin & PatrollinTheMojave
Edited by Deadislandman1 and Voidkiller826
 
Next Issue > Coming Next Month
 
 
“Raven!”
Slade’s gruff voice pierced through the deafening, wave-like roars in Raven’s head, but the rage was too much to bear. Her hands sizzled as hellfire danced in her palms, her body readying for another attack. She locked eyes with a reptilian soldier, dismounting his simian steed and charging on foot, but as she lunged forwards to strike him, she watched a man fly into her path. Slade Wilson caught the young Titan’s hand and pushed, throwing Raven backwards.
“Come on, kid, snap out of it!” But as Slade’s words fell on deaf ears, he felt the familiar sting of a fist to his jaw, a crack echoing in his ears. He recoiled from the attack but powered through his injury and stood his ground. Sinking his heels into the ground, he locked eyes with the girl before him. Her face seemed contorted and uncanny, as if all of the rage she was feeling was pouring out of her. She groaned angrily as she thrusted her head downwards, her forehead making contact with Slade’s teeth, before pulling her head back up again in preparation for another attack.
Before she could make one, however, one of the lizardmen had almost reached the warring duo’s sides, and as he lunged forward with his long spear, he made contact with Raven’s side. A small rip formed in the side of Raven’s outfit, which seemed to only anger her further. However, it did seem to distract her enough; Mar’i fired off a single Starbolt which struck only the ground - a warning shot.
“Raven! Please!” the half-Tamaranean cried out. But the Raven she knew was buried under unfathomable amounts of fury; she ignored her teammate’s call and instead flew forwards and swung out at the reptiloid. The strike glowed with red flame, sending the creature skidding across the floor, barely conscious. Slade spotted a flash of something else on her face, as if she was finally able to fight back against the endless rage - pain, perhaps, or anguish. But in an instant, it was gone.
That flicker of something other than white-hot anger was enough for Slade.
He clutched his side as his still open wound began to ache, the bandages feeling wet with fresh blood. His jaw felt crooked, and as he gritted his teeth, it felt as though they sat differently atop each other. And yet, he clutched his staff tightly in one hand, and with the other he beckoned to Raven.
“Kid, you’re fighting it, I know you are!” Slade felt his mouth filling with blood rather than saliva.
Within a moment, Raven’s attention was locked on the white-haired man once again. She fired bolt after bolt of black and red flame, but Slade was still dextrous despite his pain. He dodged and dived, weaving through the fire, until he finally managed to make contact with his opponent. He drove his staff into her chest and pushed his weight against the weapon, forcing her backwards. She rose into the air, a black mist pouring from her arms and over her face, a large ghostly corvid taking her place. He felt the deathly cold shadow of the bird’s wing fall over him, his feet leaving the ground as she scooped him into the air.
He looked down at the ground far beneath him. A fall from this height would kill anyone, he thought, let alone someone beaten half to death.
Then, as a verdant bolt of energy struck it in the side, Raven’s Soul Self shrieked and the shadows retreated inwards. Slade felt himself falling through the air for a second, then two, before he felt his back collide with something soft and cushioned. As he looked up, he met the gaze of Conner, who soared to the ground in an instant, placing the snow-haired man on the ground and giving a swift nod.
Raven let out a pained, frustrated yell as she returned to the ground, aided by a grappling line expertly positioned by Tim, and in response, Conner jetted off towards the sound of her cries. Slade’s feet faltered beneath him, and he stumbled to keep his balance. His breathing was laboured and his vision was becoming fuzzy. It felt as though, he realised, all the blood loss and violence he had suffered over the past few hours were finally catching up to him. Was this what dying felt like?
“Slade!” shouted a voice, followed by the dulled drumming of hurried footsteps. Slade pulled his hand across his face to wipe away the mental haze and drops of blood. It was Don, sprinting towards him. When Slade felt Don clasp him by shoulders, he realized just how slowed he was by his injuries. “Plan?” Slade coughed out.
“You’ve seen what she can do. I only see one way out of these without one of the kids getting hurt. I’d do it myself, but I’m out of practice and this is too important to leave to chance.” Don looked around anxiously, his face betraying that he had a lot on his mind. “I’m giving you the powers of a god.” Slade opened his mouth to ask a question, a million came to mind. He glanced across the battlefield. Through a blurry film, he saw Raven’s Soul Self bat Conner away with its wing. He careened into the trunk of a thick tree, uprooting it with a deep crunch. “Are you sure?,” Slade asked, breathless.
“I’m not losing another Titan.” Don squeezed his eyes shut. His grip on Slade tightened as pale, almost blinding light enveloped them. It felt warm. No, better than that: it felt peaceful. With his enhanced senses, Slade could hear his erratic heartbeat slow. Fleeting visions bubbled up in his mind, opening up his awareness beyond the wildest dreams of Project Veritas. He felt rivers of magical energy flowing through the air and earth. Each of them spiralled towards a depression. Towards Raven, he knew instinctively. Iridescent blue light spread outward from his shoulders. It washed over his body armor, bleaching the jet black panels until his entire body shone with radiance. The pain from wounds old and new faded, replaced by serenity - and power. Don opened his eyes again and sighed gently; a concoction and joy, relief, and quiet mourning.
“There,” Don remarked. Slade felt lighter, less angry, less burdened. He looked down at the iridescent light enveloping his body. Magical energy buzzed against the surface of his skin. “The powers of the Dove - officially yours.”
Slade sucked in a nervous breath. “Don…” Even rejuvenated, he was still lost for words.
“They’re yours now,” Don smiled weakly. “Now go earn them. There’s a Titan in dire need of our help.”
Conner floated out of the dense jungle, rubbing his forehead. “Is Slade glowing or do I have a concussion?”
Slade looked over at Raven. She seemed less erratic, her movements driven by her brain rather than her gut. Tim’s staff batted fiercely against her, each strike buffeting her back more and more, but it was clear to Slade that Raven was not any weaker physically - her mind, however, was another story.
Slade began marching towards her, the ache in his side dulled. “Raven. You’re strong. Fight this rage inside of you.” Raven glared at him, a spark of something in her eyes, as she swooped in towards him at top speed. As she neared him, however, Slade readied his staff, stretching it out in front of him. As the tip of the weapon struck Raven, a beam of white energy coursed through her, as if she had been struck by lightning, and her body was flung backwards across the dirt.
Slade danced a hand over his rifle, but something felt different. He pulled it into his hands and inspected it swiftly; nothing seemed out of order. Raven rose slowly from her supine position, snarling softly to herself. Her movements had slowed, the expression on her face becoming closer to horror than rage. She was doing it.
“You’re nearly there, kid,” Slade soothed, his words suddenly like butter. He watched Raven’s shoulders start to relax. “That’s it. Just fight this, Raven. You’re almost there.”
Despite her tremendous progress, Raven’s blistering fury won out once more, and she charged a large bolt of hellfire in her hands. Slade fiddled with his rifle and crossed his fingers. There was a standstill between the two. Slade analysed his rifle again; there was something different about the barrel, as if it had been swapped out for another similar model. The stock felt lighter, too, as if the weight had been–
Raven roared at him, swiping wildly with glowing fists, and in an instant Slade instinctively pulled the trigger.
What fired from the gun was not a silvery bullet, but a familiar glowing bolt of white light, cloud-like in appearance. As it struck Raven, she sucked in a deep breath, the energy engulfing her. Her face softened and her posture relaxed. Then she swung out for the man’s weakened side, his bandages poking through the aura of light. And yet, as he stayed steadfast, not even attempting to dodge the attack. Sparks flew from the point of contact. Slade just readied another shot and fired.
Her body swayed with the blow. Slade closed the gap between them and focused on the new warmth he felt, concentrating it into his staff as best he could. Then, as he held it out in front of him at arm’s length, he swiped at Raven and struck her in the side of the shoulder. Each blow seemed to be more effective than the last, but as Raven’s movements continued to slow, Slade held fire.
“You’re doing it, Raven,” Slade encouraged. He watched as the other Titans surrounded Raven, each of them ready for any further attacks. Everyone watched with bated breath as their teammate and friend thrashed and recoiled from the hit. Her breathing was rapid, although it felt closer to panic than unabashed fury. She clasped her hands over her head, groaning. Then, suddenly, she stopped.
Her face had softened completely, her jaw slack, and tears filled her vision. She looked up at Slade with a comfort in her eyes. The aura emanating from him was pervasive and contagious, and although she had felt lost in a sea of impossibly vast emotions, its warmth and comfort cut through. The anger was still there somewhat, the last remaining dregs still working its way out of her system, but the comfort, the peace that Slade was providing was the anchor for her to stabilise herself. She had only ever seen this kind of power when Don…
Raven’s eyes widened as she realised what that meant. She collapsed to her knees, suddenly feeling the bone-deep fatigue her rage had suppressed. Her teammates rushed in around her. Mar’i dropped to a knee by her side and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s OK. You’re safe. Everyone’s OK.”
“Don I’m—” She wiped away a stream of tears, stumbling her way out of the emotional vortex she’d been sucked into. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I’ve lost control before, but never like this.”
Don looked older. Creases ran across his forehead and around his eyes. His smile hadn’t changed. “Raven, my brother and I got those powers when I was a kid. We didn’t ask for them. We weren’t ready for them. We didn’t know how to use them, let alone control them.” He laughed dryly, recalling Hank. “I don’t regret anything. Giving my powers to Slade is the best thing I’ve done with them in years. I know Hank would feel the same way.”
In the moment of silence that followed, Raven rose to her feet and pulled her cloak tightly around herself. She was still shaking. Tim’s eyes drifted from her to Slade. “Something’s gnawing at me. Kestrel’s powers are weakened in Skartaris. Don’s…” He coughed, “Slade’s powers are amplified. If this place is what affected you—”
Mar’i’s face flashed with recognition, “—your powers must be tied to the Lords of Order and Chaos!”
Tim furrowed his brow. “Maybe.” He hardly had time to consider further when a thundering crack tore open the sky. Two bolts of swirling energy - one red and one blue - met above them, forming a swirling portal at their vertex. The Titans readied their weapons, expecting the worst.
“It’s them.” Slade murmured, still put off by his uncanny awareness. Terataya and T’Charr descended from the sky, one wreathed in mist, the other, magma. The two elementals stopped a few feet above the ground, hovering.
Terataya was the first to speak. Even at a whisper, her voice reverberated through the air. “I don’t usually care for surprises, Don, but this was a pleasant one.” A thin smile appeared on her face.
“Slade Wilson.” Terataya’s neck turned at an unnatural angle to face him. “You wield the powers of Order with great skill. Who understands the dangers of unchecked War better than a soldier. Become my champion. Protect the balance.”
Slade took a step back, then glanced at Don.
“She’s right.” Don said, with only a hint of hesitation. “It took me years to use the powers like you used them today. You’re a natural.”
Slade looked at his hands, still gently pulsing with pale blue light. “Thanks.” He allowed himself a weak smile. “But no thanks.”
“What.” T’Charr’s voice boomed.
“It doesn’t take Zatanna to realize an old soldier like me makes a piss-poor Avatar of Peace. I fight for a living, and I’m not deluded enough to think that makes me good at anything but fighting. If you want someone who understands the need for balance, Don just sacrificed everything special about him for it.”
Don raised an eyebrow. “None taken.”
“His actions today were noble, but they do not make up for years spent squandering the gift.”
“Squandering? The Titans wouldn’t exist today if he hadn’t pulled them together. Everything they’ve done. Everything they’ve achieved for your balance wouldn’t have happened without him, including stopping that monster you made.”
“Watch your tone, mortal.” T’Charr threatened.
“There may be a vein of truth to his words, lover.” Terataya said. “But *if we were to restore Don Hall’s power, we would need assurances. His indecision led down this path.”*
Rocks ground against each other as T’Charr landed beside Don. “You would have weeks, not years, to select a counterpart and return to your duties.”
Don’s response was instantaneous. “I’ve made a decision.”
“You’ve decided if you’ll take up the mantle of Dove again?”
Don nodded. “And who should be the new Hawk.”
Terataya giggled. “Full of surprises today. T’Charr?”
“We should discuss this.” He said. “In private.”
The three of them vanished, leaving the Titans and Slade alone on a battlefield riddled with bits of dino meat and ape fur.
 
○○ Ⓣ ○○
 
“You don’t think they’re gonna come back in like, 200 years, right?” Conner asked. He sat beside the depowered Slade Wilson, who was downing aspirin to make up for the sudden deficit in peace energy.
“I don’t know.” Tim said. “But we should give them more than fifteen minutes.”
As if on cue, the skies opened again. Again, the chromatic energy lit the sky and again a portal opened its swirling maw. This time, however, it wasn’t two elemental Lords to descend. Raven squinted to make the figures out.
“Oh my god.” Conner said, having a far easier time with his super-vision.
“What? Who is it?” Tim asked.
“Donna!” Mar’i shouted. She shot off the ground towards her. Her black combat armor was replaced with a crimson and white bodysuit studded with stars that seemed to twinkle as the light shifted around her. The sword at her side was gone too, replaced with a coiled loop of rope suffused with the same brilliant energy. The two collided into an embrace, spinning through the air as they held each other tightly.
Don was the first to land, restored with the powers of Dove. He looked stronger than ever, and maybe more importantly, happier. Even Tim’s typical thoughtful brooding has been pierced by an unimpeachable joy.
“I don’t understand,.” Raven said. “S-She’s alive. How is this possible?”
“I knew there was only one person who could be trusted with the powers of War, with Hank’s abilities.” He scratched the back of his neck, a bit guilty. “And she’d been staring me in the face for years. It took some doing, but eventually T’Charr and Terataya saw that too.”
Donna landed beside him, Mar’i only a step behind. By now Conner had stepped forward. He tried not to choke over his words. “I’m sorry. If I’d—”
Donna didn’t let him get the words out before pulling him into a grapple-turned-hug that quickly grew as the rest of the team piled in. Slade flicked another aspirin into his mouth.
“Danyah!” A voice called out from over the ridge. It was Travis, mounted atop a fanged reptilian creature in the vague shape of a horse and flanked on either side by his gold-armored honor guard. He broke into a gallop, stopping just short of the Titans. “When I saw the skies, I feared the worst. Is it really you? Has sorcery brought you back to us?”
“It’s me, Travis. A Lord of Chaos brought me back.”
“Not to interrupt,.” Slade said, still nursing his wounds. “But did either of you ask them to bring us back to Chicago?”
“I…” Don grimaced. “Donna, how do we get home?”
“How did you get here? Surely you could return the way you came.” Travis said.
“No, we can’t.” Tim said, pressing a few buttons on his wrist’s holographic display. “Whatever magic pervades Skartaris is also causing some extreme time dilation. I can’t guarantee we’d return to the 21st century, or even to Earth.”
“I spent a decade in Skartaris and returned to Earth nearly two centuries later. It’s the influence of Chaos. We’d need a Skartaran mage of overwhelming power to stabilize our return.” She spat the word mage with disgust. Travis’s expression seemed to confirm the reputation of Skartaran spellcasters.
Before their anxiety could spiral, the sky above began to churn. Moments later, the ground shook as a violent bolt of lightning cleaved the air, striking with such ferocity that all but Conner and Donna were flung backward. Mar'i skidded across the damp undergrowth, her senses overwhelmed by the acrid scent of ozone. Her mind was racing; their victory was hard fought, and she doubted they had much left in the tank for another confrontation. She dug her hands into the ground and pushed herself up as she choked from the smell. The Warlord Morgan and his military guards snapped to attention, forming a protective ring around the crater that now marred the earth.
From the smoking pit, a figure rose, unfolding from a crouch like something out of Terminator. Adorned in a red and white jumpsuit that accentuated his lithe build, the young man's appearance was marked by a red cowl and goggles, with sandy brown hair rebelliously spilling out.
Conner squinted through the dissipating smoke, murmuring under his breath, “A speedster?” The Flashes had had a variety of different sidekicks and other allies over the years, but none of them recognised this one
With a nonchalant flair that seemed at odds with the charged atmosphere, the newcomer greeted them. “Hey, everyone chillax. I'm here to get you guys back home.”
Donna, ever the leader, stepped forward and spoke with a commanding curiosity, now emboldened with the war aura of Hawk. “And who are you exactly? Why should we trust you with such a claim?”
Flashing a cheeky grin, he tilted his head and responded, “Well, I’m a speedster for one. Name’s Impulse. If I run fast enough, then I can… well, I guess bend time.”
Behind Donna, the group exchanged sceptical glances. Raven's face remained shadowed by recovery, Mar'i and Conner braced for action, and Tim discretely checked his gadgets, no doubt for something that he could use on a speedster should the need arise.
“Yeah, we figured that much,” Don cut through the tension, his voice calm yet insistent. “Who sent you?”
Impulse chuckled, his demeanour remaining unfazed by their scrutiny. “Look, the details aren't the fun part. Trust me, I can get us back.”
As a silence thick with doubt and scepticism settled over the group, Impulse seemed to realise his casual assurances weren't sufficient. With a theatrical sigh, he reached up and removed his mask, revealing a face familiar to both Mar'i and Raven.
“Brody!?” Mar'i exclaimed, her surprise echoing through the clearing as she stared at the boy who had once hobbled through their college classes with his leg in a cast.
The young man’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief and a hint of pride. “Actually, it’s Bart.”
 
○○ Ⓣ ○○
 
When Slade emerged from the shower, his skin was glistening with moisture, the water tracing the contours of his scars. He wrapped a stark white towel around his waist, and crossed the plush carpet to sit on the edge of the hotel room bed. He released a slow, deep breath; it was a good job the speedster kid arrived when he did. The notion of being stranded in an alien land or, worse, a different time had gnawed at him with a ferocity that was hard to admit. Without Bart’s intervention, every one of Slade’s meticulously crafted plans would have been utterly dashed.
Facing him, a wall-mounted mirror caught his rugged reflection. Drawn to his own image, Slade studied the scars that mapped his trials, the slick white hair that crowned his head, and the deep lines etched into his face. A familiar discomfort nagged at him, focusing his attention on his right eye. Unable to alleviate the irritation through the skin, Slade exhaled heavily and carefully removed the eye altogether. The movement, fluid and practised, spoke of years of adaptation.
He placed the prosthetic gently on the bed beside him and as he massaged the socket, a decades-old habit, his mind wandered. He wasn't accustomed to keeping the prosthetic in for extended periods. Showering with it had been an uncomfortable experiment in necessity - he didn't like it, but understood the importance of maintaining the facade. The Slade he would have people believe he was would have never lost an eye, because that Slade had led a life far from by the darker paths Slade had truthfully trodden.
His thoughts wandered to his brief time wielding the potent powers of Dove, and Slade felt a twinge of regret at their loss. The clarity and strength those powers had provided were intoxicating, yet he recognised that he had a more important goal, one he couldn’t compromise. His current role demanded not the accumulation of power but the perfection of his deceit, ensuring that all believed he was not the Slade Wilson they knew, but a Reawakened, more innocent doppelganger.
Now, with the glass eye resting beside him, Slade stared at his unmasked visage. Maintaining the myth of the noble Slade was critical. The ruthless mercenary, the World’s Deadliest Killer - those identities had to remain buried. The Titans had believed him enough to entrust him with divine powers, their faith a testament to his performance, but the game was far from over; in fact, it was entering its most critical phase.
 
 
Next: Return to normality in The New Titans #10
 

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)
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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.”
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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

I think there’s something off about my campus
Hey everyone, I’m typing this on my phone so I apologize if there is weird formatting. Anyways, to get to the point, there’s something really off with some people on my campus. I have come seeking answers.I noticed it first walking home from my 7pm class last Wednesday.
To set the scene, most of the campus is tucked back into the woods a little, and my 7pm class is in the farthest building from the parking lot (further into the woods). I get out from that 7pm class around 9pm, so on cloudy nights like last Wednesday, the only lights on that long sidewalk are the lights radiating from the other buildings. Usually, there’s roughly 30 feet where it’s pitch black because the foliage is pretty dense. I usually walk back to my apartment with some classmates that live in the same complex as me, but I told them to go ahead of me while I finished the rest of the project.
After packing my laptop away, I started heading back home. It was roughly 9:30 at this point, and my brain was slowly shutting down preparing for the deep sleep that has yet to come.Walking down the sidewalk, I heard somebody not too far into the woods laughing like they’ve just heard the funniest joke ever. I immediately thought, “probably some Freshman walking the trails with their friends smoking weed”. Chuckling to myself, I put in my AirPods and picked a playlist for my journey back home.
When I looked up from my phone, there was the silhouette of somebody walking towards me. I have no idea how I missed them before, but honestly, it’s very possible they were just in a spot where the light wasn’t quite reaching them. A little unnerved, I shifted over to the left side of the sidewalk.
(Now I’m usually fine walking alone at night; I’m a 6’2 man who’s dabbled in the world of MMA. But something about this person gave me a primal feeling of unrest.)
When they shifted over to the left mirroring me, I felt my blood run cold. But alas, I had to keep walking because this was my only way back home. As I neared closer to the figure, I almost laughed at myself when I realized it was just some harmless girl walking towards the Murphy building. If anything, I’m the intimidating one to her.
This is where it really gets weird. She stopped as I was passing her and turned to me. Thinking she needed to ask me something, I took an AirPod out and asked “what’s up?”. After staring at me for an uncomfortable amount of time, she opened her mouth, and I kid you not, mimicked the laugh I heard moments before perfectly. Before I could chalk it up to it just being her in the trails earlier, I noticed something. Her mouth wasn’t moving at all. If I had left my AirPods in, it would just look like she was just opening her mouth and staring at me. She then shifted into a deep raspy laugh. She did all of this without moving her mouth at all; I couldn’t even see her throat moving as you would expect if someone was laughing. It was almost like she was some fucked up human-shaped gramophone. The feeling of absolute horror that came over me is something I’ve only experienced in my imagination. Before I could think to do anything next, My body began to run off some sort of primal instinct. With my legs burning, it took me about 10 minutes to get all the way back to my apartment and lock myself in relative safety.
I’m coming on here now to ask if anybody knows what I experienced? I have been hearing that same laughter outside my window every night since that night, I am too terrified to sleep well and have refused to go to any of my classes. Please I just want answers, I don’t want to keep living in fear.
Part 2:
Hey everyone, I’ve gotten some DMs telling me what it may be. I’ve heard everything from banshee to skinwalker. After further research I pray to god it was neither of them. I’m praying it was just some girl with a speaker playing some sort of cruel joke. I mean yes there are people who don’t like me on campus, I’ve made some enemies over the past 4 years. But, I just don’t understand what could’ve brought it to this point. I had to stop hiding in fear and go to my classes before my grades plummet, I’m almost done with my degree and only have a few more weeks. If I let some sort of stupid prank ruin my career, It would be everything I swore against to my parents.
A lot of you guys in the DMs were also asking what college I go to and what my name is. First I want to say sorry for not providing that information in the first post, I’m sure you can understand where my head was at typing that. So let me introduce myself, my name is Nick and In order to keep my privacy, I will only provide that I go to a midwest university.
I’m sure you may be wondering, “so did it just stop?”. I would love to say yes, but really things have just gotten weirder. Though, I am pleased to say that there is no longer laughing out my window every night.
Ever since that night, I’ve been noticing more things off with the people on campus. Now you may just think it’s paranoia, but just be patient and listen.
Yesterday, I decided to muster up all of my courage and go to class. Luckily my first class is at 10AM, when the sun is well in the sky, so walking across campus seemed much less threatening. When I sat down in my first class, I noticed something off with the girl that sits in front of me. Usually she’s chatty and excited to be in class, but today she just stared blankly ahead. I tried to say good morning and ask about her weekend, as we do every Monday, but she continued to have that blank stare. She did turn her head towards be, but her eyes read “lights on, but nobody is home”.
Thinking to myself, she may just be hungover, or going through the bout of college student depression. I decided to shrug it off and turn to the front of the class and get my notes ready. But the moment I turned around, I could feel it. Her eyes burrowing deep into the back of my head. When I flipped around to see if I was just being irrational, I quickly learned I wasn’t. Her eyes went from the blank glare, to the most enthusiastic face I’ve seen on her. It was horrible, it almost seemed like she was trying so hard to pretend she was thrilled to be in class and to speak to me. It was inhuman.
I’ve been on the internet long enough to catch on to the term “Uncanny valley”, and what I witnessed In my first hour gives me that same gut feeling I got when I saw that girl last Wednesday.
I was right to be uncomfortable though, I texted her after class to make sure she was doing alright. But her response only reignited the flames of deep fear burning in my soul.
I’ll copy and paste the messages here:
Me: Hey Is everything good? You seemed off in class today.
Steph SCI 101: Uh yeah, I’m fine. but I was not in class today, I’m severely hungover from Tanner’s party last night.
Me: Haha, good one.
Steph SCI 101: No I’m so Fr, are you okay?
Steph SCI 101: Are you trying to fuck with me or something?
Me: Nevermind, I’m sorry to bother you.
(End Of Texts)
Okay so I’m sure that this gives you all the same feeling of dread that it gave me but I’m sure scaled down a bit. This is where I have started to doubt that it’s a prank, because me and Stephanie are cool. There’s no level of hate for either of us, and even if it was some joke, we don’t know each other on that type of level.
Not only did this seem to happen in my first class, but in between classes while I was walking across campus as well. I walk past hundreds of faces in my many treks across campus, and I swear to you, at least 1/4th of the people I walked past had that same dead stare look. And the way they walked, god I hate even thinking of it. It was like they were an alien trying out their new body suits for the first time. The steps and the bends of their legs just seem so meticulous, dramaticized, and puppeteered.
I’m going to try to investigate further, because at this point my fear for my life is more of a reason to try and figure out what it is so I can try to stop it.
I’m no hero, and I’m sure as hell nothing special, but If I can know what to expect for another encounter, maybe I can avoid meeting the demise I have imagined.
Part 3

First off I would like to apologize for my 20-day hiatus. For those who were worried that curiosity killed the cat so to speak, I appreciate your concern. On top of my investigation, I have also had to go through finals and work for a boss who didn't believe in life outside of work. So let's start where we left off. I had a feeling that this task was left for me to solve. it may sound stupid, but let me explain why. That night, after my last post, I had a dream that further solidified my need to solve the mystery. I tried to write all that I remembered down the morning after so here is what I wrote. 

April 4th, 2024
I had a strange dream last night, stranger than usual at least. I awoke in the woods, laying face down in the grass with someone looming over me. I heard their footsteps flee rapidly before I flipped over. I found myself just off the trail where the “incident” happened, on the trail laid a girl, bloodied and motionless. When I got up to approach her, she was quickly dragged into the parallel section of the woods. Seeing this I turned and ran into the section of woods I was in. When my legs gave out I found myself near an old supply shed, worn and long abandoned. Searching for cover, I tried the door, which luckily gave after a quick pull. There I found a trapdoor which emanated a blue hue through the cracks. The only thought on my mind, survival brought me to throw it open and climb down. I clattered down the ladder and right before my feet touched the ground, I was pulled backwards by my shirt. That’s where I woke up.
I have always trusted my gut and having a dream that vivid gave me a sense of courage I did not previously have. I know where to start my search now. I have decided my best course of action will be to record my findings on a tape recorder app. After I finish each entry it will be uploaded to a cloud that will ensure if anything happens to me, the story will get out. I am packing my backpack now with a flashlight, glow sticks to mark my trail, and a machete I was gifted by a local in Mexico. All of my recordings will be uploaded below and auto posted after 10 days. Wish me luck everyone, I’m going to need it.
Entry 1: I have started at the only place that makes sense, the trail. It is currently 1:45 PM and I have plenty of sun left in the sky. I just needed to find exactly where to start my journey into the woods. Strangely it was very easy to find. I recall one of the trees having a funky twist near the middle of the trunk. Probably just some two lovebirds trying to carve their name into the tree and realizing there were softer trees to carve into. Anyways hiking further into the woods I believe I can see the shape of the shed through the branches. I wish you guys could see how dense these trees are so you can understand my struggle.
Entry 2: I made it to the shed, but unfortunately the floor in here is concrete. This really sucks for me because I have absolutely no idea where to go from here. It’s identical on the outside but I just don’t understand. Maybe I’m just delusional, which in that case what a waste of time and energy. I’m going to head back home and just start packing for summer. Maybe it’ll be best if I just forget about all of this and leave it behind me. I am graduating after all. Wait hold on what is this?? there’s a button behind one of these shelves. I am going to press it, but idk how it would work because this floor is seamless. I’m just going to leave this recording so if anything does happen I don’t have to worry about holding the phone the whole time. Holy shit, the entire floor is lowering. It’s a fucking elevator.
Entry 3: Okay so I’ve been going down this elevator for like 30 seconds, how far down am I going?.. Oh wait hold on, Im stopped… There’s a metal door with a padlock. Ig since I have the machete there’s only one thing to do, break it. Im going to use the blunt side so I don’t ruin this thing, I like it too much. the lock clatters to the ground after 3 solid hits. Well ig there’s only one way to go now, there’s no button to get back up so I pray there’s another way up. The metal door creaks loudly. Fuck I regret this, It’s dark and I can tell it’s a big area because it’s so echoey in here. I’m currently praising my past self for thinking about the flashlight and glow sticks. I need to find out what in the hell this place is and most importantly, if there’s a damn light switch.
Entry 4: God this place is terrifying I’ve been walking around the sterile white halls of this place for like 10 minutes and have found nothing, no doors, no light switch. I feel like a rat in a maze. Also scratch what I said about being glad I packed glow sticks, because my stupid ass only brought like 20 of these things and I’m already down to 5. Also I feel like I’m not alone, every now and then I’ll turn a corner and the glow from the previous glow stick quickly vanishes. I feel like it might just be because the darkness seems to envelop everything like a blanket. But I have that feeling that I’m being followed. You know the one, where you know somethings wrong you just can’t pin point what it is. Oh shit no way, there’s light, I think there’s a door or something up ahead.
Entry 5: Holy shit… It’s a lab, and worse, there’s people strapped too tables, completely naked and unconscious. I know they are alive because each of them are hooked up with a million different cords, and one of those are plugged into a heart monitor. This place is huge, there has to be at least 50 people on these tables.
“Hey you, you’re not supposed to be in here” yelled a man adorned in a lab coat.
“What are you doing to these kids you sick fucks.” I yelled back at the man across the lab.
In a haste the scientist rushes towards a red button, setting off a loud alarm, turning the lights to a flashing red. With no exit behind me, I could only do one thing... Rush towards him. My training kicked in as I launched into a flurry of calculated strikes. My first hit connected, a right overhand clean under his eye. The doctor stumbled back, but I didn't give him a chance to recover. I pressed the attack, keeping him off balance with a relentless barrage of punches and kicks. He fought back ferociously, but I was one step ahead, anticipating his moves and countering with swift, efficient strikes. We wrestled, the room around us becoming a blur of pain and adrenaline. I used the environment to my advantage, improvising weapons from the scattered medical equipment and turning the empty tables on my opponent. Pinning him to the ground, I laid down a harsh barrage of final blows. His face was a bloody pulp, unrecognizable. But I didn’t walk away unscathed, somewhere in the tussle, the scientist buried a scalpel deep into my stomach. With my adrenaline wearing off, the pain overtook me, sending me into darkness as I fainted from the blood loss and adrenaline dump. I awoke with my arms and legs strapped to the cold metal operating table. Before I could try to struggle, a face overtook my field of vision.
“Quite a fight you put up, you turned poor Dr.Samson into a soup” the looming face said with a chuckle. “You are the first person to put the pieces together and for that I am thoroughly impressed Mr. Hayes”
“Who are you?!” I said fighting at my binds. “Let me go!”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that Mr.Hayes. You have seen far too much, and I definitely can’t have you running around telling the world what you saw here. Although nobody would believe you.” “And to answer your other question, I’m surprised you don’t recognize me… really take a moment and look at me” He said pulling down his face mask.
“Dr.Blackwood?” I said as I looked back on my freshman year biology class.
“Ding ding ding ding. We have a winner!” He said in a maniac joy.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked.
“Well Mr.Hayes, first I’m going to sew you up from your little tussle you had with my late assistant and then I will put you under and cut into that skull of yours and take out a small piece of what we call in the science world your hippocampus. Then I will draw from that all of the necessary memories to create the perfect clone of you.” He responded.
“Why? Why would you need a clone of any of us. Why can’t you just clone someone willing to be apart of this?” I asked
“Because that’s no fun Mr.Hayes, the hunt excites me. Actually you’re lucky I didn’t get you the first night. Unfortunately my creation had a little bit of a malfunction and formed a wee bit of an attachment to you. I’m sure you remember the ruckus outside your window? Anyways I digress, I do this because everyone of you lowly students will go onto do mediocre jobs where you waste away at a desk. I must also add that with having a clone of you under my control, I can do anything and get away with clean hands. My plan with you originally was to have you go into the admissions office and steal every last cent all for me. On top of that I like the power, because one day I will have a clone of every student on this campus and eventually I will cause a revolt against our comedy of a government. Who will stop me, when I won’t even be on the front lines?” Dr.Blackwood explained.
“I will” I said freeing my last hand from the binds.
What he didn’t realize is that with all of this monologue and the questions I had been feeding him, I was slowly loosening my binds with each wiggle and movement in retaliation.
Lurching forward I grab onto his collar, pulling him into a vicious headbutt. The impact sent Dr. Blackwood reeling backward, his grip on consciousness loosening as he staggered. Seizing the moment, I lunged off the table, adrenaline coursing through my veins despite the searing pain in my abdomen. With a swift motion, I grabbed a nearby surgical instrument, holding it in a defensive stance as I faced my adversary. Dr. Blackwood, recovering from the blow, snarled with rage, his once calm demeanor now replaced by a feral intensity. The room seemed to shrink around us, the tension thickening with each passing second. This was my chance to stop Blackwood's twisted plans. As he lunged forward, I met his attack head-on, the clang of metal reverberating through the room. Blow after blow, we fought with an intensity born of desperation and determination. Despite my injuries, I refused to yield, driven by a fire burnt under me to protect myself and others from Blackwood's actions . In a final, swift move, I delivered a powerful front kick, sending Blackwood crashing to the ground. The room fell silent, the echoes of our struggle fading into the darkness. Coughing he sat in the corner laughing with blood spilling down his face. “You know that it’s too late to save any of these one lying on the tables. I would’ve released you, you know that right? I would’ve simply taken your memory from today out of your brain and leaving you in your bed to wake up thinking you had a fun night” he said with final resolve as he watched me grab the scalpel from the ground taking slow steps near him.
Looking down over him, It was my turn to laugh. Kneeling down to eye level with him I grabbed him by his hair and delivered a final message to him “Fuck you and your little science experiment” as I sliced deep into his throat watching the life fade from his eyes.
I eventually found an exit door, which lead me to a storm drain deep in the woods far from my campus. It took me 2 hours to limp my way onto a main road and flag down a passing car. Pulling over I was rushed to the hospital and later interrogated by some men in suits, my guess is CIA. Here I am now, writing my final entrance. I think I heard them say something about trying a new medical process on me to help me heal quicker

I think there’s something off about my campus
Hey everyone, I’m typing this on my phone so I apologize if there is weird formatting. Anyways, to get to the point, there’s something really off with some people on my campus. I have come seeking answers.I noticed it first walking home from my 7pm class last Wednesday.
To set the scene, most of the campus is tucked back into the woods a little, and my 7pm class is in the farthest building from the parking lot (further into the woods). I get out from that 7pm class around 9pm, so on cloudy nights like last Wednesday, the only lights on that long sidewalk are the lights radiating from the other buildings. Usually, there’s roughly 30 feet where it’s pitch black because the foliage is pretty dense. I usually walk back to my apartment with some classmates that live in the same complex as me, but I told them to go ahead of me while I finished the rest of the project.
After packing my laptop away, I started heading back home. It was roughly 9:30 at this point, and my brain was slowly shutting down preparing for the deep sleep that has yet to come.Walking down the sidewalk, I heard somebody not too far into the woods laughing like they’ve just heard the funniest joke ever. I immediately thought, “probably some Freshman walking the trails with their friends smoking weed”. Chuckling to myself, I put in my AirPods and picked a playlist for my journey back home.
When I looked up from my phone, there was the silhouette of somebody walking towards me. I have no idea how I missed them before, but honestly, it’s very possible they were just in a spot where the light wasn’t quite reaching them. A little unnerved, I shifted over to the left side of the sidewalk.
(Now I’m usually fine walking alone at night; I’m a 6’2 man who’s dabbled in the world of MMA. But something about this person gave me a primal feeling of unrest.)
When they shifted over to the left mirroring me, I felt my blood run cold. But alas, I had to keep walking because this was my only way back home. As I neared closer to the figure, I almost laughed at myself when I realized it was just some harmless girl walking towards the Murphy building. If anything, I’m the intimidating one to her.
This is where it really gets weird. She stopped as I was passing her and turned to me. Thinking she needed to ask me something, I took an AirPod out and asked “what’s up?”. After staring at me for an uncomfortable amount of time, she opened her mouth, and I kid you not, mimicked the laugh I heard moments before perfectly. Before I could chalk it up to it just being her in the trails earlier, I noticed something. Her mouth wasn’t moving at all. If I had left my AirPods in, it would just look like she was just opening her mouth and staring at me. She then shifted into a deep raspy laugh. She did all of this without moving her mouth at all; I couldn’t even see her throat moving as you would expect if someone was laughing. It was almost like she was some fucked up human-shaped gramophone. The feeling of absolute horror that came over me is something I’ve only experienced in my imagination. Before I could think to do anything next, My body began to run off some sort of primal instinct. With my legs burning, it took me about 10 minutes to get all the way back to my apartment and lock myself in relative safety.
I’m coming on here now to ask if anybody knows what I experienced? I have been hearing that same laughter outside my window every night since that night, I am too terrified to sleep well and have refused to go to any of my classes. Please I just want answers, I don’t want to keep living in fear.
Part 2:
Hey everyone, I’ve gotten some DMs telling me what it may be. I’ve heard everything from banshee to skinwalker. After further research I pray to god it was neither of them. I’m praying it was just some girl with a speaker playing some sort of cruel joke. I mean yes there are people who don’t like me on campus, I’ve made some enemies over the past 4 years. But, I just don’t understand what could’ve brought it to this point. I had to stop hiding in fear and go to my classes before my grades plummet, I’m almost done with my degree and only have a few more weeks. If I let some sort of stupid prank ruin my career, It would be everything I swore against to my parents.
A lot of you guys in the DMs were also asking what college I go to and what my name is. First I want to say sorry for not providing that information in the first post, I’m sure you can understand where my head was at typing that. So let me introduce myself, my name is Nick and In order to keep my privacy, I will only provide that I go to a midwest university.
I’m sure you may be wondering, “so did it just stop?”. I would love to say yes, but really things have just gotten weirder. Though, I am pleased to say that there is no longer laughing out my window every night.
Ever since that night, I’ve been noticing more things off with the people on campus. Now you may just think it’s paranoia, but just be patient and listen.
Yesterday, I decided to muster up all of my courage and go to class. Luckily my first class is at 10AM, when the sun is well in the sky, so walking across campus seemed much less threatening. When I sat down in my first class, I noticed something off with the girl that sits in front of me. Usually she’s chatty and excited to be in class, but today she just stared blankly ahead. I tried to say good morning and ask about her weekend, as we do every Monday, but she continued to have that blank stare. She did turn her head towards be, but her eyes read “lights on, but nobody is home”.
Thinking to myself, she may just be hungover, or going through the bout of college student depression. I decided to shrug it off and turn to the front of the class and get my notes ready. But the moment I turned around, I could feel it. Her eyes burrowing deep into the back of my head. When I flipped around to see if I was just being irrational, I quickly learned I wasn’t. Her eyes went from the blank glare, to the most enthusiastic face I’ve seen on her. It was horrible, it almost seemed like she was trying so hard to pretend she was thrilled to be in class and to speak to me. It was inhuman.
I’ve been on the internet long enough to catch on to the term “Uncanny valley”, and what I witnessed In my first hour gives me that same gut feeling I got when I saw that girl last Wednesday.
I was right to be uncomfortable though, I texted her after class to make sure she was doing alright. But her response only reignited the flames of deep fear burning in my soul.
I’ll copy and paste the messages here:
Me: Hey Is everything good? You seemed off in class today.
Steph SCI 101: Uh yeah, I’m fine. but I was not in class today, I’m severely hungover from Tanner’s party last night.
Me: Haha, good one.
Steph SCI 101: No I’m so Fr, are you okay?
Steph SCI 101: Are you trying to fuck with me or something?
Me: Nevermind, I’m sorry to bother you.
(End Of Texts)
Okay so I’m sure that this gives you all the same feeling of dread that it gave me but I’m sure scaled down a bit. This is where I have started to doubt that it’s a prank, because me and Stephanie are cool. There’s no level of hate for either of us, and even if it was some joke, we don’t know each other on that type of level.
Not only did this seem to happen in my first class, but in between classes while I was walking across campus as well. I walk past hundreds of faces in my many treks across campus, and I swear to you, at least 1/4th of the people I walked past had that same dead stare look. And the way they walked, god I hate even thinking of it. It was like they were an alien trying out their new body suits for the first time. The steps and the bends of their legs just seem so meticulous, dramaticized, and puppeteered.
I’m going to try to investigate further, because at this point my fear for my life is more of a reason to try and figure out what it is so I can try to stop it.
I’m no hero, and I’m sure as hell nothing special, but If I can know what to expect for another encounter, maybe I can avoid meeting the demise I have imagined.
Part 3

First off I would like to apologize for my 20-day hiatus. For those who were worried that curiosity killed the cat so to speak, I appreciate your concern. On top of my investigation, I have also had to go through finals and work for a boss who didn't believe in life outside of work. So let's start where we left off. I had a feeling that this task was left for me to solve. it may sound stupid, but let me explain why. That night, after my last post, I had a dream that further solidified my need to solve the mystery. I tried to write all that I remembered down the morning after so here is what I wrote. 

April 4th, 2024
I had a strange dream last night, stranger than usual at least. I awoke in the woods, laying face down in the grass with someone looming over me. I heard their footsteps flee rapidly before I flipped over. I found myself just off the trail where the “incident” happened, on the trail laid a girl, bloodied and motionless. When I got up to approach her, she was quickly dragged into the parallel section of the woods. Seeing this I turned and ran into the section of woods I was in. When my legs gave out I found myself near an old supply shed, worn and long abandoned. Searching for cover, I tried the door, which luckily gave after a quick pull. There I found a trapdoor which emanated a blue hue through the cracks. The only thought on my mind, survival brought me to throw it open and climb down. I clattered down the ladder and right before my feet touched the ground, I was pulled backwards by my shirt. That’s where I woke up.
I have always trusted my gut and having a dream that vivid gave me a sense of courage I did not previously have. I know where to start my search now. I have decided my best course of action will be to record my findings on a tape recorder app. After I finish each entry it will be uploaded to a cloud that will ensure if anything happens to me, the story will get out. I am packing my backpack now with a flashlight, glow sticks to mark my trail, and a machete I was gifted by a local in Mexico. All of my recordings will be uploaded below and auto posted after 10 days. Wish me luck everyone, I’m going to need it.
Entry 1: I have started at the only place that makes sense, the trail. It is currently 1:45 PM and I have plenty of sun left in the sky. I just needed to find exactly where to start my journey into the woods. Strangely it was very easy to find. I recall one of the trees having a funky twist near the middle of the trunk. Probably just some two lovebirds trying to carve their name into the tree and realizing there were softer trees to carve into. Anyways hiking further into the woods I believe I can see the shape of the shed through the branches. I wish you guys could see how dense these trees are so you can understand my struggle.
Entry 2: I made it to the shed, but unfortunately the floor in here is concrete. This really sucks for me because I have absolutely no idea where to go from here. It’s identical on the outside but I just don’t understand. Maybe I’m just delusional, which in that case what a waste of time and energy. I’m going to head back home and just start packing for summer. Maybe it’ll be best if I just forget about all of this and leave it behind me. I am graduating after all. Wait hold on what is this?? there’s a button behind one of these shelves. I am going to press it, but idk how it would work because this floor is seamless. I’m just going to leave this recording so if anything does happen I don’t have to worry about holding the phone the whole time. Holy shit, the entire floor is lowering. It’s a fucking elevator.
Entry 3: Okay so I’ve been going down this elevator for like 30 seconds, how far down am I going?.. Oh wait hold on, Im stopped… There’s a metal door with a padlock. Ig since I have the machete there’s only one thing to do, break it. Im going to use the blunt side so I don’t ruin this thing, I like it too much. the lock clatters to the ground after 3 solid hits. Well ig there’s only one way to go now, there’s no button to get back up so I pray there’s another way up. The metal door creaks loudly. Fuck I regret this, It’s dark and I can tell it’s a big area because it’s so echoey in here. I’m currently praising my past self for thinking about the flashlight and glow sticks. I need to find out what in the hell this place is and most importantly, if there’s a damn light switch.
Entry 4: God this place is terrifying I’ve been walking around the sterile white halls of this place for like 10 minutes and have found nothing, no doors, no light switch. I feel like a rat in a maze. Also scratch what I said about being glad I packed glow sticks, because my stupid ass only brought like 20 of these things and I’m already down to 5. Also I feel like I’m not alone, every now and then I’ll turn a corner and the glow from the previous glow stick quickly vanishes. I feel like it might just be because the darkness seems to envelop everything like a blanket. But I have that feeling that I’m being followed. You know the one, where you know somethings wrong you just can’t pin point what it is. Oh shit no way, there’s light, I think there’s a door or something up ahead.
Entry 5: Holy shit… It’s a lab, and worse, there’s people strapped too tables, completely naked and unconscious. I know they are alive because each of them are hooked up with a million different cords, and one of those are plugged into a heart monitor. This place is huge, there has to be at least 50 people on these tables.
“Hey you, you’re not supposed to be in here” yelled a man adorned in a lab coat.
“What are you doing to these kids you sick fucks.” I yelled back at the man across the lab.
In a haste the scientist rushes towards a red button, setting off a loud alarm, turning the lights to a flashing red. With no exit behind me, I could only do one thing... Rush towards him. My training kicked in as I launched into a flurry of calculated strikes. My first hit connected, a right overhand clean under his eye. The doctor stumbled back, but I didn't give him a chance to recover. I pressed the attack, keeping him off balance with a relentless barrage of punches and kicks. He fought back ferociously, but I was one step ahead, anticipating his moves and countering with swift, efficient strikes. We wrestled, the room around us becoming a blur of pain and adrenaline. I used the environment to my advantage, improvising weapons from the scattered medical equipment and turning the empty tables on my opponent. Pinning him to the ground, I laid down a harsh barrage of final blows. His face was a bloody pulp, unrecognizable. But I didn’t walk away unscathed, somewhere in the tussle, the scientist buried a scalpel deep into my stomach. With my adrenaline wearing off, the pain overtook me, sending me into darkness as I fainted from the blood loss and adrenaline dump. I awoke with my arms and legs strapped to the cold metal operating table. Before I could try to struggle, a face overtook my field of vision.
“Quite a fight you put up, you turned poor Dr.Samson into a soup” the looming face said with a chuckle. “You are the first person to put the pieces together and for that I am thoroughly impressed Mr. Hayes”
“Who are you?!” I said fighting at my binds. “Let me go!”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that Mr.Hayes. You have seen far too much, and I definitely can’t have you running around telling the world what you saw here. Although nobody would believe you.” “And to answer your other question, I’m surprised you don’t recognize me… really take a moment and look at me” He said pulling down his face mask.
“Dr.Blackwood?” I said as I looked back on my freshman year biology class.
“Ding ding ding ding. We have a winner!” He said in a maniac joy.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked.
“Well Mr.Hayes, first I’m going to sew you up from your little tussle you had with my late assistant and then I will put you under and cut into that skull of yours and take out a small piece of what we call in the science world your hippocampus. Then I will draw from that all of the necessary memories to create the perfect clone of you.” He responded.
“Why? Why would you need a clone of any of us. Why can’t you just clone someone willing to be apart of this?” I asked
“Because that’s no fun Mr.Hayes, the hunt excites me. Actually you’re lucky I didn’t get you the first night. Unfortunately my creation had a little bit of a malfunction and formed a wee bit of an attachment to you. I’m sure you remember the ruckus outside your window? Anyways I digress, I do this because everyone of you lowly students will go onto do mediocre jobs where you waste away at a desk. I must also add that with having a clone of you under my control, I can do anything and get away with clean hands. My plan with you originally was to have you go into the admissions office and steal every last cent all for me. On top of that I like the power, because one day I will have a clone of every student on this campus and eventually I will cause a revolt against our comedy of a government. Who will stop me, when I won’t even be on the front lines?” Dr.Blackwood explained.
“I will” I said freeing my last hand from the binds.
What he didn’t realize is that with all of this monologue and the questions I had been feeding him, I was slowly loosening my binds with each wiggle and movement in retaliation.
Lurching forward I grab onto his collar, pulling him into a vicious headbutt. The impact sent Dr. Blackwood reeling backward, his grip on consciousness loosening as he staggered. Seizing the moment, I lunged off the table, adrenaline coursing through my veins despite the searing pain in my abdomen. With a swift motion, I grabbed a nearby surgical instrument, holding it in a defensive stance as I faced my adversary. Dr. Blackwood, recovering from the blow, snarled with rage, his once calm demeanor now replaced by a feral intensity. The room seemed to shrink around us, the tension thickening with each passing second. This was my chance to stop Blackwood's twisted plans. As he lunged forward, I met his attack head-on, the clang of metal reverberating through the room. Blow after blow, we fought with an intensity born of desperation and determination. Despite my injuries, I refused to yield, driven by a fire burnt under me to protect myself and others from Blackwood's actions . In a final, swift move, I delivered a powerful front kick, sending Blackwood crashing to the ground. The room fell silent, the echoes of our struggle fading into the darkness. Coughing he sat in the corner laughing with blood spilling down his face. “You know that it’s too late to save any of these one lying on the tables. I would’ve released you, you know that right? I would’ve simply taken your memory from today out of your brain and leaving you in your bed to wake up thinking you had a fun night” he said with final resolve as he watched me grab the scalpel from the ground taking slow steps near him.
Looking down over him, It was my turn to laugh. Kneeling down to eye level with him I grabbed him by his hair and delivered a final message to him “Fuck you and your little science experiment” as I sliced deep into his throat watching the life fade from his eyes.
I eventually found an exit door, which lead me to a storm drain deep in the woods far from my campus. It took me 2 hours to limp my way onto a main road and flag down a passing car. Pulling over I was rushed to the hospital and later interrogated by some men in suits, my guess is CIA. Here I am now, writing my final entrance. I think I heard them say something about trying a new medical process on me to help me heal quicker

I think there’s something off about my campus
Hey everyone, I’m typing this on my phone so I apologize if there is weird formatting. Anyways, to get to the point, there’s something really off with some people on my campus. I have come seeking answers.I noticed it first walking home from my 7pm class last Wednesday.
To set the scene, most of the campus is tucked back into the woods a little, and my 7pm class is in the farthest building from the parking lot (further into the woods). I get out from that 7pm class around 9pm, so on cloudy nights like last Wednesday, the only lights on that long sidewalk are the lights radiating from the other buildings. Usually, there’s roughly 30 feet where it’s pitch black because the foliage is pretty dense. I usually walk back to my apartment with some classmates that live in the same complex as me, but I told them to go ahead of me while I finished the rest of the project.
After packing my laptop away, I started heading back home. It was roughly 9:30 at this point, and my brain was slowly shutting down preparing for the deep sleep that has yet to come.Walking down the sidewalk, I heard somebody not too far into the woods laughing like they’ve just heard the funniest joke ever. I immediately thought, “probably some Freshman walking the trails with their friends smoking weed”. Chuckling to myself, I put in my AirPods and picked a playlist for my journey back home.
When I looked up from my phone, there was the silhouette of somebody walking towards me. I have no idea how I missed them before, but honestly, it’s very possible they were just in a spot where the light wasn’t quite reaching them. A little unnerved, I shifted over to the left side of the sidewalk.
(Now I’m usually fine walking alone at night; I’m a 6’2 man who’s dabbled in the world of MMA. But something about this person gave me a primal feeling of unrest.)
When they shifted over to the left mirroring me, I felt my blood run cold. But alas, I had to keep walking because this was my only way back home. As I neared closer to the figure, I almost laughed at myself when I realized it was just some harmless girl walking towards the Murphy building. If anything, I’m the intimidating one to her.
This is where it really gets weird. She stopped as I was passing her and turned to me. Thinking she needed to ask me something, I took an AirPod out and asked “what’s up?”. After staring at me for an uncomfortable amount of time, she opened her mouth, and I kid you not, mimicked the laugh I heard moments before perfectly. Before I could chalk it up to it just being her in the trails earlier, I noticed something. Her mouth wasn’t moving at all. If I had left my AirPods in, it would just look like she was just opening her mouth and staring at me. She then shifted into a deep raspy laugh. She did all of this without moving her mouth at all; I couldn’t even see her throat moving as you would expect if someone was laughing. It was almost like she was some fucked up human-shaped gramophone. The feeling of absolute horror that came over me is something I’ve only experienced in my imagination. Before I could think to do anything next, My body began to run off some sort of primal instinct. With my legs burning, it took me about 10 minutes to get all the way back to my apartment and lock myself in relative safety.
I’m coming on here now to ask if anybody knows what I experienced? I have been hearing that same laughter outside my window every night since that night, I am too terrified to sleep well and have refused to go to any of my classes. Please I just want answers, I don’t want to keep living in fear.
Part 2:
Hey everyone, I’ve gotten some DMs telling me what it may be. I’ve heard everything from banshee to skinwalker. After further research I pray to god it was neither of them. I’m praying it was just some girl with a speaker playing some sort of cruel joke. I mean yes there are people who don’t like me on campus, I’ve made some enemies over the past 4 years. But, I just don’t understand what could’ve brought it to this point. I had to stop hiding in fear and go to my classes before my grades plummet, I’m almost done with my degree and only have a few more weeks. If I let some sort of stupid prank ruin my career, It would be everything I swore against to my parents.
A lot of you guys in the DMs were also asking what college I go to and what my name is. First I want to say sorry for not providing that information in the first post, I’m sure you can understand where my head was at typing that. So let me introduce myself, my name is Nick and In order to keep my privacy, I will only provide that I go to a midwest university.
I’m sure you may be wondering, “so did it just stop?”. I would love to say yes, but really things have just gotten weirder. Though, I am pleased to say that there is no longer laughing out my window every night.
Ever since that night, I’ve been noticing more things off with the people on campus. Now you may just think it’s paranoia, but just be patient and listen.
Yesterday, I decided to muster up all of my courage and go to class. Luckily my first class is at 10AM, when the sun is well in the sky, so walking across campus seemed much less threatening. When I sat down in my first class, I noticed something off with the girl that sits in front of me. Usually she’s chatty and excited to be in class, but today she just stared blankly ahead. I tried to say good morning and ask about her weekend, as we do every Monday, but she continued to have that blank stare. She did turn her head towards be, but her eyes read “lights on, but nobody is home”.
Thinking to myself, she may just be hungover, or going through the bout of college student depression. I decided to shrug it off and turn to the front of the class and get my notes ready. But the moment I turned around, I could feel it. Her eyes burrowing deep into the back of my head. When I flipped around to see if I was just being irrational, I quickly learned I wasn’t. Her eyes went from the blank glare, to the most enthusiastic face I’ve seen on her. It was horrible, it almost seemed like she was trying so hard to pretend she was thrilled to be in class and to speak to me. It was inhuman.
I’ve been on the internet long enough to catch on to the term “Uncanny valley”, and what I witnessed In my first hour gives me that same gut feeling I got when I saw that girl last Wednesday.
I was right to be uncomfortable though, I texted her after class to make sure she was doing alright. But her response only reignited the flames of deep fear burning in my soul.
I’ll copy and paste the messages here:
Me: Hey Is everything good? You seemed off in class today.
Steph SCI 101: Uh yeah, I’m fine. but I was not in class today, I’m severely hungover from Tanner’s party last night.
Me: Haha, good one.
Steph SCI 101: No I’m so Fr, are you okay?
Steph SCI 101: Are you trying to fuck with me or something?
Me: Nevermind, I’m sorry to bother you.
(End Of Texts)
Okay so I’m sure that this gives you all the same feeling of dread that it gave me but I’m sure scaled down a bit. This is where I have started to doubt that it’s a prank, because me and Stephanie are cool. There’s no level of hate for either of us, and even if it was some joke, we don’t know each other on that type of level.
Not only did this seem to happen in my first class, but in between classes while I was walking across campus as well. I walk past hundreds of faces in my many treks across campus, and I swear to you, at least 1/4th of the people I walked past had that same dead stare look. And the way they walked, god I hate even thinking of it. It was like they were an alien trying out their new body suits for the first time. The steps and the bends of their legs just seem so meticulous, dramaticized, and puppeteered.
I’m going to try to investigate further, because at this point my fear for my life is more of a reason to try and figure out what it is so I can try to stop it.
I’m no hero, and I’m sure as hell nothing special, but If I can know what to expect for another encounter, maybe I can avoid meeting the demise I have imagined.
Part 3

First off I would like to apologize for my 20-day hiatus. For those who were worried that curiosity killed the cat so to speak, I appreciate your concern. On top of my investigation, I have also had to go through finals and work for a boss who didn't believe in life outside of work. So let's start where we left off. I had a feeling that this task was left for me to solve. it may sound stupid, but let me explain why. That night, after my last post, I had a dream that further solidified my need to solve the mystery. I tried to write all that I remembered down the morning after so here is what I wrote. 

April 4th, 2024
I had a strange dream last night, stranger than usual at least. I awoke in the woods, laying face down in the grass with someone looming over me. I heard their footsteps flee rapidly before I flipped over. I found myself just off the trail where the “incident” happened, on the trail laid a girl, bloodied and motionless. When I got up to approach her, she was quickly dragged into the parallel section of the woods. Seeing this I turned and ran into the section of woods I was in. When my legs gave out I found myself near an old supply shed, worn and long abandoned. Searching for cover, I tried the door, which luckily gave after a quick pull. There I found a trapdoor which emanated a blue hue through the cracks. The only thought on my mind, survival brought me to throw it open and climb down. I clattered down the ladder and right before my feet touched the ground, I was pulled backwards by my shirt. That’s where I woke up.
I have always trusted my gut and having a dream that vivid gave me a sense of courage I did not previously have. I know where to start my search now. I have decided my best course of action will be to record my findings on a tape recorder app. After I finish each entry it will be uploaded to a cloud that will ensure if anything happens to me, the story will get out. I am packing my backpack now with a flashlight, glow sticks to mark my trail, and a machete I was gifted by a local in Mexico. All of my recordings will be uploaded below and auto posted after 10 days. Wish me luck everyone, I’m going to need it.
Entry 1: I have started at the only place that makes sense, the trail. It is currently 1:45 PM and I have plenty of sun left in the sky. I just needed to find exactly where to start my journey into the woods. Strangely it was very easy to find. I recall one of the trees having a funky twist near the middle of the trunk. Probably just some two lovebirds trying to carve their name into the tree and realizing there were softer trees to carve into. Anyways hiking further into the woods I believe I can see the shape of the shed through the branches. I wish you guys could see how dense these trees are so you can understand my struggle.
Entry 2: I made it to the shed, but unfortunately the floor in here is concrete. This really sucks for me because I have absolutely no idea where to go from here. It’s identical on the outside but I just don’t understand. Maybe I’m just delusional, which in that case what a waste of time and energy. I’m going to head back home and just start packing for summer. Maybe it’ll be best if I just forget about all of this and leave it behind me. I am graduating after all. Wait hold on what is this?? there’s a button behind one of these shelves. I am going to press it, but idk how it would work because this floor is seamless. I’m just going to leave this recording so if anything does happen I don’t have to worry about holding the phone the whole time. Holy shit, the entire floor is lowering. It’s a fucking elevator.
Entry 3: Okay so I’ve been going down this elevator for like 30 seconds, how far down am I going?.. Oh wait hold on, Im stopped… There’s a metal door with a padlock. Ig since I have the machete there’s only one thing to do, break it. Im going to use the blunt side so I don’t ruin this thing, I like it too much. the lock clatters to the ground after 3 solid hits. Well ig there’s only one way to go now, there’s no button to get back up so I pray there’s another way up. The metal door creaks loudly. Fuck I regret this, It’s dark and I can tell it’s a big area because it’s so echoey in here. I’m currently praising my past self for thinking about the flashlight and glow sticks. I need to find out what in the hell this place is and most importantly, if there’s a damn light switch.
Entry 4: God this place is terrifying I’ve been walking around the sterile white halls of this place for like 10 minutes and have found nothing, no doors, no light switch. I feel like a rat in a maze. Also scratch what I said about being glad I packed glow sticks, because my stupid ass only brought like 20 of these things and I’m already down to 5. Also I feel like I’m not alone, every now and then I’ll turn a corner and the glow from the previous glow stick quickly vanishes. I feel like it might just be because the darkness seems to envelop everything like a blanket. But I have that feeling that I’m being followed. You know the one, where you know somethings wrong you just can’t pin point what it is. Oh shit no way, there’s light, I think there’s a door or something up ahead.
Entry 5: Holy shit… It’s a lab, and worse, there’s people strapped too tables, completely naked and unconscious. I know they are alive because each of them are hooked up with a million different cords, and one of those are plugged into a heart monitor. This place is huge, there has to be at least 50 people on these tables.
“Hey you, you’re not supposed to be in here” yelled a man adorned in a lab coat.
“What are you doing to these kids you sick fucks.” I yelled back at the man across the lab.
In a haste the scientist rushes towards a red button, setting off a loud alarm, turning the lights to a flashing red. With no exit behind me, I could only do one thing... Rush towards him. My training kicked in as I launched into a flurry of calculated strikes. My first hit connected, a right overhand clean under his eye. The doctor stumbled back, but I didn't give him a chance to recover. I pressed the attack, keeping him off balance with a relentless barrage of punches and kicks. He fought back ferociously, but I was one step ahead, anticipating his moves and countering with swift, efficient strikes. We wrestled, the room around us becoming a blur of pain and adrenaline. I used the environment to my advantage, improvising weapons from the scattered medical equipment and turning the empty tables on my opponent. Pinning him to the ground, I laid down a harsh barrage of final blows. His face was a bloody pulp, unrecognizable. But I didn’t walk away unscathed, somewhere in the tussle, the scientist buried a scalpel deep into my stomach. With my adrenaline wearing off, the pain overtook me, sending me into darkness as I fainted from the blood loss and adrenaline dump. I awoke with my arms and legs strapped to the cold metal operating table. Before I could try to struggle, a face overtook my field of vision.
“Quite a fight you put up, you turned poor Dr.Samson into a soup” the looming face said with a chuckle. “You are the first person to put the pieces together and for that I am thoroughly impressed Mr. Hayes”
“Who are you?!” I said fighting at my binds. “Let me go!”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that Mr.Hayes. You have seen far too much, and I definitely can’t have you running around telling the world what you saw here. Although nobody would believe you.” “And to answer your other question, I’m surprised you don’t recognize me… really take a moment and look at me” He said pulling down his face mask.
“Dr.Blackwood?” I said as I looked back on my freshman year biology class.
“Ding ding ding ding. We have a winner!” He said in a maniac joy.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked.
“Well Mr.Hayes, first I’m going to sew you up from your little tussle you had with my late assistant and then I will put you under and cut into that skull of yours and take out a small piece of what we call in the science world your hippocampus. Then I will draw from that all of the necessary memories to create the perfect clone of you.” He responded.
“Why? Why would you need a clone of any of us. Why can’t you just clone someone willing to be apart of this?” I asked
“Because that’s no fun Mr.Hayes, the hunt excites me. Actually you’re lucky I didn’t get you the first night. Unfortunately my creation had a little bit of a malfunction and formed a wee bit of an attachment to you. I’m sure you remember the ruckus outside your window? Anyways I digress, I do this because everyone of you lowly students will go onto do mediocre jobs where you waste away at a desk. I must also add that with having a clone of you under my control, I can do anything and get away with clean hands. My plan with you originally was to have you go into the admissions office and steal every last cent all for me. On top of that I like the power, because one day I will have a clone of every student on this campus and eventually I will cause a revolt against our comedy of a government. Who will stop me, when I won’t even be on the front lines?” Dr.Blackwood explained.
“I will” I said freeing my last hand from the binds.
What he didn’t realize is that with all of this monologue and the questions I had been feeding him, I was slowly loosening my binds with each wiggle and movement in retaliation.
Lurching forward I grab onto his collar, pulling him into a vicious headbutt. The impact sent Dr. Blackwood reeling backward, his grip on consciousness loosening as he staggered. Seizing the moment, I lunged off the table, adrenaline coursing through my veins despite the searing pain in my abdomen. With a swift motion, I grabbed a nearby surgical instrument, holding it in a defensive stance as I faced my adversary. Dr. Blackwood, recovering from the blow, snarled with rage, his once calm demeanor now replaced by a feral intensity. The room seemed to shrink around us, the tension thickening with each passing second. This was my chance to stop Blackwood's twisted plans. As he lunged forward, I met his attack head-on, the clang of metal reverberating through the room. Blow after blow, we fought with an intensity born of desperation and determination. Despite my injuries, I refused to yield, driven by a fire burnt under me to protect myself and others from Blackwood's actions . In a final, swift move, I delivered a powerful front kick, sending Blackwood crashing to the ground. The room fell silent, the echoes of our struggle fading into the darkness. Coughing he sat in the corner laughing with blood spilling down his face. “You know that it’s too late to save any of these one lying on the tables. I would’ve released you, you know that right? I would’ve simply taken your memory from today out of your brain and leaving you in your bed to wake up thinking you had a fun night” he said with final resolve as he watched me grab the scalpel from the ground taking slow steps near him.
Looking down over him, It was my turn to laugh. Kneeling down to eye level with him I grabbed him by his hair and delivered a final message to him “Fuck you and your little science experiment” as I sliced deep into his throat watching the life fade from his eyes.
I eventually found an exit door, which lead me to a storm drain deep in the woods far from my campus. It took me 2 hours to limp my way onto a main road and flag down a passing car. Pulling over I was rushed to the hospital and later interrogated by some men in suits, my guess is CIA. Here I am now, writing my final entrance. I think I heard them say something about trying a new medical process on me to help me heal quicker

I did get diagnosed officially with sjogrens and fibromyalgia over a year ago, and even got prescribed prednisone/ naproxen for when I have flare ups. With the weather getting warmer, I noticed that I began to have a flare so I started my 10 day prescription of the prednisone. I got to day 6 and began to notice bad symptoms of the prednisone that I haven’t seen before. My skin was hot to touch everywhere, and it felt like it was Burning. I began to get rashes, swollen parotid gland, swollen eyes, bad acne, and my appetite completely changed. I also feel more dehydrated than ever, my mouth is so dry that it feels as if I have strep or a cough at times. I stopped taking the prednisone at day 9 as I began to feel really sick, but now my flare up is just intensified and won’t go down. I tried taking the naproxen and drinking more water, but nothing helps. Specifically during the night and during the morning my symptoms are more severe. I can’t sleep because of how dry my mouth is, and because of how sick I feel. No matter what I eat or drink, I feel dehydrated and hungry. I tried contacting my rheumatologist and I’m currently waiting for an opening. Does anyone have advice or recommendations?

So on Saturday I went on a long-ish car ride, and it gave me a nauseous, car sick type of migraine, which is pretty typical for me. What is not typical is that I am still feeling it 5 days later with headache meds not helping.
It comes and goes, and gets worse when i get up and move around. It's also worse upon waking up, and I've been having very surreal fever dreams. It is a pressure migraine, ranging from barely noticeable dull pain that I can ignore, to feeling like someone is literally standing on my skull where it hurts to even open my eyes. Usually I get them if my blood sugar is too low from not eating, or they can be triggered by car rides or fumes like nail polish. And usually all I need to do is eat some peanut butter crackers, turn all the lights off, take ibuprofen with some water, and sleep.
On day 3 I puked multiple times, and since then my chest and back muscles hurt when i breathe too deeply (i assume that's just from straining them while throwing up?) My whole body is kinda sore to be honest, but the chest discomfort when I take a deep breath is obviously the most concerning.
When I tilt my head forward or bend over, after a few seconds I get the sensation of water getting up my nose, and my eyes start to water. The pain and pressure spreads throughout my whole skull if I lean over too long. I feel better when laying down on my side, but laying flat on my back leads to the same water in my nose feeling.
The other issues like nausea and light sensitivity are things I've had before, even puking every once in awhile if i don't eat soon enough, but this awful pressure in my head like I went underwater without blocking my nose is new. Is it just sinuses? My nose isn't blocked or runny at all, I can breathe perfectly fine (not counting muscle soreness), and have not been coughing. I did spend a couple hours on Saturday under a tree that was covered in blossoms, but there's no way any pollen I breathed in would still be affecting me right? Allergy pills have not helped either. Plus I have not been outside for more than a few minutes in the past few days, as I've been in bed hoping this will go away if I just rest enough.
I have an appointment on Friday with my PCP to discuss this, but is there any chance it sounds like a more serious issue that warrants an ER visit? I've discovered what a cranial leak (CSF) is and am now paranoid about that. I'm only 23 but had multiple blood clots 2 years ago (that seem to have gone away now that i switched birth controls), and during that time I had an Atrial septal defect closed in my heart. So I am young but do have some history with physical health issues. Plus the years of chronic migraines, but this one has definitely been the worst from how long it's lasted and the various other symptoms it has caused.
Please let me know if anyone has experienced something similar or if it sounds more serious than just a bad migraine. Thank you!

In a flash of inspiration I suggested a small AU idea on discord... And people encouraged me to cook and cook hard. So I did and here's the result. I will likely have this as a 'backburner' fic to Broken Birds, writing one when I have no energy for other, so this will be lower in priority, but I hope it's enjoyable for you anyway.
Thanks to SpacePaladin15 for great universe, characters and letting fanfiction flow, as well as JulianSkies for inspiring the name of the fic and several other discord members (you KNOW who you are) for encouraging my horribleness. Without further ado... Let's open the doors of this AU.
CW: Arxur Dietary Habits, Child Suffering, Dismemberment
Memory Transcription Subject: Stynek, Venlil Cattle
Date [standardized human time]: July 12, 2136
Fur surrounding my eyes hurt from layers upon layers of dried tears. I’ve cried so much over past months, with nobody to tell me it’s going to be okay. I missed mommy. I missed my teacher. I missed my friends. I was surrounded by strangers, some of different species, but mostly venlil. None of them cared when I cried. Most cried by themselves, and to themselves instead. Nobody wanted to really talk to me, except this one other venlil child I met. I don’t even remember the name he told me. But he did know something. That me and him wouldn’t be eaten for a while because we’re too young. Unless someone important wanted to eat us. That’s why adults are bitter at the children. We weren’t in the ‘breeding pen’, whatever that meant, but in the food pen. And until I was old enough to be ‘sufficiently edible’, I’d stay here. Adults knew that. They knew that when arxur came around and chose meals out of the crowd, they’d ignore the scrawny child, so they were bitter at my luck.
I wanted to cry again, but at this point, no tears were coming out. I wished I could talk to the boy, but we got separated when they moved me and a bunch of adults onto the ship. I overheard some adults mumbling about us being rations. That made me cry more when I realized what it meant. Did it mean I was lied to? That I really was old enough to be eaten after all? I regretted wanting to grow up sooner. I was always upset when mom told me I couldn’t do something. I had to listen both because she was my mom and because she was our Governor. Now I missed hearing her voice, even if it was just telling me that I must go to bed on time and stop snacking too much before second meal.
It’s been days since I was brought to the ship. Unlike the pens I’ve been in before, this one was slowly emptying. Before, new people always were thrown in to replace ones taken to be eaten. Every day a few people would be grabbed by the arxur and dragged out. Some screaming and pleading for mercy. Those just get ignored, as everyone, myself included, huddles together in far corner. Others would accept their fate and let themselves be taken. Those are even sadder. More people start crying after seeing someone who looks dead even while still breathing taken to be finished off.
I rubbed my temple where there was still a small wound. Every cattle taken to this ship had their implants removed. I couldn’t understand anything non-venlil were saying. Or arxur for that matter. Not that much was being said...
Suddenly every head was up and all ears were flicking. I slightly turned my head to see towards the entrance. An arxur, standing in doorway, slowly scanning the crowd with predatory glint. My sense of time was barely intact, but schedule was rigid, it was too early for feeding time today. So why are they here and why are they selecting a prey already?
Suddenly I realized that it was looking directly at me, its binocular gaze locking onto my eye. I couldn’t help my reaction, yelping and flinching away, trying to scuttle towards the corner. But it seems the arxur made its choice. As it stepped and started walking towards me, the crowd parted. It was almost like that experiment with anti-magnets my teacher showed once in class, except I was the one repelling everyone around me. I tried reaching out and crawling towards them, but they just furthered the distance. Nobody was willing to contest arxur’s chosen meal.
“Please... I don’t want to...”, I cried, but it fell on deaf ears. Then I felt it. A scaly hand of a monster wrapped around my ankle. I tried thrashing, but before I could, I was lifted upside down, hitting my head on cold hard floor in process. Ow... It hurt. My vision blurred, from both the hit dizzying me and the tears that were now filling my eyes. I was being taken out... To be devoured by predators... Daddy... Mommy... “Mommy... Mommy!”
I didn’t hear anything but my own cries and clacks of arxur claws against metal floor as I was taken out of the pen. Outside of pen always seemed like nicer place to be. It was better lit and cleaner from what little I could glimpse whenever door opened. Now I’d give anything just to go back to the dirty pen, huddled together with people who don’t care about me... I didn’t want to die! I wanted to go home! To my mom and dad... Why... Wasn’t I too young? Why did that boy lie to me?! I hated him!
I couldn’t even tell where I was being taken. I knew nothing about layout of the ship. It was cleaner, it was brighter. But also there were more arxur than singular one that kept coming into the pen to take people. Being carried upside down by the leg hurt and made it disorienting but even with that I couldn’t miss how every time I entered an arxur’s field of vision, their head sharply turning to stare directly at me right until we turned another corner. I realized that I was crying out loud by now, but of course predators knew no emotion, they ignored my anguish.
Then finally, it seems, we reached a destination. I was brought to a room with a big table. Table? It was ridiculous to think predators even use tables... But there were three sitting at it. One was an arxur, particularly large and imposing. But two others were... creatures I’ve never seen before. One glimpse was enough to tell me they were predators. And they were covered in clothing, more than I’ve seen anyone ever wear. Worst thing is though, they were clearly talking to the big arxur, with external translator on the table constantly translating arxur’s hisses into the other predator’s growling noises.
This is it. Arxur found another sapient predator. The worst monsters in the galaxy now found allies. Least I could comfort myself with was that mommy would be safe... But now I felt like it’s not just me that’s about to end, but whole universe.
The arxur that was carrying me smacked me down onto the table, a fair distance away from others. I kept crying and sobbing. I think some pleads for help and for my mom came out, but I couldn’t even make out my own words. I was so scared. I was ready for fangs to pierce into my neck. And yet I wasn’t, I wasn’t ready, please, anything by that. Both the big arxur and the new predators were staring me down in hunger as I felt the worst pain of my life. My leg, held firmly to the table, burned in agony... and then pain was all I knew there. I couldn’t feel anything below my knee other than pain. Pain... Pain! I cried out at the top of my lungs, but pain wasn’t getting better. My cry did not stop until my throat burnt, but that pain was like an itch compared to what my leg felt like.
With sight blurred, I saw it. The arxur that held me down dropped my own ankle down near the big one that seemed to be in charge, staining table with orange blood. Big arxur tore a chunk off, extending it towards other predators, but they seemed to just talk. Then big arxur stopped for a few moments, tossed the chunk into its horrid mouth, and motioned to one still holding me down.
Then, for a second time in last few minutes I experienced the most agonizing pain in my life, surpassing even the pain before at least tenfold. It burned! It hurt! My throat, already sore and barely able to make sounds got revived for just long enough to let out another cry before giving out again. I wanted to pass out as I was butchered alive, but it was just so painful that I couldn’t... I was forced to be aware of how the rest of the leg, from knee to hip, was brought towards the mystery predators, sliced in half and then... That explained why it hurt so much more. Why it still hurts even more. The blade that second chop was done with was red hot, and now used to burn away at the chunks presented to the predators. They recoiled from heat, as pieces of me were presented, but after a few moments of consideration, reached out and tore a few small pieces of orange legs off my dismembered calf, starting to chew. The one with long fur on their head, seemed to almost choke on the heat, while the one with dark coloration just stared at me intently, making eye contact that I could perceive even through pain and tears directly with me, hungrily chewing, no doubt wanting more than scrap it was given...
I couldn’t watch anymore I closed my eyes, beginning to whine and sniffle. I tried calling out for mom, but my mouth was suddenly clamped shut with a band, so I couldn’t even make any more noises. Pain made it hard to move at all, and with my leg chop being replaced with a burn, I wasn’t bleeding... so I couldn’t even get the release of death. Worse yet, predators were far from eager to finish me off. I was always told their bloodthirst was the only thing that defined them, but they just left me to suffer on the table as they kept talking in their horrible noises. Their sadism was much stronger than bloodlust, that’s the only explanation...
As I lay there, I eventually let my eyelids slide open. The new predators and arxur were engaged in some conversation, piece of leg in front of arxur in charge gone completely, and pieces in front of mystery predators visibly smaller. Arxur regularly typed some things, demonstrating some things on the screen. A bunch of warrior arxur banded together, a big star chart divided in weird ways, some weird colorless picture of countless dead prey animals, unfamiliar and likely non-sapient... And then a video. A venlil exterminator, fighting off a group of arxur. She managed to get two monsters burnt before getting overwhelmed, their mask torn off before their head is bitten off by one of the greys. The moment it happens, new predators both turn their eyes towards me instantly, opened wide with hunger. I flinched away again, tears managing to flow again. The arxur were horrible... They were about to sic those new predators on Venlil Prime, I knew it in my heart. They gave them taste of our flesh, and showed them how we might be dangerous... despite the fact that we were weakest and helpless. The new predators will make us into their cattle with ease and be empowered, before proceeding to move onto the rest of Federation...
There was movement. The predators and big arxur all stood up, then locked their hands in some contest of strength momentarily. The predator with long head fur pointed towards me, and then they all stared at me for a moment. Then the conversation moved on. The arxur holding me down grabbed me again, by my remaining leg and carried me off. I felt some blood drip down my fur with me being turned like that...
There was more walking, but it was even harder to pay attention in the haze that was covering my mind. I understood what the people that were taken without struggle felt now. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I just wanted it to be over... It hurts... It hurts so much...
I felt my arms moved, hands tied behind my back, and then I was handed over to the dark-colored mystery predator. It wasn’t as large as an arxur, but it could still lift me with ease, tossing me over the shoulder like I’m a sack of ipsom flour. A momentary look around showed that I was inside a smaller shuttle now, built very different from what the insides of larger ship was. I was... being taken elsewhere again. Why...?
Some more talking in the scary predator languages, and the door separating mystery predators and the arxur closed. Once that happened, there was instant rush. I found myself tossed into some white and cold room, still bound. I could hear the predators argue, that much loud yelling at one another could only be an argument. I felt the hum of ship starting up and vibration of launch. Then after a bit, I saw the long furred predator rush past me and towards something in the back of room, at which points it made noises so horrid, that I found myself crying again. I don’t know what it was doing back there, and I didn’t want to know. The dark colored one just kept looking over the burnt stump where my leg once was. And all throughout they kept growling and shouting at one another... I was going to be torn in half between the two, wasn’t I?
Instead I felt the binds on my arms and around my face cut. First thing, I opened my mouth and took a deep breath... Only to choke on air, as it was even cooler than I expected... White room, cool air, hungry predators looking over my bloodied bits and making horrid noises... I was about to be refrigerated to be kept for future. I was rations that arxur graciously gifted to these monsters. Why...? Why me?!
I tried crying, but my throat refused to make noise after earlier screaming tore it apart. Only low coughs escaped as tears completely filled my vision. There was more. More pain, a burst of it where my leg was supposed to be, then a small prick at my other leg... More memories, of my happy family and friends at school, replaced with grimy cattle pens and constant fear... More regrets at things I wanted to do and try, but never got to... But none of it mattered. I was already dead. Even if I was still breathing and moving, I was dead the moment a grey grabbed me and dragged me onto that cursed cattle ship of theirs... It just took me until now to truly comprehend it.
The last thing I thought of as pain dulled out, finally giving way to bliss of unconsciousness, was my mom’s soft wool and warm embrace, and how I never got to feel it properly for last time before dying... Mommy... I’m sorry...

I recently started working on a fan-made Season 9 Episode 1 script of House MD. It's very much in its earlier stages, and so far, I only have an intro to the whole thing. No actual story development yet, and this intro will also change as well. If people genuinely enjoy it, I might make more updates in the future, but for now, this is all I have!
(WARNING - If you haven't watched the last season of House MD yet, some of the dialogue WILL spoil things for you!)

– ACT 1 –

Welcome Home

Drip, drip, drip…
[Open on a tiny bit of light, squeezing its way through the hospital window. The light shines on House’s head, as he’s sitting down, facing down towards the ground.]
Drip, drip, drip… The dripping sounds of the chemo continued to echo throughout the silent hospital room, until it was interrupted by the sounds of dull footsteps inviting themselves into the room.
Unknown Doctor: Excuse me, are you Kyle Calloway?
House: Yes. And… Unless this is more important than my friend’s afternoon death, make this quick. Pretty please?
[House says in his sarcastic tone, with the ‘pretty please’ being high-pitched, almost like a little girl.]
Unknown Doctor: Um… Well, sir, we may need some kind of registration from you. Some of the other doctors here have started to notice that you resemble another very well-known doctor, who was recently deceased due to a–
House: [cutting off the Doctor] Yeah yeah yeah, I get it, you think I’m some kind of doctor with the ability to revive myself from the dead. Gosh, isn’t that what doctors do on a daily basis? Cure dead people or something?
[House begins to stand up using his cane, nearly shouting his sarcasm in the Doctor’s face.]
House: I mean, pfft, I’m a doctor, so I should totally know this! Remind me, doctor, what chapter was the Frankenstein unit on again? I mean, like, it completely slipped my mind! Faster than my friend here slipping into the–
[Suddenly, a noise is heard from the hospital bed. It’s Wilson, trying to move desperately into a different sleeping position. Even with all his given effort, he is unable to move into a different position. He is way too weak to do so. However, he still has some lasting energy to cut off House’s sarcasm.]
Wilson: You’re an ass.
[Both House and the Doctor stare back at Wilson, both snapping out of their argument.]
Unknown Doctor: I think I’ll just…
[The Doctor walks outside of the hospital room, leaving both House and Wilson by themselves.]
Wilson: It hurts, House.
House: I know. It’ll be over soon.
Wilson: You promised, House. I don’t wanna die… In a hospital room.
House: [attempting to ignore Wilson’s comment about his promise] Have you thought about what you’re gonna say to all the cancer patients you failed to save?
Wilson: sigh My point still stands. You’re an ass, House.
House: [softening & lowering his voice] What about Amber?
Wilson: What… About her? [Wilson is almost set back by this comment, puzzled.]
House: You know what you’re gonna tell her once you… Y’know.
Wilson: But I thought you didn’t believe in heaven?...
[All of a sudden, House shouts, filled with deep grief.]
House: I DON’T!
[His voice nearly echoes in the hospital room, filling up the empty space. There’s almost a 4-5 second pause before any of them say another word.]
Wilson: I love you.
House: What?
Wilson: That’s what I’ll tell her. I love you.
House: Not bad.
Wilson: I swear House, if you didn’t bring me into this damn place, I wouldn’t need to be hooked up to all this chemo! I swear to–
[Wilson starts to cough vigorously, nearly suffocating on his own words.]
House: Hey, hey! Take it easy.
Wilson: So… cough cough are you just gonna keep ignoring me until I’m dead?
[House pauses for a moment, thinking of what to say next.]
House: I brought you here, because… I lied. I care about you Wilson, I–
Wilson: DON’T– do that, House. You think if you can control everything around you, that your whole world can magically heal itself! Yet, the more you do any of it, you kill off everyone else around you… Even yourself, apparently.
[Another pause begins before Wilson continues onwards.]
Wilson: Not everything is about you, House. So, for once in your damn life, stop trying to be a healer, and try to be a–
House: I love you.
Wilson: What?
House: And your life did matter.
Wilson: Huh… [Wilson pauses for a moment, thinking to himself as he stares at the ceiling. He then looks back at House.]
Wilson: I believe you.
House: [squinting his eyes, looking back at Wilson] No, you don’t.
[Both of them chuckle simultaneously, in a way only two truly close friends would be able to.]
House: I mean, really… How many doctors have you met that have taken part in a porno before their careers?
Wilson: Alright, now you’re really pushing it!
[Another pause continues to take place, followed by a silent chuckle from both of them, again.]
Wilson: Everybody lies, right?
House: Yeah.
Wilson: Guess it’s just a matter of what for.
[Another awkward pause takes place, this time, without any chuckling.]
Wilson: Hey, H-House?...
House: Yeah?
[Suddenly, Wilson starts wheezing intensively, almost like he’s getting his entire soul sucked out of his body. The heart monitor begins beeping intensely, as Wilson continues to gasp for a breath of air.]
House: NURSE! NURSE!
[3 Nurses arrive at the scene, attempting to fix the unknown problem.]
House: WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM?! THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN AN EASY DECLINE, INSTEAD HE SOUNDS LIKE HE’S BEING POISONED BY GAS!
Nurse 1: Sir, we are trying our best to figure this ou–
House: WELL, YOUR BEST ISN’T ENOUGH! MY BEST FRIEND IS HERE WHEEZING HIMSELF TO DEATH AND ALL YOU CAN DO IS NOTHING!
[Wilson continues to wheeze intensively, with each wheeze getting weaker and weaker.]
House: DO SOMETHING, OR I WILL!
Nurse 2: Sir, we need you to get out of this room right away!
[Nurse 2 and Nurse 3 push House outside of the hospital room, whilst also blocking him access to open the door with the chair he was sitting on previously.]
House: banging on the glass door HEY! LET ME BACK IN! I’M A DOCTOR! JUST LET ME–
[Suddenly, Wilson’s wheezing completely stops, as the heart monitor flatlines. Almost like the world had completely stopped, House looks at Wilson’s face, probably for the last time. He pauses on his face for another 5-10 seconds, until his eyes begin to turn red from the tears forming in his eyes.]
[Shot changes to a hallway, with the Doctor from before speed walking with two other hospital police officers following right behind her.]
Unknown Doctor: There he is! He’s right—
[However, House was already gone, which surprised both the Doctor and the hospital police officers.]
[Shot changes to House in his car right outside the unknown hospital he was just in, looking down at his pager. With a dull face and tears still in his eyes, he clicks on Wilson’s messages. The shot then changes back to House’s pager, with the last message being sent by House, talking about whether or not Wilson wanted to come to a Monster Truck event that was happening later in the same week. There was no response back from Wilson. Then, for the first time, House sheds an actual tear, which is only shown as it drops on his last message to Wilson on his pager. Cut to black.]
[Massive Attack’s Teardrop]

“Beasts all over the shop…You’ll be one of them, sooner or later…”
The strange Hunter turned around and exhaled. His breath was visible against the night’s air.
He’s bloodlusted. Aegis, I hope you have a plan.
Shimmer saw Elpis step back slightly, with a shocked expression on her face. She shakily raised a claw and pointed at something on the ground.
No. It… it can’t be.
That’s… horrible.
A shattered red jeweled necklace lay strewn across the ground, beside the mangled corpse of the Silkwing.
The Hivewing in front of the three swung his axe to the side. As it was a trick weapon, he was able to change its form on command. The axe had two forms: a shortened form that acted sort of like a sword, and an extended form specialized in crowd control and reach.
He extended his axe and Shimmer heard a low snarl from his throat.
“Do we kill him?” Elpis asked, a hint of fear in her voice.
“We don't have a choice. Steel yourself.” Aegis muttered and brandished his silksabers. The blades gleamed in the soft light of the three moons.
The hunter was taller than all of them, one head taller than Aegis and two taller than Shimmer and Elpis. Black tattered robes clung to him, marking him a Shadowhunter. Blood from tonight’s hunt stained the black fabric, showcasing his expertise and experience in the hunt. He wore a rounded dark-gray hat, and bloodied bandages covered his eyes. Shimmer wondered if he could even see.
Corpses of both beasts and dragons were scattered about the square-shaped courtyard, an equal amount of gravestones breaking up the open space. His teeth were uneven as if he had been eating and chewing rough bones. Blood dripped from his mouth down his neck, and his Hivewing stingers flexed in anticipation.
“Be careful,” Aegis started, “He’s going to use magic. Elpis, don’t use any of yours.” He told the hybrid dragon beside him, and she nodded.
The hunter walked slowly around them, searching for a weakness in their structure, and then spat out a lump of coagulated blood.
“That stench of squalid blood. No beast will be spared.” He half-muttered and half-growled. He tipped his hat respectfully, before lunging at Elpis. She dove to the side, and tried to retaliate with her scythe, but just slightly missed.
This hunter was agile, surprisingly so considering how old he looked. Shimmer gripped the handle of her silkhammer, knowing it wasn’t the time to strike. She stepped backward, seeking cover behind a grave, while Aegis leaped forward with the intent to pierce the frenzied hunter’s heart. Once again, the hunter rolled to the side and sent his axe hurtling towards the smaller Silkwing. Shimmer felt fear grip her heart, but Aegis avoided the blade. He fell back and motioned for Elpis to stay back.
“A sporting hunt. But alas, I’ve forgotten to ask your name.” Aegis growled, and the hunter laughed a sick, disturbing laugh.
“The name’s Gascoigne.” He shot back, and jumped into the air, slamming his axe down where Aegis was a split second ago. Shimmer’s ears rung from the sound of the impact. Her antennae subconsciously curled in defensively.
“Gascoigne. That’s a nice name. I’ll tell Ludwig you were a proud hunter till the end.” Aegis replied and sent his twin blades slicing into the hunter’s thigh. He recoiled, and a gleeful laugh escaped his bloodied mouth.
“Hehe… the sweet stench of blood. Just… just marvelous!” He exclaimed and raised his off-talon towards Aegis.
“Aegis! Get down!” Shimmer called, and a burst of flame erupted from the hunter’s claws across the courtyard. The limited magic the Hivewing had that he was willing to use in this hunt.
Aegis fell back, hissing in pain as a few stray flames singed his tail. The hunter chuckled under his breath, and Elpis took advantage of the opening he had presented her. She thrust the blade of her scythe toward him, opting for its sword form as of now, and the hunter knocked the blow aside. He countered with a kick to the Ice-Hivewing’s ribs, and she was sent to the ground. She coughed up a spurt of blue Icewing blood, and the hunter lifted his axe for a finishing blow.
Shimmer roared out and swung her hammer toward the hunter. The silk connected it to her wrists as it flew through the air, and it hit the hunter square in his side just as his axe was falling. He was sent into the opposite side of the courtyard, coughing and sputtering, but with a faint smirk on his face. Shimmer was in disbelief; how was he not dead?
“Ooh, what’s that smell… the sweet blood, ooh, it sings to me! It's enough to make a dragon sick.” Gascoigne laughed hollowly. He raised his talon, and Shimmer quickly rolled to the side as a ball of flame soared past her horns.
He’s going to turn at this rate.
Shimmer hid under a gravestone as a tree behind her erupted in flames, and Aegis jumped into the air. He beat his four wings ferociously before diving into the hunter. He caught both of Aegis’ horns, and he twisted his head. Aegis fell to the ground, and Gascoigne slashed his axe down across the Silkwing’s leg. Aegis cried out, and Shimmer’s heart ached. She pushed herself up, ignoring the raging fire around her, and she threw her hammer up in the air and aimed it towards the hunter. He narrowly evaded the heavy impact of the stone before Shimmer heard a metal clang behind her.
Elpis, scythe in one talon, approached Gascoigne. She had the little music box in her other.
Elpis played the music box and a song of eerie notes filled the courtyard.
The hunter stumbled back, clawing at his face, and Elpis shot Shimmer a look, her face telling her to make sure Aegis was okay.
Elpis advanced on the struggling hunter, and Shimmer leaped over to her Silkwing partner, who was injured on the ground. She felt tears welling in her eyes, but she knew this wasn’t the time to cry.
“Aegis. Look at me. Look at me.” She repeated, and he lifted his head weakly. His leg had a massive gash in it, but he could probably still walk, just with a limp.
“Ah, Shimmer. I’m alright. I’ll be back in the fight. Go, help Elpis. I’ll join back soon enough.” He groaned, and the pair heard a roar behind them.
Elpis was locked in a duel with Gascoigne, and the hunter’s stray fireballs met with blasts of frostbreath. For the first time in the battle, the hunter had a slight look of fear on his face. Elpis was relentless, her burial blade swiftly countering and stopping any attempt Gascoigne made at advancing. Aegis crawled back and attempted to stand, using a grave for support.
“Shimmer! I can’t hold him for long!” Elpis called, and Shimmer nodded. She took the hammer in her claws and swung it around her side, and in a clockwise circle in the air. It was the perfect counterweight to her body weight. She hoisted it up further into the air and then brought it crashing down onto the hunter.
It struck Gascoigne directly on the spine, and he fell to the ground.
He screamed in pain.
And then, a bright light flashed from his body.
His screams deepened in tone, morphing to be more animalistic. His posture fell forward, and his muscles rippled through his body. He grew in size, and more of his bloodied garb ripped from the size change.
Fur sprouted from seemingly random places on the Hivewing’s body, and his claws extended. His face shifted, his features becoming more and more distorted. His black hat fell to the ground.
The bandages around his eyes stayed, as well as the black-tattered garb that marked him as once a Hunter.
He was no longer a Hunter. Moons above, he wasn’t even a dragon anymore.
He was now a beast.
Shimmer’s heart pounded in her chest. She stared at the transformation for a split second, before reeling in her hammer. She took it in her right talon and dove behind a gravestone, wary of the spreading flames.
Elpis, on the other claw, held her blade in front of her. Shimmer heard a rasping cough escape the Ice-HiveWing’s throat, but she didn’t break her stance.
The beast that was once Gascoigne whipped around toward Elpis, and launched himself at her, with a ferocity Shimmer had never seen even in beasts.
Elpis sidestepped quickly. The beast slammed into the wall with a loud roar, and Shimmer spied Aegis in her peripheral vision struggling to stand. He winced as he stood on his injured leg, but didn’t cry out. He brandished his two blades as the beast charged at him.
“Aegis!” Shimmer cried.
He’s going to get hit. That beast will kill him.
Aegis ignored her, and as soon as the beast was within a wingspan from him he twisted his body in such a way that he narrowly avoided the savage charge. He elegantly sliced his twin blades across the beast’s hide, and the creature howled before rapidly turning to face him.
Shimmer flew into the air. “Get away from him!” She yelled before bringing the weight of her hammer down on the beast. It flattened part of his ribcage, but it seemed impervious to the pain. It did knock him to the ground, though, giving Aegis a moment to cut through what was once two of the hunter’s wings.
The beast quickly got back on its claws before sending a flurry of swipes towards Shimmer. She dodged to the side and readied her hammer for another strike.
That was before the beast kicked her square in her chest, its sharp, ravenous claws digging in and tearing her scales. Shimmer fell back, a slight gasp escaping her mouth, and she stumbled back into the wall. She lost her footing and fell to the ground, and gazed up at the beast locked on her.
“Aegis! Help!” She yelled, and not even a second later her Silkwing partner crashed into the beast. They fell to the ground, grappling with each other before Shimmer heard a familiar song fill the courtyard.
Elpis was cranking the music box, its ominous lullaby breaking up the noise of the fight. The beast stopped attacking Aegis and instead clawed at its face. It growled and screamed in pain, drawing blood from its very own fur and scales.
“Now! Kill it!” She yelled through the song, and Aegis nodded before driving his two blades through the beast’s skull.
They stuck, and the beast roared before throwing him off. It crawled and thrashed about on the ground, clearly not dead, and the two new blades stuck to his head pointed out like new horns.
Now’s my chance.
Shimmer stumbled to her claws and wound her hammer up into the air. With every last bit of her strength, she brought it down on the flailing beast.
It crushed what was left of the hunter.
Silence filled the courtyard, only broken by a few stray notes from the music box, the pained breathing of the three hunters in the area, and the howls and screams from other places in the Hive.
Shimmer breathed a sigh of relief, before collapsing.
I did it. We did it.
Gascoigne was free.
…
“I brought you water.”
Shimmer opened her eyes and found herself in her familiar hospital room.
The morning sun’s rays lit the room, and Shimmer felt very little pain from her chest.
It had been three days since that night.
Shimmer fixed her gaze on the purple-orange Silkwing sitting beside her and smiled.
“Thanks. I’m feeling much better, we should get going to Bloodworm soon. It’s today, remember?” Shimmer asked, and he nodded. Of course, he remembered.
The summons for every hunter to come to Bloodworm Hive. Ludwig, The Holy Blade had requested them all. He no doubt planned an attack. A shame really, the hive was only newly rebuilt. And now it was going to be the site of a horrid, savage warzone.
“I remember. Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Ludwig would understand if you couldn’t come,” Aegis asked, and she spied a hint of worry on his face.
“I’m fine. I need to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. I’ll come.” She sighed and took a sip from the canteen that Aegis had brought. It tasted wonderful, he had put something in to flavor it.
“Honeydew?” She guessed, and Aegis smiled.
“Yep. It’s your favorite, right?” He asked, and she nodded. She opened her arms, and he hugged her tight.
“I love you,” Shimmer whispered in his ear.
“I love you too. I pray to Clearsight that we’ll both be safe today. I can’t bear to lose you.” Aegis replied. He pulled away and gazed out the window.
Shimmer quickly drank the rest of the honeydew-flavored water before getting out of bed. She joined him at the window and was slightly surprised by what she saw.
Almost all of the hunters of Jewel Hive were preparing, some of them already flying in the direction of Bloodworm. They were all sharpening their trick weapons, mixing poisons, or saying goodbye to loved ones.
“We should get going. It’ll be midmorning when we get there, I don’t want to be late.” Shimmer suggested, and Aegis put a wing around her.
“Now? I need to get my stuff, and you do too. Join me at the workshop.” He asked, and she slid her head in the curve of his neck as he led her out of her sick room.
…
Shimmer beat her wings strong and fast against the morning savanna winds.
She saw what looked to be several hundred, maybe even a thousand dragons gathered around a hill. All of them had a colored garb fluttering proudly from their neck. Around ninety percent of the garbs were white, and the rest were black.
They were all different tribes and a fair amount of hybrids were scattered about as well. The gathered hunters were mostly Pantalan, but a good few were from Pyrrhia as well.
Shimmer and Aegis landed a short distance away from the hill, and all around them the sounds of dragons conversing and laughing with each other.
The sun was high in the sky, but it wasn’t quite noon yet.
“You see anyone you recognize?” Aegis asked, and Shimmer shook her head.
“There’s too many dragons here. It’s too much.” She whimpered, and Aegis pulled her close. He knew she didn’t do well in crowds. That was partly why she became a Shadowhunter. To work alone or with no more than a few other dragons.
“You’re safe with me.” He comforted her, and she leaned against him.
She had always hated being with a lot of other dragons. Aegis said it sounded like she had anxiety, which made sense. It didn’t do much to alleviate that fear, though.
None of them are thinking about you. They’re all busy with their own stuff.
Just take deep breaths.
“Do you want to move away? There’s fewer dragons over there,” He asked and pointed a claw across from them.
“…No, no I’m fine.” She whispered, and Aegis sighed.
“Alright. If you want to move, don’t be afraid to ask. I don’t mind it.”
Shimmer shook her head quickly, before the pair heard a loud voice from the top of the hill. They both looked up and saw the legendary hunter himself: Ludwig.
The menacing Nightwing stood proudly, his holy silver sword slung across his shoulder. His partner Memoria stood beside him, her tail twined around his. She had a bored look on her face as she stared at the crowd. The voices of the dragons fell silent, and Shimmer felt like she could breathe again.
The Nightwing’s loud voice echoed through the plain. “Dear Hunters.” He paused, his heroic voice inspiring pride and triumph in Shimmer, even though he had barely started.
“I’m sure all of you know why we’re here. Behind me, Bloodworm Hive stands proud against the horizon. Yet I am more than certain you all know what lies inside.” He paused and pointed his sword toward the dark shape of the Hive.
“Beasts. A few thousand. I think it’s time we put them out of their misery. That is why we are here. A battle of the ages, one that will go down in history. We, the brave heroes, fighting against evil. We will be reveled, we will be honored. We will protect the dragons we hold dear to our hearts, and save those we can yet save.” His speech roused the crowd, and Shimmer felt herself stand a little taller.
“The plan is simple. The Hunters of the Sun will lead the charge from the front. I have already talked to the leaders of the charge. The Shadowhunters will pick the stray beasts off from behind. We will attack at dusk when half the sun is hidden from the eye.” He gestured with his sword at the rising sun, and he extended his wings. His massive wingspan seemed to fill the sky, and Shimmer's heart swelled with pride.
He held his sword up to the heavens, and it transformed. It grew larger, into the shape of a claymore, and it turned a shade of sacred jade. It glowed with an otherworldly light, and the crowd was enamored by the display.
“Now, hunters. Spend the rest of today preparing. The hunt is on tonight. Ludwig, The Holy Blade will be with all of you in spirit.” He bellowed, and the crowd erupted in applause and cheers.
Shimmer saw a proud, triumphant look in Aegis’ eyes, and she felt the same. Ludwig’s blade captivated her. The blade of legend, inspiring all who lay eyes on it.
Ludwig would be with them tonight. The best, the greatest, the strongest hunter ever.
Tonight, the hunters would not know defeat.
Nor would they ever, with Ludwig alive and at their side.
May the good blood guide your way,
Ultima_8

In the morning if my face is a little puffy I'll put on an ice pack while doing stomach crunches. I can do 1000 now. After I remove the ice pack I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower I use a water activated gel cleanser, then a honey almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Then I apply an herb-mint facial mask which I leave on for 10 minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an after shave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion.

Hi everyone, new in the grup ( srrry for the writting mistakes.. not an ENG native )
My story began with an STD named ureaplasma. My symtoms started very early after i got the bacteria, like 10 days after i start having mild articular pain, eye, some night sweats, even some rash. Now, one month after i can feel back pain, knees, but also other parts of the body. The pain is light, comes and goes... in many parts of the body even tendons. Even do i m allready one month into this, but i can walk, i can run , do normal activities yet. Already started the doxy treatment for ureaplasma, and also a gluten free diet. Today is the first day i feel more back pain also because i lifted some tools.
My question is, did your pain and problems increased weeekly or did you had strong pain from the very beginning.
I ve done a lot of research about this ReA, and i think it s important to be optimistic, and stay mentally strong. i guess all the people who did have it and passed it in few weeks or months they are not here on the groups looking for advices. So even do we read all the hard stuff, i guess there is plenty of good as well.
You can search, the story of some profesional football players like Daamsgard, who had it, and in 6 months is back on the field playing profesional football for his team.
So let s stay strong !

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