Wonder Women

Issue Fifty
Written by u/VoidKiller826
Edited by u/Predaplant
Arc: Revelations
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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.

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DC Next presents:

I AM BATMAN

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

April's big inflation reveal: The meme trade has been a fun diversion, but the serious business is here: the April Consumer Price Index reading is set for release at 8:30 a.m. ET. Prices rose 0.4% over the prior month, matching March's pace and bringing the annual inflation rate down to 3.4%. Stripping out food and energy costs, economists expect core inflation fell to 3.6% annually in April, which would be the slowest pace in about three years. ‌
Biden hits China with tariffs: The White House announced a suite of new tariffs on Chinese goods on Tuesday, with a key focus on EVs. In an interview with Yahoo Finance, President Biden painted cheap goods flooding the market — subsidized by the Chinese government — as an attempt to "put everybody else out of business and then they take over." Biden also said he expects China to retaliate but that the trade conflict would be manageable. ‌
GameStop and AMC continue to surge: GameStop followed Monday's 74% gain with a 62% surge Tuesday as the company continues to ride the recent meme stock rally. AMC also saw a second day of gains, finishing Tuesday 33% higher after gaining 80% Monday. Shrewdly, the company disclosed it raised $250 million issuing stock after Monday's pop. ‌
Google's new search: Google unveiled a new way of googling at its I/O conference that, yes, involves a lot of AI. The biggest overhaul to its search engine in years will integrate its AI engine to provide complex answers to queries — with citations. This time, we hope they're real. Users will also be able to perform compound searches for more targeted results without resorting to googling multiple times. For example, the ability to search for "a gym that offers discounts for new members — and how far it is from where I live." ‌
Powell plays down PPI: Fed Chair Jerome Powell provided a timely response to Tuesday's hotter-than-expected headline number for the Producer Price Index, speaking from a panel in Amsterdam, Netherlands. Powell downplayed the hot overall number, pointing at the mixed data and backward revisions. Still, the central bank head again stressed a need to be patient and "let restrictive policy do its work." What we're watching Morning Brief is written and edited by Ethan Wolff-Mann. For the web version, click here. Follow all the action throughout the day on Yahoo Finance and on the Yahoo Finance app.
GameStop’s 'Roaring Kitty' surge doesn’t mean meme stock rally has legs. ‌ Vanguard appoints BlackRock veteran Salim Ramji as next CEO. ‌ Justice Department says Boeing violated 737 Max crash settlement. ‌ ️ Musk ordered to resume testimony in SEC Twitter probe. ‌ 3M shareholders vote down executives' pay packages. ‌ Biden expects China to retaliate to new tariffs. Here's what that might look like. ‌ Why Biden's tariffs on Chinese EVs will have little immediate impact on the US auto market What we're reading AD • SPONSORED BY SMART ASSETHave This Much Money? You May Want a Financial AdvisorMoney can't buy happiness, but research finds that if you have this much in household assets, hiring a financial advisor could potentially help. Just how much money do you need? Find out here.
Today's Takeaway is by Jared Blikre, Markets Reporter ‌ Meme stocks survived another volatility-fueled session Tuesday. ‌ Taking a page from the 2021 playbook, GameStop and AMC Entertainment led the charge. ‌ Both meme stalwarts notched gains over 74% Monday and had further doubled their share prices on the open Tuesday — only to sell off most of the day into the close. Nevertheless, after dozens of volatility halts GameStop closed the day up 62% while AMC jumped by 30%.‌ Amid some gentle coaxing by Keith Gill (aka Roaring Kitty), a slew of names familiar to Reddit boards followed — companies like Koss, Tupperware, Virgin Galactic, Hertz, and BlackBerry. ‌ But while the explosion in volatility rightfully invites comparisons to the well-known 2021 saga that played out on Reddit and across US stock exchanges, 2024 is already proving to be quite different. ‌ This year, Wall Street is driving the bus. ‌
Vanda Research crunched the numbers and reported in a note to clients that GameStop and AMC have only seen a fraction of the inflows experienced in early 2021. Flows into these names at the peak of the early 2021 frenzy were over four times Monday's volume. ‌ "Do we think more retail traders can jump in on the trend in the coming days? Yes. Do we think this is a repeat of 2021? No, and the chances we reach that stage are low," said Vanda. ‌ Without glancing at a single stock chart, it's easy to point out that 2021 was likely a historical aberration fueled by bored recipients of pandemic stimulus checks. ‌ Wall Street was caught flat-footed. Hedge funds like Melvin Capital were obliterated. ‌ But institutional investors learned from the 2021 episode and are better prepared now, argues Vanda. ‌ "Quant/hedge funds are much better equipped to handle these situations nowadays," Vanda senior vice president Marco Iachini noted. "If anything, we believe the chances that they participate along with retail in the squeeze but also lean against and then exit these trades ahead of retail traders are high." ‌
As of Monday's close, the portion of share turnover in GameStop attributable to retail investors averaged 7% over the prior five days — and that number was only slightly higher for AMC. In 2021, the averages and spikes were materially higher, indicating much greater participation by retail traders. ‌ Data in the options market confirms a similar story. ‌ But the biggest difference this year might just be the lack of one single, coherent narrative like the meme story that captured headlines in 2021. ‌ Only last week, we wrote about the recent resurgence of volatility in meme names. "In a critical break from prior trading epochs, much of the recent meme stock volatility is being fueled by material news and fundamentals, like earnings, as opposed to Reddit posts," we wrote. Why the 2024 meme stock action is much tamer than 2021 — so far Indeed, our (unofficial) Yahoo Finance meme stock heat map reveals impressive returns over the last two days that are mostly green across the board. But aside from GameStop and AMC, these daily returns are decidedly not triple digits as they were three years ago. ‌ In fact, the bigger names on this list — like Coinbase, Carvana, and Palantir — have been making their gains the old-fashioned way: around earnings and bitcoin fundamentals.
How much Wednesday's inflation print surprises economists — up or down — will be of particular importance during Wednesday's trading day. ‌ But analyzing market action from CPI release days back to May 2023's print, the equity research team at Goldman Sachs led by David Kostin found that "interest rate sensitive pockets of the equity market typically experience particularly large moves on CPI days regardless of the magnitude of the surprise." Chart of the day As seen in the chart above, non-profitable tech and the small-cap Russell 2000 index (^RUT) have moved significantly more depending on where the inflation print lands over the past year. ‌ — Josh Schafer, Markets Reporter
Wednesday ‌ ‌ ‌ Thursday ‌ ‌ ‌ Friday ‌ ‌ Earnings and economic calendar Economic data: Consumer Price Index, month-over-month, April (+0.4% expected, +0.4% previously); Core CPI, month-over-month, April (+0.3% expected, +0.4% previously); CPI, year-over-year, April (+3.4% expected, +3.5% previously); Core CPI, year-over-year, April (+3.6% expected, +3.8% previously); Real average hourly earnings, year-over-year, April (+0.6% previously); MBA Mortgage Applications, week ending May 10 (+2.6%); Retail sales, month-over-month, April (+0.4% expected, +0.7% previously); Retail sales ex auto and gas, April (+0.1% expected, +1% previously); NAHB housing market index, May (51 expected, 51 previously)
Earnings: Cisco, Dole, Monday.com, Super League Economic data: Initial jobless claims, week ending May 11 (233,000 previously); Housing starts month-over-month, April (8.6% expected, -14.7% prior); Building permits month-over-month, April (+1.6% expected, -3.7% prior); Philadelphia Business Outlook, May (8.7 expected, 15.5 prior); Import prices, month-over-month, April (+0.2% expected, +0.4% previously); Export prices, month-over-month, April (+0.2% expected, +0.3% previously); Industrial production, month-over-month, April (+0.2% expected, +0.4% previously)
Earnings: Walmart, Applied Materials, Baidu, JD.com, John Deere, Take-Two Interactive, Under Armour Economic data: Leading index, April (-0.2% expected, -0.3% previously) Earnings: No notable earnings.

this was inspired by the movie Gravity I would recommend watching it
All or Nothing
I woke to the sound of alarms blaring, I opened my eyes to see nothing just empty black i began to panic but then the planet below came into view, and I was relieved but the realization of my situation began to creep into my mind, I was alone… truly alone. I tried the radio but I knew it wouldn't work I was too far away from anything. Cursing my situation in rage I began to panic once again after about 20 minutes I calmed down. I had a problem (a very big problem) but this is what I was trained for, first things first… stop my rotation and figure out where I am and how long I can survive like this.
I am stable and not spinning anymore and I can survive for another 3 hours like this, but I still have no idea what my orbit is on the upside my last recorded relative speed is high enough that I'm in orbit and not going to be burnt to a crisp. I need to conserve oxygen so I lower the o2% but I begin to feel lightheaded so I turn it back up. It wouldn't be good to make decisions like that. “I need to find a station or an eleva—” Something caught my eye i rotated myself to see what it was i gasped at my luck, it was an old satellite. I used a little bit of my dwindling supply of fuel to get to it (if I could figure out what satellite it was then I could find out where I am). I slowly grabbed onto the satellite I saw a plate with the words “Mars Global Surveyor” I immediately connected my straps to the handles and pulled out my holo map that shows all objects in a close orbit to our craft and found it. I let out a sigh of relief because I am heading in the direction of an elevator, only one problem, I'm moving too slow by the time I get close enough to get to the elevator I would be long dead.
10 minutes passed and I'm still trying to think of a way to get enough velocity to not die of oxygen deprivation. I began to yell my heart rate began to elevate i let go of the handles and punched the satellite sending myself in the opposite direction, when it hit me, use the satellite as a counterweight to launch myself, i could maybe gain an extra 10m/s of velocity and I could also set myself up with a better orbit for a closer pass with the elevator. Anyway, I'm out of time… it's all or nothing
I detached my straps and got rid of my now-empty main oxygen tank all I have now is my emergency tank with only 2 hours of oxygen. I'm ditching all the weight I can so I can get more velocity. I put my feet against the hull of the satellite and with my hands still holding on in 5 seconds I'll jump like my life depends on it. My heads-up display showed a countdown. 5, 4, 3, the seconds felt like minutes 2, 1 I jumped, and as I left the Surveyor behind. I used my maneuvering thrusters to orient and adjust my orbit for an intercept.
Once again I'm floating through space. I got a little bit more speed than expected at 10.8m/s. I begin to lower my o2 to conserve oxygen giving me the largest possible margin for error. As time passed, each minute felt lonelier than the last. I checked and rechecked my oxygen levels, trying to eke out every last breath. The loneliness gnawed at me, a relentless companion in this vast emptiness. I thought of everyone I got separated from, wondering if they even knew I was out here, still alive. As reality set in my hope diminished faster than my oxygen and I began to question the point of all of this. But even as despair threatened to drown me that voice of determination and resilience continued to echo throughout my mind and that's all I needed to know that there is still a way, even if it's a 1 in a billion chance that I survive I'm starting to like my odds.
In the distance, I could see the 5 cables that connect the ground and space i started my minuscule preparations consisting of grabbing the straps that I saved connecting them to my suit, and starting an ETA timer. As the clock ticked down time began to slow. I was still too far from the cables to make contact and I needed my fule to slow down, but I planned for this and I still had the straps that I had when I connected to the Surveyor right before I passed the first cable I braked as much speed as possible using the last of my fule and threw one of the straps around one of the cables and caught the other end that swung around the cable. My heart began to settle but then the strap snapped, unable to control my movement I drifted into another cable and grabbed ahold i used my second strap to connect myself. But, the struggle wasn't over I began to slowly let myself slip down the cable, and after 500 meters of sliding I reached a maintenance catwalk where there was an emergency alert button. I sat down after hitting the button and As my heart rate began to settle I finally noticed the blaring alarm that indicated my oxygen was almost completely gone and I passed out.
When I came to, I was lying on the cold metal catwalk. The alarms had stopped, replaced by a distant sound of machinery reverberating throughout the cables. My head throbbed. With a groan, I pushed myself up and fell, struggling against the weight of exhaustion.
The emergency alert button I'd pressed blinked nearby letting me know it worked. feeling a sense of relief wash over me. Help was on the way, I hoped. As I waited, my mind raced with thoughts. How long had I been out? Minutes? Hours? My oxygen was almost depleted when I passed out; I could only pray it hadn't run out completely.
Footsteps approached, breaking the silence.
A voice reverberated through the ground distant yet reassuring. "We've got a signal, someone's out here!"
Relief flooded through me. I'd been found. I managed to sit up, weakly waving my arms to signal my location. Soon, they arrived, faces covered by helmets, but their urgency was all I needed to know. They rushed to my side, checking my vital signs and oxygen levels. I was hoisted onto a stretcher, surrounded by flashing lights and the sound of people's voices.
"Stabilize him and get him back to the station," one of the rescuers ordered.
The journey back was a blur of motion and noise. I drifted in and out of consciousness, the weight of my ordeal finally catching up with me. When I woke again, I was in a sterile white room, surrounded by monitors and medical equipment. A doctor stood nearby, monitoring my condition.
"You gave us quite a scare," the doctor said with a smile. "But you're going to be alright."
Relief flooded through me again.
"Where... am I?" I managed to ask, my voice hoarse.
"You're aboard Anchor 9 a orbital platform," the doctor replied. "We picked you up just in time. You're lucky to be alive."
I nodded, the reality of what had happened sinking in. I had faced the vast emptiness of space and survived. As I lay there, surrounded by the beeping of monitors, I knew one thing for certain: I was not alone. Even in the darkest reaches of space, there were others who would come to your aid, a reminder that no matter how dire the situation, there was always hope.

I’m so glad this sub exists because I’ve been annoying everyone in my life with my theories about these two … I figured this would be the right place to post my speculation/lyric breakdowns of songs that they may have written about each other, split into different posts for albums for ease of reading.
Starting with Reputation (2017) – I imagine the failed relationship with Matty was still fresh for Taylor during the writing/recording of this album. Her reference to her “longings locked in lowercase inside a vault” definitely made me look back at Rep in a way I hadn’t before (and I do think we’ll see some Matty-coded vault tracks on TV”. That said I don’t want to erase her other relationships, especially with Joe, so I’ll make notes of where I think I’m either stretching for a Matty connection or I think there are multiple muses.
Special mention to “Getaway Car” which feels like another (fictionalized?) response to Robbers but the story she tells is very similar to her fling with Tom, especially given the third man in the song. I usually claim it for the maylors anyway bc who cares about Tom. Let me know what you think.
“...Ready For It?”
Knew he was a killer first time that I saw him / Wonder how many girls he had loved and left haunted / But if he's a ghost, then I can be a phantom
I can't ignore the connections here to two other songs thought to be written about M - Ghost (2014) and Haunted (2015) by Halsey (I won't bother going into the HalseyMatty lore here but I could in another post...)
"You're a Rolling Stone boy, never-sleep-alone boy / Got a million numbers and they're filling up your phone, boy" (Ghost) "I'm begging you to keep on haunting me" (Haunted) "My ghost / Where'd you go? / I can't find you in the body sleeping next to me" (Ghost)
I can be a phantom holdin' him for ransom / Knew I was a robber first time that he saw me / Stealing hearts and running off and never saying sorry / But if I'm a thief, then he can join the heist / And he can be my jailer
Robbers is one of The 1975’s most famous songs. In the music video two lovers stick up a convenience store - definitely worth a watch if you haven't seen it. In 2014 M dedicated the song to T in Dallas in November 2017 (a week after she attended the concert in LA) here and here
Burton to this Taylor
One of my favorite references that I think reveals a lot about the messy but irresistible relationship M and T seem to have. Here's a link to a great article about the wild love affair between Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton.
Every love I've known in comparison is a failure / I forget their names now, I'm so very tame now / Never be the same now
This sentiment is repeated throughout many of the songs I believe are about M. The idea of a life altering love is obviously prevalent across TTPD but also in folklore, evermore, and Midnights. ex. "I'm never gonna love again" (cowboy like me), "I don't remember who I was before you painted all my nights a color I have searched for since" (Question...?), "I felt aglow like this / Never before and never since" (loml)
Also want to mention This Must Be My Dream from 2016, which M has said is about an older gf but may fit: "Let me tell you 'bout this girl / I thought she'd rearrange my world"
No one has to know / In the middle of the night, in my dreams / You should see the things we do, baby
See Guilty as Sin? lol
Baby, let the games begin
Taylor in an interview with Glamour in February 2014:
TS: [Nods. Pauses.] I think everyone should approach relationships from the perspective of playing it straight and giving someone the benefit of the doubt. Until he establishes that this is a game. And if it's a game, you need to win. The best thing to do is just walk away from the table.
CL: Is that winning?
TS: It is when they come back. [Laughs.] And if they don't, then they didn't care enough to begin with.
conclusion: I believe ...Ready For It? is a response to Robbers and reveals M and T's similar romanticism (sometimes toxic but so addicting). The mirrored stylization of ...Ready For It? and Question...? makes me think the latter is a continuation of the former. The mentions of “island breeze” and “we’ll move to an island” have made people believe this song is about Tom Hiddleston but other lyrics, namely “younger than my exes” pretty clearly contradicts that.
"End Game"
I wanna be your end game / I wanna be your first string /I wanna be your A-Team
Funny reading this after The Alchemy and So High School.
Big reputation, big reputation / Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations / And you heard about me / Ooh, you and me would be a big conversation
And they were! Especially because T hadn't been really linked to anyone after Harry, the speculation about her and M came hard and fast. M especially was inundated with questions in the months after the LA and NYC shows.
And I heard about you / You like the bad ones, too
Another possible reference to a Halsey song, this time Hurricane from 2014: "He says, "Oh, baby, beggin' you to save me / Well, lately I like 'em crazy/ Oh, maybe, you could devastate me"
I don't wanna touch you, I don't wanna be / Just another ex-love you don't wanna see / I don't wanna miss you / Like the other girls do
Very reminiscent of The 1975's song Somebody Else, released in 2016, speculated to be about T: "I don't want your body / But I hate to think about you with somebody else"
I hit you like bang, we tried to forget it, but we just couldn't
"Flashbacks waking me up / I get drunk, but it's not enough" (Death By A Thousand Cuts)
And I bury hatchets, but I keep maps of where I put 'em
"I circled you on a map / I haven't come around in so long" (The Alchemy)
Reputation precedes me, they told you I'm crazy
"And they tried to warn you about me" (The Albatross)
And I can't let you go, your hand prints on my soul
"Marked me like a bloodstain" (Cardigan)
It's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold
So many of the songs speculated to be about M reference his eyes but the most relevant (not the starry eyed motif which we'll get to in the future) are: "Eyes like sinking ships on waters / So inviting I almost jump in" (gold rush) and "But your eyes are flying saucers from another planet / Now I'm all for you like Janet" (Snow On The Beach)
"Deep blue, but you painted me golden" (Dancing With Our Hands Tied)
You've been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks / So here's the truth from my red lips
From the same Glamour article, Taylor talking about her 'trick' when dating:
CL: What's the freeze-out?
TS: You don't respond to any of his texts or calls until he does something desperate [like] shows up. Or he calls and leaves a voice mail. Something that makes it very clear to you that he's interested.
disclaimer: I am someone who thinks the Tom relationship was not that serious for T, so this song imo fits what she may have told us about her relationship with M more, though the beach reference does point to Tom in a way.
"Don't Blame Me"
I've been breaking hearts a long time / And toying with them older guys / Just playthings for me to use
See the quotes from the Glamour article above. "Younger than my exes, but he act like such a man, so" (...Ready For It?)
Something happened for the first time / In the darkest little paradise
May refer to the dark concert venue where they met for the first time (see So It Goes... for more)
For you / I would cross the line / I would waste my time / I would lose my mind / They say, "She's gone too far this time."
Sentiment that is repeated throughout TTPD, but most clearly in But Daddy I Love Him
My name is whatever you decide / And I'm just gonna call you mine
Though this could be a stretch, in the spotify storyline for The 1975's Oh Caroline (2022), speculated to be about T, M said "It's an invented character, where the cadence really mattered. It couldn't be "Oh Linda" or "Oh Jane" [or "Oh Taylor"] - you had to have a 3 syllable that really works. I knew what the song was about, I had felt that about someone before and I got to write an episodic, mini movie about the subject"
disclaimer: If about M, this song is very on the nose with the drug references. Generally it's a very vague song and could easily be about Joe or another ex.
"So It Goes..."
See you in the dark / All eyes on you, my magician / All eyes on us / You make everyone disappear
Likely refers to the first time T saw M in person, when she was front row at The 1975's LA show. All eyes were on M then (including T's)
"Once upon a time, the planets and the fates / And all the stars aligned / You and I ended up in the same room / At the same time" (Mastermind)
Tripping, tripping when you're gone
May relate to Don't Blame Me: "Trip of my life / every time you're touching me"
'Cause we breakdown a little / But when you get me alone, it's so simple
Maybe a stretch but M famously had a breakdown on stage in Boston on December 6, 2014. In an interview with the Guardian he said: “There was girl stuff. There was family stuff. There was financial stuff. There was drug stuff. I remember hearing the crowd and having an identity crisis. I thought: ‘If you want to see a show, I’ll give you a fucking show. If you’ve come to see the jester drink himself into a slumber, I’ll give it to you.’ I felt like I’d become an idea as opposed to being a person.”
“And I was 25 and afraid to go outside” (Give Yourself a Try)
And all the pieces fall / Right into place
"I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork / The dominoes cascaded in a line" (Mastermind)
Getting caught up in a moment / Lipstick on your face
"I said, "Don't fall in love with the moment" / She said I've got a lot to learn / Don't fall in love with the moment /And think you're in love with the girl" (She's American)
Come here, dressed in black now
"Yeah, we're dressed in black from head to toe" (Chocolate). Taylor was also wearing all black the night of the LA show.
conclusion: You did a number on me / But, honestly, baby, who's counting? / I did a number on you / But, honestly, baby, who's counting? ( "King of My Heart"
We met a few weeks ago / Now you try on callin' me "baby" like tryin' on clothes
The reason why I don't necessarily think Joe fits. They met at the Met Gala in 2017 and she very quickly started seeing Tom, obviously it could still be him but I wanted to note this.
"Don't call me 'kid,' don't call me 'baby' / Look at this idiotic fool that you made me" (illicit affairs)
And you move to me like I'm a Motown beat
M loves Motown, even sampling a track by The Temptations on Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy). He's also always loved dancing, which you can see in the videos for A Change of Heart and Oh Caroline.
Salute to me I'm your American Queen / Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff
He's English, obviously.
And we rule the kingdom inside my room / With all these nights we're spending / Up on the roof with a school girl crush
Totally speculation but M and T hiding out in her NYC home makes a lot of sense from other pieces she has shared about the relationship “My kingdom come undone” (Hoax)
Late in the night, the city's asleep / Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep
Speculation again but fits with the story of M and T as mostly loving each other in secret (see Dancing With Our Hands Tied and Dress)
Is this the end of all the endings? / My broken bones are mending
As mentioned above, T had seemingly taken a break from dating after the breakup with Harry.
disclaimer: Definitely not 100% sure on this one as there is convincing evidence that it is about J
"Dancing With Our Hands Tied"
I, I loved you in secret / First sight, yeah, we love without reason / Oh, 25 years old
M and T were both born in 1989, M was 25 when they first met and dated and T was turning 25.
My, my love had been frozen / People started talking, putting us through our paces / I knew there was no one in the world who could take it / I loved you in spite of / Deep fears that the world would divide us
“A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground / With no one around to tweet it” (The Lakes)
In an interview with the Guardian Matty said: “The day after she’d been to a show of ours, someone sent me a screenshot of E! News with the headline ‘Who is Matt Healy?’ That freaked me out. I’m not ready to indulge in that world and I’m not ready to be judged by that world.” So sad to read knowing that they dealt with a similar situation nearly a decade later.
Picture of your face in an invisible locket
“Wear you like a necklace” (So It Goes…)
And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis
“Now you hang from my lips / Like the Gardens of Babylon / With your boots beneath my bed” (cowboy like me)
I'd kiss you as the lights went out / Swaying as the room burned down / I'd hold you as the water rushes in / If I could dance with you again
Reminds me so much of the music video for cardigan, where T slips into a rough ocean and hangs on to a piano. Also from cardigan: “Leaving like a father / Running like water”
“Dress”
Our secret moments in a crowded room / They got no idea about me and you
"Did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room / And every single one of your friends was / Making fun of you" (Question...?)
There is an indentation in the shape of you / Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo
M seemingly makes a lasting impression: “Deep blue, but you painted me golden” (Dancing With Our Hands Tied) “The mark they saw on my collarbone” (Maroon) “Marked me like a bloodstain” (cardigan)
'Cause I don't want you like a best friend
T often seems to refer to a friendship with M, perhaps they tried it a few times: “We were supposed to be just friends” (Glitch) “Like you were my closest friend” (Maroon) “Just say when, I'd play again / He was my best friend / Down at the sandlot” (My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys)
And if I get burned, at least we were electrified
“I'd kiss you as the lights went out / Swaying as the room burned down” (Dancing With Our Hands Tied)
I'm spilling wine in the bathtub / You kiss my face and we're both drunk
Many of the possible M songs refer to M and T’s love of wine. “And I can see us twisted in bedsheets / August slipped away like a bottle of wine” (august) “The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me / And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was (maroon)” (Maroon)
disclaimer - Obviously most likely about Joe given the reference to the 2017 Met Gala but I think it was worth a mention!
“Call It What You Want”
My baby's fly like a jet stream / High above the whole scene
Probably a double-entendre. M considers himself slightly on the outside of the ‘scene’ but this can come across as self assurance. This also could refer to literally being high on drugs
Loves me like I'm brand new
After T’s clever use of The Starting Line in TTPD I’m convinced she’s referring to the band Brand New. M posted a Brand New album on his ig story in 2020.
All my flowers grew back as thorns
An interesting contrast to “I once was poison ivy, but now I'm your daisy” from Don’t Blame Me
Windows boarded up after the storm
“I look through the windows of this love / Even though we boarded them up” (Death By A Thousand Cuts)
I'm laughing with my lover
“Laughing with my feet in your lap” (Maroon) “Please don't ever become a stranger / Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere” (New Year’s Day)
Making forts under covers
Matty famously built a fort in ATPOAIM 3. “I'll build you a fort on some planet / Where they can all understand it” (Down Bad)
Trust him like a brother
“Like I lost my twin” (Down Bad)
Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night
So many starry eyed references which is terribly romantic and terribly sad. “Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?” (High Infidelity), “Your opal eyes are all I wish to see” (ivy), “Eyes full of stars” (cowboy like me), and “Gazing at me starry-eyed” (The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived)
I want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck
“Picture of your face in an invisible locket” (Dancing With Our Hands Tied) “Wear you like a necklace” (So It Goes…)
I recall late November, holding my breath
Late November fits perfectly into the timeline of M and T’s 2014 relationship. Late October to Late DecembeEarly January makes the most sense.
Slowly I said, "You don't need to save me / But would you run away with me?"
“You're mad thinking you could ever save me. Not looking like that.” (A Change of Heart)
disclaimer: Again lots of Joe references in this as well so take this with a grain of salt.
“New Year’s Day”
You and me from the night before, but / Don't read the last page
From Me and You Together Song (2020): “I think the story needs more pages, yes.” The reference to “the last page” also makes this song feel like more of a reminiscence than a song about a current lover.
I want your midnights / But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day
Impossible not to reread these lyrics after Midnights was released as a nod to M: “When the morning came we / Were cleaning incense off your / Vinyl shelf ‘cause we lost track of time again” (Maroon)
You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi / I can tell that it's gonna be a long road / I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe / Or if you strike out and you're crawling home
Especially after the release of TTPD it seems that both T and M made many promises to each other that they couldn’t keep
Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you / Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you / Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you / And I will hold on to you
The reference to memories here creates a bit of a confusing feeling about the muse for this song. Although T seems to be talking in the present tense I do think these are memories and dreams for a past relationship.
“Hold on and hope that we'll find our way back in the end / Do you think I have forgotten? / Do you think I have forgotten? / Do you think I have forgotten / About you?” (About You)
Please don't ever become a stranger / Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere / Please don't ever become a stranger / Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere
Not much to say about this but ow!
You and me forevermore
Again reminds me of Me and You Together Song (which I do buy as a song at least partially about T). And of course links to Evermore.
disclaimer: This could absolutely be about Joe but it does feel almost like a goodbye to M, closing the album. It’s as if she is reading “the last page”
Congrats if you read this lol. I clearly have too much time on my hands

Credit to Blue for the wonderful cover art of Trilvri
Thank you to:
u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the Nature of Predators universe.
u/EdibleGojid, author of Dark Cuts, for proofreading.
EmClear, aspiring author, for proofreading
You, the reader, for your support. I love reading your comments.
Please consider reading the works of my proofreaders as they’re all authors of excellent stories and be sure to check the links below for more of my work and beautiful art from members of the community.
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Memory transcription subject: Sawvek, Junior Extermination Officer
Date [standardised human time]: October 5th, 2136
Hard foam presses uncomfortably up against delicate pressure points situated across the length of my entire body, building up to an unbearable ache that makes me shift and turn against the thin mattress pad. I yank at the rough old blanket I’d taken out of storage and clutch it even tighter around my body, trying to keep out the chill. The best racks, the ones near the heating vents, had already been claimed long before I’d decided to move into the Guild House’s Barracks and it doesn’t seem likely that the current occupants will be giving up their spots any time soon.
My mind is still racing from the events of last paw, replaying the scene over and over again in my dreams and in my head. The way my brother had looked at me… That look on his face when he’d seen the real me…
My paw gives a sympathetic throb in memory, still aching from where it had met the wall, but at least I had been able to wrap it up a bit and stop the bleeding. I feel like I should take it as a small miracle that it isn't broken. More medical bills are the last thing I need right now.
I turn about in the bunk once more, rolling around in vain to try and find a comfortable position that doesn’t seem to exist. Through a conscious act of will I try to empty my mind and sleep, but the very act of trying not to think about things only brings them bubbling back up to the surface of my thoughts. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, a damnable drumming sound brought about by the exertion of my own restless tossing and turning. Out in the hallway I can hear the muffled shuffling of feet and murmurs of conversation. The Guild Hall never sleeps, and it seems that neither would I this paw.
Electing to abandon the attempt as hopeless, I cut my rest claw short and get up, venturing out into the hallway. If I can’t sleep anyway then I might as well start my waking claw early, maybe get in a little exercise. It’s not so bad when it’s self-directed, almost fun in a way. If our family had the money to support it then maybe I could have been an athlete of some variety growing up. I had always possessed something of a natural physicality.
“Stop wasting time with worthless questions about what could have been, Killer.” The voice interjects, early and active today by the sound of it. “You’ll never amount to anything more than a wild predator kept on a leash.”
There’s nothing to do but sigh and carry on. It was right after all. This is it. This is my life now.
Making my way down the hallway towards the gym I find myself walking past a row of private offices assigned to some of the more veteran officers on staff. Most are empty at this claw, their occupants either asleep or off doing other work. One room in particular catches my attention though, the one belonging to our newest PRED Team Commander.
The door leading inside is open and ajar, seemingly forgotten in the midst of more pressing business and granting me a look inside. The entire room is a mess, papers and binders strewn about everywhere with official looking documents littering the floor. A map of the city decorates the otherwise unadorned and impersonal space. On its face it hosts a variety of multicoloured pins, all connecting seemingly arbitrary locations as well as photographs of people and places from the records department. The face of the former PRED Team Commander, Vrienna, looks out at me once again with the same cruel eyes that decorate the memorial wall. Beside her photo are another pair of eyes, a pair I recognise, but not one I would have expected to see here.
Trilvri, my brother’s creepy coworker, the one who’d brought him home the night he’d drunk himself into a stupor, stares out at me from the wall. He was younger in this photo, barely of age, if even that, and dressed in a regulation space corps flight suit, but I could still recognise him. Trilvri’s eyes appear somehow more lively than when I had met him in person, though it does nothing to improve his overall disposition, looking, as they are, as if behind them resides only hatred and a feral desire to kill and rend. Come to think of it, he had mentioned he used to be in the corps hadn’t he? ‘Used to’ being the operative word. When I’d asked he hadn’t seemed particularly fond of his time in the service…
Situated as he is next to Vrienna like that, their pitch-black wool and evil-looking eyes bear a striking resemblance. It was the exact same sort of predatory expression that bore into your soul, the kind that made me feel weak and exposed, the same kind that was worn by-
“What do you think you’re doing in my office?” A voice asks from behind, nonplussed, but with a casual depth of power and authority behind it that makes me freeze on the spot.
“Commander Glagrig, Sir!” I turn about on the spot, fixed at attention in the doorway as I stare up at the man himself. “I’m sorry to intrude. I noticed someone had forgotten to close the door so I was just going to secure it.”
“I see.” Glagrig doesn’t seem to believe a word of it, but neither does he seem inclined to press the issue. “At ease. Tell me, do you recognise the man in the photo there? Have you ever seen him before?”
“No, Commander.” I lie reflexively as I shift to a parade rest, not fully knowing why, but knowing that whatever is going on I want no part of it, for me or my brother. It’s only after the fact that it occurs to me that lying might be worse than telling the truth.
“How… regrettable.” The prestige officer says plainly and I can’t tell whether he believes me or not. “If you do ever catch sight of this individual, then be sure to let me know immediately.”
“Y-Yes, Commander.” I subconsciously swallow with apprehension, hoping that he doesn’t notice. I want nothing more than to run away as quickly as I can, but I haven’t been dismissed yet.
“Junior Officer Sawvek, was it?” Glagrig carries on, looking me up and down, dissecting me with his eyes. “You have quite the interesting record on file and Officer Intalran is quite adamant about your potential. Your simulator results speak for themselves, even if they are just simulations.”
“Thank you, Commander.” I can feel myself growing dizzy as I answer with uncertainty.
“Don’t thank me,” the all-consuming void in front of me replies with no hint of warmth, “just remember that your performance is under evaluation. It’s in my interests to keep note of promising young aspirants who might someday join my team, and I would hate to see you squander your talents.”
“I-I understand, Commander.” I flick my tail in agreement, straining not to look away towards the floor.
“Dismissed.” Glagrig brushes past me as he enters his office, moving to shut the door behind himself.
“Um, Commander?” I ask just before the door shuts, feeling a beckoning call of curiosity that even the predatory prestige exterminator couldn’t crush. “If you don’t mind me asking… Why do you have all that stuff up on the wall there?”
The door opens again, just a crack, and I can feel my superiors' weighty presence bearing down on me, almost suffocating in its intensity. “It’s simply a personal matter. I have reason to believe that the prior investigation regarding the kelach incident was conducted according to… insufficient standards. The predator responsible was never found and I intend to remedy that deficiency.”
“How hard could it be to find a kelach?” I tilt my ears in confusion. “They're huge!”
“Despite initial reports,” he answers with an ominous, cold tone that sends a chill up my spine, “it may be possible that we're dealing with something far more dangerous than just a kelach.”
“T-Thank you, Commander.” I flick my tail in appreciation and the door closes.
I breathe a sigh of relief as the malevolent aura recedes. That was too close.
“And you’re a complete moron going back to ask him more questions afterwards, Killer.” The voice rises with amusement. “What? Do you want him to figure you out and turn you to cinders? Only a matter of time, Killer.”
“Ugh, shut up.” I mutter under my breath, quickly turning back around to make sure Commander Glagrig didn’t hear me, but when no reprisal comes I quickly depart. If I’m gonna be stupid I should at least try not to do so right in front of his office.
As the imminent threat of our in-house prestige exterminator dwindles so too does the energy driven by the adrenaline of the encounter. It figures that the moment I roll out of bed I want to take a nap again, but I know the moment I lie back down I’ll be back to full wakefulness in an instant. That’s just how that sort of thing works. With that in mind there’s really only one solution, a big, steaming hot cup of tea.
Making my way towards the tea machine I spot Jonsco, the feisty little primitive that mans our dispatch centre, smacking the top of the dispenser with a clenched paw while holding a mug underneath it.
“Is the tea machine fixed?” I ask as I pull out a mug from the cabinet myself.
Jonsco sighs heavily and shoots me a combative glare. “For the last time it’s not my brahking job to fix this damn tea machine! You got a problem with that then you can go pester someone else about it!”
I shrink back under the harsh rebuke. Jonsco may be small, but there was as much rage and fury condensed into that little package as anyone else in this department. Maybe more.
“I… I didn’t mean to imply…I just wanted to know if it was working again or not… Sorry.” I sputter out, feeling properly admonished as I look away towards the ground.
Jonsco looks at me quizzically, his hard glare softening somewhat as he seems to truly see me for the first time before returning to his usual scowl.
“Right…Whatever you say…” With one final smack the machine coughs and chokes, sputtering to life with a struggle, and a small trickle of freshly brewed tea begins to fill Jonsco’s cup. “The machine is on the fritz again as usual, but if you hit it just right, do a little percussive maintenance, then you can get it started again.”
“Thanks, Jonsco.” I lean back against the wall and watch as the mug slowly fills, impressed by the primitives know-how. “That's actually pretty smart of you.”
“For a ‘primitive’ right?” The words are barbed and spiteful, but lack his typical enthusiasm, more of a simple statement of fact than a real question. I couldn't exactly deny it, those had been my thoughts, and so the silence drags on awkwardly, marked only by the splash of tea falling into the steadily rising pool.
“What are you doing here at this claw anyway?” I eventually ask, dodging the question entirely. “We’ve still got at least another half-claw until our crew's shift is supposed to start.”
“I could ask you the same thing, you know?” The angry little dispatch operator retorts. “I'm here early working an overtime shift so I can afford to put food on my family's table. It's expensive feeding that many mouths. What's your excuse?”
“I had a fight with my brother…” I rub the back of my neck as I turn away abashedly, “moved out of the apartment and into the barracks full time… couldn't sleep…”
“Well then you should hurry up and work on patching things up with him.” Jonsco looks at me with an uncharacteristic hint of sympathy in his eyes. “Your family are the only ones who might actually care. This Gods-damned place is a slyther’s nest and no one here gives a speh about you or your problems. If you want my advice, you should do your best to spend as little time in this cesspool as possible.”
With his cup now full, Jobsco steps back from the machine and begins walking out towards the main hall.
“Thanks, Jonsco.” My words stop him in his tracks as he walks away from me. “I appreciate it.”
“... You're welcome.” He says after a short pause, glancing back to look at me one more time before leaving. “See you around, Sawvek.”
Taking advantage of the tea machine while it’s still mostly working, I fill up my own cup and drink deeply of the warm, fragrant beverage. The taste is bitter and unpleasant, just about the quality I would expect of this Guild Hall, but even at the first taste it’s evident that it’s been loaded with an extra strength dose of caffeine. I down the drink quickly and rinse out the cup before continuing on my journey towards the training hall. Fatigue begins to fall away as I walk, bit by bit as the drug makes its way into my bloodstream, blocking off sleep receptors and energising me. I know I’ll probably pay for it later, no amount of caffeine can actually replace sleep, but for now it feels good and I can see how some people can get addicted to the stuff.
A loud, metallic clanging emanates from the gym as I approach, something unexpected for this time of paw. No one's reserved space in the gym for this claw and not many people are industrious enough to sweat on their own initiative. Peeking my head inside the door I spy Bikim, the perfect, privileged, ‘holier than thou’ brahkass occupying the otherwise empty weight room. His irritatingly handsome face is taut with strain as he performs a series of weighted squats, his back and leg muscles straining underneath his short-cropped wool, and he pants heavily under the exertion.
I’m half tempted just to leave and go back to bed despite the fact that there’s no way I’d be getting any sleep with the tea running through my system. It’s too early in the paw to deal with Bikim’s speh. Before I can slip away unnoticed though, he spots me. I give a heavy sigh and continue my way inside. There's nothing to be done for it now. Trying to back out now would only make things worse later, a sign of weakness.
“What… Do you want… Predator?” Bikim asks between gulps of air as he reracks his weights, practically hanging off the bar to support himself on shaky legs.
“Good paw to you too, Bikim.” I say, forcing civility into my tone. “I’m here to use the equipment. Same as you. I'm allowed.”
“Whatever…” He eyes me with suspicion. “Just keep your distance… I don't want to catch any of your taint.”
“Believe me,” I flick my tail out in irritation, “I intend to.”
Looking around the room for available spots, I march my way over towards a cable machine on the opposite side of the room. Not nearly as far from Bikim as I would like, but the farthest I can get without leaving the weight area entirely. Bikim watches me all the while as I seat myself down and begin adjusting the machine. Eventually he grows tired of watching me fumble around with the machine and returns to his own exercises with a displeased flick of the tail, quite obviously judging me for my lack of experience with the equipment.
A tense sort of quiet settles over the room as we each go about our business, trying our best to ignore one another. Bikim slowly winds his way around the room, cycling from station to station to exercise all the different parts of his body in sequence before repeating it all again. He seems to bypass my corner of the room, glancing over at me with each repetition of his pattern. For myself, I stay put where I am, taking advantage of the varied exercises offered by the versatile machine to experiment with different muscle groups. Occasionally I slip up, dropping the weights with a loud clang that always draws Bikim’s ire. Every time he seems just a bit more disgruntled, a bit less patient. Eventually, the constant disruption reaches a tipping point and the pompous, self-entitled jerk walks over to confront me.
“Do you always do this?” He asks rhetorically. “If you keep slamming the weights like that you're gonna break it. Your form is speh so either fix it or lower the weight so you don't have to keep compensating. Better yet, just leave. You’ve been monopolising the cable machine for almost half a claw now. I don't know why you're even here in the first place.”
“Oh, look at Mr. Know-it-all thinking he can just go around telling us what to do, eh Killer?” The voice rises to the challenge. “Where does a guy like that who's been handed everything his whole life think he can get off with telling us how we should be doing anything?”
“Brahk off Bikim!” I don't even try to reign in the predator inside, feeling justified in letting it roam free for once. “I didn't ask for your advice and you don't get to kick me out of the weight room just because you can't wait your turn! I'm here because I don't have anywhere else to go! Ever since Intalran dragged me into this stupid Guild this brahking job has taken over my entire life! I don't even have a home to go back to anymore!”
Bikim's body tenses at my tirade and his tail flicks out aggressively like a whip.
“That's your own damn fault, predator!” He shouts back, eager for the excuse to vent his own frustrations. “Maybe if you weren't just some blood-starved beast out roaming the streets then you wouldn't be here right now! I’ve read your file! You got a history of herdless behaviour and physical altercations! Someone should have institutionalised you a long time ago, but someone took pity on you and let you slip through the cracks because of your poor dying mommy! They should have known it would come back to bite them! A normal, functional member of the herd wouldn't even think to pick a flamer up off the ground and burn another person to death with it! But you? You did it instinctively! You revelled in it!”
“You think that was easy for me!” I get up and walk towards him as I yell incredulously. “You think I asked for that to happen! You think it was fun for me to get choked out and almost eaten! That thing I burned wasn't even a person anymore! It was a predator in the middle of a feeding frenzy! So yeah, I did what I did, and you know what? It's a good thing I did! If I wasn't a freak of nature then that thing would have kept on going and kept on killing! Last I checked, preventing that sorta thing was supposed to be your job, but I had to be the one to step up! Now I have to live with the consequences of my actions every paw, knowing that I’m a Protector-damned killer that doesn't belong anywhere! Maybe you, in your infinite wisdom, would've known the perfect thing to do in that situation, but I’m not you! I’ve had to work and struggle for every little thing I have! Not just had it handed to me on a silver platter!”
“Oh, so you got me all figured out do you?” Sarcasm drips from Bikim's mouth as he looks down on me. “You don't know me. You don't know my life or what I’ve been through, how hard I’ve worked to get where I am. You just see the end product from cycles of effort and assume that it's always been that way, that it's always been that easy. It hasn't.”
“Yes, I’m sure you had it so hard growing up Bikim.” Saying it aloud almost makes me laugh. “You’re such a child of privilege that it drips off of you with every move you make and every word you say. I hate people like you, thinking that you're better than everyone else just because you were lucky enough to be born into wealth and status. Try living like the other side for a change, scrounging for every credit just so you can afford to eat, and then try to tell me how hard you had it with a full belly and a warm home!”
“You’re right, predator,” Bikim says contemptuously, “I am a child of privilege. My family has a long and decorated military tradition, my father is a captain for the space corps, a brahking hero, and I’ve reaped the benefits of that. That privilege came at a cost though, and that’s called expectations. Second best is not good enough and I've had to put in ten times the effort as anyone else my whole life just to meet standards! At least you grew up with a father who was there for you and loved you without the condition that everything you do is perfect!”
“All that talk about reading my file and you didn't even get past the first page did you?” I snap at him with a snarl. “ I didn't grow up with a father at all! He's been dead since I was in elementary school! Killed in action! I barely even remember him anymore!”
That one seems to give Bikim pause, but I’m not done yet.
“If you and your whole family are such a bunch of brahking heroes then how come you're here, working as a common garrison exterminator in a run-down backwater city like this?” I taunt. “Shouldn't you be out gallantly fighting the Arxur with one of the fleets or on a colony pacification force rather than making my life here harder than it already is?”
“That's the price for failing to meet expectations,” Bikim quiets down, drawing away from the world and into himself, “the price for knocking up a beautiful, wonderful girl right after graduation and refusing to get rid of it afterwards. You get cut off. You lose that privilege, and you do whatever you have to in order to provide and try to be a good role model for your son.”
Now that one threw me for a loop. In the short time I’ve known Bikim I’ve had a lot of thoughts about him, few of them good, but never would I have expected him to be the type to take responsibility… For anything. Still, there is one thing about his story that doesn't line up…
“Oh really?” I take a step back as I watch for his reaction closely. “I seem to recall Jonsco mentioned just the other day that your wife had left you for a Human.”
“Don't you bring that brahking primitive into this!” Bikim's anger flares in an instant before returning to a subtle simmer of regret. “We’ve just been having a… a rough patch in our relationship. I’m not giving up on us. I’ll win her back. She's just… confused and being taken advantage of! It's all that damn predators fault!” Bikim sighs and sits down on a nearby bench. “You're not the only one whose had something taken from them because of this job. You're not the only one without a home to go back to.”
Looking at Bikim now, a sad, pathetic man moping on the bench with nothing better to do on his rest claw than to try to externalise his inner pain… I find it hard to stay angry at him. He's still a narcissistic brahk ass and a complete jerk, but it's hard to truly hate someone when you actually know them. I had made quite a few assumptions about him when we first met, and he certainly hadn't helped my impression of him since, but… perhaps I was wrong to judge him so harshly?
“Nah,” the voice chortles, “he’s a piece of speh that got what he brahking deserves for being an insufferable prick.”
Overhead the intercom crackles to life and I can hear Jonsco's voice reverberating over the airwaves.
“Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment. Repeat. Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment.”
“Sounds like it's time for your first field assignment, Kid.” Bikim says, staring up at the intercom. “At least it gets you out of my wool. Try not to brahk it up and make the rest of us look bad.”
“Hmph.” I turn to leave, muttering to myself. “Stupid brahkass.”
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A/N - Hello! Sorry this one took a while. Like I mentioned before I got delayed working on my Ficnapping chapter as well as a crossover One-shot that's still in progress (but hopefully will be done soon). In other news we have new art of Sawvek's life-changing encounter in the Builder's Lane Bloodbath as drawn by Miglove and you can still find that and everything else Nature of Family in the new Master Post linked up above.
If you like the story then please remember to upvote, comment, and use the “!Subscribeme” function to be alerted to all new posts. I post as often as I can but real life has a tendency of getting in the way and my job makes it almost impossible to keep to any kind of schedule. Your engagement and support go a long way towards helping to keep me on track and motivated, so thank you very much for reading and I hope you'll stay tuned for next chapter!

Okay, I’m gonna level with you. Focusing on current events is just getting a little too fucking heavy. I’m no closer to answers than I was a month ago, none of us can sleep through a full night without waking up shaking and drenched in sweat, and there are some new downright bizarre phenomena cropping up that I just don’t have it in me to allot my energy to at the moment.
So, for today’s installment (and then also for the next one) I’m gonna tell you another good ol’ fun-for-the-whole-family pool story. Yep, you heard that right—welcome to our first bonafide two-parter.
This was quite a while ago. My measure of time is all off by a year now, but I feel fairly confident in chalking it up to post-first pool story, pre-ouija board fiasco—so however long ago that’s been now.
It was a weird, rare night, in that Matt was out. Not an unheard of occurrence, but it’s fairly anomalous, and it certainly puts the rest of us on slightly higher alert.
Obviously, he always tells us to call him at the first sign of some shit going down and to use our best judgment to determine whether it’s serious enough to lock up and head out. Better safe than sorry and all that. The night in question was no exception to the rule.
Overall, though, things were mostly quiet. Alice was in, as was I, as was Wiley. We do a lot of congregating, but we do a lot of work, too, and this night, we were all in our respective areas, doing our respective jobs.
I was in my not-office mending a finicky Shakespeare anthology, Alice was watching the desk while working on cataloging a truckload of new donations, and Wiley was replacing several lightbulbs that had all decided to call it quits after our most recent power outage (this one due to a flash-flood).
It was calm to an almost uncharacteristic degree. There was a relatively steady flow of patrons in and out of the building—I could hear Alice greeting them and wishing them a good evening—but as far as anomalous activity, there was none.
It does happen, on rare occasion, that we make it through a full night without any goings on, but there’s almost always at least the odd disembodied voice or two.
We should’ve known better than to trust a meteor shower.
See, there’s just something about natural anomalies. Not just the ones that knock our power out, either, although those are clearly included. Blizzards, thunderstorms, hail and tornados and earthquakes and all your run-of-the-mill destructive shit, sure. But the things of beauty, too. Rainbows. Eclipses, lunar or solar. And you think full moons hit emergency rooms hard? Try this fucking place.
It was just that a meteor shower wasn’t one we’d dealt with before. Does that mean we shouldn’t have known better? Fuck no. Obviously not. But perhaps our collective greatest fault is that we still have some semblance of hope.
Wiley wanted to look at it from the roof. Kid never fucking wants to do anything, and they were set to climb up and camp out alone. I couldn’t not entertain such an innocent, youthful whim.
Our roof access doesn’t have stairs—just a ladder—so Alice couldn’t accompany us, which I felt shitty about, but she assured me it was perfectly fine with her.
“The world decided I didn’t need functional legs so I could never be peer pressured into leaving the ground,” she quipped. “I’m not into heights. But y’all have fun up there. Somebody needs to be here for the patrons anyway.”
Fair and fair. So Wiley and I gathered up an armful of blankets and one of Matt’s trusty camping lanterns and headed out to scale the building.
Wiley went up ahead of me. That was my first mistake.
Really, they aren’t that much younger than I am. Maybe four or five years, and I’m too close to thirty for comfort now. But there’s something about them, even as far as they’ve come, that makes it impossible for me not to do everything in my power to protect them. I think Matt feels the same way. Maybe most of us do.
Anyway, that’s why I immediately started cursing myself when they reached the top of the ladder, pulled their way up and over the ledge of the roof, and said, “...Whoa.”
My second mistake was not immediately telling them to turn around and start climbing right the fuck back down.
I knew exactly what that tone of voice meant. But something in me just kicked into hyperdrive and I…had to see it. Whatever it was, I had to see it for myself.
“Don’t move,” I said, and then, “What is it?”
But by that point, I was at the top, too. I hoisted myself over the ledge and was met with…
…Water.
It was everywhere. Extending in every direction. There was no edge in sight—not even a horizon line. Just vast, dark water as far as the eye could see.
“Okay. This is not—let’s go.”
“Yeah,” Wiley agreed, a little breathless.
I’m sure you’ll be downright shocked to learn that, when we turned around, the ladder was gone.
The edge of the rooftop was, too.
The thing that surprised me, really, was that it wasn’t as though we were standing on some sort of island. We were somehow in the water all of a sudden, up to our waists, neither of us having taken a single step.
“Fucking…shit. Jesus. Adam?”
“We’re fine,” was my default response, because my anxiety override kicks in like a motherfucker as soon as someone else is more openly afraid than I am. “It’s okay, let’s just—let’s think for a second. Maybe it’s just, like, an illusion or something.”
“Okay,” Wiley said. “Maybe we should…try moving?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll bump the ledge and then we can just feel for the ladder. Good idea.”
Wiley and I shared a look, wordlessly nodding to one another, and stepped forward in unison.
Maybe I misspoke before, when I said we weren’t on a platform. It was just that our platform wasn’t above the water. Now, though, there was nothing.
It felt, almost, like the stomach-turning sensation of missing a step walking up a staircase. The only difference was that there was no moment-too-late connection.
We plummeted.
There wasn’t any difference in temperature beneath the surface, which was, in a way, more disorienting than the water itself. The mental recalibration that typically comes with plunging into a cool lake or, adversely, a heated pool wasn’t allotted an opportunity to take place. It felt, for most intents and purposes, the same as being in the air, just that I couldn’t breathe.
It was heavy, too. The weightlessness water tends to embody was null; I immediately abandoned everything I’d been carrying, clawing my way upward frantically enough that it would’ve been mortifying, I’m sure, had anyone witnessed it.
Wiley resurfaced at the same moment I did—empty handed as well, I noted—coughing a little but not to the extent that I was worried they were choking. “Next idea?” they asked, pushing their wet hair back from their face, dark, damp lashes obscuring their eyes.
“Let’s get back on the…” I started, but trailed off when I raised my head.
A couple hundred yards out from us, there was a ship. It was a dark, hulking thing, with tattered sails and something indistinguishable affixed to the bow, glittering and glinting in the moonlight.
Wiley spun around to face it, drifting back slightly when their gaze landed parallel to mine. “What the fuck is that?” they demanded, legs kicking haphazardly beneath the water to keep them in place.
“Maybe it’s…good,” I said. I knew better than that and I knew Wiley did, too, but I said it anyway. “Maybe someone will help.”
They didn’t even humor me with a response to that bullshit.
Now, at this point in the story, maybe you’re thinking being suddenly surrounded by water and watching as an ominous ship approached us with absolutely nowhere to go and no way to escape doesn’t feel quite enough like imminent condemnation. To which I say to you: not to worry. Because the next realization we came to was that the platform we’d been standing on previously had suddenly ceased to exist.
“Shit,” Wiley said. “Shit, shit, shit. Adam.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We just—we’re gonna—follow me.”
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck possessed me to swim toward the Obvious Death Ship. I guess just that there wasn’t anything else save for open water anywhere so it essentially felt like our options were paddle around until we were exhausted and drown or face a quicker, simpler demise.
“You better have a fucking plan, bro,” Wiley intoned from behind me, which I chivalrously pretended not to hear, because I did not, in fact, have a fucking plan.
The closer we drew to the vessel, the more unbelievably monstrous it appeared to become. It loomed above us, casting a shadow over everything in its direct path, and the sinking in my stomach almost convinced me to turn around. Almost.
But then something curled around my ankle. It was slick and strong, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that whatever it was could’ve pulled me under and eaten me alive in a fraction of a second.
Luckily for me, it wasn’t interested. It let go as quickly as it had latched on, almost as though it was simply using me as a handrail to move itself along. Still, though, the knowledge that it was there was all the motivation I needed to push forward ever faster. I didn’t say anything—didn’t want to add more fuel to Wiley’s panicked fire—just picked up my pace and swam up to their side.
“There’s a ladder,” they informed me, raising a hand and pointing toward the back half of the ship.
Indeed, there was a ladder. It was a tattered, worn thing, comprised of old, fraying rope and rotting, untreated wooden boards, but it looked composed enough that I figured we could likely make it up if we were swift.
“Bet,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We went.
Up close, the ladder appeared even shoddier than it had when we’d first seen it. I reached out of the water and wrapped my fingers around the rope at the bottom, giving it a hearty tug. To my slight surprise, it held fast.
“I think we’re good,” I told Wiley. “I’ll go up first and tell you what I see.”
“Be careful,” they said, but didn’t protest, just backed up enough for me to get the leverage I needed to hoist myself onto the bottom board.
I climbed warily, overly conscious of every creak of the wood bowing beneath my weight, every groan of the fibers of rope under my hands, but made it without incident to the top.
Once there, I grabbed onto the ship’s edge, lifting my gaze to take in whatever lie before me.
It was…nothing. I mean, it was a ship, obviously. But there wasn’t anything on board. No apparent crew nor cargo nor even a captain manning the helm. Granted, I couldn’t see perfectly, but the moon shone brightly enough that I was fairly confident in my observation that the deck was devoid of anything but its own shiplap floor.
“Hello?” I called, because I wasn’t about to beckon Wiley up if some fucked shit was going to pop out of nowhere the second we made a sound.
Nothing responded. Nothing moved. The ship rocked gently on the impossible water, as silent and vacant as it had been a moment before.
“Good?” Wiley questioned nervously from below me.
“Yeah,” I told them, easing myself off the ladder and down into the confines of the vessel. “Come on.”
They did so tenuously but still more swiftly than I had, climbing aboard and landing next to me with a dampened thunk.
We allowed ourselves the briefest of moments to catch our breath, silently rejoicing in the small win that was having found solace from the pool itself. Not that we had any idea what to do or where to go from here, but at the very least, we weren’t drowning.
“Okay,” I said, clearing the unease from my throat. “I don’t know what good trying to steer this thing would do us—there’s nothing but water no matter where we go. But maybe there’s something here somewhere that’ll help us figure out how to get back. So I think we just…start looking around?”
Wiley nodded. “Cool. Split halves, front and back?”
Nooo, Adam, don’t split up! Never split up! I know. I can literally hear you screaming it at me. And actually, for once in my life, I considered that something might be a horrible fucking idea before acting on it.
But then I saw something.
As I turned back to respond, Wiley’s eyes shimmered, dancing in the moonlight.
They were silver and mercurial, with no pupils or whites in sight.
Whatever had come back up from underwater, it was not my coworker.
I swallowed, forcing my expression to remain as neutral as I was able and praying whatever was standing in front of me didn’t notice I’d caught on. My entire body was instantaneously covered in chills, in a way that I understood to have the same purpose as a dog’s hackles rising. “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take the front.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the thing wearing Wiley’s face (at a pace that I hoped didn’t appear hurried but one that would remove me in a timely manner from the vicinity) and didn’t stop until I’d reached the front of the ship, breathing heavily and attempting to slow my reeling mind.
I didn’t know what to tackle first. I didn’t know where Wiley was, or if they were anywhere—if they were even still alive. I didn’t know what my next move should be. I didn’t know what I was looking for or where I might find it.
It’s rare that I feel utterly hopeless, to the degree that I genuinely contemplate just sitting down and giving up, but in this instance, I thought long and hard about how easy it would be to succumb. I’d let the unthinkable happen. Wiley was gone. No one else had been here with them—there was no one else to blame. Just me. Only me.
…You’ll be glad to know that the self-pity didn’t last long. Embarrassing, honestly.
If I was the only one here, it meant I was the only shot they had at making it out alive. Our version of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ had always been ‘alive until proven dead’ and I wasn’t about to turn my back on the insane streak of luck we’d had up until this point. Not a single one of our lives had been lost, and we’d been in the midst of some absolute shitstorms. There was no reason to believe that right now, tonight, was an outlier. I couldn’t lie down like a sick dog and wonder if Wiley was still out there somewhere, suffering until the bitter, bloody end. I had to find them. By whatever means necessary, as long as it took, I had to find them.
I pushed off the railing before me and spun on my heel, eyes flitting back and forth to assess my options as efficiently as possible, and after a moment, I registered that fitted flush against the large front mast, there was a door.
It was only a sliver, thin and not particularly extraordinary in height, but there was a handle carved roughly into its right side and a set of rust-riddled hinges on its left.
I took about half a second to weigh my options and then reached for it, curling my fingers around the handle and giving it a generous tug.
The hinges, unsurprisingly, complained, but not loudly and not for long. The door gave way with little resistance, and opened up to my worst fucking nightmare.
A set of stairs, descending into blackness.
I mean, I guess if I’m being fair, my first pool encounter had featured a staircase leading to the pool rather than away from it, but I didn’t feel like there could possibly be good news awaiting me below deck of a ship where I’d just encountered a fucking mimic.
Still, though, there was a niggling insistence in my brain (not that kind, come on) that it was my only lead on finding Wiley if they were, in fact, somewhere on board. So I cast one last glance over my shoulder and stepped into the dark, letting the door fall closed behind me.
It smelled different, instantly, from the open air above. Mustier, which was to be expected, but also almost sweet somehow. I tried, unsuccessfully, to shove my true-crime-podcast-addled brain’s helpful reminder that the scent of human death is said to be sweet into a mental lockbox and put my hand to the wall, easing tentatively down to the second step.
The visibility wasn’t just low—it was practically zero. If you’ve ever been on a cave tour and had a guide cut the lights and instruct you to lift your hand to your face to demonstrate the complete absence of light, it was nearly that intense. The placing of both feet on each concurrent stair was an arduous, calculated process, but finally, after approximately one (1) century, I reached flat ground. I still couldn’t see, and there was no definitive way to tell whether I was standing on the floor or just a landing without thoroughly feeling out the space around me, so I reluctantly departed from the wall, scooting my feet in small, tentative motions and keeping both arms partially outstretched before me.
After a (l o n g) moment, I determined that either this was the world’s largest landing or I’d made it all the way down. I had no idea whether I was in a singular, enormous room, or if there were individual cabins, or if I was about to run face-first into the grim fucking reaper.
And then I turned to my left.
There was a light.
It was so, so faint. Flickering. Barely discernible, its warm, gentle glow ever so shyly illuminating the cracks around what appeared to be another closed door.
Being the only visible thing in my line of sight, in any direction, it emitted the aura of both a beacon and an omen.
I headed towards it.
I was about half afraid I was stuck in a horror movie situation where no matter how long I walked it would never grow any closer, but fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. I actually gained on it more quickly than I felt I should have for the speed I was moving, but I wasn’t going to complain about reaching the end of the nothingness in commendable time.
I ran my fingertips along the edge of the door and, sure enough, there was a carved-in handle, just like the last.
It opened just as effortlessly, and yellow candlelight rolled dimly out to greet me, lapping at my waterlogged clothes.
“Please,” came a quiet, terrified voice from inside the room. “Please don’t. I don’t know what you want, or–or what you are, but please don’t—”
“...Wiley?”
Rather than calming, the voice’s state of alarm rose to a level bordering on full-blown panic as I took a step into the space. “Please,” the voice begged. There wasn’t anyone visible from my current vantage point, but I could hear it clearly enough to feel fairly confident that the person attached to it—the person who either had to be Wiley or yet another duplicate of them—was close. “Why are you doing this?”
This was a cabin, I thought, or perhaps a study of some sort, with a rotting wooden desk and a decaying leather chair both covered in a flurry of loose, browned book pages and a thick layer of dust. There were candles littering several surfaces, placed in what appeared not to be any intentional manner. Directly to my right, there was a shelf; its back faced me and the odd placement led me to imagine that it may have been employed to block the door at some time.
It was also, I would have just about bet, the source of the voice.
I nudged a couple of planks and a broken amber bottle out of the way with the toe of my shoe, rounding the shelf to find a crumpled, bloodied Wiley, restrained to the floor by a thick, coarse rope fixed expertly to a bolted tie and holding their bound hands up to shield their face.
“Jesus fuck,” I said. “What happened to you?”
Slowly, they lifted their head. “...Adam?”
Realization dawned on me, and I felt my stomach sink. “Look at me,” I told them. “Look at my eyes.”
They did, their own bloodshot and watery and inherently human, and I watched their shoulders deflate, the defense and terror draining from their form. “There’s someone…something…down here. Or, I guess it still is, anyway. I don’t know where it went, but I don’t wanna be here when it comes back.”
I nodded. “It look like me?”
Wiley nodded back.
“Yeah, there’s one of you upstairs. Not real sure what we’re supposed to do about them, but one thing at a time. Let’s get you up from there.”
It was a struggle, disentangling Wiley from the heavy, abrasive leads coccooning their body, but we got there eventually, and throughout the entirety of the arduous process they gave me the rundown on how, when we’d parted from the solace of the platform, something had instantaneously latched onto them, dragging them down deeper and deeper until their ears popped and their head felt like it was going to explode. They said they’d been knocked out by the pressure, and that when they’d come to, already tied in place and coughing up lungfuls of water, “I” had been standing over them, wielding a large net hook and no mercy.
“I knew it wasn’t you, obviously,” they said, “but I didn’t know where you actually were or if something had, like. Hijacked your body? I don’t know. Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We grabbed a couple of candles (the majority had simply been melted into place atop whatever surface they’d adorned, but there was a small collection fitted into slightly-too-small brass holders) and got the fuck out.
Being able to see so little in the space around us was almost more disorienting than the pitch darkness I’d been feeling my way through before. It felt as though we were in a fragile, wavering bubble of reality and nothing existed outside of it.
“Wish I’d been awake coming down here,” Wiley remarked. “Guess I still wouldn’t have seen shit, though.”
“I could…maybe get us back upstairs?” I considered, with little to no confidence. “But I don’t really know what good it would do us. Nowhere to go. Maybe we just…look around down here for a bit? See if we can find anything useful?”
“Yeah, okay,” Wiley assented. “But we’ve gotta be quiet. I don’t want that thing to hear us.”
I certainly couldn’t argue with that.
We wandered hesitantly through the dark, shielding the flames of our candles with cupped palms and praying we wouldn’t misstep. We made it some unsubstantiated quantity of time without incident, but softly, after seconds or minutes or hours, we heard a light rustling from the shadow veiled corridor to our right, and Wiley pulled me into the nearest open room in the opposite direction.
Flattening our backs to the wall, we listened intently as footsteps echoed faintly behind us, cyclically growing closer and then further away again for several moments before disappearing altogether.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and uncovered my candle, easing the door of the room to a gentle, silent close. The contents of this one were different from that of the last in that there practically weren’t any. It wasn’t just that it was tidier; there was a chest shoved against the wall nearest us and a leatherbound book of some sort lying in the center of the floor, but otherwise the space was vacant.
Wiley moved first, crouching next to the journal and lifting it from the ground, a cloud of dust rising in the wake of their breath. I knelt down beside them, offering my candlelight so they could discard theirs and open the cover.
Beneath which there was a box.
It was a plain, unadorned wooden rectangle, nestled into the carved-out central pages of the book, and we learned upon extracting it that there was no lock or latch, just a seam indicating the lid’s separation from the body.
I don’t need to spell the whole situation out for you. There was a key in the box. The key opened, you guessed it: the chest. Inside the chest, there were piles of gold and jewels beyond your wildest imagination. We’re rich now. The end.
Nah, JK. But the key in the box did open the chest, in which there was, A) a pair of peeling, pleather driving gloves, and B)...
I felt my heart skip.
A bicycle chain.
I’m not going to get into the nuances of that right now, or maybe ever. But for the purposes of dramatic flair, just know that it was incredibly, pointedly relevant to me, on a level so personal it sucker punched the air straight out of my lungs.
“No,” Wiley said, staggering back a step. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I put together, then, that the gloves must have been their ticket item. “It’s okay,” I said, on autopilot, because it was not. “There’s something—something’s carved into the bottom of this thing.” Pushing past the reaction every fiber of my being had to the sensation of the frigid metal against my skin, I shoved both the chain and the gloves to the side and could scarcely make out a host of crudely scrawled letters in the wavering light of my half-gone candle.
“What is it?” Wiley asked, making no move to come nearer again.
“Though your…hand…? Heart. Though your heart does pound and knees grow…weak,” I deciphered slowly, “Rid yourself by your… That doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t it be of? It says ‘rid yourself by your fear’ and…something. Drain the…clin… No. Drink. Drain the drink.”
“Rid yourself by your fear and drain the drink,” Wiley repeated analytically. “The hell does that mean? Is this shit telling us to kill ourselves with the—oh. Oh. Fuck.”
I was not following. “...I’m not following,” I said.
“It is.” Wiley returned to my side, squatting down and nudging me out of the way with their shoulder to peer warily into the trunk. “It’s telling us to kill ourselves, but not these selves. We’re supposed to use…those…to kill our fuckin’ doppelgangers, or whatever they are. That’s how we get rid of the water.”
“Oh,” I echoed. “Fuck.”
We marinated for a moment in silence before Wiley sighed, resigned, and lifted the gloves from the chest, closing their eyes and pulling the fabric snugly over their hands. “Let’s get to work.”

OpenAI: "With GPT-4o, we trained a single new model end-to-end across text, vision, and audio, meaning that all inputs and outputs are processed by the same neural network. Because GPT-4o is our first model combining all of these modalities, we are still just scratching the surface of exploring what the model can do and its limitations."
Prompt to both GPT-4 and GPT-4o:

Suppose we're managing a simple text-based fantasy adventure game. For our map we'll place location names in a grid. I'd like a format that can be easily represented textually.
We can do a small, simple map to start, just to try out things. How about a 5x5 grid of locations?
1 Enchanted Forest Mystic Lake Abandoned Mine Goblin Camp Ancient Tree
2 Hidden Cove Dark Swamp Wizard's Tower Sunlit Meadow Haunted Ruins
3 Merchant's Road Crystal Cave Dragon's Lair Fairy Glade Stone Circle
4 Serpent's Nest Bandit Hideout Misty Valley Giant's Footprint Sacred Grove
5 Frosty Peak Burning Plains Old Mill Lonely Hut Dwarven Stronghold
Let's assume descending one row (e.g. row 1 to row 2) corresponds to travelling south, and increasing the column corresponds to travelling east. So when starting at "Enchanted Forest", "Hidden Cove" is one location south. Similarly starting at "Enchanted Forest", "Mystic Lake" is one location east.
Give directions to go from the Frosty Peak to the Fairy Glade.

GPT-4 Turbo:

To travel from Frosty Peak to Fairy Glade, follow these directions:

1. Start at Frosty Peak (located at row 5, column 1).
   
2. Move east to Burning Plains (row 5, column 2).
   
3. Continue east to Old Mill (row 5, column 3).
   
4. Proceed east to Lonely Hut (row 5, column 4).
   
5. Continue east to Dwarven Stronghold (row 5, column 5).
   
6. Move north to Sacred Grove (row 4, column 5).
   
7. Continue north to Giant's Footprint (row 4, column 4).
   
8. Keep moving north to Misty Valley (row 4, column 3).
   
9. Head north to Bandit Hideout (row 4, column 2).
   
10. Move north to Serpent's Nest (row 4, column 1).
    
11. Head west to Merchant's Road (row 3, column 1).
    
12. Move east to Crystal Cave (row 3, column 2).
    
13. Continue east to Dragon's Lair (row 3, column 3).
    
14. Arrive at Fairy Glade (row 3, column 4).
    

This route takes you from the southwest corner of the map all the way across and up to Fairy Glade located near the middle of the map on the east side.

GPT-4o:

To go from Frosty Peak to Fairy Glade, follow these directions:

1. **Start at Frosty Peak (5,1)**.
   
2. **Travel east** 2 locations:
   

• From Frosty Peak (5,1) to Burning Plains (5,2).
  
• From Burning Plains (5,2) to Old Mill (5,3).
  

1. **Travel north** 2 locations:

• From Old Mill (5,3) to Misty Valley (4,3).
  
• From Misty Valley (4,3) to Dragon's Lair (3,3).
  

1. **Travel east** 1 location:

• From Dragon's Lair (3,3) to Fairy Glade (3,4).

So the full directions are:

1. Start at Frosty Peak (5,1).
   
2. Travel east to Burning Plains (5,2).
   
3. Travel east to Old Mill (5,3).
   
4. Travel north to Misty Valley (4,3).
   
5. Travel north to Dragon's Lair (3,3).
   
6. Travel east to Fairy Glade (3,4).
   

I preferred the directions from GPT-4o!
In another experiment, I took a screenshot of the grid, gave it to GTP-4, and then it was able to come up with reasonable directions. So it seems like GPT-4 can reason spatially when given visual input, and express its solution verbally, but it struggles to solve a spatial problem given only verbal input. GPT-4o on the other hand had no problem solving a spatial problem given only verbal input.
This seems like a nice simple example of the advantages of processing verbal and visual information in the same network.

Okay, I’m gonna level with you. Focusing on current events is just getting a little too fucking heavy. I’m no closer to answers than I was a month ago, none of us can sleep through a full night without waking up shaking and drenched in sweat, and there are some new downright bizarre phenomena cropping up that I just don’t have it in me to allot my energy to at the moment.
So, for today’s installment (and then also for the next one) I’m gonna tell you another good ol’ fun-for-the-whole-family pool story. Yep, you heard that right—welcome to our first bonafide two-parter.
This was quite a while ago. My measure of time is all off by a year now, but I feel fairly confident in chalking it up to post-first pool story, pre-ouija board fiasco—so however long ago that’s been now.
It was a weird, rare night, in that Matt was out. Not an unheard of occurrence, but it’s fairly anomalous, and it certainly puts the rest of us on slightly higher alert.
Obviously, he always tells us to call him at the first sign of some shit going down and to use our best judgment to determine whether it’s serious enough to lock up and head out. Better safe than sorry and all that. The night in question was no exception to the rule.
Overall, though, things were mostly quiet. Alice was in, as was I, as was Wiley. We do a lot of congregating, but we do a lot of work, too, and this night, we were all in our respective areas, doing our respective jobs.
I was in my not-office mending a finicky Shakespeare anthology, Alice was watching the desk while working on cataloging a truckload of new donations, and Wiley was replacing several lightbulbs that had all decided to call it quits after our most recent power outage (this one due to a flash-flood).
It was calm to an almost uncharacteristic degree. There was a relatively steady flow of patrons in and out of the building—I could hear Alice greeting them and wishing them a good evening—but as far as anomalous activity, there was none.
It does happen, on rare occasion, that we make it through a full night without any goings on, but there’s almost always at least the odd disembodied voice or two.
We should’ve known better than to trust a meteor shower.
See, there’s just something about natural anomalies. Not just the ones that knock our power out, either, although those are clearly included. Blizzards, thunderstorms, hail and tornados and earthquakes and all your run-of-the-mill destructive shit, sure. But the things of beauty, too. Rainbows. Eclipses, lunar or solar. And you think full moons hit emergency rooms hard? Try this fucking place.
It was just that a meteor shower wasn’t one we’d dealt with before. Does that mean we shouldn’t have known better? Fuck no. Obviously not. But perhaps our collective greatest fault is that we still have some semblance of hope.
Wiley wanted to look at it from the roof. Kid never fucking wants to do anything, and they were set to climb up and camp out alone. I couldn’t not entertain such an innocent, youthful whim.
Our roof access doesn’t have stairs—just a ladder—so Alice couldn’t accompany us, which I felt shitty about, but she assured me it was perfectly fine with her.
“The world decided I didn’t need functional legs so I could never be peer pressured into leaving the ground,” she quipped. “I’m not into heights. But y’all have fun up there. Somebody needs to be here for the patrons anyway.”
Fair and fair. So Wiley and I gathered up an armful of blankets and one of Matt’s trusty camping lanterns and headed out to scale the building.
Wiley went up ahead of me. That was my first mistake.
Really, they aren’t that much younger than I am. Maybe four or five years, and I’m too close to thirty for comfort now. But there’s something about them, even as far as they’ve come, that makes it impossible for me not to do everything in my power to protect them. I think Matt feels the same way. Maybe most of us do.
Anyway, that’s why I immediately started cursing myself when they reached the top of the ladder, pulled their way up and over the ledge of the roof, and said, “...Whoa.”
My second mistake was not immediately telling them to turn around and start climbing right the fuck back down.
I knew exactly what that tone of voice meant. But something in me just kicked into hyperdrive and I…had to see it. Whatever it was, I had to see it for myself.
“Don’t move,” I said, and then, “What is it?”
But by that point, I was at the top, too. I hoisted myself over the ledge and was met with…
…Water.
It was everywhere. Extending in every direction. There was no edge in sight—not even a horizon line. Just vast, dark water as far as the eye could see.
“Okay. This is not—let’s go.”
“Yeah,” Wiley agreed, a little breathless.
I’m sure you’ll be downright shocked to learn that, when we turned around, the ladder was gone.
The edge of the rooftop was, too.
The thing that surprised me, really, was that it wasn’t as though we were standing on some sort of island. We were somehow in the water all of a sudden, up to our waists, neither of us having taken a single step.
“Fucking…shit. Jesus. Adam?”
“We’re fine,” was my default response, because my anxiety override kicks in like a motherfucker as soon as someone else is more openly afraid than I am. “It’s okay, let’s just—let’s think for a second. Maybe it’s just, like, an illusion or something.”
“Okay,” Wiley said. “Maybe we should…try moving?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll bump the ledge and then we can just feel for the ladder. Good idea.”
Wiley and I shared a look, wordlessly nodding to one another, and stepped forward in unison.
Maybe I misspoke before, when I said we weren’t on a platform. It was just that our platform wasn’t above the water. Now, though, there was nothing.
It felt, almost, like the stomach-turning sensation of missing a step walking up a staircase. The only difference was that there was no moment-too-late connection.
We plummeted.
There wasn’t any difference in temperature beneath the surface, which was, in a way, more disorienting than the water itself. The mental recalibration that typically comes with plunging into a cool lake or, adversely, a heated pool wasn’t allotted an opportunity to take place. It felt, for most intents and purposes, the same as being in the air, just that I couldn’t breathe.
It was heavy, too. The weightlessness water tends to embody was null; I immediately abandoned everything I’d been carrying, clawing my way upward frantically enough that it would’ve been mortifying, I’m sure, had anyone witnessed it.
Wiley resurfaced at the same moment I did—empty handed as well, I noted—coughing a little but not to the extent that I was worried they were choking. “Next idea?” they asked, pushing their wet hair back from their face, dark, damp lashes obscuring their eyes.
“Let’s get back on the…” I started, but trailed off when I raised my head.
A couple hundred yards out from us, there was a ship. It was a dark, hulking thing, with tattered sails and something indistinguishable affixed to the bow, glittering and glinting in the moonlight.
Wiley spun around to face it, drifting back slightly when their gaze landed parallel to mine. “What the fuck is that?” they demanded, legs kicking haphazardly beneath the water to keep them in place.
“Maybe it’s…good,” I said. I knew better than that and I knew Wiley did, too, but I said it anyway. “Maybe someone will help.”
They didn’t even humor me with a response to that bullshit.
Now, at this point in the story, maybe you’re thinking being suddenly surrounded by water and watching as an ominous ship approached us with absolutely nowhere to go and no way to escape doesn’t feel quite enough like imminent condemnation. To which I say to you: not to worry. Because the next realization we came to was that the platform we’d been standing on previously had suddenly ceased to exist.
“Shit,” Wiley said. “Shit, shit, shit. Adam.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We just—we’re gonna—follow me.”
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck possessed me to swim toward the Obvious Death Ship. I guess just that there wasn’t anything else save for open water anywhere so it essentially felt like our options were paddle around until we were exhausted and drown or face a quicker, simpler demise.
“You better have a fucking plan, bro,” Wiley intoned from behind me, which I chivalrously pretended not to hear, because I did not, in fact, have a fucking plan.
The closer we drew to the vessel, the more unbelievably monstrous it appeared to become. It loomed above us, casting a shadow over everything in its direct path, and the sinking in my stomach almost convinced me to turn around. Almost.
But then something curled around my ankle. It was slick and strong, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that whatever it was could’ve pulled me under and eaten me alive in a fraction of a second.
Luckily for me, it wasn’t interested. It let go as quickly as it had latched on, almost as though it was simply using me as a handrail to move itself along. Still, though, the knowledge that it was there was all the motivation I needed to push forward ever faster. I didn’t say anything—didn’t want to add more fuel to Wiley’s panicked fire—just picked up my pace and swam up to their side.
“There’s a ladder,” they informed me, raising a hand and pointing toward the back half of the ship.
Indeed, there was a ladder. It was a tattered, worn thing, comprised of old, fraying rope and rotting, untreated wooden boards, but it looked composed enough that I figured we could likely make it up if we were swift.
“Bet,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We went.
Up close, the ladder appeared even shoddier than it had when we’d first seen it. I reached out of the water and wrapped my fingers around the rope at the bottom, giving it a hearty tug. To my slight surprise, it held fast.
“I think we’re good,” I told Wiley. “I’ll go up first and tell you what I see.”
“Be careful,” they said, but didn’t protest, just backed up enough for me to get the leverage I needed to hoist myself onto the bottom board.
I climbed warily, overly conscious of every creak of the wood bowing beneath my weight, every groan of the fibers of rope under my hands, but made it without incident to the top.
Once there, I grabbed onto the ship’s edge, lifting my gaze to take in whatever lie before me.
It was…nothing. I mean, it was a ship, obviously. But there wasn’t anything on board. No apparent crew nor cargo nor even a captain manning the helm. Granted, I couldn’t see perfectly, but the moon shone brightly enough that I was fairly confident in my observation that the deck was devoid of anything but its own shiplap floor.
“Hello?” I called, because I wasn’t about to beckon Wiley up if some fucked shit was going to pop out of nowhere the second we made a sound.
Nothing responded. Nothing moved. The ship rocked gently on the impossible water, as silent and vacant as it had been a moment before.
“Good?” Wiley questioned nervously from below me.
“Yeah,” I told them, easing myself off the ladder and down into the confines of the vessel. “Come on.”
They did so tenuously but still more swiftly than I had, climbing aboard and landing next to me with a dampened thunk.
We allowed ourselves the briefest of moments to catch our breath, silently rejoicing in the small win that was having found solace from the pool itself. Not that we had any idea what to do or where to go from here, but at the very least, we weren’t drowning.
“Okay,” I said, clearing the unease from my throat. “I don’t know what good trying to steer this thing would do us—there’s nothing but water no matter where we go. But maybe there’s something here somewhere that’ll help us figure out how to get back. So I think we just…start looking around?”
Wiley nodded. “Cool. Split halves, front and back?”
Nooo, Adam, don’t split up! Never split up! I know. I can literally hear you screaming it at me. And actually, for once in my life, I considered that something might be a horrible fucking idea before acting on it.
But then I saw something.
As I turned back to respond, Wiley’s eyes shimmered, dancing in the moonlight.
They were silver and mercurial, with no pupils or whites in sight.
Whatever had come back up from underwater, it was not my coworker.
I swallowed, forcing my expression to remain as neutral as I was able and praying whatever was standing in front of me didn’t notice I’d caught on. My entire body was instantaneously covered in chills, in a way that I understood to have the same purpose as a dog’s hackles rising. “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take the front.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the thing wearing Wiley’s face (at a pace that I hoped didn’t appear hurried but one that would remove me in a timely manner from the vicinity) and didn’t stop until I’d reached the front of the ship, breathing heavily and attempting to slow my reeling mind.
I didn’t know what to tackle first. I didn’t know where Wiley was, or if they were anywhere—if they were even still alive. I didn’t know what my next move should be. I didn’t know what I was looking for or where I might find it.
It’s rare that I feel utterly hopeless, to the degree that I genuinely contemplate just sitting down and giving up, but in this instance, I thought long and hard about how easy it would be to succumb. I’d let the unthinkable happen. Wiley was gone. No one else had been here with them—there was no one else to blame. Just me. Only me.
…You’ll be glad to know that the self-pity didn’t last long. Embarrassing, honestly.
If I was the only one here, it meant I was the only shot they had at making it out alive. Our version of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ had always been ‘alive until proven dead’ and I wasn’t about to turn my back on the insane streak of luck we’d had up until this point. Not a single one of our lives had been lost, and we’d been in the midst of some absolute shitstorms. There was no reason to believe that right now, tonight, was an outlier. I couldn’t lie down like a sick dog and wonder if Wiley was still out there somewhere, suffering until the bitter, bloody end. I had to find them. By whatever means necessary, as long as it took, I had to find them.
I pushed off the railing before me and spun on my heel, eyes flitting back and forth to assess my options as efficiently as possible, and after a moment, I registered that fitted flush against the large front mast, there was a door.
It was only a sliver, thin and not particularly extraordinary in height, but there was a handle carved roughly into its right side and a set of rust-riddled hinges on its left.
I took about half a second to weigh my options and then reached for it, curling my fingers around the handle and giving it a generous tug.
The hinges, unsurprisingly, complained, but not loudly and not for long. The door gave way with little resistance, and opened up to my worst fucking nightmare.
A set of stairs, descending into blackness.
I mean, I guess if I’m being fair, my first pool encounter had featured a staircase leading to the pool rather than away from it, but I didn’t feel like there could possibly be good news awaiting me below deck of a ship where I’d just encountered a fucking mimic.
Still, though, there was a niggling insistence in my brain (not that kind, come on) that it was my only lead on finding Wiley if they were, in fact, somewhere on board. So I cast one last glance over my shoulder and stepped into the dark, letting the door fall closed behind me.
It smelled different, instantly, from the open air above. Mustier, which was to be expected, but also almost sweet somehow. I tried, unsuccessfully, to shove my true-crime-podcast-addled brain’s helpful reminder that the scent of human death is said to be sweet into a mental lockbox and put my hand to the wall, easing tentatively down to the second step.
The visibility wasn’t just low—it was practically zero. If you’ve ever been on a cave tour and had a guide cut the lights and instruct you to lift your hand to your face to demonstrate the complete absence of light, it was nearly that intense. The placing of both feet on each concurrent stair was an arduous, calculated process, but finally, after approximately one (1) century, I reached flat ground. I still couldn’t see, and there was no definitive way to tell whether I was standing on the floor or just a landing without thoroughly feeling out the space around me, so I reluctantly departed from the wall, scooting my feet in small, tentative motions and keeping both arms partially outstretched before me.
After a (l o n g) moment, I determined that either this was the world’s largest landing or I’d made it all the way down. I had no idea whether I was in a singular, enormous room, or if there were individual cabins, or if I was about to run face-first into the grim fucking reaper.
And then I turned to my left.
There was a light.
It was so, so faint. Flickering. Barely discernible, its warm, gentle glow ever so shyly illuminating the cracks around what appeared to be another closed door.
Being the only visible thing in my line of sight, in any direction, it emitted the aura of both a beacon and an omen.
I headed towards it.
I was about half afraid I was stuck in a horror movie situation where no matter how long I walked it would never grow any closer, but fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. I actually gained on it more quickly than I felt I should have for the speed I was moving, but I wasn’t going to complain about reaching the end of the nothingness in commendable time.
I ran my fingertips along the edge of the door and, sure enough, there was a carved-in handle, just like the last.
It opened just as effortlessly, and yellow candlelight rolled dimly out to greet me, lapping at my waterlogged clothes.
“Please,” came a quiet, terrified voice from inside the room. “Please don’t. I don’t know what you want, or–or what you are, but please don’t—”
“...Wiley?”
Rather than calming, the voice’s state of alarm rose to a level bordering on full-blown panic as I took a step into the space. “Please,” the voice begged. There wasn’t anyone visible from my current vantage point, but I could hear it clearly enough to feel fairly confident that the person attached to it—the person who either had to be Wiley or yet another duplicate of them—was close. “Why are you doing this?”
This was a cabin, I thought, or perhaps a study of some sort, with a rotting wooden desk and a decaying leather chair both covered in a flurry of loose, browned book pages and a thick layer of dust. There were candles littering several surfaces, placed in what appeared not to be any intentional manner. Directly to my right, there was a shelf; its back faced me and the odd placement led me to imagine that it may have been employed to block the door at some time.
It was also, I would have just about bet, the source of the voice.
I nudged a couple of planks and a broken amber bottle out of the way with the toe of my shoe, rounding the shelf to find a crumpled, bloodied Wiley, restrained to the floor by a thick, coarse rope fixed expertly to a bolted tie and holding their bound hands up to shield their face.
“Jesus fuck,” I said. “What happened to you?”
Slowly, they lifted their head. “...Adam?”
Realization dawned on me, and I felt my stomach sink. “Look at me,” I told them. “Look at my eyes.”
They did, their own bloodshot and watery and inherently human, and I watched their shoulders deflate, the defense and terror draining from their form. “There’s someone…something…down here. Or, I guess it still is, anyway. I don’t know where it went, but I don’t wanna be here when it comes back.”
I nodded. “It look like me?”
Wiley nodded back.
“Yeah, there’s one of you upstairs. Not real sure what we’re supposed to do about them, but one thing at a time. Let’s get you up from there.”
It was a struggle, disentangling Wiley from the heavy, abrasive leads coccooning their body, but we got there eventually, and throughout the entirety of the arduous process they gave me the rundown on how, when we’d parted from the solace of the platform, something had instantaneously latched onto them, dragging them down deeper and deeper until their ears popped and their head felt like it was going to explode. They said they’d been knocked out by the pressure, and that when they’d come to, already tied in place and coughing up lungfuls of water, “I” had been standing over them, wielding a large net hook and no mercy.
“I knew it wasn’t you, obviously,” they said, “but I didn’t know where you actually were or if something had, like. Hijacked your body? I don’t know. Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We grabbed a couple of candles (the majority had simply been melted into place atop whatever surface they’d adorned, but there was a small collection fitted into slightly-too-small brass holders) and got the fuck out.
Being able to see so little in the space around us was almost more disorienting than the pitch darkness I’d been feeling my way through before. It felt as though we were in a fragile, wavering bubble of reality and nothing existed outside of it.
“Wish I’d been awake coming down here,” Wiley remarked. “Guess I still wouldn’t have seen shit, though.”
“I could…maybe get us back upstairs?” I considered, with little to no confidence. “But I don’t really know what good it would do us. Nowhere to go. Maybe we just…look around down here for a bit? See if we can find anything useful?”
“Yeah, okay,” Wiley assented. “But we’ve gotta be quiet. I don’t want that thing to hear us.”
I certainly couldn’t argue with that.
We wandered hesitantly through the dark, shielding the flames of our candles with cupped palms and praying we wouldn’t misstep. We made it some unsubstantiated quantity of time without incident, but softly, after seconds or minutes or hours, we heard a light rustling from the shadow veiled corridor to our right, and Wiley pulled me into the nearest open room in the opposite direction.
Flattening our backs to the wall, we listened intently as footsteps echoed faintly behind us, cyclically growing closer and then further away again for several moments before disappearing altogether.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and uncovered my candle, easing the door of the room to a gentle, silent close. The contents of this one were different from that of the last in that there practically weren’t any. It wasn’t just that it was tidier; there was a chest shoved against the wall nearest us and a leatherbound book of some sort lying in the center of the floor, but otherwise the space was vacant.
Wiley moved first, crouching next to the journal and lifting it from the ground, a cloud of dust rising in the wake of their breath. I knelt down beside them, offering my candlelight so they could discard theirs and open the cover.
Beneath which there was a box.
It was a plain, unadorned wooden rectangle, nestled into the carved-out central pages of the book, and we learned upon extracting it that there was no lock or latch, just a seam indicating the lid’s separation from the body.
I don’t need to spell the whole situation out for you. There was a key in the box. The key opened, you guessed it: the chest. Inside the chest, there were piles of gold and jewels beyond your wildest imagination. We’re rich now. The end.
Nah, JK. But the key in the box did open the chest, in which there was, A) a pair of peeling, pleather driving gloves, and B)...
I felt my heart skip.
A bicycle chain.
I’m not going to get into the nuances of that right now, or maybe ever. But for the purposes of dramatic flair, just know that it was incredibly, pointedly relevant to me, on a level so personal it sucker punched the air straight out of my lungs.
“No,” Wiley said, staggering back a step. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I put together, then, that the gloves must have been their ticket item. “It’s okay,” I said, on autopilot, because it was not. “There’s something—something’s carved into the bottom of this thing.” Pushing past the reaction every fiber of my being had to the sensation of the frigid metal against my skin, I shoved both the chain and the gloves to the side and could scarcely make out a host of crudely scrawled letters in the wavering light of my half-gone candle.
“What is it?” Wiley asked, making no move to come nearer again.
“Though your…hand…? Heart. Though your heart does pound and knees grow…weak,” I deciphered slowly, “Rid yourself by your… That doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t it be of? It says ‘rid yourself by your fear’ and…something. Drain the…clin… No. Drink. Drain the drink.”
“Rid yourself by your fear and drain the drink,” Wiley repeated analytically. “The hell does that mean? Is this shit telling us to kill ourselves with the—oh. Oh. Fuck.”
I was not following. “...I’m not following,” I said.
“It is.” Wiley returned to my side, squatting down and nudging me out of the way with their shoulder to peer warily into the trunk. “It’s telling us to kill ourselves, but not these selves. We’re supposed to use…those…to kill our fuckin’ doppelgangers, or whatever they are. That’s how we get rid of the water.”
“Oh,” I echoed. “Fuck.”
We marinated for a moment in silence before Wiley sighed, resigned, and lifted the gloves from the chest, closing their eyes and pulling the fabric snugly over their hands. “Let’s get to work.”

Okay, I’m gonna level with you. Focusing on current events is just getting a little too fucking heavy. I’m no closer to answers than I was a month ago, none of us can sleep through a full night without waking up shaking and drenched in sweat, and there are some new downright bizarre phenomena cropping up that I just don’t have it in me to allot my energy to at the moment.
So, for today’s installment (and then also for the next one) I’m gonna tell you another good ol’ fun-for-the-whole-family pool story. Yep, you heard that right—welcome to our first bonafide two-parter.
This was quite a while ago. My measure of time is all off by a year now, but I feel fairly confident in chalking it up to post-first pool story, pre-ouija board fiasco—so however long ago that’s been now.
It was a weird, rare night, in that Matt was out. Not an unheard of occurrence, but it’s fairly anomalous, and it certainly puts the rest of us on slightly higher alert.
Obviously, he always tells us to call him at the first sign of some shit going down and to use our best judgment to determine whether it’s serious enough to lock up and head out. Better safe than sorry and all that. The night in question was no exception to the rule.
Overall, though, things were mostly quiet. Alice was in, as was I, as was Wiley. We do a lot of congregating, but we do a lot of work, too, and this night, we were all in our respective areas, doing our respective jobs.
I was in my not-office mending a finicky Shakespeare anthology, Alice was watching the desk while working on cataloging a truckload of new donations, and Wiley was replacing several lightbulbs that had all decided to call it quits after our most recent power outage (this one due to a flash-flood).
It was calm to an almost uncharacteristic degree. There was a relatively steady flow of patrons in and out of the building—I could hear Alice greeting them and wishing them a good evening—but as far as anomalous activity, there was none.
It does happen, on rare occasion, that we make it through a full night without any goings on, but there’s almost always at least the odd disembodied voice or two.
We should’ve known better than to trust a meteor shower.
See, there’s just something about natural anomalies. Not just the ones that knock our power out, either, although those are clearly included. Blizzards, thunderstorms, hail and tornados and earthquakes and all your run-of-the-mill destructive shit, sure. But the things of beauty, too. Rainbows. Eclipses, lunar or solar. And you think full moons hit emergency rooms hard? Try this fucking place.
It was just that a meteor shower wasn’t one we’d dealt with before. Does that mean we shouldn’t have known better? Fuck no. Obviously not. But perhaps our collective greatest fault is that we still have some semblance of hope.
Wiley wanted to look at it from the roof. Kid never fucking wants to do anything, and they were set to climb up and camp out alone. I couldn’t not entertain such an innocent, youthful whim.
Our roof access doesn’t have stairs—just a ladder—so Alice couldn’t accompany us, which I felt shitty about, but she assured me it was perfectly fine with her.
“The world decided I didn’t need functional legs so I could never be peer pressured into leaving the ground,” she quipped. “I’m not into heights. But y’all have fun up there. Somebody needs to be here for the patrons anyway.”
Fair and fair. So Wiley and I gathered up an armful of blankets and one of Matt’s trusty camping lanterns and headed out to scale the building.
Wiley went up ahead of me. That was my first mistake.
Really, they aren’t that much younger than I am. Maybe four or five years, and I’m too close to thirty for comfort now. But there’s something about them, even as far as they’ve come, that makes it impossible for me not to do everything in my power to protect them. I think Matt feels the same way. Maybe most of us do.
Anyway, that’s why I immediately started cursing myself when they reached the top of the ladder, pulled their way up and over the ledge of the roof, and said, “...Whoa.”
My second mistake was not immediately telling them to turn around and start climbing right the fuck back down.
I knew exactly what that tone of voice meant. But something in me just kicked into hyperdrive and I…had to see it. Whatever it was, I had to see it for myself.
“Don’t move,” I said, and then, “What is it?”
But by that point, I was at the top, too. I hoisted myself over the ledge and was met with…
…Water.
It was everywhere. Extending in every direction. There was no edge in sight—not even a horizon line. Just vast, dark water as far as the eye could see.
“Okay. This is not—let’s go.”
“Yeah,” Wiley agreed, a little breathless.
I’m sure you’ll be downright shocked to learn that, when we turned around, the ladder was gone.
The edge of the rooftop was, too.
The thing that surprised me, really, was that it wasn’t as though we were standing on some sort of island. We were somehow in the water all of a sudden, up to our waists, neither of us having taken a single step.
“Fucking…shit. Jesus. Adam?”
“We’re fine,” was my default response, because my anxiety override kicks in like a motherfucker as soon as someone else is more openly afraid than I am. “It’s okay, let’s just—let’s think for a second. Maybe it’s just, like, an illusion or something.”
“Okay,” Wiley said. “Maybe we should…try moving?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll bump the ledge and then we can just feel for the ladder. Good idea.”
Wiley and I shared a look, wordlessly nodding to one another, and stepped forward in unison.
Maybe I misspoke before, when I said we weren’t on a platform. It was just that our platform wasn’t above the water. Now, though, there was nothing.
It felt, almost, like the stomach-turning sensation of missing a step walking up a staircase. The only difference was that there was no moment-too-late connection.
We plummeted.
There wasn’t any difference in temperature beneath the surface, which was, in a way, more disorienting than the water itself. The mental recalibration that typically comes with plunging into a cool lake or, adversely, a heated pool wasn’t allotted an opportunity to take place. It felt, for most intents and purposes, the same as being in the air, just that I couldn’t breathe.
It was heavy, too. The weightlessness water tends to embody was null; I immediately abandoned everything I’d been carrying, clawing my way upward frantically enough that it would’ve been mortifying, I’m sure, had anyone witnessed it.
Wiley resurfaced at the same moment I did—empty handed as well, I noted—coughing a little but not to the extent that I was worried they were choking. “Next idea?” they asked, pushing their wet hair back from their face, dark, damp lashes obscuring their eyes.
“Let’s get back on the…” I started, but trailed off when I raised my head.
A couple hundred yards out from us, there was a ship. It was a dark, hulking thing, with tattered sails and something indistinguishable affixed to the bow, glittering and glinting in the moonlight.
Wiley spun around to face it, drifting back slightly when their gaze landed parallel to mine. “What the fuck is that?” they demanded, legs kicking haphazardly beneath the water to keep them in place.
“Maybe it’s…good,” I said. I knew better than that and I knew Wiley did, too, but I said it anyway. “Maybe someone will help.”
They didn’t even humor me with a response to that bullshit.
Now, at this point in the story, maybe you’re thinking being suddenly surrounded by water and watching as an ominous ship approached us with absolutely nowhere to go and no way to escape doesn’t feel quite enough like imminent condemnation. To which I say to you: not to worry. Because the next realization we came to was that the platform we’d been standing on previously had suddenly ceased to exist.
“Shit,” Wiley said. “Shit, shit, shit. Adam.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We just—we’re gonna—follow me.”
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck possessed me to swim toward the Obvious Death Ship. I guess just that there wasn’t anything else save for open water anywhere so it essentially felt like our options were paddle around until we were exhausted and drown or face a quicker, simpler demise.
“You better have a fucking plan, bro,” Wiley intoned from behind me, which I chivalrously pretended not to hear, because I did not, in fact, have a fucking plan.
The closer we drew to the vessel, the more unbelievably monstrous it appeared to become. It loomed above us, casting a shadow over everything in its direct path, and the sinking in my stomach almost convinced me to turn around. Almost.
But then something curled around my ankle. It was slick and strong, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that whatever it was could’ve pulled me under and eaten me alive in a fraction of a second.
Luckily for me, it wasn’t interested. It let go as quickly as it had latched on, almost as though it was simply using me as a handrail to move itself along. Still, though, the knowledge that it was there was all the motivation I needed to push forward ever faster. I didn’t say anything—didn’t want to add more fuel to Wiley’s panicked fire—just picked up my pace and swam up to their side.
“There’s a ladder,” they informed me, raising a hand and pointing toward the back half of the ship.
Indeed, there was a ladder. It was a tattered, worn thing, comprised of old, fraying rope and rotting, untreated wooden boards, but it looked composed enough that I figured we could likely make it up if we were swift.
“Bet,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We went.
Up close, the ladder appeared even shoddier than it had when we’d first seen it. I reached out of the water and wrapped my fingers around the rope at the bottom, giving it a hearty tug. To my slight surprise, it held fast.
“I think we’re good,” I told Wiley. “I’ll go up first and tell you what I see.”
“Be careful,” they said, but didn’t protest, just backed up enough for me to get the leverage I needed to hoist myself onto the bottom board.
I climbed warily, overly conscious of every creak of the wood bowing beneath my weight, every groan of the fibers of rope under my hands, but made it without incident to the top.
Once there, I grabbed onto the ship’s edge, lifting my gaze to take in whatever lie before me.
It was…nothing. I mean, it was a ship, obviously. But there wasn’t anything on board. No apparent crew nor cargo nor even a captain manning the helm. Granted, I couldn’t see perfectly, but the moon shone brightly enough that I was fairly confident in my observation that the deck was devoid of anything but its own shiplap floor.
“Hello?” I called, because I wasn’t about to beckon Wiley up if some fucked shit was going to pop out of nowhere the second we made a sound.
Nothing responded. Nothing moved. The ship rocked gently on the impossible water, as silent and vacant as it had been a moment before.
“Good?” Wiley questioned nervously from below me.
“Yeah,” I told them, easing myself off the ladder and down into the confines of the vessel. “Come on.”
They did so tenuously but still more swiftly than I had, climbing aboard and landing next to me with a dampened thunk.
We allowed ourselves the briefest of moments to catch our breath, silently rejoicing in the small win that was having found solace from the pool itself. Not that we had any idea what to do or where to go from here, but at the very least, we weren’t drowning.
“Okay,” I said, clearing the unease from my throat. “I don’t know what good trying to steer this thing would do us—there’s nothing but water no matter where we go. But maybe there’s something here somewhere that’ll help us figure out how to get back. So I think we just…start looking around?”
Wiley nodded. “Cool. Split halves, front and back?”
Nooo, Adam, don’t split up! Never split up! I know. I can literally hear you screaming it at me. And actually, for once in my life, I considered that something might be a horrible fucking idea before acting on it.
But then I saw something.
As I turned back to respond, Wiley’s eyes shimmered, dancing in the moonlight.
They were silver and mercurial, with no pupils or whites in sight.
Whatever had come back up from underwater, it was not my coworker.
I swallowed, forcing my expression to remain as neutral as I was able and praying whatever was standing in front of me didn’t notice I’d caught on. My entire body was instantaneously covered in chills, in a way that I understood to have the same purpose as a dog’s hackles rising. “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take the front.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the thing wearing Wiley’s face (at a pace that I hoped didn’t appear hurried but one that would remove me in a timely manner from the vicinity) and didn’t stop until I’d reached the front of the ship, breathing heavily and attempting to slow my reeling mind.
I didn’t know what to tackle first. I didn’t know where Wiley was, or if they were anywhere—if they were even still alive. I didn’t know what my next move should be. I didn’t know what I was looking for or where I might find it.
It’s rare that I feel utterly hopeless, to the degree that I genuinely contemplate just sitting down and giving up, but in this instance, I thought long and hard about how easy it would be to succumb. I’d let the unthinkable happen. Wiley was gone. No one else had been here with them—there was no one else to blame. Just me. Only me.
…You’ll be glad to know that the self-pity didn’t last long. Embarrassing, honestly.
If I was the only one here, it meant I was the only shot they had at making it out alive. Our version of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ had always been ‘alive until proven dead’ and I wasn’t about to turn my back on the insane streak of luck we’d had up until this point. Not a single one of our lives had been lost, and we’d been in the midst of some absolute shitstorms. There was no reason to believe that right now, tonight, was an outlier. I couldn’t lie down like a sick dog and wonder if Wiley was still out there somewhere, suffering until the bitter, bloody end. I had to find them. By whatever means necessary, as long as it took, I had to find them.
I pushed off the railing before me and spun on my heel, eyes flitting back and forth to assess my options as efficiently as possible, and after a moment, I registered that fitted flush against the large front mast, there was a door.
It was only a sliver, thin and not particularly extraordinary in height, but there was a handle carved roughly into its right side and a set of rust-riddled hinges on its left.
I took about half a second to weigh my options and then reached for it, curling my fingers around the handle and giving it a generous tug.
The hinges, unsurprisingly, complained, but not loudly and not for long. The door gave way with little resistance, and opened up to my worst fucking nightmare.
A set of stairs, descending into blackness.
I mean, I guess if I’m being fair, my first pool encounter had featured a staircase leading to the pool rather than away from it, but I didn’t feel like there could possibly be good news awaiting me below deck of a ship where I’d just encountered a fucking mimic.
Still, though, there was a niggling insistence in my brain (not that kind, come on) that it was my only lead on finding Wiley if they were, in fact, somewhere on board. So I cast one last glance over my shoulder and stepped into the dark, letting the door fall closed behind me.
It smelled different, instantly, from the open air above. Mustier, which was to be expected, but also almost sweet somehow. I tried, unsuccessfully, to shove my true-crime-podcast-addled brain’s helpful reminder that the scent of human death is said to be sweet into a mental lockbox and put my hand to the wall, easing tentatively down to the second step.
The visibility wasn’t just low—it was practically zero. If you’ve ever been on a cave tour and had a guide cut the lights and instruct you to lift your hand to your face to demonstrate the complete absence of light, it was nearly that intense. The placing of both feet on each concurrent stair was an arduous, calculated process, but finally, after approximately one (1) century, I reached flat ground. I still couldn’t see, and there was no definitive way to tell whether I was standing on the floor or just a landing without thoroughly feeling out the space around me, so I reluctantly departed from the wall, scooting my feet in small, tentative motions and keeping both arms partially outstretched before me.
After a (l o n g) moment, I determined that either this was the world’s largest landing or I’d made it all the way down. I had no idea whether I was in a singular, enormous room, or if there were individual cabins, or if I was about to run face-first into the grim fucking reaper.
And then I turned to my left.
There was a light.
It was so, so faint. Flickering. Barely discernible, its warm, gentle glow ever so shyly illuminating the cracks around what appeared to be another closed door.
Being the only visible thing in my line of sight, in any direction, it emitted the aura of both a beacon and an omen.
I headed towards it.
I was about half afraid I was stuck in a horror movie situation where no matter how long I walked it would never grow any closer, but fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. I actually gained on it more quickly than I felt I should have for the speed I was moving, but I wasn’t going to complain about reaching the end of the nothingness in commendable time.
I ran my fingertips along the edge of the door and, sure enough, there was a carved-in handle, just like the last.
It opened just as effortlessly, and yellow candlelight rolled dimly out to greet me, lapping at my waterlogged clothes.
“Please,” came a quiet, terrified voice from inside the room. “Please don’t. I don’t know what you want, or–or what you are, but please don’t—”
“...Wiley?”
Rather than calming, the voice’s state of alarm rose to a level bordering on full-blown panic as I took a step into the space. “Please,” the voice begged. There wasn’t anyone visible from my current vantage point, but I could hear it clearly enough to feel fairly confident that the person attached to it—the person who either had to be Wiley or yet another duplicate of them—was close. “Why are you doing this?”
This was a cabin, I thought, or perhaps a study of some sort, with a rotting wooden desk and a decaying leather chair both covered in a flurry of loose, browned book pages and a thick layer of dust. There were candles littering several surfaces, placed in what appeared not to be any intentional manner. Directly to my right, there was a shelf; its back faced me and the odd placement led me to imagine that it may have been employed to block the door at some time.
It was also, I would have just about bet, the source of the voice.
I nudged a couple of planks and a broken amber bottle out of the way with the toe of my shoe, rounding the shelf to find a crumpled, bloodied Wiley, restrained to the floor by a thick, coarse rope fixed expertly to a bolted tie and holding their bound hands up to shield their face.
“Jesus fuck,” I said. “What happened to you?”
Slowly, they lifted their head. “...Adam?”
Realization dawned on me, and I felt my stomach sink. “Look at me,” I told them. “Look at my eyes.”
They did, their own bloodshot and watery and inherently human, and I watched their shoulders deflate, the defense and terror draining from their form. “There’s someone…something…down here. Or, I guess it still is, anyway. I don’t know where it went, but I don’t wanna be here when it comes back.”
I nodded. “It look like me?”
Wiley nodded back.
“Yeah, there’s one of you upstairs. Not real sure what we’re supposed to do about them, but one thing at a time. Let’s get you up from there.”
It was a struggle, disentangling Wiley from the heavy, abrasive leads coccooning their body, but we got there eventually, and throughout the entirety of the arduous process they gave me the rundown on how, when we’d parted from the solace of the platform, something had instantaneously latched onto them, dragging them down deeper and deeper until their ears popped and their head felt like it was going to explode. They said they’d been knocked out by the pressure, and that when they’d come to, already tied in place and coughing up lungfuls of water, “I” had been standing over them, wielding a large net hook and no mercy.
“I knew it wasn’t you, obviously,” they said, “but I didn’t know where you actually were or if something had, like. Hijacked your body? I don’t know. Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We grabbed a couple of candles (the majority had simply been melted into place atop whatever surface they’d adorned, but there was a small collection fitted into slightly-too-small brass holders) and got the fuck out.
Being able to see so little in the space around us was almost more disorienting than the pitch darkness I’d been feeling my way through before. It felt as though we were in a fragile, wavering bubble of reality and nothing existed outside of it.
“Wish I’d been awake coming down here,” Wiley remarked. “Guess I still wouldn’t have seen shit, though.”
“I could…maybe get us back upstairs?” I considered, with little to no confidence. “But I don’t really know what good it would do us. Nowhere to go. Maybe we just…look around down here for a bit? See if we can find anything useful?”
“Yeah, okay,” Wiley assented. “But we’ve gotta be quiet. I don’t want that thing to hear us.”
I certainly couldn’t argue with that.
We wandered hesitantly through the dark, shielding the flames of our candles with cupped palms and praying we wouldn’t misstep. We made it some unsubstantiated quantity of time without incident, but softly, after seconds or minutes or hours, we heard a light rustling from the shadow veiled corridor to our right, and Wiley pulled me into the nearest open room in the opposite direction.
Flattening our backs to the wall, we listened intently as footsteps echoed faintly behind us, cyclically growing closer and then further away again for several moments before disappearing altogether.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and uncovered my candle, easing the door of the room to a gentle, silent close. The contents of this one were different from that of the last in that there practically weren’t any. It wasn’t just that it was tidier; there was a chest shoved against the wall nearest us and a leatherbound book of some sort lying in the center of the floor, but otherwise the space was vacant.
Wiley moved first, crouching next to the journal and lifting it from the ground, a cloud of dust rising in the wake of their breath. I knelt down beside them, offering my candlelight so they could discard theirs and open the cover.
Beneath which there was a box.
It was a plain, unadorned wooden rectangle, nestled into the carved-out central pages of the book, and we learned upon extracting it that there was no lock or latch, just a seam indicating the lid’s separation from the body.
I don’t need to spell the whole situation out for you. There was a key in the box. The key opened, you guessed it: the chest. Inside the chest, there were piles of gold and jewels beyond your wildest imagination. We’re rich now. The end.
Nah, JK. But the key in the box did open the chest, in which there was, A) a pair of peeling, pleather driving gloves, and B)...
I felt my heart skip.
A bicycle chain.
I’m not going to get into the nuances of that right now, or maybe ever. But for the purposes of dramatic flair, just know that it was incredibly, pointedly relevant to me, on a level so personal it sucker punched the air straight out of my lungs.
“No,” Wiley said, staggering back a step. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I put together, then, that the gloves must have been their ticket item. “It’s okay,” I said, on autopilot, because it was not. “There’s something—something’s carved into the bottom of this thing.” Pushing past the reaction every fiber of my being had to the sensation of the frigid metal against my skin, I shoved both the chain and the gloves to the side and could scarcely make out a host of crudely scrawled letters in the wavering light of my half-gone candle.
“What is it?” Wiley asked, making no move to come nearer again.
“Though your…hand…? Heart. Though your heart does pound and knees grow…weak,” I deciphered slowly, “Rid yourself by your… That doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t it be of? It says ‘rid yourself by *your fear’ and…*something. Drain the…clin… No. Drink. Drain the drink.”
“Rid yourself by your fear and drain the drink,” Wiley repeated analytically. “The hell does that mean? Is this shit telling us to kill ourselves with the—oh. Oh. Fuck.”
I was not following. “...I’m not following,” I said.
“It is.” Wiley returned to my side, squatting down and nudging me out of the way with their shoulder to peer warily into the trunk. “It’s telling us to kill ourselves, but not these selves. We’re supposed to use…*those…*to kill our fuckin’ doppelgangers, or whatever they are. That’s how we get rid of the water.”
“Oh,” I echoed. “Fuck.”
We marinated for a moment in silence before Wiley sighed, resigned, and lifted the gloves from the chest, closing their eyes and pulling the fabric snugly over their hands. “Let’s get to work.”

NoSleep link
“Ugh, Emma, can you get the trunk for me?”
The dim winter sun was setting over the parking lot, nearly devoid of shoppers at this late hour, aside from a van in one distant corner that had just started backing out of its spot.
I set my bag down in the passenger seat and rounded the side of my mum’s penicillium-green Camry, met with her impatient and lightly sweating face. I popped the trunk, allowing her to practically collapse into it with the weight of the groceries. Something burst in one of the bags, prompting her to curse under her breath.
“I just don’t get why you won’t stick a quarter in those trolleys over there. You get it back afterwards.”
Mum, still arranging the bags into a position that would stop them toppling over on the drive home, looked at me scornfully.
“The Walmart downtown doesn’t make you pay. None of the stores around here do, so why should I? You know we only come here to Aldi ‘cause it’s cheaper.”
“I just said you get the quarter back afterwards. It’s to make sure people put the trolleys back,” I sighed, knowing there was no swaying her. Instead of shooting back with some flimsy reasoning, mum patted her pockets and swore.
“Oh for goodness sake, I’ve gone and left my wallet at the till again, haven’t I?”
Before I could get a word out, she was gone like a rocket, racing against the store’s closing time. Night’s chill descended, raising gooseflesh, so I slammed the trunk and hopped back into the passenger seat, out of the cold.
I sat there, praying my mum had the haste to get back soon with the keys and start up the heating. There was something else, though. My heart made itself known with a rising, incessant pulse. Was something wrong?
“Not this again,” I groaned, shutting my eyes and following a basic breathing routine to calm my nerves. The anxiety was bad enough, but the anger I felt at the nonsense panic had always been worse for me.
“Just stop it. Lasagna’s waiting for us at home. It’s gonna be so g–”
I opened my eyes.
Had I heard something? No, not heard, felt? I leaned forward to scan the parking lot. Nothing. Then I jumped back in my seat. There it was again. It was subtle, so much so I was surprised I’d even noticed it. A light, but bone-deep vibration was emanating from somewhere. Almost like someone nearby was subtly trying to pull down on a gigantic zipper, one tooth at a time. The comparison should’ve sounded silly, but my heart continued to pound faster and faster until I was sure beyond a doubt that something bad would happen. Something was wrong.
It took me longer than I’d have liked to get out, with the seat belt clamping as I struggled to unbuckle. There was no smell in the air. Did it smell before? I couldn’t remember. No more cars in the lot, only the Camry. No more noise.
Again, that slight vibration in the air. Too low a frequency to determine its source, but enough to sense it was there. I tilted my head, staring up at lumpy clouds that cast shadows on each other. Ah, those clouds. I’ve always loved how they look around sundown. It helped to ease my heart a little.
Until one of the shadows moved.
I’m not stupid, I thought it was just a cloud’s shadow matching its slow drift across the sky - I squinted. The shadow wasn’t being cast on a cloud. It was above, or behind them, which made me realise whatever I was seeing, it wasn’t a shadow.
What happened next is hard to articulate. I’ve never seen anything else like it, before or since. The dark mass above the clouds began to sort of extend, beaming down at an angle, like sun rays but moving at a steady pace, or how water or ink moves up paper by way of capillary action. A black beam. But, it was more than that.
I was so absorbed in the spectacle, it hadn’t fully dawned on me that this thing was getting closer. Closer to me. And as it closed in, there was no mistaking it. While it continued to stretch all the way back above the clouds, the outline of it, the cross-section, was almost human-shaped. Arms, head, body, and legs, but the limbs ended in stunted nubs, like a stick figure.
By the time it stopped a good three or four storeys above, I still hadn’t moved. I couldn’t. I could do nothing but watch in disbelief as lights and layers of colour began to flash inside the human-ish figure, seeming to have parallax, as if whatever lay beyond was a space of its own.
Amazingly, something managed to distract me for a moment. A flash of light in my peripheral. A phone torch.
“Emma? Emma! Are you having a stroke or something?”
I blinked.
“What– no? I mean, I…”
Mum was back, apparently still without her wallet, now scanning the asphalt for any sign of it. Why didn’t I hear her coming back?
She clicked her tongue.
“Then stop standing there like an idiot and help me find it. Come on, it’s getting late.”
I did, in fact, keep standing there, glancing between her and the flashing shadow prism above us. I did a double take. Those glaringly bright, almost offensively coloured layers were speeding up towards the end of the beam, towards me, piling up on themselves to assemble a figure, stepping soundlessly out into thin air.
Mum kept calling for me. I heard her, but couldn’t process her words. Everything else was secondary to the figure above us. It had fully formed, cloaked in a coarse-looking gown, with skin so pale and shadeless it was as if it radiated a faint glow. The sound of rapid footsteps brought me back to myself, and I looked down just in time to see my mum, face painted in a teetering mixture of worry and annoyance. She went to speak but I held up a hand, and pointed to the figure.
Squinting at me, she looked to where I was pointing, and froze. The whole time, I’d secretly been hoping I was just hallucinating, but she saw it too. She saw something, at least, and that was enough to confirm what I’d been dreading.
“...who is that?” she asked. Her voice sounded so small and dry. If I could’ve spoken I’d have asked, “what is that?”
Instead, I watched on in terror as the figure began a slow descent, straight down. The closer it drew, the more of it I could make out. There were these iridescent lines floating across the surface of its skin, moving like sun patterns on the bottom of a swimming pool. Like the silhouette it had emerged from, it had no hands or feet. Just rounded nubs, although those on its arms had the same slight depression in the centre.
“Car… the car. Mum, the car, get in the car, now,” I whispered. No response. I reached out, grabbing her by the arm and shaking her. She was absolutely rigid. One of us had to move, and I imagined we were both hoping the other would do so.
A second figure emerged from the prism, identical to the first, except it was wearing a plain T-shirt and shorts. At the same time, the first one finally touched down on the asphalt and stood, tilting its head up, apparently waiting for the other to arrive.
If I had any lingering doubt that these things weren’t human, it was squashed when I saw their faces - or, lack thereof. I couldn’t see any ears, and where a face should’ve been was only a circular metal grate. Maybe gold, or brass.
The four of us stood there, still and silent. They stared at us, and we stared right back, completely lost in the foreign sight of the beings. A breath, then they turned to each other. I don’t know if I expected them to talk, but they didn’t. Not in any language I know. Faint at first, getting brighter with every pulse, constellations began to flash behind the metal face-grates of each of them. I heard nothing aside from a few damped vibrations, yet somehow, I knew there was a conversation going on.
Very slowly, I took a step back, and reached an arm behind me to feel for the car. All the while, my eyes stayed locked on the beings. I kept reaching, further and further. My fingers brushed nothing but air.
One of them abruptly turned and looked at me, or at mum, I couldn’t tell. My chest tightened. This wasn’t happening. It raised one stunted arm to point at my mum, releasing another cascade of flashing lights behind its grill face. The other crossed its arms and looked over too, like it was waiting for something.
I had to risk it. I pivoted, throwing a glance over my shoulder. The car was twenty, maybe twenty-five feet away. I didn’t remember wandering that far from it. I noticed something else then: the trees, the grass, all of the greenery surrounding the parking lot was… gone. It gave me the impression of a planet that had never evolved life, or where all life was extinct. There was only bare, dark soil enclosing the lot.
Seconds before I went for the car, mum let out a scream. One that I still hear from time to time, in dreams and background noise. I spun around to see the first being, the one wearing a gown, gliding across the ground with an arm outstretched. Mum didn’t have time to move. It came to a dead stop before her, arm still raised, and I saw something emerging from the small depression at the end of its stump - what I now understood was a hole. Whatever came out was darker than the night sky, and I couldn’t place its shape, but it looked like it was made out of a mass of ever-shifting black crystals.
Mum screamed again. It was more of a gasp actually, a gasp that lasted barely a second before a bubble broke free of the shifting appendage and fixed itself over her mouth, silencing her. Another four floated down to her wrists and ankles, binding her in place and stopping her from moving as one more broke off from the being. It looked a little like an arrowhead, or some other sharp, triangular tool, a razor edge cutting through the air and hovering just over her stomach.
I understood the danger then - not for me, but her. Abandoning caution, I leapt forward, yelling,
“Get away from her!”
But I rolled my ankle and went crashing down onto cold, hard asphalt. Dazed, I tried to lift myself, and managed to look up at the beings with blood pouring from my nose and a cut on my cheek. The one in front of my mum barely seemed to notice me, giving me a quick look then getting back to the matter at hand, whatever that was.
Mum squirmed against her restraints, issuing muffled groans through her nose. I forced my limbs to work, but I was held fast. Mounds of that shifting black crystal had smothered my hands, binding them to the ground.
I looked at my mum, helpless, terrified. She met my eyes, blinked away a tear, and squeezed her eyelids shut. At the back, the being wearing a T-shirt made some kind of gesture, like it was impatient, and the robed being nodded, turning back to mum and directing the arrow-shaped object. At the same time, her blouse began to lift up and off her, pulled by an invisible force and exposing her belly. The being hesitated for a second, and I felt a spark of hope, that it might show mercy.
But of course it didn’t.
The dark arrowhead pressed into her skin, slicing through layers like butter and dragging a line downwards, leaving a clean incision. Wasting no time, the being reached inside, fiddled around for a moment, then pulled out the severed end of my mum’s intestine. Blood and shit splattered the ground, trailing away from her as the being floated backwards, keeping hold of the organ until it was stretched to its full length.
I tasted bile.
“STOP! You fucks, you fucking–”
A gush of vomit interrupted me, flooding out onto the ground and mixing in with the intestinal fluids to create a disgusting, speckled pattern which prompted another wave of vomit from me and tears to cloud my vision.
“Please…”
I wiped my sleeve over my eyes so I could see. The being in a T-shirt had a long, pole-shaped protrusion stretching out from the end of its arm, extending to match the length of my mother’s intestines. It studied something for a second, before shrugging, and nodding at the robed being.
In the blink of an eye, the intestines retracted back like a frightened snake and piled back inside mum’s body. I just stared, not able to understand. The sides of the incision pulled into each other and appeared to heal completely in a matter of seconds. As soon as I’d processed this, I felt my restraints slacken then disappear entirely, and I shot to my feet, nearly tripping over again, and grasped onto mum’s arm.
I pulled, under the assumption that she’d been released. She wasn’t. Why weren’t they letting her go?
Freezing up, I cranked my head to look at the beings. More flashing lights. The one in a T-shirt was handing something over to the other, but I couldn’t see anything passing between them. Maybe it was something invisible, or something my mind just wasn’t built to perceive.
I continued to tug mechanically, trying to free her. Her skin was cold and slick and she was shivering. It did no good. The black crystal held fast. I nearly collapsed in relief and shock when the robed figure began to ascend back up to the prism it had come from, but the other grabbed onto its gown, communicating something. The robed being dropped back down, but threw its arms out in what I’d guessed was frustration. T-shirt gestured towards us again, still conversing with the other, waving its arms around. Still, the robed figure seemed to acquiesce and slid across the ground towards us again. Lights continued to flash behind its grill-face, all varying shades of orange and red. Like it was angry.
I couldn’t let it happen again, and lunged at it, planning to do - I don’t really know. I just wanted to protect my mum. Right as I made contact with the being, I felt a shift in the air. The fluid in my ears swirled. It made me dizzy. When my eyes stopped rolling to the side, I realised I was being held still by two pale, stunted arms, with odd patches of hot and cold travelling around on its skin. Somehow, I’d wound up in the arms of the being wearing a T-shirt, and those arms held me tight, tighter than any living thing should be able to.
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!!” I screamed, flailing and lashing out. In a desperate bet for escape I tried to bite down on one of its arms. It felt like I’d been curb stomped, like I’d bitten down full-force on granite.
I kind of gave up after that. It just hurt too much to think. Instead, I took in my surroundings. Where was I again? Mum… mum.
The robed being was standing in the way of her, but it was doing something. I couldn’t see what, but by the way mum was squealing behind her gag, it made the first procedure sound like a pillow fight. I just cried. There was no other avenue for relief except the tears.
Then, everything went quiet. Mum trailed off into a whine, and then nothing. No wind, and no trees or leaves rustling, because they’d all vanished. Just me, mum, and these things. The one holding me loosened its grip and I gasped, gulping down stagnant air. It floated over to where mum was and the robed being stepped aside, finally letting me see what was happening.
I didn’t really want to know. I really, really didn’t. But my muscles were locked in place.
In one… hand? The robed being held one end of an artery it had pulled out of mum’s chest. Without warning, the two entities shot up into the air, coming to a halt somewhere above. As they moved, more blood vessels phased through the skin of mum’s body, contorting and straightening to fuse at their ends, forming an unholy, pulsing rope.
With speed faster than I could process, the beings flew away, vanishing into the night while clutching the single fused vessel of veins, arteries, and capillaries. There was blood, yes, but only a little. It all seemed to be contained in that one long tube they continued to pull along through the atmosphere.
From the opposite direction, they passed once. I saw them pass over one more time and disappear into the distance before the meaty vessel pulled taut. At the time, I hadn’t really pieced it together - I think they’d looped around the entire planet. Not once, but twice, and then some, in what couldn’t have been more than ten seconds.
I blinked, and they were back, standing in the parking lot and flashing their lights at each other. I didn’t even have the energy to whisper in protest. T-shirt looked reluctant in some way, and handed over more of something I couldn’t see to the robed entity.
As they did this, the red string they’d made from mum’s blood vessels pulled back by itself at impossible speeds, retracting out of over two loops of planet Earth and back into my mum, breaking apart, phasing back inside and reassembling into their proper structure. That’s what I’d guessed, anyway.
Glassy eyed and so, so pale, the crystalline restraints dissolved and my mum slumped limp to the ground. I stood motionless for a second before realising my own restraints were gone as well, and I bolted over to her.
I was whispering something. Assurances, maybe apologies, I can’t remember. The two beings watched us, then they ascended, back up to the dark prism and out of sight. It began to pull back, up into the sky, and when I blinked, all the trees and the grass were back.
It all felt normal. Almost normal. The only change was that the sky was a little darker, and my mum felt a little colder. Then a lot colder. I placed two fingers on her neck. There was no pulse.
When the paramedics arrived, they rushed over to us. Their movements were frantic but controlled. Just thirty seconds later, that urgent energy was gone, replaced by a dull rhythm that told me all I needed to know.
She was pronounced dead on scene.
The coroner later concluded that mum had simply ‘died’. No cause could be found, but brain damage signified a level of hypoxia. I guess that’s what happens when your blood is outside of you, even if just for a minute.
Strangely, I found my anxiety to diminish after that night. It still flares up now and then, but most of the time, there’s just this hollow feeling in its place. I don’t go to Aldi anymore. Seems silly to mull over something like that, but I can’t even be near those big parking lots now. I get my groceries delivered.
Maybe it sounds like I’m managing - I am. Inside, though, there’s a crack that can’t be fixed, can’t be filled. It’s worn down over time, gotten less jagged and easier to deal with. Things don’t really shock me anymore, or at least, the shock is dulled.
There will be no justice for her. Even if I sought it, I doubt we could ever even access whatever plane those beings hail from. Whatever power we think we have, all those things see when they look at us is a world of monkeys, banging stones together. I’m sure of it.
In fact, I’m willing to bet on it.
As much as they bet on my mum.

“Ugh, Emma, can you get the trunk for me?”
The dim winter sun was setting over the parking lot, nearly devoid of shoppers at this late hour, aside from a van in one distant corner that had just started backing out of its spot.
I set my bag down in the passenger seat and rounded the side of my mum’s penicillium-green Camry, met with her impatient and lightly sweating face. I popped the trunk, allowing her to practically collapse into it with the weight of the groceries. Something burst in one of the bags, prompting her to curse under her breath.
“I just don’t get why you won’t stick a quarter in those trolleys over there. You get it back afterwards.”
Mum, still arranging the bags into a position that would stop them toppling over on the drive home, looked at me scornfully.
“The Walmart downtown doesn’t make you pay. None of the stores around here do, so why should I? You know we only come here to Aldi ‘cause it’s cheaper.”
“I just said you get the quarter back afterwards. It’s to make sure people put the trolleys back,” I sighed, knowing there was no swaying her. Instead of shooting back with some flimsy reasoning, mum patted her pockets and swore.
“Oh for goodness sake, I’ve gone and left my wallet at the till again, haven’t I?”
Before I could get a word out, she was gone like a rocket, racing against the store’s closing time. Night’s chill descended, raising gooseflesh, so I slammed the trunk and hopped back into the passenger seat, out of the cold.
I sat there, praying my mum had the haste to get back soon with the keys and start up the heating. There was something else, though. My heart made itself known with a rising, incessant pulse. Was something wrong?
“Not this again,” I groaned, shutting my eyes and following a basic breathing routine to calm my nerves. The anxiety was bad enough, but the anger I felt at the nonsense panic had always been worse for me.
“Just stop it. Lasagna’s waiting for us at home. It’s gonna be so g–”
I opened my eyes.
Had I heard something? No, not heard, felt? I leaned forward to scan the parking lot. Nothing. Then I jumped back in my seat. There it was again. It was subtle, so much so I was surprised I’d even noticed it. A light, but bone-deep vibration was emanating from somewhere. Almost like someone nearby was subtly trying to pull down on a gigantic zipper, one tooth at a time. The comparison should’ve sounded silly, but my heart continued to pound faster and faster until I was sure beyond a doubt that something bad would happen. Something was wrong.
It took me longer than I’d have liked to get out, with the seat belt clamping as I struggled to unbuckle. There was no smell in the air. Did it smell before? I couldn’t remember. No more cars in the lot, only the Camry. No more noise.
Again, that slight vibration in the air. Too low a frequency to determine its source, but enough to sense it was there. I tilted my head, staring up at lumpy clouds that cast shadows on each other. Ah, those clouds. I’ve always loved how they look around sundown. It helped to ease my heart a little.
Until one of the shadows moved.
I’m not stupid, I thought it was just a cloud’s shadow matching its slow drift across the sky - I squinted. The shadow wasn’t being cast on a cloud. It was above, or behind them, which made me realise whatever I was seeing, it wasn’t a shadow.
What happened next is hard to articulate. I’ve never seen anything else like it, before or since. The dark mass above the clouds began to sort of extend, beaming down at an angle, like sun rays but moving at a steady pace, or how water or ink moves up paper by way of capillary action. A black beam. But, it was more than that.
I was so absorbed in the spectacle, it hadn’t fully dawned on me that this thing was getting closer. Closer to me. And as it closed in, there was no mistaking it. While it continued to stretch all the way back above the clouds, the outline of it, the cross-section, was almost human-shaped. Arms, head, body, and legs, but the limbs ended in stunted nubs, like a stick figure.
By the time it stopped a good three or four storeys above, I still hadn’t moved. I couldn’t. I could do nothing but watch in disbelief as lights and layers of colour began to flash inside the human-ish figure, seeming to have parallax, as if whatever lay beyond was a space of its own.
Amazingly, something managed to distract me for a moment. A flash of light in my peripheral. A phone torch.
“Emma? Emma! Are you having a stroke or something?”
I blinked.
“What– no? I mean, I…”
Mum was back, apparently still without her wallet, now scanning the asphalt for any sign of it. Why didn’t I hear her coming back?
She clicked her tongue.
“Then stop standing there like an idiot and help me find it. Come on, it’s getting late.”
I did, in fact, keep standing there, glancing between her and the flashing shadow prism above us. I did a double take. Those glaringly bright, almost offensively coloured layers were speeding up towards the end of the beam, towards me, piling up on themselves to assemble a figure, stepping soundlessly out into thin air.
Mum kept calling for me. I heard her, but couldn’t process her words. Everything else was secondary to the figure above us. It had fully formed, cloaked in a coarse-looking gown, with skin so pale and shadeless it was as if it radiated a faint glow. The sound of rapid footsteps brought me back to myself, and I looked down just in time to see my mum, face painted in a teetering mixture of worry and annoyance. She went to speak but I held up a hand, and pointed to the figure.
Squinting at me, she looked to where I was pointing, and froze. The whole time, I’d secretly been hoping I was just hallucinating, but she saw it too. She saw something, at least, and that was enough to confirm what I’d been dreading.
“...who is that?” she asked. Her voice sounded so small and dry. If I could’ve spoken I’d have asked, “what is that?”
Instead, I watched on in terror as the figure began a slow descent, straight down. The closer it drew, the more of it I could make out. There were these iridescent lines floating across the surface of its skin, moving like sun patterns on the bottom of a swimming pool. Like the silhouette it had emerged from, it had no hands or feet. Just rounded nubs, although those on its arms had the same slight depression in the centre.
“Car… the car. Mum, the car, get in the car, now,” I whispered. No response. I reached out, grabbing her by the arm and shaking her. She was absolutely rigid. One of us had to move, and I imagined we were both hoping the other would do so.
A second figure emerged from the prism, identical to the first, except it was wearing a plain T-shirt and shorts. At the same time, the first one finally touched down on the asphalt and stood, tilting its head up, apparently waiting for the other to arrive.
If I had any lingering doubt that these things weren’t human, it was squashed when I saw their faces - or, lack thereof. I couldn’t see any ears, and where a face should’ve been was only a circular metal grate. Maybe gold, or brass.
The four of us stood there, still and silent. They stared at us, and we stared right back, completely lost in the foreign sight of the beings. A breath, then they turned to each other. I don’t know if I expected them to talk, but they didn’t. Not in any language I know. Faint at first, getting brighter with every pulse, constellations began to flash behind the metal face-grates of each of them. I heard nothing aside from a few damped vibrations, yet somehow, I knew there was a conversation going on.
Very slowly, I took a step back, and reached an arm behind me to feel for the car. All the while, my eyes stayed locked on the beings. I kept reaching, further and further. My fingers brushed nothing but air.
One of them abruptly turned and looked at me, or at mum, I couldn’t tell. My chest tightened. This wasn’t happening. It raised one stunted arm to point at my mum, releasing another cascade of flashing lights behind its grill face. The other crossed its arms and looked over too, like it was waiting for something.
I had to risk it. I pivoted, throwing a glance over my shoulder. The car was twenty, maybe twenty-five feet away. I didn’t remember wandering that far from it. I noticed something else then: the trees, the grass, all of the greenery surrounding the parking lot was… gone. It gave me the impression of a planet that had never evolved life, or where all life was extinct. There was only bare, dark soil enclosing the lot.
Seconds before I went for the car, mum let out a scream. One that I still hear from time to time, in dreams and background noise. I spun around to see the first being, the one wearing a gown, gliding across the ground with an arm outstretched. Mum didn’t have time to move. It came to a dead stop before her, arm still raised, and I saw something emerging from the small depression at the end of its stump - what I now understood was a hole. Whatever came out was darker than the night sky, and I couldn’t place its shape, but it looked like it was made out of a mass of ever-shifting black crystals.
Mum screamed again. It was more of a gasp actually, a gasp that lasted barely a second before a bubble broke free of the shifting appendage and fixed itself over her mouth, silencing her. Another four floated down to her wrists and ankles, binding her in place and stopping her from moving as one more broke off from the being. It looked a little like an arrowhead, or some other sharp, triangular tool, a razor edge cutting through the air and hovering just over her stomach.
I understood the danger then - not for me, but her. Abandoning caution, I leapt forward, yelling,
“Get away from her!”
But I rolled my ankle and went crashing down onto cold, hard asphalt. Dazed, I tried to lift myself, and managed to look up at the beings with blood pouring from my nose and a cut on my cheek. The one in front of my mum barely seemed to notice me, giving me a quick look then getting back to the matter at hand, whatever that was.
Mum squirmed against her restraints, issuing muffled groans through her nose. I forced my limbs to work, but I was held fast. Mounds of that shifting black crystal had smothered my hands, binding them to the ground.
I looked at my mum, helpless, terrified. She met my eyes, blinked away a tear, and squeezed her eyelids shut. At the back, the being wearing a T-shirt made some kind of gesture, like it was impatient, and the robed being nodded, turning back to mum and directing the arrow-shaped object. At the same time, her blouse began to lift up and off her, pulled by an invisible force and exposing her belly. The being hesitated for a second, and I felt a spark of hope, that it might show mercy.
But of course it didn’t.
The dark arrowhead pressed into her skin, slicing through layers like butter and dragging a line downwards, leaving a clean incision. Wasting no time, the being reached inside, fiddled around for a moment, then pulled out the severed end of my mum’s intestine. Blood and shit splattered the ground, trailing away from her as the being floated backwards, keeping hold of the organ until it was stretched to its full length.
I tasted bile.
“STOP! You fucks, you fucking–”
A gush of vomit interrupted me, flooding out onto the ground and mixing in with the intestinal fluids to create a disgusting, speckled pattern which prompted another wave of vomit from me and tears to cloud my vision.
“Please…”
I wiped my sleeve over my eyes so I could see. The being in a T-shirt had a long, pole-shaped protrusion stretching out from the end of its arm, extending to match the length of my mother’s intestines. It studied something for a second, before shrugging, and nodding at the robed being.
In the blink of an eye, the intestines retracted back like a frightened snake and piled back inside mum’s body. I just stared, not able to understand. The sides of the incision pulled into each other and appeared to heal completely in a matter of seconds. As soon as I’d processed this, I felt my restraints slacken then disappear entirely, and I shot to my feet, nearly tripping over again, and grasped onto mum’s arm.
I pulled, under the assumption that she’d been released. She wasn’t. Why weren’t they letting her go?
Freezing up, I cranked my head to look at the beings. More flashing lights. The one in a T-shirt was handing something over to the other, but I couldn’t see anything passing between them. Maybe it was something invisible, or something my mind just wasn’t built to perceive.
I continued to tug mechanically, trying to free her. Her skin was cold and slick and she was shivering. It did no good. The black crystal held fast. I nearly collapsed in relief and shock when the robed figure began to ascend back up to the prism it had come from, but the other grabbed onto its gown, communicating something. The robed being dropped back down, but threw its arms out in what I’d guessed was frustration. T-shirt gestured towards us again, still conversing with the other, waving its arms around. Still, the robed figure seemed to acquiesce and slid across the ground towards us again. Lights continued to flash behind its grill-face, all varying shades of orange and red. Like it was angry.
I couldn’t let it happen again, and lunged at it, planning to do - I don’t really know. I just wanted to protect my mum. Right as I made contact with the being, I felt a shift in the air. The fluid in my ears swirled. It made me dizzy. When my eyes stopped rolling to the side, I realised I was being held still by two pale, stunted arms, with odd patches of hot and cold travelling around on its skin. Somehow, I’d wound up in the arms of the being wearing a T-shirt, and those arms held me tight, tighter than any living thing should be able to.
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!!” I screamed, flailing and lashing out. In a desperate bet for escape I tried to bite down on one of its arms. It felt like I’d been curb stomped, like I’d bitten down full-force on granite.
I kind of gave up after that. It just hurt too much to think. Instead, I took in my surroundings. Where was I again? Mum… mum.
The robed being was standing in the way of her, but it was doing something. I couldn’t see what, but by the way mum was squealing behind her gag, it made the first procedure sound like a pillow fight. I just cried. There was no other avenue for relief except the tears.
Then, everything went quiet. Mum trailed off into a whine, and then nothing. No wind, and no trees or leaves rustling, because they’d all vanished. Just me, mum, and these things. The one holding me loosened its grip and I gasped, gulping down stagnant air. It floated over to where mum was and the robed being stepped aside, finally letting me see what was happening.
I didn’t really want to know. I really, really didn’t. But my muscles were locked in place.
In one… hand? The robed being held one end of an artery it had pulled out of mum’s chest. Without warning, the two entities shot up into the air, coming to a halt somewhere above. As they moved, more blood vessels phased through the skin of mum’s body, contorting and straightening to fuse at their ends, forming an unholy, pulsing rope.
With speed faster than I could process, the beings flew away, vanishing into the night while clutching the single fused vessel of veins, arteries, and capillaries. There was blood, yes, but only a little. It all seemed to be contained in that one long tube they continued to pull along through the atmosphere.
From the opposite direction, they passed once. I saw them pass over one more time and disappear into the distance before the meaty vessel pulled taut. At the time, I hadn’t really pieced it together - I think they’d looped around the entire planet. Not once, but twice, and then some, in what couldn’t have been more than ten seconds.
I blinked, and they were back, standing in the parking lot and flashing their lights at each other. I didn’t even have the energy to whisper in protest. T-shirt looked reluctant in some way, and handed over more of something I couldn’t see to the robed entity.
As they did this, the red string they’d made from mum’s blood vessels pulled back by itself at impossible speeds, retracting out of over two loops of planet Earth and back into my mum, breaking apart, phasing back inside and reassembling into their proper structure. That’s what I’d guessed, anyway.
Glassy eyed and so, so pale, the crystalline restraints dissolved and my mum slumped limp to the ground. I stood motionless for a second before realising my own restraints were gone as well, and I bolted over to her.
I was whispering something. Assurances, maybe apologies, I can’t remember. The two beings watched us, then they ascended, back up to the dark prism and out of sight. It began to pull back, up into the sky, and when I blinked, all the trees and the grass were back.
It all felt normal. Almost normal. The only change was that the sky was a little darker, and my mum felt a little colder. Then a lot colder. I placed two fingers on her neck. There was no pulse.
When the paramedics arrived, they rushed over to us. Their movements were frantic but controlled. Just thirty seconds later, that urgent energy was gone, replaced by a dull rhythm that told me all I needed to know.
She was pronounced dead on scene.
The coroner later concluded that mum had simply ‘died’. No cause could be found, but brain damage signified a level of hypoxia. I guess that’s what happens when your blood is outside of you, even if just for a minute.
Strangely, I found my anxiety to diminish after that night. It still flares up now and then, but most of the time, there’s just this hollow feeling in its place. I don’t go to Aldi anymore. Seems silly to mull over something like that, but I can’t even be near those big parking lots now. I get my groceries delivered.
Maybe it sounds like I’m managing - I am. Inside, though, there’s a crack that can’t be fixed, can’t be filled. It’s worn down over time, gotten less jagged and easier to deal with. Things don’t really shock me anymore, or at least, the shock is dulled.
There will be no justice for her. Even if I sought it, I doubt we could ever even access whatever plane those beings hail from. Whatever power we think we have, all those things see when they look at us is a world of monkeys, banging stones together. I’m sure of it.
In fact, I’m willing to bet on it.
As much as they bet on my mum.

So my family has a cabin on Whidbey and while we're pretty content to just hang around the cabin and relax, I'd like to explore more of the island this year. Is there anywhere I can get my hands on a trail map for Whidbey? Like an actual paper map, not an app or anything that would be on my phone since I don't usually get a data package when I head to the cabin. Thanks!

We will be bringing our kids (11 / 7) to NYC for the first time to celebrate my son and wife's birthday later this month. Son requested to see the Statue of Liberty and Starry Night (he has Lego sets of both.) We generally try to limit to one “major” activity a day as that is what works best for our kids. Kids are very into Lego and reading so we will plan to hit the Lego store on 5th and multiple bookstores. From a dining standpoint wife is Gluten Free, Kids are great eaters and have Sushi and Dumplings on the bucket list.
Here is our current itinerary with a few specific questions:

• Headlines about the Subway have been front and center over the past few months. I am not skittish but want to be reasonable about using the Subway with children – from a day-to-day standpoint is Subway travel as a family something you would be comfortable with or would you generally lean towards cabs and ride-share services?
• If using MTA how does fare-capping work when buying fares for multiple passengers? I know if you use the same card your fare is capped at $34 for a week but I am assuming this is per person.
• Any sushi recommendations in / around Theater District / UWS? It does not need to be a fancy Omakase experience. Solid Maki that the kids will enjoy is the focus here, carry out is fine.
• Any brunch recommendations in the Theater district?
• Any recommendations near Castle Clinton Monument in Lower Manhattan for an easy lunch?

Day 1:

• Fly into LGA
• Check-in to hotel (Hilton Midtown)
• Easy dinner (Los Tacos No. 1, Shake Shack, Twenty One Grains or similar)

Day 2:

• Breakfast / Brunch: Friedman’s (reservation made)
• Harry Potter and the Cursed Child
• Dinner: Ci Siamo (reservation made)

Day 3:

• 5th Avenue Walk
• New York Public Library
• Bryant Park
• Harry Potter Store
• Possible Option: The Math Museum
• Lunch: Nan Xiang Xiao Long Bao
• Afternoon / Evening TBD

Day 4: (Day 3/4 may be reversed depending on weather)

• Breakfast: Bread and Bagel
• American Museum of Natural History
• Afternoon in Central Park - simple lunch or eat take out in park
• Dinner: Senza Gluten (reservation made)

Day 5:

• Breakfast near hotel – Blue Bottle Coffee or similar
• Statue of Liberty (Crown) / Ellis Island (reservation made)
• Lunch: TBD in Lower Manhattan
• 9/11 Memorial Pools (Not Museum)
• Dinner: Keste or Simo for GF Pizza

Day 6: Wife / Son Birthday

• Lazy morning - donuts and coffee in room
• Open gifts
• Lego Store to shop for a Birthday present.
• Casual activities in / around Midtown
• Dinner: Osteria La Baia (reservation made)
• Wicked
• Post Theater cake or cupcake (Magnolia bakery or picked up before)

Day 7:

• Breakfast – TBD
• MoMA
• Afternoon / Evening (Parent Date Night)
• Dinner: Bird Dog (reservation made)
• Possibly Comedy Cellar if standby list is possible OR cocktails at Dead Rabbit or elsewhere.

Day 8:

• Sleep in
• Lunch at Chelsea Market
• Highline
• Little Island
• The Edge?
• Highline Hotel for cocktails / coffee
• Dinner: Shukette (reservation made)

Day 9:

• Head Home

Potential Activities as time allows:

• Brooklyn Bridge walk
• Top of the Rock (if we prefer to The Edge)

I've never had a good opportunity to sit down and do a run through TTWL. I'd played a couple hours in the past, but never really made it the game I was going to play. Well, I've now spent about two weeks playing it in my spare time. I'm at or just after the Wastard boss fight, which is pretty close to the end of the main story. I've been doing some side quests, but I've wanted to unlock gear slots so I've been sticking to the main quest.
Overall, I am having fun. The good:

1. The game is fun. The enemies are fun to fight. Flying enemies are a bit annoying, but they're kept pretty rare. I like how chaotic combat feels.
2. I like that they made melee combat repeat by holding the button down. You don't have to mash that button anymore. 100% that should always be there going forward.
3. I like the idea of armor, rings, amulets, and melee weapons being drops. That's cool. I kinda wish armor actually gave you armor, though.
4. The story is fine. I appreciate the TTRPG jokes.
5. Setting is cool. A fantasy world that feels true to TTRPG settings and as goofy as Borderlands likes to be.
6. Voice acting is great. Villain is great. Tina is great. Other players are... whatever. I like Wanda Sykes even if her character is meh.
7. Enemy variety is good. Talking skeletons are hilarious. Goblin "tricksters" in barrels are fun even if their ram attack has too much knockback.

However, I've got some criticisms. I'm wondering if I'm the only one to notice these. Most of these are small, but... there's so many little things that together I think TTWL is easily my least favorite game. It's like a death of 1,000 cuts. No huge glaring issues. Just things that tell you they didn't put as much care into Wonderlands. The game is undercooked. The bad:

1. There aren't really mechanics around melee combat. You just hold down melee, and then try to keep the enemy on screen. There are talents that make you better and the weapons often feel satisfying, but overall melee doesn't feel very deep for how important it seems to be.
2. Melee interrupting and resetting reload animations feels awful. Reload animations feel relatively long in WL, and if you miss the timing a little bit because some mob is eating your face that you want to finish off, you have to start the whole thing over. I really, really hate it.
3. The classes are kinda underwhelming. They remind me of BL1 classes more than anything. The ability trees are kinda dull; mostly static mods that don't do a whole lot plus a few kill skills. The action skills just feel like unique spells unless it's a pet, but the number of spells waters them down a lot. Having two classes is a great idea, but... it's not transformative gameplay like the BL3 classes were. Ability scores in particular feel lazy.
4. The way encounters work in instances really sucks. Instead of organically approaching an area, you're dumped into a combat arena. There aren't enough maps, either, or they get reused way too much. Instead of knowing where the enemies are and where safety is, they teleport in around you so you're constantly surrounded. Surrounded by melee enemies that will happily mob you and pin you in a corner. That might be realistic, but it's sure as shit ain't fun in an FPS. It's a good thing that snipers seem mostly terrible because there's so many encounters where they won't do anything. Need to run away and reload? The game will helpfully teleport enemies in front of you! And god help you if you die during the third stage of one of these instanced dungeons because you get to do all three of those fights again!
5. OK, it's a little thing, but when you complete an overworld shrine they don't activate on their own. You have to go back and activate them. Why? Why isn't finding all 4 parts good enough? And why are the bonuses so boring? Faster walking on the overworld? 10% more XP? These... suck. They feel like, "We nerfed you from baseline so we could find rewards to give back to you!"
6. The overworld likes to steal or lock your camera controls in certain areas. No. Bad. Stop that.
7. Map navigation on PC is fucked, too. You have to drag the reticle on the map to select things. The mouse just isn't used as a pointing device. Oh, but if you accidentally have the mouse where the list of travel locations are going to be on the UI when you open the map, well, then the map will automatically refocus to that spot instead of where you are. Want to refocus on yourself? Too bad. The easiest way to do that is to move the mouse to the right side of the screen then close and re-open the map.
8. The enemies feel... bizarrely bullet spongey. Worse, quite a lot of them just charge at you and melee. Even with an FOV of 105+, it's obnoxious simply because it's hard to see what is going on. I want the option of switching to third person camera.
9. So many enemies randomly have immunity shields, too, where you have to wait until you can attack them. That's maybe fine for an area boss, especially when they flood the boss arena with adds or do a phase change, but it's bullshit that a mook pirate with a ship's wheel as a "shield" just takes no damage or that the miniboss has a 15s immunity shield on a 20s cooldown. It's not overpowered. It's boring. I'm reminded of EgoRaptor's Ocarina of Time video: "There is so much goddamn waiting"
10. There's a lot of enemies that explode randomly when they die or have damage zones that persist after they die (sometimes from your own elemental weapons!). This has the knock-on effect of sometimes you win a combat, but then the last enemy explodes or drops a poison pool and that knocks you out. It feels very cheap and bullshitty in solo play whenever BL knocks you out after all the enemies die, and WL seems uniquely good at doing that to reset your progress by denying a Death Save.
11. The character creator doesn't really work. You get 5,000 sliders for the head and face, but they don't seem to do a whole lot. More oddly, there are only two body types, and they're kind of fixed based on class. You're a stabbomancer. Want your character to be a waifish girl assassin? Well, too bad. That's not possible. You either look like a kind of buff male wrestler or a kind of buff female wrestler. It feels like it misses the point entirely.
12. So many guns have slow projectile speeds or arcing projectiles that the gunplay really suffers. Certain weapons (magic blast shotguns and explosive lobbers) feel like they don't do the damage they're rated for, and the range of impact on the target is both extreme and too varied. Some weapons just have no effect at all. Others have huge knockback... but only sometimes. Both of these feel like they harm the quality of gunplay.
13. The loot feels like it sucks. It's too time consuming to go through it all, especially with the stupid inventory still being the same as it was in BL2. Like the rings and amulets don't feel like they do a lot unless you get a god drop, so it's hard to compare them.
14. The non-weapon class modifiers feel lazy and nebulous. "+10% Stabbomancer power." OK, great. I'm a stabbomancer. 10% of what now? Just my active skill? Every skill or talent? And the Epics have two classes chosen at random. So there's about a 1 in 20 chance that the game will drop loot with mods for both my actual classes, and about a 50% chance that it will have neither of them. Most non-weapon drop drops are automatically trash loot for you. But you had best pick it all up to sell, because....
15. Why are the SDUs so goddamn expensive? In fact, why is everything so goddamn expensive? If you want to buy something from the vending machine it's going to be 50% or more of your funds. I remember saving up to be able to afford maybe one thing from the vending machine in the future. That's steady throughout the whole game for me. SDUs are just a further drain.
16. Dark element seems too good. Like I just always keep a dark element weapon on me now because it's basically the only active way to heal. You can either find potions on the ground (why can't I carry them?) or use a vending machine to heal (which I don't think I've done since BL1) or explode a healing barrel or I can use a dark weapon. That's it. Oh, I suppose you might get a drop with 0.5% heal per second on it, but whatever. I get that lightning is good vs ward, poison is good vs armor, fire is good vs flesh, and ice is good vs bone. But dark is the only way to extend survivability, really. Mainly because running away is often impossible (instanced encounters).
17. The default keyboard layout is total garbage now, and I think it's because melee is important. WASD. E use. R reload. 1-4 weapons. Space is jump. F spell and G skill (or vice versa). H another skill sometimes. LCtrl slide and crouch and slam. Q is tag (I think?). C weapon mode. V is melee? Really? Why is such an important key there? It doesn't feel like they actually planned any of this out. I know it's the exact same layout as BL3, but the gameplay is much different. It's really annoying in ways I didn't expect. Why does it feel like there was just no thought put into how making melee important might prompt changes to the key layout? It just feels like every character is as input heavy as BL3's Zane, and it's because they didn't really think about anything.
18. This has been a constant issue for me since Borderlands 2 (in BL1 it felt appropriate). Since they keep making this thoughtless design mistake I'm going to keep bringing it up. Why do they keep starting you off with only 2 weapon slots? Why does gear drop that I can't even equip? Why are gear slots locked at all if you can just level-gate drops from some categories? It's a looter shooter focused on switching weapons and gear frequently! Let me use the loot that drops and let me use more weapons! This is a shitty progression mechanic, and it feels even worse here. I think I found my first ring 4-5 levels before I could actually equip it. I'd found two epic rings before I could even equip one.

I'm not going to give up on the game because in spite of all that it is often fun. But I think this is the worst BL game. Which is a shame because Tiny Tina's Assault on Dragon Keep is probably the top tier for Borderlands, IMO.

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

Producer: So, you have a video game for me?
Writer: Yes, sir, I do! It's a battle royale game called Fortnite.
Producer: Fork Knife? Is it a food-making game where you eat with a Fork and a Knife?
Writer: Well, No actually, sir, this is a shooter game where players are dropped onto an island where they must scavenge for weapons and resources inside people's homes while trying to be the last person standing.
Producer: Sounds a lot like that game PUBG.
Writer: Well, yes, it's Very similar to that.
Producer: So, Isn't that kind of a rip-off? Whats the point of making this game if its gonna be a Complete rip-off?
Writer: What if we give the player the ability to build stuff in the game?
Producer: Thats different enough. So how do we do the building in this Fork-knife game of yours?
Writer: Well, we add a building mechanic where players can gather materials and construct forts and other structures to defend themselves.
Producer: So, they can build in the middle of a fight?
Writer: They sure can!
Producer: Won't that make the combat complicated and kind of confusing?
Writer: Oh, definitely. Super confusing. And we're going to have this cartoony art style, so it's all bright and colorful.
Producer: Cartoony art style?
Writer: Yes, sir, we want to attract a younger audience, you know, kids and teenagers.
Producer: Really? And what about older players?
Writer: They'll probably play it too. Some might even play it so much while filming themselves sitting, eating, and drinking inside a room infront of a bunch of cameras to a bunch of digital people on some kind of streaming-platform out there. And some older players might even be so good that they can be placed inside a room with other players that are as good as them.
Producer: Okay, okay, But wait. Why would older players be interested in a game designed for kids?
Writer: Because it's free.
Producer: Oh, older people love free things.
Writer: And we’ll have these things called Emotes where players can dance and do fun gestures for no reason.
Producer: Why would they need that?
Writer: To taunt other players and express themselves, and making it easier for other players to get kills!
Producer: And we're sure kids will love this?
Writer: Oh, absolutely. They'll be flossing in no time.
Producer: What’s flossing?
Writer: It’s one of the dances that we’ll include in the game.
Producer: Ah, okay, and how will we make money?
Writer: Super easy, barely an inconvenience.
Producer: How come?
Writer: Microtransactions.
Producer: Microtransactions?
Writer*: Yeah, Microtransactions. Players can buy this thing called V-Bucks, which is our in-game currency, to get skins, emotes, and other cosmetic items.
Producer: So, none of these items give players a competitive advantage?
Writer: Nope, just cosmetics.
Producer: And people will spend real money on that?
Writer: Oh, they definitely will.
Producer: How are you so sure?
Writer: Because we’ll make it really cool and hard to resist. Plus, we'll create this thing called FOMO.
Producer: FOMO?
Writer: Fear of Missing Out. We’ll have limited-time items so players feel pressured to buy them before they're gone.
Producer: So, we’re going to exploit psychological weaknesses?
Writer: Oh, for sure.
Producer: Exploiting psychological weaknesses is tight! So, how will players get to the Island?
Writer: They’ll skydive from a flying bus.
Producer: A flying bus?
Writer: Yeah, we’ll call it the Battle Bus.
Producer: Why would a bus be flying?
Writer: Because it's fun.
Producer: But How does it fly tho?
Writer: Listen, sir, i'm gonna need you to get all the way off my back about why the Battle Bus can fly using a very big sketchy pop-able baloon but only moves one direction, okay.
Producer: Okay, let me get off of that thing.
Writer: Oh, and every few minutes, a storm will shrink the play area, forcing players into a smaller and smaller circle until one player remains.
Producer: Why would a storm do that?
Writer: To make the game faster and more intense.
Producer: But thats not--- never mind.
Writer: And we’ll have different game modes, including solo, duo, and squads, so players can team up with friends.
Producer: What if players don’t have friends?
Writer: Then they’ll be loners. Solo mode is perfect for that.
Producer: And how will we keep the game fresh?
Writer: We'll have seasonal updates with new themes, items, and challenges.
Producer: Seasonal updates?
Writer: Plus, we’ll add crossover events with popular franchises from all our child hoods we can think off.
Producer: Like what?
Writer: Well, i'm just gonna throw some names out there, just top of my head, *Marvel, Star Wars, DC, Avatar, Family Guy, TMNT, POTC, Rick and Morty, and a Whole bunch of other stuff.
Producer: So, we’re going to have superheroes and nerds fighting each other in a game where you can build forts and dance?
Writer: Exactly.
Producer: That sounds amazing!
Writer: Oh, it’s going to be super amazing.
Producer: And that's Fortnite. So, what do you think?
Writer: I think we’ll make billions.
Producer: We're gonna be rich!
Producer: Wow, wow, wow. Wow.
Producer: But wait, you forgot to say what’s the story behind this game?
Writer: Oh, right, well, the island is constantly changing and evolving. At first, there isn't much backstory, only younger and older players ACTIVELY hunting each other down and killing each other, but over time, we introduce a series of events and lore that shape the game's world.
Producer: Interesting. What kind of events and lore are we talking about?
Writer: Well, Each season, we add new story elements to the game. For example, there's this mysterious organization called "The Imagined Order" that's manipulating the island. Players uncover clues and secrets about them as the game progresses.
Producer: So, there are hidden stories and mysteries?
Writer: Exactly. One season, we had a massive meteor strike that changed the landscape. Another season, a giant iceberg crashed into the island, bringing new areas to explore. We also introduced a volcanic eruption that altered the terrain significantly.
Producer: Sounds like a lot of natural disasters.
Writer: Ye ye ye. But all these events tie into the overarching narrative. There's this powerful artifact called the Zero Point at the center of the island, and it's the source of all these changes.
Producer: What’s the Zero Point?
Writer: It's a mysterious energy source that can manipulate time and space. Different factions and characters try to control it, leading to conflicts and alliances.
Producer: Who are these characters?
Writer: We've introduced various characters over time, like Jonesy, who starts as a standard avatar but becomes central to the story. He’s sort of the player’s guide and gets involved in all the major events.
Producer: And these characters, they have backstories?
Writer: Yes, each character has their own backstory and motives. Some are heroes trying to save the island, others are villains seeking power. We add new characters regularly to keep things fresh and engaging.
Producer: How do players learn about all this?
Writer: Through in-game events, cutscenes, and quests. For instance, we might have a live event where something dramatic happens, like a giant robot fighting a monster. These events often change the map and advance the storyline.
Producer: Live events? How do those work?
Writer: At specific times, we host live events where players can participate or just watch something big unfold. These events are usually massive, with millions of players logging in to witness them.
Producer: That sounds like a logistical nightmare.
Writer: It can be, but it creates a shared experience that players love. It's a huge part of what keeps the community engaged.
Producer: So, the story is dynamic and ever-changing?
Writer: Exactly. We keep evolving the narrative with each season, adding new mysteries and plot twists. It's like an ongoing TV show where the players are part of the story.
Producer: And this keeps players coming back?
Writer: Absolutely. The evolving story and frequent updates make sure there's always something new to discover and experience.
Producer: Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.
Writer: We’ve tried to make it as immersive and engaging as possible. The story is just one part of what makes Fortnite a unique and exciting game.
Producer: Well, I’m sold. Let’s make this game!

Producer: So, you have a video game for me?
Writer: Yes, sir, I do! It's a battle royale game called Fortnite.
Producer: Fork Knife? Is it a food-making game where you eat with a Fork and a Knife?
Writer: Well, No actually, sir, this is a shooter game where players are dropped onto an island where they must scavenge for weapons and resources inside people's homes while trying to be the last person standing.
Producer: Sounds a lot like that game PUBG.
Writer: Well, yes, it's Very similar to that.
Producer: So, Isn't that kind of a rip-off? Whats the point of making this game if its gonna be a Complete rip-off?
Writer: What if we give the player the ability to build stuff in the game?
Producer: Thats different enough. So how do we do the building in this Fork-knife game of yours?
Writer: Well, we add a building mechanic where players can gather materials and construct forts and other structures to defend themselves.
Producer: So, they can build in the middle of a fight?
Writer: They sure can!
Producer: Won't that make the combat complicated and kind of confusing?
Writer: Oh, definitely. Super confusing. And we're going to have this cartoony art style, so it's all bright and colorful.
Producer: Cartoony art style?
Writer: Yes, sir, we want to attract a younger audience, you know, kids and teenagers.
Producer: Really? And what about older players?
Writer: They'll probably play it too. Some might even play it so much while filming themselves sitting, eating, and drinking inside a room infront of a bunch of cameras to a bunch of digital people on some kind of streaming-platform out there. And some older players might even be so good that they can be placed inside a room with other players that are as good as them.
Producer: Okay, okay, But wait. Why would older players be interested in a game designed for kids?
Writer: Because it's free.
Producer: Oh, older people love free things.
Writer: And we’ll have these things called Emotes where players can dance and do fun gestures for no reason.
Producer: Why would they need that?
Writer: To taunt other players and express themselves, and making it easier for other players to get kills!
Producer: And we're sure kids will love this?
Writer: Oh, absolutely. They'll be flossing in no time.
Producer: What’s flossing?
Writer: It’s one of the dances that we’ll include in the game.
Producer: Ah, okay, and how will we make money?
Writer: Super easy, barely an inconvenience.
Producer: How come?
Writer: Microtransactions.
Producer: Microtransactions?
Writer*: Yeah, Microtransactions. Players can buy this thing called V-Bucks, which is our in-game currency, to get skins, emotes, and other cosmetic items.
Producer: So, none of these items give players a competitive advantage?
Writer: Nope, just cosmetics.
Producer: And people will spend real money on that?
Writer: Oh, they definitely will.
Producer: How are you so sure?
Writer: Because we’ll make it really cool and hard to resist. Plus, we'll create this thing called FOMO.
Producer: FOMO?
Writer: Fear of Missing Out. We’ll have limited-time items so players feel pressured to buy them before they're gone.
Producer: So, we’re going to exploit psychological weaknesses?
Writer: Oh, for sure.
Producer: Exploiting psychological weaknesses is tight! So, how will players get to the Island?
Writer: They’ll skydive from a flying bus.
Producer: A flying bus?
Writer: Yeah, we’ll call it the Battle Bus.
Producer: Why would a bus be flying?
Writer: Because it's fun.
Producer: But How does it fly tho?
Writer: Listen, sir, i'm gonna need you to get all the way off my back about why the Battle Bus can fly using a very big sketchy pop-able baloon but only moves one direction, okay.
Producer: Okay, let me get off of that thing.
Writer: Oh, and every few minutes, a storm will shrink the play area, forcing players into a smaller and smaller circle until one player remains.
Producer: Why would a storm do that?
Writer: To make the game faster and more intense.
Producer: But thats not--- never mind.
Writer: And we’ll have different game modes, including solo, duo, and squads, so players can team up with friends.
Producer: What if players don’t have friends?
Writer: Then they’ll be loners. Solo mode is perfect for that.
Producer: And how will we keep the game fresh?
Writer: We'll have seasonal updates with new themes, items, and challenges.
Producer: Seasonal updates?
Writer: Plus, we’ll add crossover events with popular franchises from all our child hoods we can think off.
Producer: Like what?
Writer: Well, i'm just gonna throw some names out there, just top of my head, *Marvel, Star Wars, DC, Avatar, Family Guy, TMNT, POTC, Rick and Morty, and a Whole bunch of other stuff.
Producer: So, we’re going to have superheroes and nerds fighting each other in a game where you can build forts and dance?
Writer: Exactly.
Producer: That sounds amazing!
Writer: Oh, it’s going to be super amazing.
Producer: And that's Fortnite. So, what do you think?
Writer: I think we’ll make billions.
Producer: We're gonna be rich!
Producer: Wow, wow, wow. Wow.
Producer: But wait, you forgot to say what’s the story behind this game?
Writer: Oh, right, well, the island is constantly changing and evolving. At first, there isn't much backstory, only younger and older players ACTIVELY hunting each other down and killing each other, but over time, we introduce a series of events and lore that shape the game's world.
Producer: Interesting. What kind of events and lore are we talking about?
Writer: Well, Each season, we add new story elements to the game. For example, there's this mysterious organization called "The Imagined Order" that's manipulating the island. Players uncover clues and secrets about them as the game progresses.
Producer: So, there are hidden stories and mysteries?
Writer: Exactly. One season, we had a massive meteor strike that changed the landscape. Another season, a giant iceberg crashed into the island, bringing new areas to explore. We also introduced a volcanic eruption that altered the terrain significantly.
Producer: Sounds like a lot of natural disasters.
Writer: Ye ye ye. But all these events tie into the overarching narrative. There's this powerful artifact called the Zero Point at the center of the island, and it's the source of all these changes.
Producer: What’s the Zero Point?
Writer: It's a mysterious energy source that can manipulate time and space. Different factions and characters try to control it, leading to conflicts and alliances.
Producer: Who are these characters?
Writer: We've introduced various characters over time, like Jonesy, who starts as a standard avatar but becomes central to the story. He’s sort of the player’s guide and gets involved in all the major events.
Producer: And these characters, they have backstories?
Writer: Yes, each character has their own backstory and motives. Some are heroes trying to save the island, others are villains seeking power. We add new characters regularly to keep things fresh and engaging.
Producer: How do players learn about all this?
Writer: Through in-game events, cutscenes, and quests. For instance, we might have a live event where something dramatic happens, like a giant robot fighting a monster. These events often change the map and advance the storyline.
Producer: Live events? How do those work?
Writer: At specific times, we host live events where players can participate or just watch something big unfold. These events are usually massive, with millions of players logging in to witness them.
Producer: That sounds like a logistical nightmare.
Writer: It can be, but it creates a shared experience that players love. It's a huge part of what keeps the community engaged.
Producer: So, the story is dynamic and ever-changing?
Writer: Exactly. We keep evolving the narrative with each season, adding new mysteries and plot twists. It's like an ongoing TV show where the players are part of the story.
Producer: And this keeps players coming back?
Writer: Absolutely. The evolving story and frequent updates make sure there's always something new to discover and experience.
Producer: Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.
Writer: We’ve tried to make it as immersive and engaging as possible. The story is just one part of what makes Fortnite a unique and exciting game.
Producer: Well, I’m sold. Let’s make this game!

Hello there, im looking for new friends. I have several hobbies and interests i want to share but im looking for more of an emotional connection, something more along the lines of being able to talk about stuff back and forth, but im definitely not looking to force anything.
As for hobbies and interests, i like to walk, i like taking scenic walks to map out nyc (in my head) obviously i stay away from dangerous places xD, im from queens so i like to cross into long island alot because its more peaceful. I like playing video games, only a specific set of them..like mmos, sometimes moba, fps. I like board games like monopoly, I like anime, sometimes kdrama, tv, and movies but less anime as of recently, i prefer watching shows or movies though. I spend more of my time on youtube!
I also really enjoy learning about new stuff, love learning about new people, i love talking and sharing music and tweaking my spotify playlist, im big on art (graphic design to fine arts is my jam :3) im quite open minded when it comes to food and have no food qualms really unless its stuff like balut(sorry to the pinoy bros and sis). Im open to sports as well. I dont smoke or drink so i prefer non smokers or drinkers, but i can appreciate a good edible, my only preferred way of getting high.
So yeah, if anyone is interested, please feel free to send me a message.

CHAPTER 9 – ENTROPY
DATE: MARCH 10th, 7 A.U. (AFTER UNIFICATION) LOCATION: SOL SYSTEM, ABOARD UTRN INDOMITABLE WILL
CAPTAIN HENRY O’TOOLE
"Ah, there you are Commander. Your message said there was something you wanted to talk with me about?" Henry asked as his executive officer approached the system map.
“Aye Captain, now's a good a time as any. As you know, the rate of disciplinary incidents has more than tripled in the last two weeks. We've had six fistfights, one near strangling, a few dozen counts of sexual harassment amongst different parties, and a few more incidents of a nature that I would rather not get into for fear of derailing the point of this conversation. I need additional resources to allocate towards ship internal security. With your permission, I'd like to borrow some of our more trusted marines to help the MA's out on their off shifts.” Commander Alvarez asked.
“Yeah, of course, take what you need to nip this in the bud. I can't say I'm entirely surprised; we expected a certain amount of this with the stresses of FTL travel. With everyone cooped up like this, maybe we should brainstorm some new outlets for the crew. Were there any specific incidents I need to get involved with?” Henry replied as he looked up from the list of updates and reports on his own console.
“No, I have it covered. It's just the regs state I need to ask permission to use marines for internal security matters.” The Commander waved it off.
“Excellent, continue to keep me in the loop then. Can I ask you a question?” Henry took the opportunity to ask something that had been bothering him.
“You just did. Hah! Just kidding, put the axe away boy! Now what would you like to know?” He said with a twinkle in his eye.
“I've seen your file, well, the parts that weren’t redacted anyway. If anything, I should be taking your orders! I mean, you're the Space Wolf! Nobody came even close to the number of ships captured or destroyed than you in the early days of the battle for the belt. Why would they want me to be captain when they had someone like you coming along the whole time? Why aren't you a captain anymore? By all right this should be your command, not mine.” Henry asked, after taking one last look around to verify they were still alone around the system map.
Commander Alvarez seemed stunned for a moment before he settled into a more pensive look.
“Listen, son, you're all full of the vigor and high passions of youth. By that I mean you've got a certain fire and aggression in you, yet I've seen you generally keep it balanced by wit and wisdom. You are a perfect match for the job, even if you could use some more real world experience. With some guidance, you'll do just fine, if you can keep strict standards for yourself and crew and a cool head when things get tough."
"I appreciate that, and I will definitely lean on your experience whenever possible. However, you didn't really answer my question... Why aren't you a captain anymore?"
"I... got a lot of damn good men and women killed in an impossible situation when we lost the Michigan-II, and I never truly got over it. No amount of medals, captured enemy ships, or the fact that I've saved many more lives than I lost can make up for that. I finally found peace with that, but that peace required that I relieve myself of any chance of future command. My legacy, for better or worse, is set in stone. Joining this expedition gives me another chance at adjusting the scales without breaking my former vows, even if the only people who will ever know it are here on the voyage with us.”
“So, you claim you have no aims or desires for leadership, but here you are a mere heartbeat away from it.” Henry said, carefully studying his executive officer's every reaction.
“My time for glory is mostly gone, yours is at your feet before you. To the world, I am retired in comfort and isolation. In reality you have me here to help make your will law. You can relax. I already turned down command of this expedition. I was plan A, why do you think they had to scramble to find you? I will take command of this mission only if you are incapable of doing so yourself, Sir. In the meantime, let my experience and whatever wisdom I can offer guide you.”
An emergency alert snapped both of their attention out of their conversation. "There's a fire in one of the officer's cabins?!" Henry’s pulse quickened as he referenced the map to find which one.
“Fuck, it started in Chantal’s room!” Henry said, horrified.
“I've got the CIC under control. Go on and get her out of there, I'll send the cavalry."
“Thank you, Commander.” Henry called back over his shoulder as he rushed for the quick lift.
The officer cabins were the in the very next deck overhead, so he was able to arrive quickly and break into a sprint. The ship shifted as it dodged some antimatter, causing Henry to slip and scramble back to his feet. As he rounded the corner he saw her door was closed and the keypad powered was off. He could hear thumps and muffled screaming from within the room.
"HANG ON CHANTAL, I'M COMING!" Henry shouted in the hope that she could hear him as he pried at the manual override panel.
Two modified Paladin exo-combat armor suits rounded the corner seconds later with a hospitalman trailing behind pushing a medical cart.
"WE'LL TAKE IT FROM HERE, SIR." A speaker-amplified voice spoke from behind him.
One of the Paladin suits accessed the manual control override and forced the door open enough for the other suit to reach in and pry it the rest of the way open as smoke plumed into the corridor. The second suit charged into the room with its flood lights on as a water cannon mounted on the right wrist sprayed flame retardant from a pack on its back. The first suit abandoned the door control and entered, emerging moments later with Chantal awake and coughing from inside the darkened door frame. She was quickly ushered into cleaner air, set gently down, wrapped in a blanket, and was quickly attended to by a hospitalman who began to check her vitals.
Relief flooded Henry’s mind as his adrenaline surge broke against the wall of worry he had built up during his mad dash from the CIC.
“Baby you came for me! I thought I was going to die in there." She pulled him into a tight embrace as she wept in cathartic release.
"Of course I did! I couldn't stand to lose you, especially not over something like this. So, what the hell happened in there?"
"Well you know me, I was all burning the midnight oil and then I smelled smoke! Then there were some sparks, the outlet pops then whoosh! My computer station and my desk are all ablaze along with half my notes, then the damned door wouldn't work! I had to drop to the floor under the smoke and pound on the door in hopes that someone would hear me. God, it was horrible... I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life." She replied with a deep shudder.
"You're safe now, it's going to be alright."
"I know, but what about my work?" She replied with a forlorn look back at her smoke damaged room.
"What about your work?"
"As you know, I lost a ton of it just now, but what’s worse is I don't even have the ability to recover them! Remember how I lost my backup drive last week? Like, I know I packed it and it is not here anywhere! It’s like some sick cosmic joke on me or something. Sorry! Gotta keep it positive, girl! I get to rethink my last few weeks’ worth of work from scratch... that was almost positive! I probably have most of this recoverable from email sent box backups. Fuck, what do you do if there's no good silver lining?” Chantal bemoaned.
Henry couldn’t help himself but laugh for a second, while his girlfriend stared at him, waiting for a response.
“I’m sorry, is this funny to you or something?”
“No, no of course not. This might be one of those times where the only silver lining is that you're alive. Plus, if anyone can remember and rebuild their notes, you can." Henry smiled down at her.
“Fine, fine, at least I am alive. I was only breathing smoke for a few seconds after all.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Thank you for rushing down here right away anyway, it means a lot. You're amazing, you know.”
Henry smiled, slightly uncomfortable for a moment, so he changed the subject.
“I do my best... Anyway, it seems like these electrical issues seem to be getting worse instead of better. Whatever patch these clowns have slapped on my ship to get her to pass inspection is clearly coming undone. What do you think is going on here?” Henry asked in mild exasperation.
“Honestly, I can’t tell you without digging into the systems myself, which I would rather avoid. My plate is full enough as it is right now, especially having to reproduce so much of my own work now. This ship has kilometers of power cables running throughout it, after all, and you have an entire loyal, capable team down there in electrical, so it should only be a matter of time before they sort it out for you. Let them do their jobs without harassing them too much, please?”
Henry felt a little irked at her for not giving him credit to know not to go overboard, but he stowed it, seeing as she ultimately was right.
“The crew has been under a lot of stress, too, between the technical issues with the lights going out, losing power to workstations, or the constant antimatter threat. More than a few people have tried to convince me to turn us around and return to S33 for a more in-depth refit and repair cycle before we try the mission again. So far, everyone has accepted the fact that we are continuing the mission without much argument, but I fear what may happen if these issues are seen as getting worse. Our orders are clear, though, we must continue the journey.” Henry said, uncomfortable with the implications, even if he didn't dare voice it.
“You should get on the Q-Comm to report the fire to S33. Maybe they will order us back to base after this.” She offered, looking for a solution to an impossible problem.
“Good idea, at least the Q-Comm is still working. It’s incredible to me those particles maintained their entanglement once we passed through the baryonic barrier. That alone has been a huge morale boost, being able to contact home base with no time lag.” Henry replied.
“It’s incredible to you because you only have a basic grasp of the science, hon. But that’s alright, very few people truly understand it. That’s in part what you have me here for anyway. Einstein called the effect spooky action from a distance; I always liked that line.”
Henry ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Chantal, with a shake of his head and a smile.
“Listen, Henry, I just had a crazy stressful experience and I need to unwind. Plus, I haven’t slept in almost a day, so I am bone tired. Let’s go to bed, huh? What do you say doc, am I clear to go?” Chantal asked.
The hospitalman closed her eyes and shook her head before responding. "Yes, you are cleared to rest, and only to rest, do you understand me?"
Chantal mouthed a thank you before she took Henry by the hand and led him off to the captain’s quarters. Henry felt no desire to fight it, nor flaw with her reasoning. Sleep sounded good, really good. Plus, he was about an hour from the start of his sleep shift anyway, and Alvarez had the CIC well covered. The lights flickered again, but Henry very purposefully ignored it.
“Hey, since we have a little time and we are both a little wound up, Why don’t we take a shower together real quick?” She said with genuine enthusiasm and a wink.
“Madam, I like the way you think.” The couple raced just a bit faster than regulations would have liked, and arrived at his door in record speed.
Inside the room they fell upon each other in great passion and need, stripping each other out of their BDU’s and underclothes. Henry tossed a giggling Chantal onto the bed, and proceeded to kiss her neck and nibble on her ear causing her to purr in anticipation before he moved down her chest, past her navel, and then eagerly began to move his kisses in between her thighs.
“Hah…. I haven’t showered. Are you sure? Oooookay! I think…. Hah…. Okay.” She said breathlessly as Henry began to work his tongue until she began to shiver and squirm before she cried out as she melted in his mouth.
“Enough, please, I can’t take it anymore! Just fuck me already!” Chantal pulled herself together enough to beg for it. Henry stood rigid and ready and set himself to granting her request, first slowly, and then with a growing intensity. She once more began to squirm as he paid close attention to her hip’s cues, knowing very well by now what she liked.
As she climaxed again, Henry lifted her from the bed and pushed her up against the wall, and then bent her over his desk for a bit before he could take it no longer and they finished together.
“Holy shit… my legs aren’t gonna work for a bit after that one. Help me up?” Chantal said in between shallow breaths.
“Yes, ma’am. It would be my pleasure.” Henry said as he helped her to her feet and into the shower, staying in longer than was strictly necessary.
Henry left the steam first, once more thankful that his cabin included its own small bathroom, rather than a communal one. Being captain had its perks, after all. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, then handed another to Chantal who gratefully accepted it before it dropped to the ground as she stared straight past him.
“Henry!" She squeaked as she pointed past him.
"What?" Henry asked, confused.
"Henry, someone was in here!”
On their bathroom mirror, wiped from the steam were the words TURN BACK.
Henry's blood ran cold and his adrenaline spiked him into overdrive. He waved Chantal back into the shower and put his finger to his lips. She nodded then wrapped herself in her retrieved towel and dropped to the shower floor with her arms wrapped around her knees, whimpering slightly. Henry moved silently along the wall, watching the visible half of his room for any movement. He then burst round the door frame, only to find everything perfectly, precisely as they had left it. The shock of finding nothing collided with the spike of his adrenaline surge, which only fed his growing unease.
“There’s nobody here!” Henry called out after checking the closet, the only other place someone could have hidden.
“Did you lock the door?” Chantal asked, her mind already working on the mystery.
“I set the security protocol to auto lock every time it closes.”
“Paul. We need to talk to Paul.” Chantal said, squeezing her BDU’s up over her hips with a few hops. Henry pulled on his undershirt before tossing over her bra.
“Why would we want to bring that weasel into this?” Henry asked, incredulous at to how he could possibly help.
“Because he has access to the surveillance tapes, why else?”
Henry stared at Chantal, brimming with rage, trying his hardest to keep it isolated to Paul over the invasion of his privacy.
“Did you just say surveillance tapes!?!” Henry asked in an icy tone. “That does it, I’m going to strangle him.” Henry said, moving with a purpose toward the door.
“Stop. Turn around and give me a kiss. I already disabled the video cameras, at least all the ones I could find. He has audio at best, even that I doubt. What he does have that I want is the data from the motion sensor that he had installed just in case you found the more obvious bugs. Unfortunately, I sabotaged its effectiveness by blocking the sensor with dense foam, but there might be enough of something to give us a clue."
“How in the hell do you know about all of this anyway, and why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” Henry roared.
“This entire enterprise is run by an intelligence agency; how can you not have seen that one coming a mile away? I have gotten very good at catching bugs over the years. Just because I expect the invasion of privacy to be happening, doesn’t mean I have to make it easy on them. Just be happy I already took care of the issue, alright?” She replied firmly while staring him in the eyes with raised eyebrows.
“You’re incredible, I love you.” Henry blurted out before he could catch himself. Chantal beamed and tackled him to the bed sitting on his lap.
“What took you so long? Never mind, don’t answer that. I love you too, man have I wanted to say that one for a while now.”
“You know these things aren’t easy for me. I had to be sure, I also didn’t want to mess anything up. We need to be able to work together even if we had turned out to be a bad couple.” Henry admitted, Chantal made an show as she thought it over, but she then smiled and helped Henry to his feet.
“Alright, my captain. You speak great wisdom. While I have certainly felt, and thoroughly enjoyed, the depths of your passion, it is really nice to hear about it too. I do think it makes it all the better that you rule said passion with reason. It’s just one of the many things I love about you.” She said, laying her hand over his heart.
Henry took her other hand and kissed it before replying. “I think above all, I wanted to make sure that I didn’t take you for granted, nor suffer the same in reverse. A wise woman once gave me some great advice there that I have taken to heart.”
“Okay, Romeo, maybe you have a better handle on these things than you think. Now… Let’s go interrogate Paul.” Chantal had a fire in her eyes that Henry was loving very much at that moment.
“I have wanted to turn the screws on that spook for a while now.” Henry smiled as he spoke, and he opened up the connection to the ship’s intranet through his neural implant to send a message.
MEET ME IN YOUR QUARTERS IN 5 MINUTES FOR A DISCUSSION OF CRITICAL IMPORTANCE – CPT. O'TOOLE
“That ought to get him there and alone.” Henry smirked. “Let’s go.”
Together, they made their way to Paul’s equivalent-sized quarters, which he had somehow secured for himself in the ship design to help facilitate his role as the official thorn in Henry’s paw. I guess being the captain’s handler has its perks as well. Henry’s eye twitched at the corner.
After making them wait far too long, Paul opened the door and gesturing them inside. The door closed and Paul turned towards them, narrowing his eyes, studying them both.
“Is this about the fire?” Paul asked before Henry punched the weasel right in the diaphragm, forcing him to gasp for air. The look of shock on his face as he bent forwards was priceless.
“What the fuck, Henry!?” Paul managed to choke out after a minute between gasps.
“Relax, I didn’t do any permanent damage, yet.” Henry said, Paul for just a second showed actual fear in his eyes before he sneered in defiance. “Oh? That got your attention, did it? Why were you spying on me?” Henry growled.
Paul closed his eyes, dropped his head, and began to laugh before Henry grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the wall. Foolishly, Paul even then kept laughing amidst the gasping. So Henry squeezed until Paul started slapping his arm, looking genuine fear once more growing across his face.
“Orders… I was following orders!” Paul managed to say amidst gasps and coughs.
“I thought it might be something like that. You're going to open up those files, now, and you're going to show me everything.” Henry said, dropping him to his feet at last.
“Fucking hell, Henry, I thought you of all people would have anticipated this was going to be the case. Do you think the people who made this all possible would simply let you fly around the most dangerous, advanced warship in human history without some insurance?”
“Don’t try and weasel out of your own personal culpability here. You may also want to think back to other people who were “only following orders” while performing acts they knew were wrong before you wave that line around like some get out of jail free card.” The fact that he had nothing to say spoke volumes.
“You should have told me, Paul.” Henry growled.
“That defeats the purpose! Plus, your girlfriend sabotaged them all before we ever left S33 anyway, and once more after! That type of tech doesn’t just grow on trees you know, and I don’t have an unlimited supply. You should be thanking me for covering for her and reporting back like things are normal!” Paul shouted in indignation.
“This is pointless, show me the files from around fifteen minutes ago, motion trackers, thermals, anything you have that's not blocked or sabotaged.” Henry commanded. Paul’s eyes narrowed, but after a long moment he huffed and closed his eyes.
Paul then sat down at his station and fired it up.
“Like I said, I've got practically nothing. No video, muffled audio and readings from what I assume to be a faulty motion sensor, that’s it. What are we looking for?”
“Chantal and I were, well, together. After we got out of the shower we saw that someone had written turn back in the condensation on the bathroom mirror. Only problem? My door auto locks when closed and only opens for my biometrics. That is why all of this even came up in the first place.”
“Motherfucker. That's a whole heap of bad news.” Paul said. Henry merely nodded, paying rather more attention to the screen to see if he could catch Paul in a lie about the extent of the spying.
“There’s nothing. No disturbances in the air that would even remotely resemble human movement between you two getting in the shower and you charging into your bedroom. With the noise of the shower and the distance to the microphone, there is nothing I can discern that is anomalous. You can see it all right here for yourself.”
Henry found himself even more confused and alarmed than before.
“How is that possible? Look again, run through some filters or something. There must be some evidence somewhere!”
“Alright, relax, I will get to work on this and get you a report by the end of C shift. In the meantime, you look like a mess. Get some sleep man! I can take care of it from here. Oh, and I want you to remember that I forgave you quite magnanimously for that little episode back there where you attacked me.” Henry and Chantal gave each other a look as Paul spoke.
“Wasn’t gonna apologize anyway, you had it coming. I’m going to hit the rack. I expect that report to be detailed and ready when I get up.” Henry took Chantal by the hand, and they left together, not waiting for a response.
“What a snake. Did you see him in there? Zero guilt or recognition whatsoever about spying like that. It just makes my skin crawl. Gives me bad memories.” Chantal said, turning pensive and quiet.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Henry asked, seeing that there was something clearly bothering her.
“I… had an uncle that lived with us from time to time and he would spy on me when I was dressing, try and sneak looks in the shower, stuff like that. Never touched me or anyone else that I know of, thank god, but man did it screw me up a bit still. Played havoc with my sense of security and even my sanity, never being quite sure it was real or all in my head. I wish I had said something, but I was afraid everyone would think I was overreacting or imagining it. I saw it in his eyes though, that look of... predatory lust. At least I didn't see anything like that in Paul's eyes. To this day it makes my skin crawl.”
“Good God, I can see how alone you must have felt in the middle of all that.” He squeezed her hand, she smiled up at him.
“Yeah, that was one of the hardest parts. I don’t think Paul is some raging pervert or anything, but it concerns me how normalized it was to him. Even if he isn’t being a creep with it, as if we can take his claims to be covering for me at face value. There is still no way I am going to let him have easy access to intimate videos of us, if I can possibly help it.” Chantal said before adding, “I’ll be all right, don’t worry about me. Let’s just get some sleep.”
Henry put his palm against the biometric scanner outside his room and the door slid open for them. They definitely needed some sleep after the emotional roller coaster of the past few hours, and the irresistible warm embrace of his bed called for him. The Q-Comm report could wait until he woke, he decided.
Better to have the electrical inspection ordered up, too.
I WANT A FULL REPORT AND INSPECTION PERFORMED ON THE ELECTRICAL FIRE IN CHANTAL’S ROOM BY THE START OF A SHIFT. – CAPT. O'TOOLE
Good enough. Henry thought as he sent the message. Now he could sleep. The chief could handle it from there.
MEANWHILE…
DATE : MARCH 10th, 7 A.U. LOCATION: SOL SYSTEM, ABOARD UTRN INDOMITABLE WILL
FIREMAN APPRENTICE SARAH CALLAHAN
It'll be back again tonight...
Sarah’s haunted thoughts repeated like a mantra. She had to be ready, but how? Her skin crawled and itched, the long sleeves of her BDU’s prevented her from being able to do anything about the painful sensation from the inflamed scratches they hid. She blearily rubbed at her sunken eyes, and she drained the rest of her coffee. All the numbers on the screen had started bleeding in together and her eyes hurt horribly, with the throbbing pain in her abdomen only compounding her misery.
“My god, Sarah, you look a wreck, hon. How have you been sleeping?” Yvonne, her shift partner asked, with concern in her voice.
“I have a monster tension headache, I just hope the meds kick in soon. Can you check my math? I need to get out of these white lights for a few minutes. Close my eyes for a bit, something, anything. I've been having nightmares again.” Sarah felt good, being able to admit it, and Yvonne had long since proven her friendship, so it was easier to actually speak.
“Yeah, no prob. As soon as I am done here I will check your readings and we can get out of here. Do you mean nightmares from the invasion?” Yvonne asked, carefully picking her words and tone.
“Kind of the same general themes, but different. Everything is going wrong, like the worst possible outcomes of my worst nightmares are all combining together. Like, it feels actively malicious, I don't know, its hard to explain...” Sarah said, bleakly.
“That’s hard, I am sorry. You need a shower, and an uninterrupted nap. Sleep deprivation plays all kinds of hell on the body and mind. I had a friend who went through an insomniac phase so extreme he would go days without sleeping. Wound up in the hospital after trying to drive to work while hallucinating his dead fiancée was sitting in the passenger seat screaming at him to watch out. Wound up rear-ending the car in front of him. Thank God he lived to tell the tale, but that is why it worries me to see you like this.” Yvonne planted her hand on Sarah’s shoulder as she told the story.
“Yikes, I think I slept like two hours into my sleep shift before I started having the nightmares again, woke up, and passed in and out of some restless sleep. It got really bad around oh three hundred. There were sounds... noises like scratching and a loud bang, and the shadows were moving. I just kept feeling like I was being watched, but everyone else seemed to be having disturbed sleep in their bunks. God, it was a creepy feeling.” Sarah took a moment to compose herself.
“I know how crazy this will sound, maybe that I am sleep deprived and likely hallucinating like your friend, but just hear me out. There was something there Yvonne, in the dark at the edge of perception, I could feel it. I also know I wasn’t the only one tossing and turning either. I could also hear scratchy whispering, too. I just hid, strapped in under the weighted blanket. At some point I slept some more, I must have, but not for what felt like a few stressful and draining hours. I'm just making a total mess of explaining this, aren’t I?”
“No, you're fine, girl! I am sorry that happened, my dorm has been pretty quiet, but I have always slept like a rock. Is there anything I can do?”
“I could use a hug.” Sarah said, which caused Yvonne to laugh, breaking some of the tension. They embraced warmly for a good minute, which did wonders for relieving some of the headache and her black mood.
“Thanks, Yvonne, I know it’s all in my head and it’s a vicious feedback cycle due to lack of quality sleep. Thanks for listening without calling me crazy.“ Sarah said, shying away from the last thing she hadn’t the courage to say.
She didn’t dare mention how she had hidden under the covers as she felt it get near. How she had felt something pushing on the mattress. How as her fear peaked, she herself peeked over the covers to find nothing there just to have the oppressive feeling evaporate along with the sensation of pressure by her feet. Her dorm mates all seemed to stop stirring after that, and only then did the nightmares stop for her that night. By then she was left with barely enough time for one last short sleep cycle before the start of A shift that very morning. This was a secret she would have to keep to herself, nobody would believe her anyway.
“I think I'll ask the Chief for a break from my duties today to rest and to visit med bay. Maybe they can give me something to help catch back up on my sleep.” Sarah said.
“Good idea, can I come with? I’ll back you up.” Yvonne said. Sarah smiled at her friend before she nodded at her before they checked off the last of their duties on site and headed away to find the Chief.