Kyoshi book 1 is the epitome of ‘a meeting that could have been an email’. Its book that should have been a graphic novel. A story that should have been a wikipedia page.
SPOILERS, though I am saving you the read.
TLDR: The story telling is mediocre, and the story would have been just as compelling as a bullet pointed list of story facts. It flubs, glosses over and skips all portions of story that would have required any amount of clever writing or skill. The story is comprised of cringey tropes. This book will not sit among the original series in the annals of history. It sits below Korra and just above M Knight’s film adaption and the disgraceful Netflix reboot.
First, the idea of there being immense trouble identifying the Avatar is a good plot point. Having Kuruk’s team find and teach the next Avatar and have opposing ideals is also a good plot point. Yee also describes the martial arts okay enough, but this is an inherent obstacle when turning highly visual source material into text. This concludes my praise.
Yee tells, but doesnt show. Show more teambuilding and friendship between Kyoshi, Rangi and Yun. They only come together once in the same room to hang out before the main conflict happens, and its a superficial scene straight out of an 80s slasher movie. They come together solely to ‘show’ them being a team as they hang out and exchange banter. This is the first of Yee’s pseudo-“show, don’t tell”. It appears like the story is showing us something, but it is still telling us. It is characterized by vapid, juvenile writing in a scene that is largely inconsequential to the story.
Make the misidentification of the Avatar weigh on each of them and test friendship. Show her being found by Kelsang. The jump forward 9 years is jarring and leaves logic way behind. If she was raised by Kelsang, why didnt he finish testing her as the Avatar? Why did he take pity and raise her after traveling the world and seeing other homeless children? Why didnt she give back the clay turtle relic? Kyoshi is abandoned when she is old enough to remember being abandon, but doesn’t remember where she got the turtle. This line is another example of pseudo-show. Why don’t we dont get any insight into the moment she is abandon? We do not know any of these things. Including these scenes in the book would have made it longer, but its the juiciest piece of the character development. The length of a book is largely forgivable if it is captivating. This is like if you order a burger and they only bring you a bun and a slice of bib lettuce. Its missing the most crucile part.
Show Yun being incorrectly identified as the Avatar. This scene has to be so interesting. There is nothing in the book about this at all. This seems like another artful dodge around having to write something clever, and that tends to be difficult.
Show Kyoshi’s Avatar state. ‘Blacking out’ is not a mysterious way to tell stories. Its a cop out of writing something the author finds difficult. Also, a character can black out and not remember doing something AND the author can still describe it as it happens to the reader. Choosing to ommit more juicey story speaks more to the writers lack of confidence in their writing.
The fans and helmet of her parents are forced clumsily into the story at the height of the inciting incident. They could have been introduced any time. For example, when Kyoshi connects with her parent’s old crime ring and they could be presented to Kyoshi as relics of the group’s deceased leaders. Instead they are introduced to the reader by Kyoshi dropping her luggage and they fall out in the rain and mud. It reads like a scene that is meant to be a story board for a cartoon or comic.
We dont get any insight into Kyoshi’s parents being dead or alive. Kyoshi doesnt seem to ask anyone either. Why? Seems like a reasonable question.
Kelsang realizes Kyoshi is the Avatar when she does some improv poetry that happens to be Avatar Kuruk’s favorite poem? That was the best idea you got?
Kyoshi has a sky bison named PengPeng? Find a new method of transportation, the flying bison had been done before. Pengpeng is also only used as transportation. She doesnt have any personality like Momo and Appa. Total strikeout.
When something new develops that is supposed to surprise the reader, like Kyoshi’s mother being a disgraced airbender, Yee doesnt show this. This is explained away in a moment of dialogue like “once upon a time, this happened.” Then the plot moves on. And what motivation did she have for keeping this from Kelsang? Maybe they knew each other? They are both airbenders who have killed before, which is significant in the fiction. This could have been an opportunity to connect characters and create intrigue. But we only learn this at the end of the book for no reason.
Love between ATLA characters is subtle in the show. Katara and Aang will end up together and we know this implicitly. Sokka loves his friends, particularly Toph, because of the actions we see him take to help her. Rewatch the show, you will see what I mean. However this is not a major plot point that is touched on each episode. Zuko and Mei are together but they are pulled apart temporarily by character motivations. It skips the filler and gets right to the interesting part. However in Kyoshi book 1, love between Rangi and Kyoshi is vapid and foreshadowed from the first pages. Lets set lesbianism aside, its not the issue. The issue is that this love story is not compelling chiefly because we are told they care for each other but are only shown this in the back half of the book on a surface level. Even when we are shown these things, its not believable. The characters act like teenagers do in 2024 America, not like how teenagers would act in a world coming off the heels of a 100 year war. The characters are young, but they have roles, careers, and the responsibilities of adults. This stems from the same problem Yun has with Kyoshi and Rangi. We don’t see them becoming or being friends. We are told they are friends. Thats it.
This connects to Rangi’s character being ambivalent and emotionally indistinct. Rangi is played as a tough, no nonsense soldier that is hired as Yun’s personal bodyguard, the most important job next to being the avatar yourself. But her expressions of love are juvenile and childish. In one scene she is scolding Kyoshi on her duty toward being Avatar then in the next she acts playfully excited like an American weeb teenager when Kyoshi bends water for the first time. Rangi is poorly written and has poor motivation to her Avatar duty. She contributes nothing practical or technical to the story but love interest. If she is a child prodigy badass that earned the job of protecting the Avatar, she should act like it.
Hei Ran, Rangi’s mother, does nothing consequential to the plot. Why have this character? It is stated she knew Avatar Kuruk. The least she can do is bring it up more.
AND FINALLY, Kyoshis character is very opposite from who we see in ATLA. Obviously this is to show growth, but the timid Kyoshi inexplicably switches to confident and intimidating Kyoshi without any growth, then switches back to timid again. We know kyoshi as a tall, confident, matter of fact, powerful bender who sees no difference between murdering Chin the Conquerer and letting him fall to his death. But here we see a still tall, but petulant teen. She is afraid of her bending. She is inconsistently overconfident. She is squemish about murder. Perhaps the growth occurs in book two, but then again change is gradual. We should see some examples of change now. She grew up a homeless street urchin. She needs to act like it.
Yun struggles with his bending but also keeps smiling and acting like everything is ok. This trope is exhausted to death by anime. We do not see a human side of Yun. He is not tortured by the training or the fatique of not being able to bend fire or the pressure and expectation of being Avatar. He just smiles and flirts with Kyoshi. He also asks her to go with him to a peace treaty signing with pirates all because he wants to have her there so he feels loved. But this thinly disguises the fact the author needed a reason to have her at the signing so she can earthbend and save everyone. Take Rangi, your apointed body guard.
Yun returns at the end of the novel as a deus ex machina and kills Jianzhu in an admittedly badass way. 10/10. However, Yun is dead, reappears as a ghost, then earth bends. The possibility of this within the fiction is near zero UNLESS FC Yee is trying add to the lore of spirit magic and bending. To that I say “Learn to be a better writer first.”
Kirima is an okay character. We traditionally see water benders as good guys, but she is a tough leader of a gang of criminals. Again we are told that, not shown. 5/10. Mid teir.
Wong is a worse comedic relief than Sokka. Where Sokka learns to become a leader from a close minded sceptic and redeem this quality, Wong is indistinct from any other background earth bender. He eventually becomes Kyoshis earthbending teacher and he starts to fill out a teacher role but is still indistinct. Up until this time, he carrys no air of educator at all. Remember, he’s a pirate criminal. This turn of character seems to come from the team learning that Kyoshi is the Avatar, something she kept secret. But Wong is the only one who changes their behavior based on this. Meeting the most important person in the world doesn’t effect them, I guess. Doesn’t seem reasonable.
Lek is a kid that idolizes Kyoshi’s parents, but acts out like a toddler when she speaks poorly of them. I am left feeling disatisfied by a criminal outlaw that throws tantrums when someone speaks ill of their pseudo mommy and daddy. Lek is poorly written as a rival to Kyoshi, if if fact that was Yee’s intention. You see it in their banter and interactions. Lek is killed by a poison that only incapacitates all others effected. It was like the author needed him to die real quick and didnt know how to do it, but also didn’t want to rewrite the chapter.
Now is a good time to mention that characters can be annoying to other characters, but they should not be annoying to the reader. Doing this is a form of self sabotage. Its like serving up raw eggs for breakfast on purpose and calling it art. You just wouldn’t do it.
Lao Ge is poorly written too, despite being an interesting character idea. Lao is meant to be Kyoshi’s spiritual leader in this story. He leads her to the ancient technique of prolonging ones life with spirit magic. But this man reads like an embarassing drunk uncle that no one responds to when he speaks. He acts like he’s cool, wanders off constantly and returns covered in blood to a group thats asks no questions. Criminals still ask questions. In fact, they are more paranoid on account of being criminals. For example, there is a scene where they leave without him and realize they forgot him and have to go back. This scene amounts to nothing. Why was it in the book? Whoops, he’s also a master assassin. We are told this over and over but never see it in action. Boo. Don’t suggest violence. Show us violence.
Why is this group of criminals still together anyway? They lost their leaders, Kyoshi’s parents. Wouldn’t the find new jobs? Thin the herd. Theres too many characters.
Jianzhu acts more suspicious after he is identified as the villain which is a trope found in childrens television to remind children he is bad now. The fact it is here insults the readers intellegence. His villain motivations are not explained well. Does he care more about identifying the Avatar than his lifelong friend Kelsang or the life of the innocent? Also, a villain doesnt need to kill someone to be identified as the villain but youll find that trope here too. Clever writing can remedy this all the same. He does do cool evil guy things, but they are explained after the fact instead of showing him coniving these schemes and putting them into action. His death is awesome, but his final confrontation with Kyoshi is not spectacular. There is no final battle like one might expect. He the one that ghost Yun kills.
It is unclear if this book is meant for a YA reader audience or the adult audience that watched ATLA as kids. The story is grittier, bloodier and violent with explicit deaths and torture. All the while bearing a sheen of squeeky clean Nickelodean dialogue and unfunny humor that has an obvious limit. The book says they swear, but the exact words do not show up in dialogue. Characters are impaled and gored, but the 3rd person narration takes breaks from descriptions of this for quippy commentary on the things happening. Who says these things? Kyoshi? But its in third person. This clashes with the perspective and shows indecision on the part of the author.
The perspective is stuck between 1st and 3rd. 1st serves better for the YA audience where Kyoshi might think these quippy things to herself or have thoughts that help the reader understand context better. 3rd person would serve the adult audience better with a matter of fact telling of the story. Maybe even change between characters in some chapters and fill in some of these gaps. Instead the book strattles the line between these two perspectives and suffers greatly. You have humorous commentary and scene descriptions coming from the same source. It breaks immersion when the reader is stuck wondering who is telling the story.
YA is an oversaturatedand flawed genre anyway. Its almost designed to trick teens into thinking they are reading adult books.
Yee includes too many comparisons, similies and analogies. Each one is meant to create world building, where the text compares a creature in the ATLA world to a situation at hand. But they start coming up too often in the back half of the book. This also seems to rise in frequency as descriptions get vaguer. It felt like Yee lacked the proper lexicon to describe what was happening as the story approached the end. Analogies should be used to explain difficult things, not just thrown in recklessly.
One moment sticks out from this book that reminds me of ATLA. While Yun and Kyoshi are silently trying to meditate before Jianzhu summons a spirit to finally identify the correct Avatar, the two teens speak for a second. Eyes closed, Kyoshi whispers “You know what would be funny? If neither of us were the Avatar.” This captures elements of friendship between the two kids, character humor, and SHOWS these two still care for each other no matter what happens next. Yun’s response isn’t even remotely appropriate, memorable or clever. The opportunity is a total loss.
Another moment of total loss and tonal dissonance is when Kyoshi, Rangi and the convicts go to a hidden secret criminal town that is described as being so cut throat, you don’t even look at people in the eye. Just then the group sees two men collide after turning a blind corner and drop their stuff. Page 224. They exchange appologies, act very polite, and depart. (This is told to the reader, not shown with appropriatly funny dialogue). Lek then explains the two men will meet tonight on the challenge grounds and fight to the death. However, that night at the challenge grounds, you don’t see those characters; a total whiff on Yee’s part. Instead you read about one man bludgeoning another man to death with barehands in pure gladitorial bloodsport. This scene shows the whimsy of ATLA, the gorey violence that Yee wanted and his befuddled attempt at writing something that blends the two.
All of this leads me to conclude the book is for a YA audience, which is unfortunate because ATLA was for everyone; YA, adult and children. It is a children’s show that adults can find a surprising amount of depth and humor in. Yee’s doesn’t hold a candle to the writing of Aaron Ehasz.
The argument that this books is allowed to be bad because its for kids falls apart for the same reason. The expert writing of Aaron Ehazs in ATLA is what imortalizes it to this day; the dialogue, the characters, and the story. ATLA is a kids cartoon by which all cinema and television are compared. This is simply not on that level.
When this level of integrity is left to be followed up by an author with one previously published work, underdelivery should be expected. Kyoshi book 1 is FC Yee’s second published work and it shows. I would be interested in learning more about FC Yee’s past unpublished experiences in writing and qualifications.
So again, this book is like a meeting that should have been an email. The story is not “worth the read”. The historical facts are more valuable. For example, telling someone that Kyoshi’s dad is a pirate earthbender and her mother is a disgraced criminal airbender is a total surprise and sparks good speculative conversation. But the way the novel presents this information is clumsy and ignorant of how rare these circumstances are within the fiction. These historical facts are just as compelling when read on the Avatar wiki page, negating the necessity for a book in the first place. I think this is symptomatic of writing a prequal too. We know enough about Kyoshi to be interested in her character, so the facts about her should be presented interestingly with art and showmanship.
This book leaves me with the sneaking suspicion that most of what FC Yee knows about writing was learned from anime, a genre so polluted its not worth even sifting through to find quality content. Hot take, I know.
His other books on Genie Lo (2017, 2020) are teen dramas with ‘the chosen one’ trope, as the summaries suggest. That must be why that shows in this book. Maybe FC Yee can only write one type of book.
Yee is also not an author by trade. He said in an interview that he works in mobile gaming as the guy who makes “everything less fun by adding stuff to the game you have to pay for.” He went to college for Economics, or so I read on his wiki page.
His book publisher proposed the two book series idea to Nickelodeon, it was not a matter of the creators carefully hand picking a writer. He also only worked with Mike DiMartino. In his interview, he says he did not work with Bryan Konietzko and never even mentions Aaron Ehasz. I believe this is to the great detrement of the story.
I’ve heard that people really liked this book. However, I wonder if that is genuine affection or the same kind of denial Star Wars fans had when the Phantom Menace came out. I draw this parallel because my father was that person. He recomended this book to me and gave it high praise in the same way he did when Phantom Menace released.
The fans, my father and myself included, are starved for any canon ATLA material. Feeding the fans undercooked meals is no way to make a fanbase grow. The ATLA fanbase already got food poisoning from M Knight’s movie. It recovered, but at a cost. I hate to think what might happen after the Netflix show and the animated movie of adult Aang.
I understand that Yee was a fan of the material. In fact, he and I share the same favorite character. So know that this is not an attack on a fellow fan of ATLA, I simply believe Yee is not the man for this job. Avatar deserves better than to be relegated to a YA novel lost in a sea of overproduced assembly line YA content. Avatar deserves a better writer. Save your fine cutlery for fine dining, don’t use polished silver to eat fast food.
To end, I leave you with this: if you want more Avatar content, gather some friends and play the Avatar rpg by Magpie Games. It is the most fun I’ve had in the ATLA world since I was a kid. If you play it right, you get that same sense of magic you got back in 2005 when Book Water came out.
Below is a link to an interview with Yee.
https://thenerdsofcolor.org/2019/07/15/from-fan-to-avatar-writer-f-c-yee-on-developing-the-story-of-avatar-kyoshi/amp/

Link to earlier post.
Before getting into the meat of this post, it needs to be remembered that the ex-Scientologists named here are actual victims of the Church of Scientology. Nothing in this post is meant to deny that fact.
However, let's remember too, those being attacked by Aaron Smith-Levin and their new brand of Scientology-style attacks, are also victims of Scientology.
The cruelty directed at Mike Rinder, Claire Headley, Tony Ortega, Chris Shelton, Leah Remini, Stefani Hutchinson, the Aftermath Foundation and those who speak out against SPTV's excesses are not justified. There has been a strain of "both sides" about this. Defending oneself against slander is not the same thing as initiating slander, which is how this all started. Telling the truth in response to SPTV creator attacks is not the same thing as a Fair Game campaign against them.
It doesn't bring me any joy to write these posts, but these things need to be known because the number of distortions and fabrications coming out of the SPTV creators is reaching a fever pitch and it needs to stop.
My earlier two posts focused mainly on Chrissie Bixler, Jane Doe 1 (from the Masterson trials) and Aaron Smith-Levin, all of whom have been working together in a tight, hidden conspiracy to attack anyone who could expose them or their agendas, and/or anyone who opposes their slanderous and vicious attacks. They are in fact acting as Scientology does, following L. Ron's directions to hunt those people down and attempt to ruin them.
Unfortunately, the SPTV cabal is not just these three mentioned above. There are others who have also jumped on this bandwagon of Scientology-like attacks. From the outside, none of these people's "content" is any different from what the Church of Scientology produces through its STAND League and other OSA-front group social media accounts. If OSA had a video channel, it would look almost exactly like SPTV.
So let's take a look at Serge Del Mar, formerly known as Serge Gil. If you Google "Serge Gil" you will find photos of him hanging around with the Mastersons and other VIP Scientologists as recently as November of 2014 at an art exhibit Serge participated in. This was while he was still in the cult, of course, but it sure is odd that he never mentions this.
Funny too that this group of "innocents" all have taken to going after whistle blowers who are out, and not admitting to anything they did while they were Scientologists and Sea Organisation members. Serge becomes visibly and loudly unhinged over the idea that Mike Rinder was once the head of OSA and therefore "must know" every single secret and crime ever perpetrated in Scientology. Yet he claims perfect innocence when it comes to his Scientology history. But how is that possible when he perpetuated Scientology's abuse on children in a much more direct and forceful way than Mike Rinder ever could: Serge audited children and was apparently paid handsomely for it. Auditing is, of course, Scientology's warped and twisted idea of counselling.
In this article from Tony Ortega, it reads: "In his Facebook post, Serge talked about the horror of having men admit to having sex with children, and being instructed to get even more information from such confessors, who were then simply charged even more [money] to 'handle' their paedophilia.
"We were made to sit in that Fort Harrison hotel day in and day out interrogating people to see what they had done. Our interviews were always closely watched [and] monitored by several ‘terminals.’ All the CSes [case supervisors] and tech ‘executives’ became willing in colluding and becoming 100 percent complicit with this sexually inappropriate environment for any one under the age of 18."
"Self-confessed paedophiles could just magically ‘address’ this behavior with auditing — all the while you were looking at ways to monetize at every opportunity' he says, accusing Scientology executives of looking for ways to turn confessions into more auditing and more money."
So who were these paedophiles and why aren't they being reported to the police? Why is Serge not talking about them? Why is he instead negating what he did and laughing about it in live streams with Nora, where they forgive and forget easily when it comes to their own bad behaviour in the cult. How come they get a free pass but no one else outside of SPTV does?
Serge engages in hypocrisy at a level that would put politicians and cult leaders to shame.
Recently, Serge added Leah Remini's name to his hit list by claiming Remini told him that she wanted nothing to do with helping children of the Sea Organisation. He actually said that about the woman who produced an the documentary series which gave Serge and the other "Scientology children" a voice on an international stage, something none of them were able to accomplish on their own.
Some facts from the past need to be brought forward.
First, it was Leah Remini who was trying to help all of the ex-Scientology "kids" to help find legal representation. This was the group Serge Del MaSerge Gil proclaimed he was the leader of, saying he was the "voice of many." He claimed he would be bringing the clients and the documentation to Kent's law firm.
Remini was introduced to Brian Kent by A&E. Right after the end of the Aftermath's finale, Kent's law firm was the only one willing to take on this massive case. Is A&E now going to be attacked by this group? Where are the tweets directed at A&E? Not that I am suggesting that. It is just to prove the facts here are consistently twisted to suit this group’s goal and it has nothing to do with exposing the crimes committed by Scientologists and Scientology.
This is about getting anyone who isn’t them.
Second and more importantly, it was Serge who then ran with this and gathered claimants for this case, and it was Serge that then introduced them all to Kent's firm. Christi Gordon was also working on this case. It was a noble effort. Leah, Serge and Christi did not do anything wrong,but somehow now Leah is a bad person for having tried to help.
Obviously, no one was aware at that time of what the future would hold for Jane Doe and Kent. No one still knows what happened with these cases - because Serge Del Mar was the ringleader. No mention of this from Alex the silly Wabbit. No mention of this from anyone. And obviously once Kent's law firm was hired, Leah and Mike would not have been privy to any privileged information about the cases.
Then Aaron and crew claim they uncovered this alleged crime committed by Kent? Kent isn’t being accused of crimes of child molestation, or of rape. He is being accused of unethical behaviour with an adult victim - and yes, that is bad enough. But it was Jane Doe in this case that had to summon the courage to file a confidential complaint. Aaron and his gang didn’t uncover and report anything. What they did do was compromise a bar investigation; they took credit for something they had nothing to do with. This is simply despicable behaviour. How this group has completely fabricated the facts of the investigation is beyond me.
They didn't even talk to the person who filed the complaint against Brian Kent. They were too busy stabbing her in the back, compromising her identity and forwarding a confidential document. Aaron conveniently didn’t mention this was a confidential investigation and document when he read it out to his audience. That's how Aaron makes a living.
Anyone continuing this story and celebrating these people are only doing so for other reasons that have nothing to do with the Jane Doe in this case. It is not only unfortunate that Jane Doe in this case had been harmed by Kent, but now these SPTV creators are harming her and her investigation too.
As a Scientology "activist," every action Serge claims he has taken against Scientology has been a major failure. If you step back and look at his track record, Serge has not accomplished a single thing against his former “church” of any significance, unless you count minutes of time shouting into a microphone at highest-ever decibels as 'activism.' It's not. It's just shouting into a microphone. He constantly claims that he has receipts, lawsuits are imminent, but with nothing forthcoming it sure seems as though Serge Del MaSerge Gil is nothing more than a con man looking for clicks for which he can profit.
Even more strangely, Serge's first attempt at fame was spending many years attacking former high-ranking Sea Organisation member Debbie Cook. Remember her? She was the one who got more people out of Scientology with her blistering 2011 New Year email than any former member before her. Debbie Cook was a whistle blower. And Serge seems to be going after those who did/do the work and are OUT of Scientology - excluding himself of course. Why not expose the crimes they covered up while they were in the cult? Aaron tearfully admitted to committing his own heinous crimes once, but somehow he is instantly forgiven.
Serge's criminal complaint against Scientology in Florida went nowhere and the investigation was dropped due to a lack of evidence. In fact, Serge told lies in his police filing, such as claiming that there are tunnels underneath The Fort Harrison Hotel (Scientology’s Clearwater Florida location) which are used to traffic Scientology children.
These days he goes on and on about "the hotels" where supposedly children are kept as sex slaves, a claim so preposterous even ex-Scientologists are fed up with hearing it.
Serge Del MaSerge Gil has promised to bring lawsuits against Scientology and continues to disseminate that he "has receipts" but again, not once has he ever been able to produce a shred of evidence or anything real. His incompetence and ineffectiveness are obvious, which is why the only way he can remain in the spotlight is to attack inwardly against the people who are getting the real work done.
For Serge (and the rest), it's the spotlight that is important, not the actual work.
Serge, Aaron, Chrissie Bixler, Jane Doe 1, Mike Brown, Miriam Francis, Nora Aames and the following are on a campaign to destroy their own credibility in the real world. One can only wonder if they are also getting a kick-back from Scientology.
Liz Gale has seemingly banished herself after being exposed and has all but disappeared, which of course is being blamed on RindeRemini/Hutchinson.
Christie Gordon too has disappeared from the SPTV Foundation board. Why hasn't she spoken up? Isn't she part of the crew demanding others own what they did? Why hasn't she done so when it comes to her own group's activities?
Joey Chait who was on board for the SPTV fake foundation, is now off too and no one knows why.
What has the Aftermath done? Helped people to get out of Scientology. That is the work.
What has SPTV Inc. done to help victims of Scientology? How about showing it? I have previously asked for evidence of any effective work and have yet to receive a response.
It's time for Serge (and the rest) to put up or shut up. If he or anyone in this group has real evidence of Scientology crimes, he has a solicitor and he can file a lawsuit in civil court or he can go back to the Clearwater Police and show them evidence of the crimes committed against him.
I'm not saying that crimes were not committed against Serge by others when he was in the Sea Org. But screaming into a microphone for hours isn't how to bring Scientology to justice. Screaming at law enforcement who have no idea what he is talking about with Flag and children is not helping anyone, nor is stalking and harassing Scientology's attorneys while Leah Remini's hearings are going on.
It looks an awful lot like the SPTV crew are trapped in some kind of victim complex and are high-conflict personalities.
So instead of more name calling, if Serge (or anyone in this group), "has receipts" that show that Mike Rinder is a criminal who is knowingly covering up his crimes in Scientology, produce them or shut up already. Rinder handed over his OSA documents. Aaron, by the way, took those documents under false pretenses, promised not to forward them and then did with the intent to harm Rinder and others. So instead of attacking Mike Rinder (the whistleblower here), where are the questions to the FBI for not acting on them? Where is the outrage for the documents that are authored by OSA personnel that are still in Scientology?
Personally, I'm sick of watching this crazy train go on and on without end just so some former Scientologists can try to appear altruist and inflate their egos for profit. Aren’t you all sick of the noise?
More to come.

There's one thing I've felt and realised that no matter how many friends we surround ourselves with in real life, there are moments when loneliness can still creep in and take hold. That's when this wonderful world of internet comes in handy, and I guess it's finally the time for me to give this a try.
I'm a 22 year old Indian guy who is currently pursuing his masters degree in Italy. And being in an entirely different country on my own sometimes takes me to that loneliness territory. I'm a 6'1" tall guy (if that matters to you) and I crave those funny & deep conversation that are something more than just being shallow. You know the conversation, where every text makes you more elevated, and you can't help but just cherish that wonderful moment. The conversation flows naturally, and you keep on talking to each other irrespective of the time that has passed.
Love is one of the most exquisite things in this world, and it can hold different meanings for different people. But love for me, is all about care and affection that you show to your partner, that rock-solid assurance that no matter what, you've always got their back. It's when you eagerly anticipate their texts and feel like the luckiest person once it pops on your screen, when their presence, whether online or in person, gives you the reason to start your day with a huge smile. And I've seen my own shares of ups and down in my love life, but that doesn't make me lose any hope, and hopefully I'll soon find my ONE.
A little more about me: I mostly spend my free time analyzing or studying the movies, shows or music. I appreciate this world of entertainment a lot because they are like my escape from this reality. So, if you're the same, then we can nerd over our favorite movies & music. I also like to write about stuff sometimes, mostly about entertainment or some story/thought that popped into my mind.
But recently, I have been reading a lot of true crime stories. So, if you have some recommendations or insights into this genre, then you better hit me up, I'm always open to know more about this.
What am I looking for: I'm looking for a like-minded lady who is around my age (20-24 years old) and shares my passion for meaningful conversations. I'm interested in getting to know someone who enjoys talking about their day, what have they been up to, their dreams, their ambition, basically everything they feel comfortable sharing. If you're looking for a partner who is genuine, respectful, and eager to build a meaningful connection, then let's start talking! We can begin with a conversation on Reddit and if we both feel comfortable enough, let's move to some other platform and see where this takes us.
What can you expect from me: You can expect a genuine and understanding guy who is truly interested in getting to know you. You can also expect a funny and deep conversation, I'm a good listener and enjoy hearing different perspectives, so feel free to share your thoughts and experiences with me.
I can be a bit flirty sometimes if I feel like we have a genuine connection, so I hope you wouldn't mind that. I believe that a little bit of banter and humor can go a long way in building a connection, so don't be surprised if I try to make you laugh or catch your attention with a cheesy joke or two. However, I also respect boundaries and will never push beyond what makes you feel comfortable.
I'm a private person, so I'm NOT much inclined towards sharing pictures right away. I like to make sure that we both have trust and confidence in each other, and once we have established that, then we can definitely exchange photos and more.
Oh damn, I've just realized that this has become a very long post, so if you've read this in its entirety, give yourself a pat on the back. Out of so many things you could have read in this time, you chose to read my paragraph, and I already appreciate you for that. So, if any of these loong lines makes sense to you, please message me, and let's have some great conversation. I'll be waiting, and I hope you have a wonderful day. You deserve that.

I am thrilled to share that this morning I received my first Overall 8 for my screenplay PROVENANCE. I am so grateful for the support I've received from the open dialogue in this community. It feels like only yesterday that I received 5's and 6's (actually, it was last Thanksgiving) - and the kind, never quit attitude expressed here lifted me daily. Anyone with low scores, keep at it. Keep killing the scenes you love and write better ones. Re-think every character. Keep playing in that sandbox. Feel free to DM me if you'd like a link to the script. Cheers, Dan
PROVENANCE
Overall 8
Premise 8
Plot 9
Character 8
Dialogue 9
Setting 8
ERA: Present Day
GENRE: Crime Drama,Drama
LOGLINE: An emerging wine sommelier is taken under the wing of a celebrated connoisseur and becomes embroiled in the art of counterfeiting wine.
PAGES: 112
STRENGTHS: An energetic pace, strong rhythmic dialogue, and complicated characters drive this intricate and unique story about counterfeit wine. The plot fires on all cylinders as it propels Ana through the rich and seedy world of wine-tasting, reeling her in through the charismatic and powerful Joelle as both she and the audience are charmed by the wealthy connoisseur. The story and the world are elevated by the punchy and believable dialogue. It's easy to hear the characters' voices through every intricate description of a wine's scent, taste, and history, and Ana's many relationships with the people in her life are emboldened by their interactions. The chemistry between Ana and Lucas pops out of the page while her own voice gradually transforms into a younger Joelle. Joelle channels the confident cruelty of Miranda Priestly while also having her empathetic qualities. The reveal that she is Armand's sister is a pleasant surprise and enriches their scenes as well as their motivations. The plot grips the audience's attention and never lets go, especially once Joelle enters the fray, and it patiently escalates the conflict to a satisfying finale
WEAKNESSES: In its current state, the script works overall, with only minor flaws scattered here and there. Some things that could use a little more focus on are Ana and Nicholas's friendship and Armand's troubled feelings towards the wine before the big reveal. As of right now, it is a little confusing as to why Ana divulges so much to Nicholas when it comes to the counterfeit wine when they didn't really show much trust or friendship in each other before. While it isn't entirely necessary, more hints could be laid out about Armand's sour relationship with the wine he's trying to sell (and counterfeit), just to make his climactic scene more apparent and impactful. Little errors like Callaway having an introduction would be beneficial for the readers as well. There are also a few grammatical and formatting errors in the second half that could be cleaned up.
PROSPECTS: A well-paced and highly unique crime drama that tackles the intricate and specific world of counterfeit wine. The script's major strengths is also its biggest draw in terms of marketability. By focusing on a very niche topic, it invites the audience into the high stakes world of wine-tasting, capturing their language similar to how THE BIG SHORT introduced banking. Whether it's a streaming exclusive release or a theatrical film, the project has the potential to attract big crowds and wide audiences. The script is tonally comparable to I CARE A LOT and MOLLY'S GAME, with an emphasis on morally complex criminals. There are several settings and locales that would require some extravagant designs and many extras involved, but, overall, the estimated budget is manageable.

I have been trying to figure out how to properly care for my hair my entire life and it’s going downhill fast. I need help!!
For context I have very fine, thin-medium thickness hair that tangles easily, gets greasy on my scalp quickly & feels incredibly dry on the ends. I have wavy/straight texture that falls flat & lacks volume.
Lately I’ve noticed it’s become so much more dry & brittle with noticeable breakage despite feeling like I’m doing everything right!!!
Here are some of the hair care things I do regularly: - wash 3 times a week (every other day - every 2 days) - Double shampoo & only condition ends - Use a microfiber hair towel - Brush extremely gently only when hair is dry/damp, starting from the ends & working my way to the scalp - Moroccan argan oil on ends for day 2 hair - Brush nightly to distribute natural oils to ends - Sleep with a loose French/Dutch braid for protection - Use a scalp scrubber (gently) nightly before I braid, and in the shower to lather shampoo - Rarely use heat, if anything the dyson blow dryer on medium heat (maybe once every 2-3 weeks) - Always use heat protectant when using heat - Switched from aerosol dry shampoo to powdered dry shampoo - Rosemary oil once a week (ish) for growth & to combat thinning (I have so many more baby hairs & am seeing new growth around my hairline. I don’t think this is posing a threat to my hair health)
It feels like I’m doing so much & my hair has all of a sudden taken a turn for the worst (despite not changing much in my routine) and I have no idea what to do.
In the past week I’ve noticed my hair has been: - dryer than ever, i recently got a haircut yet I feel like all of the hair on my head is split ends. - Falling out!!! So much shedding occurs on my hair wash days… - Unmanageable! All of my go to products seem to not be working anymore…
I have religiously used the brand HASK hair products (shampoo, conditioner, argan oil) for years and use the Mielle rosemary oil.
My hair is naturally dirty blonde/light brown, I’ve been dying it darker with a box for years however I have not dyed it since November (it’s May) and don’t plan to anytime soon.
I live in the Chesapeake Bay Area for environmental context & don’t think I have noticeably hard water…. I eat a relatively clean diet with no restrictions…
Could this be hormonal? (I just recently got off birth control after 10 years but I’m only 22) Is it the products I’m using? (Yet every time I try something new it backfires…) Am I just doomed for life ?!?!?
**I added photos of my hair if that helps, day 1 clean hair!!!! Also jumpscare for the picture of all the hair that falls out in the shower sorry that’s gross pls help

Hey ya'll! I have lived in the deep south my whole life and am moving to Chicago in a few weeks! I know these are two completely different worlds, so I was wondering if any of my friends here on Reddit had any tips or advice they could offer a southern gal. I am happy to answer any questions you have as well. I am moving to the river north / gold coast area and I couldnt be more excited.
Some questions:

• Are there any farmers markets in the city? Do they shut down during the winter?
• For those who live in the same area as I'm in, how often would you say you use your car? I am not planning on using mine really at all, however I have never taken subways before so I will have to learn how to manage that (I am right between the red and brown line).
• How is it walking your dog? I noticed most green patches on the sidewalks are fenced off, do yall just walk to the nearest park?
• How is the music and arts scene? What neighborhoods do you think have the best culture and community?
• What do you think are some "must-do" summer and/or winter activities? How would you take full advantage of the seasons?
• Lastly, whats crime like? I took a look at the crime map and it seems incredbly tame compared to Nola, and the overall crime rate for the city seems like its down this year. But is there anything particular I should know?

And any other tips or advice is very much welcome!! Nola has my heart, but it's time to experience something new. Thank you kindly :)
Edit: removed some questions for redundancy

[EU] My book series Trackers; several years before the books take place
You do not need to be familiar with the Trackers universe to enjoy this short story. While it is set within the same universe, it stands alone as its own narrative.
***
Katherine walked down the hallway of the seventh floor in the building housing Sacramento’s FBI branch, following the directions she’d been given by the secretary downstairs. Finding the office she was looking for, she knocked on the door, though it was propped open, and walked over to the man sitting at the desk.
“Hi, Katherine Colebrook,” she introduced herself, holding out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“SAC Ted Hemmingway,” the FBI agent replied, standing up and shaking her hand firmly. He looked more like an FBI agent than most agents Katherine knew, which was saying something. He had a tall, solid frame, but thinning blonde hair covered his head, on its way to being a comb-over, hinting at his actual age. “How was your flight?”
“Uneventful. The perfect kind,” she replied.
“Good. So, I know you come highly recommended as someone who gets cases moving, but to be frank, I’ve never worked with a psychic. Don’t have much faith in them. I prefer old-fashioned detective work.”
“I get paid either way,” Katherine responded without skipping a beat.
Katherine had dealt with many like him before. It annoyed her, but she didn’t spend too much time dwelling on it. She assumed it had something to do with the fact that they’d been able to explain lycanthropy and vampirism and fae with recent scientific studies, but psychics were still being researched and therefore still a debated topic. Plus, they weren’t very plentiful in law enforcement, so it was rare to have the opportunity to work with one.
Hemmingway blinked at her curt response once as she took a seat before he nodded. “All right. Well this is the case file,” he said, handing a file folder over to her and sitting down behind his desk. “It was recommended by a colleague of mine that we call you in when the tally hit three victims. But as of last night, it’s four. And the two trackers that went after it were killed. It was one murder per night, so we’re thinking a newly turned wolf. The bodies are found mutilated, and the clothes were torn off.” Katherine looked over the paperwork as the agent continued to speak. “Any suspects we had were tested with silver and all have been cleared. This isn’t just a series of attacks, though; this is a serial killer.”
“You’re thinking a personal vendetta against these men, from the humiliating display of the bodies?” Katherine asked, glancing up to the agent briefly.
“Yeah. There doesn’t seem to be a connection between the victims though, so the theory is the killer’s targeting men that fit a profile.”
“What profile would that be?” Katherine asked, flipping through the file.
“White, middle-aged, wealthy.”
Katherine cocked an eyebrow at him. “Wealthy?” she echoed.
“It’s all in the bios,” he replied. “One was a lawyer, one was an accountant, two were well-off businessmen.”
Katherine nodded slowly. “All right. Who’s the lead on the case?”
Hemmingway brought his eyebrows together. “That’d be me.”
“So where’s the rest of the information?” Katherine asked.
“The rest?”
“Research. I’m sure you’ve had agents pouring over the victims’ lives to find a link between them,” she said.
Hemmingway pursed his lips for a moment before he nodded. “I’ve got a few guys still digging. They’re working out of an office two floors up.”
“I’d like to see what they’ve come up with so far,” Katherine told him.
The FBI agent sighed, standing up. “I thought you were supposed to be psychic,” he muttered, half to himself walking around his desk.
“Being psychic tells me things about the people I’m around,” she responded, slightly miffed at the comment. She followed him out of the room, the folder tucked under her arm. “Tells me you’ve been cheating on your wife for the past year.” Hemmingway stumbled to a stop, darting his eyes back toward Katherine as she continued speaking as if he hadn’t locked a heavy glare on her. “Not much about this killer. At least not yet. I’m psychic; I’m not god. And I have no interest in your marital extracurriculars. Can you please take me to your agents?”
Hemmingway hesitated, probably considering a threat of reporting her for invasion of privacy, before brushing it off and continuing down the hall to the elevators. The doors opened immediately and he selected the fifth floor.
Once they arrived, he knocked on the door before opening it, drawing the gazes of several agents spread around the room. “This is Ms. Colebrook. She’s here to consult on the case,” Hemmingway spoke, shutting the door and walking over to one of the men sitting at the table covered in boxes of files and papers. “This is Agent Lester Marconi,” he told Katherine, prompting a small wave from the agent. “He’s in charge of the research we’ve been putting together on the victims. That’s Agent Kirk Vaughn,” he continued, pointing, “and that’s Agent Stacy Genovese.”
“I was hoping to get a better look at some of the crime scene photos,” Katherine spoke, looking over the papers on the table. She walked over to a corkboard on the wall where she saw photos of the victims with their information underneath, as well as a smattering of newspaper articles.
“Those are right here,” Marconi spoke up, picking up four folders and handing them over to Katherine.
The tracker opened the first folder on an empty area of a table, spreading out the grisly photographs, looking over them with a cool detachment. She pursed her lips, staring at one of them, before opening the second folder and leafing through it. She pulled up a chair and sat down, shaking her head slowly. “This isn’t a wolf,” she said quietly.
“What?” Marconi asked, his expression becoming wary but curious.
“Just look at this,” Katherine told him, pointing at a close-up photograph of one of the wounds. “It’s all shreds, sure, but…. This isn’t a werewolf.”
“How can you tell?” Hemmingway asked.
“Experience,” she answered. “It’s understandable your other trackers mistook it for a wolf attack, but I’ve seen plenty of werewolf attacks and I’ve seen plenty of vampire attacks, and this is a vampire. I’m sure you’ve got experts to show these photos to. They’ll confirm it.”
“Why the hell would a vampire do something like this?” Marconi asked. He walked over and took a seat next to Katherine, examining the photos. “There was an immense amount of blood at the scene. No indication that any was missing.”
“Because the characteristic of primary importance here is serial killer, not vampire,” Katherine told him. “The vampire was just the weapon. The serial killer was who murdered them. And presumably that’s what the killer was counting on. It seemed obvious that the killer was a werewolf from the damage, so you didn’t consider a vampire angle.”
“So our serial killer happened to be a vampire, is what you’re saying,” Hemmingway said skeptically.
Katherine hesitated thoughtfully. “Considering the anger and recklessness involved here, there’s a good chance that this vampire’s sire matches the profile of your victims.”
“They were turned against their will, and now they’re going after humans that remind them of the one that turned them,” Marconi stated.
“It’s a good theory.” Katherine stood up. “I’ll be happy to investigate this further, but I think you’d be better off with trackers that are local, that know the area. Now that they know they’re going after a vampire, they’ll be prepared, and they should be fine.”
“That sounds good. Sorry to drag you all the way out here for no reason,” Hemmingway said, making his way toward the door. “I could’ve just emailed you the photos, I suppose.”
“I get paid either way,” Katherine said with a shrug, walking out of the room behind him, glancing at her watch.
Marconi headed out into the hallway after her. “Hey.” Katherine turned around. “Could I get your card? I’d like to have a way to get in touch with you if I ever run into a case where I need help with wound identification again.”
“Sure,” she replied, taking out the small metal case from her pocket that housed her business cards, handing one over to him. “Call for a consult on any case, day or night.”
“I will, thanks so much. If I can ask, how is it that you’re so much more experienced with tracking?” Marconi asked. “I mean, you look pretty young, and most trackers go for their certification after five years of apprenticing, and three is the minimum. How long have you been doing this?”
Katherine gave him a morose smile. “Too long,” she muttered. At that, she turned and walked away, leaving Marconi to stare after her, taking out her cell phone to call her daughter and let her know the job had ended early.

I won't disclose its actual location, so if that's why you're here, sorry to disappoint. It's not time for that yet. However, I do think it's time to start getting the word out. I've noticed an increase in what I'll call "Antennas" lately, or people who can detect cross-planar phase shifts. Without getting into all the math (some of which I don't even know), this is basically a phenomenon which refers to entropy seeping into our universe from other realms or universes or whatever you want to call it. Simply put, people think our universe is a closed system to entropy, meaning that the disorder of any variable in our universe can only increase or decrease in direct proportion to other variables in that same system (the universe). Under this precept, we can establish rules like the Laws of Thermodynamics, and for most people, they're effective. But not for Antennas.
Put another way, if you throw a bunch of bouncy balls into a box, there are a number of different configurations that the balls could take on, with different speeds and magnitudes. You can calculate all of those if you have the right numbers. Now let's say you throw in another set of balls that you don't consider in your calculations of the initial set. Well, then you're not going to get an accurate picture of what's happening. Most people only see the first set and calculate based on that, but some people can see two, three, four or more sets.
You'll understand the concept better when I tell you the story, but I wanted to give you a primer on an important concept that will help you understand why this place, which I'll call "Area X", exists, and what the goals of the people who work there are.
Also note that I'm going to be using the alias "Trent" moving forward. Please refer to me as such in any direct messages.
***
Eighteen years ago I started working as an independent Home Inspector. I dropped out of community college after my first semester (not because I didn't find some of the subjects interesting, but because deference to a man or woman has never been my style) and started working some odd jobs. I did construction work for a couple years, then plumbing. I even drove a garbage truck for six months. I've always found pleasure in using my hands, and getting dirty was never a problem for me. Still, having a boss really dragged ass, so I spent my free time working on creating my own business. It took a few years and lots of savings, but I finally managed to get basic set of Home Inspection equipment: Tyvek coveralls, a cheap half-face respirator, voltage & AFCI/GFCI testers, CO2 and radon monitors, an IR camera, and telescoping mirrors in addition to the boots, safety glasses, electric gloves, ladder, and toolkits I already had on hand.
My buddy at the time was in the business, but he was moving off to the coast, so he helped me get set up and even introduced me to some of his clients. Of course, by that time I had already gotten my State license, but I still was a bit apprehensive to work with insurance agencies. I thought I could make a living working independently, inspecting for mold or sizing up a house for a prospective buyer. Eventually, though, I realized I should probably take every job available to me.
Easing into the business went about as well as it could have. The clients my friend referred to me were very satisfied with my work, and I was able to retain them. Then, in order to increase my reach, I hired someone on Fiverr to build a website for my company which led to a marked increase in traffic and conversions. About six months through, I began to get on a first-name basis with the boys and girls down down at Allstate and Progressive, and they fed me some of the bigger cases. In fact, I got so booked by year's end that I had to hire someone to help manage my schedule and the Excel spreadsheet with all my finances. I capped off a successful year with a 5-star Google rating and a trip to Ireland to visit some family and friends and get piss drunk. When I got back, it was the grindstone all over again, until the summer when I discovered… well, you'll see.
First off, I want to say that I was never one to believe in the paranormal. I grew up watching the movies and hearing the ghost stories round the campfire like every other kid, but it never struck a chord with me. If I can't touch it or see it or hear it, does it really exist? Probably not. So don't go thinking this was a scared man seeing his own shadow. That being said, I had this sense that something was off about this house when I parked along the curb and looked through a large window, perhaps two times the size of my van, to a dingy, dark foyer.
The entire neighborhood was stacked with upper-middle class domiciles, though it seemed like only two thirds of them were occupied, mostly by professionals who commuted to the City every weekday, and the rest were empty. As a man who understands real estate, to say this was strange would be an understatement. Still, I had no problem appraising the mini-mansion for a couple of newlyweds looking to enter the community. I did some research on the property ahead of time, and it seems that it was owned by a couple of old timers who had gone off the grid some time ago. The water and electric bill were both unpaid dating back to 2004 (it was June of '06 now). The bank had repo'd the house (which only had about 100k left on it) and held it for a year and a half before putting it back on the market. I tried to find out more about the old couple who vanished, but there was nothing in the news.
I stepped out of the van in my coveralls and grabbed my suitcase which had my mask, gloves, and eye protection in it. I liked to do a preliminary survey first, running an eye test on the exterior then interior before bringing out the big guns (that way I could identify the areas where I think there could be problems instead of running a metal detector over the whole damn ocean seaboard). I was about to do just that when the window caught my eye again. It felt uncharacteristic of me to be so occupied with this window, but I detoured to the front porch and peeked inside anyway.
Most of the furniture had already been moved out, meaning all that was left was a single three-seater couch, a couple candlesticks on the fireplace mantle, a pristine chandelier overtop a dining room table, and the kitchenware: an oven, gas stovetop, marble countertops, and an island. I could see into the living room very clearly with the afternoon light, but the dining room was dim enough that there were a few structures I couldn't quite make out in the distance. One of them appeared to be some kind of china cabinet or bookshelf—I figured it was the former considering where it was located. The other shadow looked kind of like a grandfather clock. Or at least that's what I thought until it moved.
When I say it "moved", I don't mean to say that it picked up and walked away. If you're not familiar with the Necker Cube, I suggest you search it up, because that kind of illusion is the best way to describe what I saw. At first I was seeing the grandfather clock in a certain way—pushed into the corner of the room—and the next second my vision "corrected" and it was maybe five feet to the left of its former position. I shook my head and looked again and saw the grandfather clock in its second orientation, standing in the center of the room against the wall. I figured I was just seeing things, but even so I spent a little extra time dawdling around the Egress window, taking notes, and delaying the interior inspection.
When I finally grew a pair and went inside, I walked straight to the dining room. Sure enough, the grandfather clock was stowed away in the corner of the room. I spent a couple minutes watching it with my pencil and travel notebook out. I'm the kind of guy that likes to collect hard data when the chips are down. Unfortunately, the clock apparently already had enough fun and was content with sweating me. Oh, well.
I fitted my pencil behind my ear and pocketed my travel notebook, then flipped the rest of the first floor lights on and completed my prelim. I concluded that everything was pretty standard. If anything, the house was in better shape than I'd expect considering it presumably hasn't been lived in for a couple years. I say "presumably" because one can never count out squatters, even during those times. Mainly I was expecting more dust build up and cobwebs than there were. Perhaps someone from the department had come by recently. It's unlikely, but possible.
I did the same check upstairs and it came back mostly clean. There was a bit of staining near the attic I wanted to check for mold. Based on its color, it was probably just a minor case of Aspergillus, but better safe than sorry. Then I got to the basement, and, well, let's just count out the idea of anyone dropping by. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what I found.
The first thing that caught my eye was the long, slender body of a birch tree lying pale and dead across a large portion of the even larger unfinished basement's cement flooring. I had to do a double take to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but, yep, there it was. Its crown was sealed up in the wall with only its trunk hanging out, which made me think of those medieval pillory devices which locked up people's heads and arms. Then confetti-scattered around the tree and all over the basement floor was a minefield of broken glass and ceramic tangled up with a set of random objects. And when I say random, I mean random. There was an unfurled Somali flag (the blue one with a single star in the center), some packaged drinks and condiments branded with all sorts of different languages (I could only make out Gaelic and Chinese or Japanese, I couldn't quite tell), a broken dome-shaped security camera, an otoscope (the thing the doc uses to check your ears), Hot Wheels cars (okay that one isn't so strange), and the list goes on.
At that moment, I wasn't freaked out or disgusted. I was more or less just confused. I started walking through the rubble, trying to avoid the sharp fragments but pretty confident that my steel toed boots would crush most the pieces anyway, when I heard a clink just up ahead. I was able to spot the coin in time, just before it jingled to a halt atop an old Life magazine. I picked it up and noted right away its oval shape and bronze color—clearly not American made. I tried reading it, but not only was the language not English, it appeared to be so old that most of the lettering had been filed down. I looked up at the ceiling to see if it dropped from a shelf, but there was nothing that could have been holding the coin. I considered for a moment, looking around at the other junk, and had the crazy idea that maybe all this stuff just appeared here. I popped the coin in my pocket and headed back to the van when I stopped by the tree and realized something. It wasn't a birch tree—it was a palm tree. I just didn't realize because of how ashy and decayed the bark was.
Now at this point you might think I've been acting a little nonchalant for such a strange occurrence, and I don't blame you, but if you're gonna stick around with me that's just something you're gonna have to get used to. I guess I was just born with a screw loose, but I really don't scare easily, and I tend to look at everything pragmatically. If you dig deep enough, you'll always find another plausible explanation. That being said, I do want to get to the part about Area X, so let me give you the rundown on what I learned about this basement.
I ended up trekking back to the van and picking up my gear. I was no longer running the routine inspection, obviously, but I figured I might as well throw 30 thousand dollars of scanning equipment at whatever the fuck anamoly existed in that basement. Most of it came back negative. There was a bit higher-than-usual EM interference as picked up on the voltmeters, but nothing that screamed danger close. Still, it was enough for me to set up my volt testers and IR camera while muddling through the rest of the junk. I won't bore you with another list of items, but I did find one thing of value: a diamond necklace. And not just any diamond necklace, it was one of those Queen-wearing, multi-row, big-jeweled necklaces like out of some Historical Fiction movie from the thirties. I almost didn't pocket it because I'm used to expensive items being owned by someone… someone who might want it back. But I figured if there was ever a place the finder's keeper's rule applied, it was probably in this Quantum graveyard.
7 O'clock rolled around and I hadn't eaten. I'm a pretty bulky guy, carrying my share of both muscle and fat, and most people think that means I need to eat a ton but that's really not the case. Mostly I just get dehydrated easily, especially in the summer. That said, I was bordering on famished territory and considered heading out for a bite when I heard another sound. The first thing I did was check my scanners, and sure enough the voltage needle was fully spun to the right side of the dial. EM interference. Then I went to see what had dropped. I was able to pick the object out pretty quickly since I had spent the last 6 hours staring at the mosaic of a basement floor. It was a silver briefcase, like one of those out of a crime novel, and it was cracked open.
I had this sense then that I was standing at a precipice, and if I opened the briefcase and looked inside, I wouldn't be able to stop whatever would come afterwards. Part of me deep down knew that I was just that type of guy that had to know, and maybe this was my Hamlet moment where it would be a trait gone a step too far. But then again I didn't really believe in any of that sentimental bullshit, so I opened the briefcase.
The gun surprised me a little, but not as much as the piece of paper laid atop a case file reading in large black font, "FIND ME". I expected the envelope to have some missing person file in it, but instead there were all these schematics and blueprints for some kind of device. Whatever it was, it was pretty massive. Some of the lengths were hundreds of meters long. And what's more strange is based on the blueprint's locale, it appeared to be underground. I looked back through the pages a couple times, then checked the note—nothing strange there. The gun appeared to be a simple glock. I was no gun expert, but I had been to the range pretty regularly with my construction buddies, so I got used to the feel of a pistol and rifle and some of the different names; however, I realized pretty quickly it wasn't your standard glock when I couldn't find mag-release. That's when I noticed how light the gun felt. I tried to chamber a round, but again, there was no hammer. What the hell kind of gun was this?
I ended up throwing everything back in the briefcase, including the necklace, coin, and a few Koozies I found that were branded with one of my favorite sports teams (never let an opportunity go to waste). I put up all my shit back in the van and spun over to a local burger joint, got my fill, and went home. I made sure to draft an email to the prospective buyers, telling them the house had several patches of black mold and a bit of a rat problem before drifting off to sleep. Although I really didn't do much of that.
When I woke up, I took a cold shower and downed a can of Reign, then commuted to my gym and got a lift and some sauna time in before making the trip back to the house. I brought some extra supplies with me for some experiments I cooked up while not sleeping the previous night.
First, I had two camcorders set up on a couple tripods in either corner of the basement. I wanted clear footage of these mystery objects spawning in. Then I set up a voltmeter in a similar fashion, but I had a wire extending out of it on a circuit which fed to an alarm that would blare when the reading was over 250 volts. Upstairs, I rearranged some of the furniture so that the small number of tables, chairs, clock, cabinets, and other little pillows or vases I could find were scattered across the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Then I pulled up a lawn chair to the front porch window and waited.
I didn't have to wait long though. In about a minute, I started to notice some of the objects moving. It was strange. When a few of them would shift simultaneously, it was like looking at a holographic card that would change shape depending on where your eyes were in relation to the image. Every time I saw a shift, I felt an awkward feeling in my eyes. They went blurry for a fraction of a second, then there was a twinge of pain, as if my brain couldn't handle the contradictory stimulus. It didn't get more crazy than that though—until the alarm went off.
I had cracked open the small rectangular window in the basement to the side of the house so I would hear it. It took four hours and several strange stares from passersby walking their dogs before it rang, so I was a bit lost in my thoughts, but when I heard the beep I perked up fast. It lasted for maybe 5 seconds total, but what I saw was truly miraculous. The best way I can describe it is a pool of silver or gray or translucent light emerging in the foreground between me and the objects in the different rooms. A series of twisting tentacles sprouted from the gray octopus-like head and spun in a way that reminded me of that little kids ride at the amusement parks. Then the objects started to "heat up" is the way I describe it. Their position became relative, meaning they were here one second, there another, then they popped out of existence entirely. Suddenly the rooms were all empty, then they were full of things I had never seen before. Then five seconds passed and the octopus vanished and it was back to the same old objects in their usual places.
It took a few minutes to process what I saw, and even then I wasn't sure I really saw it. I went inside and looked around at my distribution of the house's furnishings. They were all there, intact. Then I went downstairs to check the cams. I rewinded a couple minutes and played it back, but there was no flying object to be found. Instead, there was some gray static that lasted half a second and then the object, a kid's treasure chest toy, was there on the ground. But you want to know the really strange part? I rewinded the tape again, and when I watched the footage back, the treasure chest was always there.
I later came to understand that these poppings in-and-out of our reality are only conceivable to a conscious mind that can track the interference patterns—not rote computational instruments. In fact, even most people can't do it (although everyone has at least a slight awareness of it, even if only subconsciously). Plus, locations like the basement of this house are very rare and kept under tight lock. That became obvious to me two days later when, after my normal morning routine, I pulled up to a driveway and curbside filled with unmarked government vehicles. Either bravely or stupidly, I pulled up to a few officers (they were wearing suits in 85 degree weather, so I assumed…) who were idling by the large fence of crime scene tape and asked them what the score was.
"There was a crime," said the short man with a unibrow.
"Oh, is that right? Damn shame. Someone break in? I have a niece who lives nearby, so…"
The man looked at his two compatriots, both of whom were wearing sunglasses and a "get this civilian fuck out of here" expressions. "Oh, yeah," he started in a reassuring tone that was so condescending it would have annoyed anyone except me, "we found a body. We think it was a homicide. Best to keep your kids away from here for a while."
I thumbed the stubble on my chin, my other hand outstretched on the wheel, and considered moving on, but my mouth had other ideas. "That right? But uh, isn't this house vacant? I mean, I don't remember no one living in it."
The short man, now tall with temper, said, "Yeah, some squatters. We think there was a dispute over some drug money. Nothing for you to worry about though, we got it under control. Now if you wouldn't mind moving along, we have a lot of work to do."
Oh, I'm sure you do, I thought, but only said, "Of course, sir, sorry for keeping you from your job." Then I rolled up the window and cruised on, keeping my eyes on the house which slowly diminished in the side-view mirror.
Luckily I had been smart enough to break down my camp and lug home all my equipment each night, so I didn't leave anything incriminating. I didn't move the furniture back, so maybe that would come back to haunt me, but considering the kind of shit going down in that house, I didn't think they would notice.
For any of you wondering about the conclusion of the house story, I went back a couple weeks later after the suits had left and the tape was taken down and confirmed that not only was the basement entirely cleaned out, but it was no longer exhibiting any strange properties. I looked for a story related to the house, maybe a made up murder of some kind, but there was nothing. That bastard lied to me and didn't even bother to cover his story up.
Now, in the aftermath of an event such as this, I really only had one of two options. I could forget it, move on, continue living life. The necklace was surely worth a fortune. I could sell it and have enough to retire, or at least hire enough people and expand my business large enough to retire within ten or so years. Or I could take all that money and invest it in my own PI business with only a single objective: finding out what those people knew, and why they were hiding it.
I think you know me well enough by now to guess which line of reasoning appealed more to me.
***
For the sake of brevity, I'm going to omit most of my encounters along the journey to discovering Area X. There's a lot to tell, and if it appeals to you perhaps I'd be willing to share at a later date, but for now I want to get this part of the story, the more proximal part, out in the open.
Three years ago, I discovered the source of what I'll call "The Receiver". This is the device that was schematized in the documents that I found in the briefcase. What it does is a complex answer, and how it does it is pretty much all speculation, but here's what I've been able to find out: this universe we live in is a node in a network of many other spaces. These spaces exist in higher dimensions that we cannot directly perceive, but using a conceivable analogy, just think about a flower with petals. The petals are these other dimensions which bleed into our world, which is at the center. However, it's not that pretty. We see the physical world through the lens of spacetime: sizes, speeds, etc. These other dimensions don't necessarily have space or time. In fact, what actually exists there, I couldn't say. The only data I have on them is from two sources: correspondence information and server data from the secret agency (which I'll call "the Organization") that keeps this under wraps, and first-hand experience with realms from these other entities, either directly (I experience it) or through the eyes of someone else with the same or greater abilities than I possess.
I referred to these people with abilities earlier as "Antennas", and I will continue to use the term. Antennas really come in three flavors, marked by the strength of their ability: weak Antennas, like me, are able to observe spontaneous interactions between our universe and other dimensions (phase shifts) when there is a strong force of collision like existed in the basement; moderate Antennas may see phase shifts occur at any point, and they usually are able to retain memories from across the different transformations; strong Antennas, and I don't know if they exist yet, but they are able to consciously interact with these other realms and cause phase shifts to occur.
I mentioned that moderate Antennas are able to retain memories from before and after a phase shift. Technically, all Antennas have this ability, but it's about degree. I can recall only very specific instances and without much detail. Moderates are usually able to pick out much more nuanced minutiae. At the lower end of moderate scale, most of those details fade or get fuzzy over time, but for the very strong Antennas, they hold onto almost everything. One other property that scales with strength is interaction with other conscious entities. Only a small percentage of moderates are able to do this. What's interesting is that these entities can possess (yes, like ghosts) people who aren't even antennas, but no one is aware of such possession at this deep of a level. I have several companions now, and only two have had interactions with these otherworldly beings. Not all of them are malevolent, some of them are whimsical or kind, but there are a fair share of demons out there.
Getting back to the point, Area X started as a government funded project in the 70's. At that time, they were focused on a few subjects: Artificial Intelligence, DNA sequencing, and psychedelics. Yes, they were part of the infamous LSD experiments. But they looked at these subjects through a common lens—there was something that the burgeoning tech industry, fueled by the advent of a commercial computer market, was missing. As the tech giants rose in the early 2000's and began to collect mass amounts of data, this other agency was decades ahead in a different metric, although it was completely (and still is) hidden from the public. Their efforts to understand psychedelic experiences led to a formalized method of understanding interactions between multiple realities. They built certain scanning equipment to detect anomalies like the one I found in the basement; although their tools were much more sophisticated and didn't utilize voltage readings. Then they ran tests in these areas. One area in particular is a hot-bed of phase shift interactions. That's where Area X is located (and the Receiver).
The Receiver is a giant electromagnetic orb that has trapped the kind of multi-dimensional energy that causes the phase shifts; since the Organization seized control of the lab, it's effectively become a map of the Earth in relation to these other worlds. For the past twenty or so years, the Organization has been studying this map, using the data big Tech companies have collected to essentially develop a Rosetta Stone for interpreting the meaning of the fluctuations in their scanning equipment. Recently, the public, though going the long way round, was actually pretty close to a breakthrough in this same department until recently when ultra-powerful LLMs surfaced, and the whole world began going down what I'd argue is the wrong rabbit hole of language processing. But I digress.
Area X is essentially a private military base built for defending the most impactful piece of technology ever invented. With the Receiver, the Organization now has the power to essentially predict any and all future outcomes, the only thing holding them back is the limitations of their own scanning equipment which will get better with time. To put it into perspective, the Organization has access to a kind of data allocation tool which in one day can produce over ten thousand times that the Big Data companies combined would be able to filter through in the next decade. You might think, then, that the problem is merely asymmetric power, and that is certainly a concern, but it isn't the main concern. The main issue is that this organization is actively recruiting (and kidnapping) Antennas from around the world in an effort to find or make one of them into a strong Antenna. In other words, they want a subject who is able not only to see the future, but to manipulate it at will.
balance to the world. I've been working on amassing resources, capital, and building my own team, and now I'm ready. You might ask why I'm posting this here. Wouldn't it be better to keep all this secret? Well, yes, it would be. But that's the problem. Nothing is secret anymore. They know about me and the others, and if I don't make a move, they will. In a way, this is a letter directly to the organization that I know, and I'm coming.
In a different way, I wanted to release this information to the public. There are lots of people out there waking up and realizing that the world they experience is not the one others experience. If you think you might be an Antenna, don't be afraid—you have a special gift that can be controlled. If you want more details on how to control it, or if you're interested in my mission, don't be afraid to reach out. This hasn't always been my life's work, but it is now.
At least until I die.

I won't disclose its actual location, so if that's why you're here, sorry to disappoint. It's not time for that yet. However, I do think it's time to start getting the word out. I've noticed an increase in what I'll call "Antennas" lately, or people who can detect cross-planar phase shifts. Without getting into all the math (some of which I don't even know), this is basically a phenomenon which refers to entropy seeping into our universe from other realms or universes or whatever you want to call it. Simply put, people think our universe is a closed system to entropy, meaning that the disorder of any variable in our universe can only increase or decrease in direct proportion to other variables in that same system (the universe). Under this precept, we can establish rules like the Laws of Thermodynamics, and for most people, they're effective. But not for Antennas.
Put another way, if you throw a bunch of bouncy balls into a box, there are a number of different configurations that the balls could take on, with different speeds and magnitudes. You can calculate all of those if you have the right numbers. Now let's say you throw in another set of balls that you don't consider in your calculations of the initial set. Well, then you're not going to get an accurate picture of what's happening. Most people only see the first set and calculate based on that, but some people can see two, three, four or more sets.
You'll understand the concept better when I tell you the story, but I wanted to give you a primer on an important concept that will help you understand why this place, which I'll call "Area X", exists, and what the goals of the people who work there are.
Also note that I'm going to be using the alias "Trent" moving forward. Please refer to me as such in any direct messages.
***
Eighteen years ago I started working as an independent Home Inspector. I dropped out of community college after my first semester (not because I didn't find some of the subjects interesting, but because deference to a man or woman has never been my style) and started working some odd jobs. I did construction work for a couple years, then plumbing. I even drove a garbage truck for six months. I've always found pleasure in using my hands, and getting dirty was never a problem for me. Still, having a boss really dragged ass, so I spent my free time working on creating my own business. It took a few years and lots of savings, but I finally managed to get basic set of Home Inspection equipment: Tyvek coveralls, a cheap half-face respirator, voltage & AFCI/GFCI testers, CO2 and radon monitors, an IR camera, and telescoping mirrors in addition to the boots, safety glasses, electric gloves, ladder, and toolkits I already had on hand.
My buddy at the time was in the business, but he was moving off to the coast, so he helped me get set up and even introduced me to some of his clients. Of course, by that time I had already gotten my State license, but I still was a bit apprehensive to work with insurance agencies. I thought I could make a living working independently, inspecting for mold or sizing up a house for a prospective buyer. Eventually, though, I realized I should probably take every job available to me.
Easing into the business went about as well as it could have. The clients my friend referred to me were very satisfied with my work, and I was able to retain them. Then, in order to increase my reach, I hired someone on Fiverr to build a website for my company which led to a marked increase in traffic and conversions. About six months through, I began to get on a first-name basis with the boys and girls down down at Allstate and Progressive, and they fed me some of the bigger cases. In fact, I got so booked by year's end that I had to hire someone to help manage my schedule and the Excel spreadsheet with all my finances. I capped off a successful year with a 5-star Google rating and a trip to Ireland to visit some family and friends and get piss drunk. When I got back, it was the grindstone all over again, until the summer when I discovered… well, you'll see.
First off, I want to say that I was never one to believe in the paranormal. I grew up watching the movies and hearing the ghost stories round the campfire like every other kid, but it never struck a chord with me. If I can't touch it or see it or hear it, does it really exist? Probably not. So don't go thinking this was a scared man seeing his own shadow. That being said, I had this sense that something was off about this house when I parked along the curb and looked through a large window, perhaps two times the size of my van, to a dingy, dark foyer.
The entire neighborhood was stacked with upper-middle class domiciles, though it seemed like only two thirds of them were occupied, mostly by professionals who commuted to the City every weekday, and the rest were empty. As a man who understands real estate, to say this was strange would be an understatement. Still, I had no problem appraising the mini-mansion for a couple of newlyweds looking to enter the community. I did some research on the property ahead of time, and it seems that it was owned by a couple of old timers who had gone off the grid some time ago. The water and electric bill were both unpaid dating back to 2004 (it was June of '06 now). The bank had repo'd the house (which only had about 100k left on it) and held it for a year and a half before putting it back on the market. I tried to find out more about the old couple who vanished, but there was nothing in the news.
I stepped out of the van in my coveralls and grabbed my suitcase which had my mask, gloves, and eye protection in it. I liked to do a preliminary survey first, running an eye test on the exterior then interior before bringing out the big guns (that way I could identify the areas where I think there could be problems instead of running a metal detector over the whole damn ocean seaboard). I was about to do just that when the window caught my eye again. It felt uncharacteristic of me to be so occupied with this window, but I detoured to the front porch and peeked inside anyway.
Most of the furniture had already been moved out, meaning all that was left was a single three-seater couch, a couple candlesticks on the fireplace mantle, a pristine chandelier overtop a dining room table, and the kitchenware: an oven, gas stovetop, marble countertops, and an island. I could see into the living room very clearly with the afternoon light, but the dining room was dim enough that there were a few structures I couldn't quite make out in the distance. One of them appeared to be some kind of china cabinet or bookshelf—I figured it was the former considering where it was located. The other shadow looked kind of like a grandfather clock. Or at least that's what I thought until it moved.
When I say it "moved", I don't mean to say that it picked up and walked away. If you're not familiar with the Necker Cube, I suggest you search it up, because that kind of illusion is the best way to describe what I saw. At first I was seeing the grandfather clock in a certain way—pushed into the corner of the room—and the next second my vision "corrected" and it was maybe five feet to the left of its former position. I shook my head and looked again and saw the grandfather clock in its second orientation, standing in the center of the room against the wall. I figured I was just seeing things, but even so I spent a little extra time dawdling around the Egress window, taking notes, and delaying the interior inspection.
When I finally grew a pair and went inside, I walked straight to the dining room. Sure enough, the grandfather clock was stowed away in the corner of the room. I spent a couple minutes watching it with my pencil and travel notebook out. I'm the kind of guy that likes to collect hard data when the chips are down. Unfortunately, the clock apparently already had enough fun and was content with sweating me. Oh, well.
I fitted my pencil behind my ear and pocketed my travel notebook, then flipped the rest of the first floor lights on and completed my prelim. I concluded that everything was pretty standard. If anything, the house was in better shape than I'd expect considering it presumably hasn't been lived in for a couple years. I say "presumably" because one can never count out squatters, even during those times. Mainly I was expecting more dust build up and cobwebs than there were. Perhaps someone from the department had come by recently. It's unlikely, but possible.
I did the same check upstairs and it came back mostly clean. There was a bit of staining near the attic I wanted to check for mold. Based on its color, it was probably just a minor case of Aspergillus, but better safe than sorry. Then I got to the basement, and, well, let's just count out the idea of anyone dropping by. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what I found.
The first thing that caught my eye was the long, slender body of a birch tree lying pale and dead across a large portion of the even larger unfinished basement's cement flooring. I had to do a double take to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but, yep, there it was. Its crown was sealed up in the wall with only its trunk hanging out, which made me think of those medieval pillory devices which locked up people's heads and arms. Then confetti-scattered around the tree and all over the basement floor was a minefield of broken glass and ceramic tangled up with a set of random objects. And when I say random, I mean random. There was an unfurled Somali flag (the blue one with a single star in the center), some packaged drinks and condiments branded with all sorts of different languages (I could only make out Gaelic and Chinese or Japanese, I couldn't quite tell), a broken dome-shaped security camera, an otoscope (the thing the doc uses to check your ears), Hot Wheels cars (okay that one isn't so strange), and the list goes on.
At that moment, I wasn't freaked out or disgusted. I was more or less just confused. I started walking through the rubble, trying to avoid the sharp fragments but pretty confident that my steel toed boots would crush most the pieces anyway, when I heard a clink just up ahead. I was able to spot the coin in time, just before it jingled to a halt atop an old Life magazine. I picked it up and noted right away its oval shape and bronze color—clearly not American made. I tried reading it, but not only was the language not English, it appeared to be so old that most of the lettering had been filed down. I looked up at the ceiling to see if it dropped from a shelf, but there was nothing that could have been holding the coin. I considered for a moment, looking around at the other junk, and had the crazy idea that maybe all this stuff just appeared here. I popped the coin in my pocket and headed back to the van when I stopped by the tree and realized something. It wasn't a birch tree—it was a palm tree. I just didn't realize because of how ashy and decayed the bark was.
Now at this point you might think I've been acting a little nonchalant for such a strange occurrence, and I don't blame you, but if you're gonna stick around with me that's just something you're gonna have to get used to. I guess I was just born with a screw loose, but I really don't scare easily, and I tend to look at everything pragmatically. If you dig deep enough, you'll always find another plausible explanation. That being said, I do want to get to the part about Area X, so let me give you the rundown on what I learned about this basement.
I ended up trekking back to the van and picking up my gear. I was no longer running the routine inspection, obviously, but I figured I might as well throw 30 thousand dollars of scanning equipment at whatever the fuck anamoly existed in that basement. Most of it came back negative. There was a bit higher-than-usual EM interference as picked up on the voltmeters, but nothing that screamed danger close. Still, it was enough for me to set up my volt testers and IR camera while muddling through the rest of the junk. I won't bore you with another list of items, but I did find one thing of value: a diamond necklace. And not just any diamond necklace, it was one of those Queen-wearing, multi-row, big-jeweled necklaces like out of some Historical Fiction movie from the thirties. I almost didn't pocket it because I'm used to expensive items being owned by someone… someone who might want it back. But I figured if there was ever a place the finder's keeper's rule applied, it was probably in this Quantum graveyard.
7 O'clock rolled around and I hadn't eaten. I'm a pretty bulky guy, carrying my share of both muscle and fat, and most people think that means I need to eat a ton but that's really not the case. Mostly I just get dehydrated easily, especially in the summer. That said, I was bordering on famished territory and considered heading out for a bite when I heard another sound. The first thing I did was check my scanners, and sure enough the voltage needle was fully spun to the right side of the dial. EM interference. Then I went to see what had dropped. I was able to pick the object out pretty quickly since I had spent the last 6 hours staring at the mosaic of a basement floor. It was a silver briefcase, like one of those out of a crime novel, and it was cracked open.
I had this sense then that I was standing at a precipice, and if I opened the briefcase and looked inside, I wouldn't be able to stop whatever would come afterwards. Part of me deep down knew that I was just that type of guy that had to know, and maybe this was my Hamlet moment where it would be a trait gone a step too far. But then again I didn't really believe in any of that sentimental bullshit, so I opened the briefcase.
The gun surprised me a little, but not as much as the piece of paper laid atop a case file reading in large black font, "FIND ME". I expected the envelope to have some missing person file in it, but instead there were all these schematics and blueprints for some kind of device. Whatever it was, it was pretty massive. Some of the lengths were hundreds of meters long. And what's more strange is based on the blueprint's locale, it appeared to be underground. I looked back through the pages a couple times, then checked the note—nothing strange there. The gun appeared to be a simple glock. I was no gun expert, but I had been to the range pretty regularly with my construction buddies, so I got used to the feel of a pistol and rifle and some of the different names; however, I realized pretty quickly it wasn't your standard glock when I couldn't find mag-release. That's when I noticed how light the gun felt. I tried to chamber a round, but again, there was no hammer. What the hell kind of gun was this?
I ended up throwing everything back in the briefcase, including the necklace, coin, and a few Koozies I found that were branded with one of my favorite sports teams (never let an opportunity go to waste). I put up all my shit back in the van and spun over to a local burger joint, got my fill, and went home. I made sure to draft an email to the prospective buyers, telling them the house had several patches of black mold and a bit of a rat problem before drifting off to sleep. Although I really didn't do much of that.
When I woke up, I took a cold shower and downed a can of Reign, then commuted to my gym and got a lift and some sauna time in before making the trip back to the house. I brought some extra supplies with me for some experiments I cooked up while not sleeping the previous night.
First, I had two camcorders set up on a couple tripods in either corner of the basement. I wanted clear footage of these mystery objects spawning in. Then I set up a voltmeter in a similar fashion, but I had a wire extending out of it on a circuit which fed to an alarm that would blare when the reading was over 250 volts. Upstairs, I rearranged some of the furniture so that the small number of tables, chairs, clock, cabinets, and other little pillows or vases I could find were scattered across the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Then I pulled up a lawn chair to the front porch window and waited.
I didn't have to wait long though. In about a minute, I started to notice some of the objects moving. It was strange. When a few of them would shift simultaneously, it was like looking at a holographic card that would change shape depending on where your eyes were in relation to the image. Every time I saw a shift, I felt an awkward feeling in my eyes. They went blurry for a fraction of a second, then there was a twinge of pain, as if my brain couldn't handle the contradictory stimulus. It didn't get more crazy than that though—until the alarm went off.
I had cracked open the small rectangular window in the basement to the side of the house so I would hear it. It took four hours and several strange stares from passersby walking their dogs before it rang, so I was a bit lost in my thoughts, but when I heard the beep I perked up fast. It lasted for maybe 5 seconds total, but what I saw was truly miraculous. The best way I can describe it is a pool of silver or gray or translucent light emerging in the foreground between me and the objects in the different rooms. A series of twisting tentacles sprouted from the gray octopus-like head and spun in a way that reminded me of that little kids ride at the amusement parks. Then the objects started to "heat up" is the way I describe it. Their position became relative, meaning they were here one second, there another, then they popped out of existence entirely. Suddenly the rooms were all empty, then they were full of things I had never seen before. Then five seconds passed and the octopus vanished and it was back to the same old objects in their usual places.
It took a few minutes to process what I saw, and even then I wasn't sure I really saw it. I went inside and looked around at my distribution of the house's furnishings. They were all there, intact. Then I went downstairs to check the cams. I rewinded a couple minutes and played it back, but there was no flying object to be found. Instead, there was some gray static that lasted half a second and then the object, a kid's treasure chest toy, was there on the ground. But you want to know the really strange part? I rewinded the tape again, and when I watched the footage back, the treasure chest was always there.
I later came to understand that these poppings in-and-out of our reality are only conceivable to a conscious mind that can track the interference patterns—not rote computational instruments. In fact, even most people can't do it (although everyone has at least a slight awareness of it, even if only subconsciously). Plus, locations like the basement of this house are very rare and kept under tight lock. That became obvious to me two days later when, after my normal morning routine, I pulled up to a driveway and curbside filled with unmarked government vehicles. Either bravely or stupidly, I pulled up to a few officers (they were wearing suits in 85 degree weather, so I assumed…) who were idling by the large fence of crime scene tape and asked them what the score was.
"There was a crime," said the short man with a unibrow.
"Oh, is that right? Damn shame. Someone break in? I have a niece who lives nearby, so…"
The man looked at his two compatriots, both of whom were wearing sunglasses and a "get this civilian fuck out of here" expressions. "Oh, yeah," he started in a reassuring tone that was so condescending it would have annoyed anyone except me, "we found a body. We think it was a homicide. Best to keep your kids away from here for a while."
I thumbed the stubble on my chin, my other hand outstretched on the wheel, and considered moving on, but my mouth had other ideas. "That right? But uh, isn't this house vacant? I mean, I don't remember no one living in it."
The short man, now tall with temper, said, "Yeah, some squatters. We think there was a dispute over some drug money. Nothing for you to worry about though, we got it under control. Now if you wouldn't mind moving along, we have a lot of work to do."
Oh, I'm sure you do, I thought, but only said, "Of course, sir, sorry for keeping you from your job." Then I rolled up the window and cruised on, keeping my eyes on the house which slowly diminished in the side-view mirror.
Luckily I had been smart enough to break down my camp and lug home all my equipment each night, so I didn't leave anything incriminating. I didn't move the furniture back, so maybe that would come back to haunt me, but considering the kind of shit going down in that house, I didn't think they would notice.
For any of you wondering about the conclusion of the house story, I went back a couple weeks later after the suits had left and the tape was taken down and confirmed that not only was the basement entirely cleaned out, but it was no longer exhibiting any strange properties. I looked for a story related to the house, maybe a made up murder of some kind, but there was nothing. That bastard lied to me and didn't even bother to cover his story up.
Now, in the aftermath of an event such as this, I really only had one of two options. I could forget it, move on, continue living life. The necklace was surely worth a fortune. I could sell it and have enough to retire, or at least hire enough people and expand my business large enough to retire within ten or so years. Or I could take all that money and invest it in my own PI business with only a single objective: finding out what those people knew, and why they were hiding it.
I think you know me well enough by now to guess which line of reasoning appealed more to me.
***
For the sake of brevity, I'm going to omit most of my encounters along the journey to discovering Area X. There's a lot to tell, and if it appeals to you perhaps I'd be willing to share at a later date, but for now I want to get this part of the story, the more proximal part, out in the open.
Three years ago, I discovered the source of what I'll call "The Receiver". This is the device that was schematized in the documents that I found in the briefcase. What it does is a complex answer, and how it does it is pretty much all speculation, but here's what I've been able to find out: this universe we live in is a node in a network of many other spaces. These spaces exist in higher dimensions that we cannot directly perceive, but using a conceivable analogy, just think about a flower with petals. The petals are these other dimensions which bleed into our world, which is at the center. However, it's not that pretty. We see the physical world through the lens of spacetime: sizes, speeds, etc. These other dimensions don't necessarily have space or time. In fact, what actually exists there, I couldn't say. The only data I have on them is from two sources: correspondence information and server data from the secret agency (which I'll call "the Organization") that keeps this under wraps, and first-hand experience with realms from these other entities, either directly (I experience it) or through the eyes of someone else with the same or greater abilities than I possess.
I referred to these people with abilities earlier as "Antennas", and I will continue to use the term. Antennas really come in three flavors, marked by the strength of their ability: weak Antennas, like me, are able to observe spontaneous interactions between our universe and other dimensions (phase shifts) when there is a strong force of collision like existed in the basement; moderate Antennas may see phase shifts occur at any point, and they usually are able to retain memories from across the different transformations; strong Antennas, and I don't know if they exist yet, but they are able to consciously interact with these other realms and cause phase shifts to occur.
I mentioned that moderate Antennas are able to retain memories from before and after a phase shift. Technically, all Antennas have this ability, but it's about degree. I can recall only very specific instances and without much detail. Moderates are usually able to pick out much more nuanced minutiae. At the lower end of moderate scale, most of those details fade or get fuzzy over time, but for the very strong Antennas, they hold onto almost everything. One other property that scales with strength is interaction with other conscious entities. Only a small percentage of moderates are able to do this. What's interesting is that these entities can possess (yes, like ghosts) people who aren't even antennas, but no one is aware of such possession at this deep of a level. I have several companions now, and only two have had interactions with these otherworldly beings. Not all of them are malevolent, some of them are whimsical or kind, but there are a fair share of demons out there.
Getting back to the point, Area X started as a government funded project in the 70's. At that time, they were focused on a few subjects: Artificial Intelligence, DNA sequencing, and psychedelics. Yes, they were part of the infamous LSD experiments. But they looked at these subjects through a common lens—there was something that the burgeoning tech industry, fueled by the advent of a commercial computer market, was missing. As the tech giants rose in the early 2000's and began to collect mass amounts of data, this other agency was decades ahead in a different metric, although it was completely (and still is) hidden from the public. Their efforts to understand psychedelic experiences led to a formalized method of understanding interactions between multiple realities. They built certain scanning equipment to detect anomalies like the one I found in the basement; although their tools were much more sophisticated and didn't utilize voltage readings. Then they ran tests in these areas. One area in particular is a hot-bed of phase shift interactions. That's where Area X is located (and the Receiver).
The Receiver is a giant electromagnetic orb that has trapped the kind of multi-dimensional energy that causes the phase shifts; since the Organization seized control of the lab, it's effectively become a map of the Earth in relation to these other worlds. For the past twenty or so years, the Organization has been studying this map, using the data big Tech companies have collected to essentially develop a Rosetta Stone for interpreting the meaning of the fluctuations in their scanning equipment. Recently, the public, though going the long way round, was actually pretty close to a breakthrough in this same department until recently when ultra-powerful LLMs surfaced, and the whole world began going down what I'd argue is the wrong rabbit hole of language processing. But I digress.
Area X is essentially a private military base built for defending the most impactful piece of technology ever invented. With the Receiver, the Organization now has the power to essentially predict any and all future outcomes, the only thing holding them back is the limitations of their own scanning equipment which will get better with time. To put it into perspective, the Organization has access to a kind of data allocation tool which in one day can produce over ten thousand times that the Big Data companies combined would be able to filter through in the next decade. You might think, then, that the problem is merely asymmetric power, and that is certainly a concern, but it isn't the main concern. The main issue is that this organization is actively recruiting (and kidnapping) Antennas from around the world in an effort to find or make one of them into a strong Antenna. In other words, they want a subject who is able not only to see the future, but to manipulate it at will.
balance to the world. I've been working on amassing resources, capital, and building my own team, and now I'm ready. You might ask why I'm posting this here. Wouldn't it be better to keep all this secret? Well, yes, it would be. But that's the problem. Nothing is secret anymore. They know about me and the others, and if I don't make a move, they will. In a way, this is a letter directly to the organization that I know, and I'm coming.
In a different way, I wanted to release this information to the public. There are lots of people out there waking up and realizing that the world they experience is not the one others experience. If you think you might be an Antenna, don't be afraid—you have a special gift that can be controlled. If you want more details on how to control it, or if you're interested in my mission, don't be afraid to reach out. This hasn't always been my life's work, but it is now.
At least until I die.

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I'm no writer and English is my third language. Please don't trash me or my punctuation.
Firstly, mallikajan becoming suddenly patriotic is absurd. It was almost like she had nothing in her hands and she's trying to fill the void of the fall of heeramandi. Like see, it has to be gradual atleast.
My alternate version
MALLIKAJAAN
In the scene where bibbojaan sneaks in the freedom fighters(yes, they very much were) mallikajan stares at her stoic before walking away. We find them in the next scene spoken to by phatto - satto all the things Mallika had originally said. One of the fighters embrace the other remembering the demise of the shaheed when a potli falls open from his pocket. We see jhumke and some rings which Mallika recognises and calls him out saying they are of waheeda almost accusing them of theft. Bibbo responds rather angrily " Ammi!!!" When waheeda interrupts and says she had given them the jewellery . Waheeda goes "takreeban 20 saalon me Pehli dafa jisam par se kuch utaarne par Mera rooh aitiraz nahi kiya." A little taken aback, Mallika walks away saying "Noor Haveli k chaar tijori aapke aur aapke biwi bacchon k liye khule hi."
I feel like it would still preserve her character a little and from here she could have been shown to have gone soft ( you know, with her requesting nawab's wife to talk to other nawab's for her). I know it was not pretence, but her being patriotic was a little off.
When mallikarjaan hears that bibbojaan is getting executed, she breaks down crying. Next scene is her in her room all cried out. Looks at bibbojaan's picture and mutters "meri beti...meri beti bibbo... bibbojaan.... Bibbojaan azaad." We see satto fatto and all the members gathered crying over the news mallikajaan enters , commands them not to cry as bibbo would be the first tawaif to sacrifice her life for her mother( India).
TAJDER
Tajder comes home injured and Alam questions him and he had to reveal that he was manhandled by the British while they were protesting ( he wore black muffler and wasn't recognised though). Alamzeb asks "Aap ye mulk se beintehaa mohabbat karte ho na?" And tajder chuckles and says " jaise aap apne shayari se" and alamzeb goes "shayari ko ham hamara fitoor maante hi par aap mitti ko apna farz. As she wipes his injuries she asks in a soft tone " nibhate hue kese lagta hi?". " Filhaal..... Jaise ek zakhmi maa ko unka beta marham na de paraha" says tajder teary eyed. So maybe here a montage of atrocities of British he has witnessed could be shown as he explains alamzeb why he he'd become anti British. By this the freedom factor is a little more emphasized rather than it being abrupt , also, it invokes patriotism in alamzeb.
ALAMZEB
Alamzeb literally gave it away saying that sher infront of general Cartwright, he very much speaks hindi 🤦‍♀️.
In the alternative version alam while being taken into the jail screams "inqilab zindabad" and tajder is shown to be secretly Proud. Tajder looks at her fondly while she shouts naare and her parwana sher gets played simultaneously.
And in another scene a little after Alam's realise mallikajaan says to alam: "Heeramandi ki shehzadi ho tum. Yaha ki mehek sirf eethar ki hi, na sihayi ki na hi lahoon ki ."
Alamzeb says to herself, "Hamara pyaar(tajder) ka manchaaha eethar tho ghili mitti hi ammi. Is zaameen ki mehek mehfooz rakhenge, apni lahoo se mitti nam karke hi sahi."
(Tajder says he loves ghili mitti just before it rains in the mango farm.)
FAREEDAN
Fareedan's change was rather abrupt. It's just not too convincing.
ALTERNATE VERSION

 Cartwright tells fareedan how mallikjaan had her stoop so low infront of everyone in the police station. Fareedan laughs hard and asks him what has he done. Cartwright explains what happened and when he turns around fareedan looks rather quiet unable to figure out how to feel about it. When Cartwright asks her what happened she says the dialogue she originally does. Cartwright asks her to be happy for him and his boys as they wouldn't get an opportunity like this in England cause a true lady would never sleep with five me. He proceeds to say this only happened because she's an Indian wh*re. This strucks her, she quietly leaves his house placing his gift, that gown on the table. At night during the fountain scene fareedan overhears everything from her window and sheds a tear. Fareedan witnesses Cartwright killing tajder deliberately. She runs and tells that to alam who is still in shock and is repeatedly saying she needs to see dadi. Fareedan takes her to dadi and while is upstairs Cartwright visits Tajder's father who is confronting him. Fareedan walking down the staircase says how she witnessed his death and it was Cartwright who killed his son. Cartwright says that he doesn't know her and if at all she had ever been in a police station it would be because of crimes she committed and he names few off her records intimating that he knows about her past. Fareedan feeling deceived and disrespected she is not afraid of what is going to happen to her and that Tajder's father deserves to know the truth. She tells him how she witnessed him killing his son. Cartwright interrupts and says she is afterall a tawaif and he shouldn't listen to her words. Fareedan says that she's tawaif indeed but she had a mother who take care of her all night when she was sick. She can only imagine what Tajder's father is going through and that he deserves to know the truth. She says he isn't her father or a relative but you don't need a blood relation in this mulk. She calls him khalujaan and asks him to believe her. Tajder's father walks away from her and asks Cartwright to try finding out who the attackers were and walks away indicating that he believes Cartwright and not her. Cartwright mockingly says to her that true Indians only believe the ones who are working for their welfare, the british. Fardeen walks out hurt and disappointed. 

These two incidents can makes fareedan's change more gradual.
CARTWRIGHT
I don't understand why Cartwright would want to sleep with Alam when his sister literally murdered his higher authority and is about to get killed by them. Moreover, he killed Alam's fiance. He has grave threat from Alam.
Alternate version:-

 CARTWRIGHT visits heeramandi's silent corridors and mocks mallikajaan. 

He proceeds to say had she been on his side it would have saved her from many troubles. Alam interrupts and says that she's the next huzoor of heeramandi, the next tawaif. She'd do her first dance, her first nath uthrai for him in return of him not causing the members of heeramandi any further troubles. Cartwright interrupts her and says he wants her nath uthrai not in their fort but in his bedroom. Mallika interrupts reminding how the ritual goes. Alam stares at Cartwright before agreeing. In the later scene she performs infront of him and in the end gets on the top of him stabs him to death in sync with the beat of the music and leaves his house.
THE CLIMAX

 Mallikajaan marches towards the police station with everyone to support bibbojaan. Iqbal riding cart nexts to her stops her suddenly with a talvar reluctantly and says she doesn't deserve a last time with her daughter like he was never given one with saima. Satto fatto shocked asks what he's doing. He cries and wipes his tears and backs away. Mallikajaan looks at fareedan who looks concerned for her. She walks right into the talvar to everyone's horror. Satto fatto and everyone tries to come near her but she asks them to go. Fareedan asks Mallika to come with them and says that bibbojaan will need her mother, she needs to treat herself and that ammi ki zarurat hothi hi. Mallika says her daughter will live kuch pal too without her like she( fareedan) did all these years. She insists on them leaving and being there for bibbojaan. They all March towards the execution place. Bibbojaan is given a last chance to reveal the other members of her group. She is hit with whiplash when she starts singing with all the women from heeramandi behind the walls chorusing with her. Simultaneously mallikajaan is shown dancing while bleeding in a silent , windy and deserted street singing to herself. She pats her feet covered in mud on the ground like she's dancing in her fort, does gajgamini walk manically laughing. Bibbojaan doesn't reveal the names so the officer intimates to kill her. On the other hand mallikajaan is dancing while bleeding with dirt and blood on her face. Tired She falls on her knees. She hears footsteps approaching her running. She sees zoravar (her son) with his hand streched out running towards her calling her ammi. Bullets are shot at bibbojaan simultaneously. Mallikajaan picks up the sword next to her and tears open her blouse from the back and falls on the ground. Zorawar stops and turns away his head. Mallika is seen smiling slowly closing her eyes (preserving her nature of vengeance). Bibbojaan is shown to lay on ground slowly finishing the last word of the song. Her eyes wide open, she loses her life. The narration says bibbojaan has inspired all the beti's of heeramandi to take part in freeing their country. They March and roit religiously from then on to get freedom to this country as no one understands the value of freedom better than the ones who's soul is not even theirs. 

Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
Deep in the groaning halls of sinew and bone he awaited his audience with the god. At a wave of his hand the ribs which held up the ceiling contracted, tendons shifting within the pink walls of the chamber as the jagged, calcareous spurs that composed the doorway sank back into the spongy masses of tissue, revealing a passage curving down and out of sight.
Menash stood before the yawning portal and considered eternity. This was no an idle thought: here in the Dawning Chamber, the concept was very real. His father, Yulan, had stood in this exact spot times beyond count. When he was struck down in his prime by the Night Weaver and her Leaper offspring, torn limb from limb as he fought to defend Chthonis from a raiding party, Menash’s uncle, Aqavarr, had carried his broken remains over that grinning threshold to join the hosts of the dead, never to return.
A hot and heavy exhalation rattled up out of the depths, wafting in the acrid scent of the bonding pools and the wet slithering sound of the rebirthing canals. Menash felt a crackle of static in the corners of his mind before the signal sharpened and he heard It whisper distinctly:
“Enter…”
The familiar dread crept its way up the small of his back, and he gave a little shiver. No matter how many times he had communed with the Vitalus, he’d never been able to shake the feeling of his utter insignificance. But he persevered, walking bravely down the slurping passage, past the rows of broad antechambers lining either side of the hallway. Each one held a slumbering shape immersed in a cryogenic bath, towering hulks of muscle encased in ribbed and riveted plates of chitin. No two were alike in size or physiology, but all seemed to emanate the same primeval aura of dread that tickled Menash’s fight-or-flight-instinct, skewing it very much towards the latter response. These were the Hollowores, soulless avatars of the Vitalus, each one a tool capable of eradicating an entire species. As Menash approached, one of the living weapons stirred to life. A pronged, anvil-shaped head emerged from the bath, umbilical feeder tubes detaching from its armored flanks as the rest of its bulk followed, its mauve exoskeleton as sleek and shiny as amethyst. The Hollowore extended legs as thick as grown pine trees and lifted itself above him, its pairs of crushing pincers dripping amniotic fluids as it herded him towards the central room.
Bundles of white gossamer filaments spread all across the floor, encircling steaming pools of pus and acid. He saw arms and legs, sensory organs and entire exoskeletons being knitted before his very eyes, the amino acid chains being stitched on a layer at a time, the weeping pus evidence of microphages fighting off possible infections as the Vitalus did Its work.
These were the next generation of exomorphs, yet to be assigned to their hosts. It was here that Vitalus constantly improved the only thing that could ensure the continued survival of Menash’s subspecies. Exomorphs were bonded to Gallivants at birth, the organisms supplying their hosts with the means to breathe an atmosphere they was never meant to endure, and the strength to fight in a world that was red in tooth and claw. They were as swift as the summer wind and could multiply their host’s muscular power by up to twelve times their natural output.
But for all their God-given might, Gallivants were still mortal. They could and often did perish in the endless struggle for existence that the Vitalus called the Great Game. But even in death they could still commit their essence to posterity, passing down their defining traits through the malleable genetic code of the gilt helix. It was the Vitalus’ greatest boon; through the gilt helix a single individual could become a progenitor of an entire generation, becoming at one stroke the father of whole nations and peoples.
One day he too would prove worthy of the honor that Yulan had earned with his life. But he was not alone in that ambition. Menash was annoyed to find the crimson-clad Vezda and the cowardly Racek waiting for him inside, standing next to a large ball of filaments that hung from a tonsil-like growth hanging from the walls.
This node pulsed, emitting a small storm of bioelectric activity, networks of fungi conveying commands in the form of oscillating voltages to their communities of symbiotic bacteria, the latter containing greigite mineral crystals aligned in the shape of electromagnetic coils. Other networks hidden in the walls modulated and amplified the signals, and the three Gallivants steeled themselves for the onrushing flood of information as the Vitalus tapped into their minds.
He was a candle before the raging heart of the thunderstorm. For an instant Menash touched a fraction of Its intelligence, the divisions of time and space rolling back as they joined the ocean of shared consciousness, becoming one with the living systems of Arachnea. From the tiniest aeroplankton floating above the waves of the golden coastlines, to the herds of ultrapods munching their way through swathes of trees in the savannahs. Menash felt himself pushing up out of the soil, longing and lusting and reaching for the sunlight with a trillion green fingers uncurling, alive with the furious movement of life.
But what was that flicker of orange to the east? That searing heat, that prickling pain spreading like a cancer down his side?
The Vitalus scooped them up and hurled them headlong into hell itself. A roaring wildfire was sweeping into the heart of the eastern rainforests. Menash tasted ash and ruin, felt pieces of himself wither and burn, his branches tongues of fire, wood cracking from the intense blaze, sap boiling instantaneously upon contact and rupturing, splitting him right down the grain. He fled in terror, running, slithering, digging, swimming, flying away in crazed panic from the walls of red death closing in on him. As his skin flaked off in clumps of charcoal he looked back and saw it towering over the treetops, the epicenter of this howling vortex of destruction: the grey behemoth. Its burnished metal hide gleamed like copper, reflecting the fury of the conflagration burning well into the night.
Menash pulled his mind away before it was lost forever in the storm of electric potentials. He saw Racek and Vezda swaying on their feet, breathing hard and fast.
“Heart of the World,” he managed to gasp, “What is your bidding?”
The Hollowore maneuvered itself until it was facing him directly. Tiny beady eyes fixed him in their blank gaze. The node emitted a blue pulse and the creature shuddered as it received the signal. It opened a maw powerful enough to chew boulders into gravel and rumbled:
“This one is the alpha which survived first contact with anomalous variable. It will tell Us what occurred, and from whence this threat emerged.”
“It came from the karst mountain range, where the yellowjacket Amit live,” Menash replied, “It was destroying the largest mound in that area, massacring its inhabitants. It brought the mountain down on them—we’ve never seen anything like it. Zildiz was the first on the scene. She warned us not to approach, and that it was dangerous, but some of us,” here he cast an angry look at Vezda, “Some of us went ahead and tried to scavenge from the bodies of the dying. Then the behemoth ignited the air and burned scores of us to cinders.”
“Irrational. Why did you do this?”
“W-we thought that you had spawned the grey behemoth,” Menash stammered, embarrassed to say the least, “That it was the newest addition to the Great Game, another species of ultrafauna that would help perfect Arachnea.”
“Not so. It was made by an evil far older than the All-In-One,” replied the Vitalus, “It is called a Divine Engine. In cycles past, this evil sought to undo this world and all that inhabit it. In that, it almost succeeded.”
Menash felt his blood run cold at those words.
“Is it the only one of its kind?” Racek piped up. Menash and Vezda both bristled at his interruption; subordinates were only supposed to speak when spoken to.
“There were several deployed here in Our infancy. We had thought them all destroyed in the War of Creation.”
“Your Munificence,” Racek went on, heedless of the venomous looks he was getting from the other two, “Most of us survived because Zildiz persuaded us to dive into the river. She saved all our lives! But as I washed up on the riverbank, I saw the behemoth casting a seedpod into the skies. I did not see where it landed, but it was travelling in a high arc due east. Is this the behemoth’s method of reproducing? If so, then how many offspring can it generate from this one seed?”
The Vitalus met his questions with a minute of silence. Menash had never known It to take so long to respond to a query, and felt another stab of unease in his gut. Unless he was imagining things, the Vitalus seemed genuinely disturbed by the scenario that Racek has raised, enough to convince Menash that the danger was far from hypothetical.
“That is a distant possibility,” It said somewhat cryptically, “Regardless, We cannot allow the Engine’s continued existence.”
“Then it must be destroyed,” Vezda said, her barbed tail eagerly perking up.
“We are not certain that it can be,” the Vitalus said, and Menash heard Racek audibly gulp at the admission.
“But Your Omniscience, you alone are the arbiter of growth and decay,” Vezda said in disbelief, “Surely you can unmake this monster as well?”
“Perhaps. The Divine Engines were built to withstand the extremes of temperature, gravity, atmospheric pressure, acidity and irradiation found on semi-inhabitable exoplanets. Worlds of bareness and desolation, glassed by thermonuclear bombardment or infested with alien microorganisms. In the wars of Our youth, the Betrayers used tungsten-alloy warheads fired from space platforms to crack their bulkheads. Not even Our vessels, the Hollowores, could damage them in any significant way. We will need time to gather the raw materials and fabricate the weapons needed to end this threat.”
“What must we do?” Menash asked.
“If this variable is not dealt with, it could upset the delicate balance We have sacrificed so much to achieve. Already the wildfire it has caused will release close to 400 million metric tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and destroy 2.3 million acres of forest before Our countermeasures can stop it. Time is our limiting factor. If the Engine cannot be destroyed now, it must be restrained.”
“It hasn’t moved an inch since we last saw it,” Vezda said brightly, “Maybe it has already died?”
“Yes, and maybe your mother was a horka toad,” Racek said snidely. Vezda scowled and took a step towards him, then stopped as she remembered that she trod on hallowed ground.
“Not so. It has merely gone dormant. Having expended its fuel, it is now running on the bare minimum of its reserves. My children, you must ensure that it does not wake again. Establish a quarantine zone around the Engine and let none approach, on pain of death. The Leaper kindreds will secure the ground while the Gallivants patrol the skies.”
Vezda and Menash exchanged troubled looks. Nobody wanted Leapers establishing a foothold in what was essentially a buffer zone between their subspecies. Once allowed to settle in a habitat, it would not take long for them to adapt and become masters of their new territory. Ousting them would become a battle of attrition, and given the lower birthrates of Gallivants, it was not one they could long afford.
“Respectfully, we do not require assistance from our brother kindred,” Menash ventured, “We are more than capable of safeguarding the area ourselves.”
The node throbbed again, the bioelectric flashes taking on an angry purple hue. With a sound like the grinding of a millstone the Hollowore clashed its claws together impatiently. All three of the mortals took a hasty step back.
“The alpha will obey, or another will be found that can,” the Vitalus growled at them, “All subspecies will observe a general truce during this period. This is a temporary addition to the Great Game. Those that serve Us well shall be rewarded. We shall also enlist the aid of your terrestrial cousins, as well as the Cataphract clans to replenish the soil, and lone Saints who shall rove beyond the quarantine zone.”
Menash’s unease deepened. The Vitalus was bringing together four different kindreds, some of which killed each other on sight, in a move that reeked of desperation. The kindreds had worked together before, of course, on complex projects such as altering rainfall patterns and husbanding struggling species, but never so many at once. This was bound to end in bloodshed.
“Those that break the truce shall be chemically neutered, and their gilt helix purged from the existing gene pool,” the Vitalus continued, “You will maintain this quarantine until We have dealt with the Engine.”
“It is understood!” Menash and Vezda said at once.
“But what about Zildiz?” Racek blurted out, again risking his entire lineage by speaking out of turn, “She might still be alive out there!”
“He’s right,” Menash found himself agreeing despite his dislike for Racek, “She’s our alpha, after all. It would be a shame to lose her helix. Do we have your leave to send out a party to recover her?”
The Vitalus pondered the request for a moment, then crushed his hopes when it said:
“Regrettable, the loss of the female. Valuable stock for the breeding program. But it has not responded to Our signals—it is unlikely to have survived. The female Vezda shall take up its duties as alpha.”
“But Your Benevolence—” both men cried out in unison.
“It is decided. She has risked the Great Game, and must abide by its outcome. To speak more on this would risk Our displeasure,” the god warned.
“We can’t spare the manpower anyway,” Vezda pointed out, trying not to look too pleased at Its decision. She darted a quick look at Menash, long enough for him to see the selfish desire festering in her heart. He turned away from her in disgust, baring his blades by the slightest of margins to let her know what he thought of her, then asked the Vitalus:
“But what of the Engine’s seedpod? Should we search for it?”
“Negative!” the Vitalus boomed, its node reinforcing the word with a spike of activity that sent needles of pain spearing into their heads, “We shall complete this task. It is dangerous and can be entrusted to no other.”
The Hollowore angled its massive head towards the cavernous ceiling, armored flaps on its back sliding aside as it unfurled sets of rigid sixty-meter wings. A wide sphincter on the roof gaped open and Menash saw the evening sky awash with the stars in their milky multitudes. The Hollowore took a deep breath through the spiracles lining its thorax and abdomen, pumping air through a pair of hollow tube-like protuberances under either of its wings. Menash and the others quickly scampered to a safe distance. Seconds later there was a scream of chemical combustion and the Hollowore rose into the evening skies, leaving behind a long trail of superheated gases, the backwash almost knocking Menash off his feet. They watched as the Hollowore gained altitude, making straight for the columns of billowing smoke on the horizon, a sweeping shadow blotting out the light of the heavens.
The Vitalus’ mental presence receded with it. When it did not return, they took it to mean that they were dismissed and likewise took flight and headed for Chthonis. They were hardly out of the Dawning Chamber when Vezda seized the scrawny Racek by his wings and anchored her feet right up against his back.
“Funny little man, are you? Crack jokes at my expense again, and I’ll see to it that you’ll never fly again!” she snarled, yanking hard. Racek yelled as his wings threatened to pop out of their sockets.
“Stop!” Menash said, ramming his shoulder into her and knocking the smaller male out of her grip. Vezda rounded on him, blades out and her tail aquiver with rage.
“As for you! No one should speak to the Vitalus like that!” she shrieked, “Much less gainsay It! Are you trying to get us all killed? It is the source and continuance of life itself—”
“But the Vitalus doesn’t always consider the individual scale of things,” Menash reasoned, controlling his rising anger as he tried to defuse the situation, “Its scope of thought is beyond ours. Therefore it is up to us to look after each other. None of us can win the Great Game alone. We need people like Zildiz for the species to prosper.”
“Your logic is flawed,” Vezda spat, “Empathy is a sham devised by the selfish action of the gene, which seeks only to preserve itself. At least I am honest enough to look after my own interests. Your obsession with that whore is misplaced. Heed my words, Menash. What happened today marks a change in the Great Game. Only the ruthless will reap the rewards of this era. Think on that, and act accordingly.”
The female darted off in another direction, leaving the two behind.
“Thanks,” Racek said, rubbing at his sore shoulders, “My, my. She’s really taking her promotion very seriously, isn’t she?”
“This doesn’t make us friends,” Menash said shortly, “We share a common interest, that’s all.”
The two flew together in silence for a time, the dark canopy unrolling below their feet. Racek had always been a bitter rival for Zildiz’s affections. In the mating seasons he and Menash had flown the damsel-dance against each other countless times, racing and dogfighting at top speed through the dense bamboo thickets in an effort to impress her.
But each time she had always chosen Menash. Naturally. He was the stronger, the braver, the son of the Scourge who had slain hundreds on his lightning raids into Leaper territory. Their pairings had been brief and passionate, yet she had always laughed at the end and gone on her merry way, a rose petal borne on a scented breeze, the dalliance as meaningless to her as other concerns like eating or breathing.
But not to him. Right now, all that mattered was her. And Racek was the only one in the whole wide world who knew exactly how he felt. Did that mean he could be trusted? Menash considered the enormity of what he was about to do, and wavered. Then he saw her face in the darkness of his home, the face she wore when they were all alone together, and he took a deep breath before breaking the silence, saying:
“I’ll be in charge of the quarantine. I can arrange for you to disappear for a few days. I can have one of the younglings mimic your magnetosynaptic signal, make it seem like you’re with the rest of us.”
“You’d do that? For me?” Racek said in astonishment.
“Hah. Not for you,” Menash laughed softly. He looked Racek straight in the eyes and continued: “What’ll it be, then?”
If he so much as hesitates, I’ll have to kill him here and now, Menash told himself.
“Why, yes. Yes, of course!” the little brown male said vigorously.
“Good,” Menash sighed with relief, “She’ll be very grateful to whoever brings her home. I’d do it myself, but as an alpha I can’t risk being seen as disobedient.”
“Then why give me this chance? After all that’s passed between us?”
“I should have thought that was obvious,” Menash replied. Racek digested that for a bit, then out of nowhere said:
“If I find her—when I find her—I’ll tell her exactly who it was that sent me.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Bah! Just so we’re even, that’s all,” Racek grinned, his mouthparts slanting askew.
“Thanks, I guess. I’d…I’d appreciate that. You do understand what we’re risking here, right?”
“Sure. We’ll be total genetic write-offs if we’re caught. But it’s not like I wanted to see tiny ugly Raceks running around the house anyway. What about you, though? Why are you putting your neck on the chopping block?”
“You know why,” Menash said quietly, his thoughts still lingering on her face.
“Yes,” Racek agreed with a wistful air, “Yes, I suppose I do.”
And the pair spoke no more until they reached Chthonis.
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

Today marks the anniversary of the murders of Aarushi Talwar and Hemraj Banjade.
Aarushi was discovered in her bed with a fatal skull fracture and a slit throat. A few days after the decomposing body of Hemraj, the household servant, was found concealed on the rooftop terrace. Aarushi's parents Rajesh and Nupur Talwar claimed innocence and were acquitted of murder charges less that 4 years into their sentence. The other known suspects were never convicted due to lack of evidence.
The investigation was bungled from the start by lazy and inexperienced police work. A scene was not established at the earliest opportunity, and vital forensic samples were not recovered.
There are multiple allegations of tampering with the crime scene by the parents of Aarushi, whom invited over neighbours and family in the immediate aftermath of the supposed discovery of Aarushi's murder. In addition there were multiple calls between the parents and their relative whom was ex-police. In the days following the murder and accusations that were influencing the post-mortem report in order for any references to sexual assault be removed.
Questions
There were multiple law enforcement teams investigating the murders at different points. Their conclusions pointed to the parents or associates of Hemraj. The Noida police, UP police, and CBI all investigated.
There are a lot of theories as to what happened. I have found myself reflecting on certain facts/points rather than formulating a brand new theory.
16 years in there is likely to never be any fresh evidence to examine.
Aarushi's camera
She was gifted this on the night of the murder. It was an early birthday present. It was found to have over a dozen images deleted.

• What photos were deleted? Was any recovery possible?
• Did Aarushi or anyone else take indecent or incriminating photos?
• Gift giving signifies an emotional high- and with highs come lows. Was there an incident that happened that incurred an extreme negative emotional response from Rajesh and Nupur against Aarushi?
  Aarushi's phone
  
• How far away was it discovered from their apartment?
  
• Had it been hidden away inside the flat and not taken outside until a number of days after the murder?
  
• What was Aarushi's last activity on the phone?
  
• Why did she not reply to Anmol, her boyfriend, when he called around midnight? Was she dead by then?
  Aarushi's friends
  
• What did they know about Aarushi's relationship with her family and Hemraj?
  
• Did she tell them anything?
  Hemraj
  
• How exactly long had he not been paid/sent back money to his family?
  
• Did Hemraj know something he shouldn't have?
  
• Why did he not eat dinner the night of his murder?
  
• Why did Hemraj report being in fear of his life?
  Rajesh and Nupur
  
• As dentists and people of science why were they destroying evidence at scene by introducing contamination?
  
• They blamed the police for not collecting evidence but still ruined the scene themselves?
  
• Why did they have such a short grieving period with Aarushi's body before cremation and cleaning the apartment?
  
• Why did they immediately accuse Hemraj of the murder?
  
• As usually late risers, why were they awake in the first place when they discovered Aarushi dead?
  
• Why did Nupur throw the keys down to Bharati for the doors when Nupur already knew the doors to the apartment could be opened from both sides?
  
• Are the couple hiding facts because they want to preserve the honour of Aarushi?
  Crime scene
  
• Why was the body of Aarushi staged and dressed after the murder?
  
• Where were the golf clubs usually kept? It's alleged they matched the injury shapes on the victims. So did Rajesh keep them in his room?
  
• Who was the first victim? Who was the intended victim?
  
• Why was Hemraj's body concealed? Why would a stranger conceal his body?
  
• There were no obvious signs of struggle in the apartment and terrace. There were no bruises reported in the autopsy. Does this suggest the victims knew the murderes and did not fight back?
  Motive
  
• Why would a third party go to the lengths of dressing up the scene and concealing evidence?
  
• There was nothing reported stolen. The only known things missing were the phones of Aarushi and Hemraj. If an outsider murdered them then why kill only two but spare the parents?
  
• Was Aarushi killed by Hemraj's associates after a serial assault and then her body was cleaned by her parents?
  
• Why were the parents spared then?
  I believe these questions may never be satisfactorily answered. My personal view is that this was a set of murders committed by the parents. Why? Perhaps honor based killing in a fit of rage after discovering Aarushi and/or Hemraj in circumstances the parents found unforgiveable. Why? Because an outsider would not dress up Aarushi or go to the lengths of concealing Hemraj on the terrace.
  RIP Aarushi and Hemraj
  Thanks for reading.
  https://allthatsinteresting.com/aarushi-talwar
  

Conner sat listening to music while the history class droned on endlessly. What is the point of learning history? War never changes, right? It seemed tedious. What does history have to do with how powerful and cool a mech is, or how sweet it is to be a mech knight?
"When the darkness came from outside, only the humans knew what was happening. It was war, war from outside the peaceful galaxy. War that had started when the Milky Way first showed the twinkling signs of life. One insane intelligence, old as time, would not tolerate another living galaxy. Each must be consumed by its own weight, and only death may prevail.
Humans instinctively knew this, as the chosen ones, the T-Cells of the galaxy. When their alien friends started getting ravaged and marauded by the scouts of the Dark Beings, humans responded, retaliating with unbridled ferocity and driving the otherwise unstoppable enemies back into the darkness.
It was a frightening time, and it only got worse when the massive cloud of shade was identified as the locust fleet that had sailed for billions of years, the Silent Empty Eternal Darkness Sailors, as they called themselves. They were nothing but dormant hives, sleeping forever, ready to wake and kill and self-destruct, make the galaxy dead. They could have done so, but humans stood in their way, an unpredictable enemy, capable of war.
That is why human worlds were directly targeted by their commandos. Massive singular monsters of ungodly visage were deployed to human worlds, spawning armies of miniature satraps of the horrors, to pillage and assault human worlds, turning them into hellscapes of death and destruction. The alien friends of the humans did not sit entirely idle, they helped by selling powerful new weapons and armor to the humans who kept retaliating against the Dark Beings with ever more powerful and vengeful mech."
Conner perked up at the part about the mech. Various famous chassis flashed across the screen in cool paint and poses with alien worlds in their backdrop and accounting for their neatly colored camouflage plates. He paid attention to the famous battles, where humans had defeated the Dark Beings in honorable combat.
"Conner, do you know what made your clan's father and mother such great mech knights?" his teacher asked.
"They learned from their mistakes." Conner sighed.
"They learned from other people's mistakes. They studied all of our defeats, all the times the Dark Beings annihilated entire battalions or overwhelmed our defenses. It is a much heavier volume. We learn little from victory except that now the enemy will try to better themselves again. When they win, they use the same tactics again - that's when we win. We don't use the same tactics again, for they will be ready when we try. We conceptualize and learn their thoughts, through their actions. They do not understand us. It is our only advantage, for each progression of our tech is met by another evolution of their monsters. Someday we will not be able to make a stronger bullet to match their stronger armor. We must anticipate a limit to this war, and fight accordingly."
"I can only anticipate getting into a mech and fighting bugs!" Conner had said. His teacher had given him that look. Nobody else got that look. Conner got it everywhere. He thought back to those days, he'd really thought he'd see action, in a mech, fighting bugs.
The rest of his class went on to become mech knights. All of them had seen action. Of course, none of them were left alive, and few of their mech were salvaged. Except, Pharlie.
Her mech was the third in a row of ones hit by a single plasma beam of the enemy. While the first two were instantly blown to atomic dust, her mech was only knocked over and set on fire. The ejection seat in the cockpit had the one and a half seconds needed to egress the mech knight safely.
She'd spent some time in relieved-of-duty status on Maranda Beach before she insisted they give her something to do. They quickly evaluated her and decided she wasn't fit for duty in a mech. Something about 'shutting down the Berserker Program' and 'protocols preventing reinstating anyone who qualifies to pilot a Berserker Mech'. Not happening under Admiral Khaspa.
"How's getting into a mech and fighting bugs, Conner? Still anticipating it?" Pharlie asked her old classmate.
"You are under my command. Watch your tone, I run a cruel shift." Conner grumbled.
"Aye, Skipper." Pharlie cringed, realizing the bureaucrat Conner had no sense of humor anymore. She decided to make it her personal mission to work on that. Conner with no humor didn't sound fun.
That scene in the classroom was a long time ago, but it was with Conner like it just happened. He hated Pharlie, because she stood for his humiliation, and wanted to humiliate her, but then he hated himself for feeling that way. He resolved to leave her be because he didn't want to feed his own calloused resentments.
"We've got work to do. We are reassigned to military surplus salvage. This job just keeps getting better. I used to think I would somehow be tested on a battlefield to save the galaxy, but out here I just get tested by boredom. I don't even feel the shame of these janitorial jobs anymore, I'm numb to it." Conner said to Pharlie, the next time they spoke. Pharlie realized he was trying to be nice to her and asked him:
"You'd rather be dead, or be me?" She wondered.
"Yeah. You don't know what it is like flying around delivering stuff and counting crap. I hate it. I could've made an actual difference." Conner complained personally.
Pharlie smiled and said: "You'd have made no more difference than the rest of us did. You don't know what a victory against the bugs costs, do you? You think you just have to stand there bravely shooting back and if you die, oh well, otherwise it's all glory. It's never like that. It hurts, it hurts a lot, because you don't die. Everyone else does. And for what? We just play the same game again next weekend, and it never changes."
"That's war." Conner nodded. "What am I doing? I bring supplies to remote outposts. It's pointless."
"Not anymore, they reassigned us to go pick up supplies, remember?" Pharlie pointed out.
"Oh yeah - don't remind me, just when I though my life couldn't be more tedious or pointless." Conner fell silent, realizing he sounded weak and small, complaining so much. He wished he was stoic, but he had a chance to confide in Pharlie, and he had taken it. Pharlie said:
"You're right. But let's make the most of it." And she smiled, so Conner decided that letting someone know just how miserable he was wasn't entirely a bad thing. He just wished he could somehow just be good with it, without having to use drugs or somesuch. He really felt like his combat skills were going to waste, sitting on a ship for long years, asleep and going around picking up supplies. As Pharlie had pointed out, they weren't even delivering them anymore, new mission, go get all that stuff the aliens made over the centuries for the war effort.
Rhema loomed in the distance. "We are picking up artwork on this world. Are you kidding me? The manifest shows it is categorized as artwork. So this community of variety-hour aliens have compiled some kind of treasure trove of fine art. This is asinine." Pharlie offered.
"That's enough of that." Conner chastised her formally on the deck, but he was smiling as he said it. He loved having her there stating his real feelings. "The mission is to acquire this propaganda, it is deemed useful to the war effort."
The world was like melted orange-cream covered in brown fog, a desolate radiated landscape below testified to the destructive power of the Unknown. The same Dark Beings had taken shots from the darkness with precise aim and killed some of the older aliens, such as the Frendsikeel. Long ago the peaceful otter people had lived happily on Rhema, inviting trade via broadcast.
After meeting an assortment of artist-aliens wearing shimmering dark-colored robes and cowls, the human delegate collecting military surplus accepted the crates of fine art, packed for their shipping across the stars, trusted to nobody except the human military to safely transport it.
"Conner." A call came in from Supply Command Unk Gheldin, Conner's commander. "You just earned me a promotion. The patrons of Rhema have instituted a check as a downpayment on our services. It's enough to build an entire warship. These aliens are loaded and just became our daddy. You're doing good work out there, the war effort thanks you!"
"I'll be sure and handle with care." Conner saluted diligently.
The next world was Arienta, populated by what was left of aliens who looked like huge anthropomorphic tarantulas.
"We've perfected a drug that can induce Star Sleep in humans. They said it was not possible for such belligerent minds to Star Sleep, but our colony of volunteers have allowed us to test every kind of euphoria and pleasure-inducing drug we could on them. Most species wouldn't have such a supply of volunteers, but humans come from far and wide to live as our guests, accepting our hospitality for their entire lives, saying they don't ever want to leave." The high priestess of the Blue Light Watchers, Rhoxa Billi, explained the doped humans lounging around everywhere.
"They look like slackers, sir." Pharlie said loudly.
"That's enough of that." Conner admonished her, but was smiling, glad she said what he was thinking. He faced the high priestess formally and said:
"We'll take this drug, and thank you for your hard work." Conner waved his fingers in the spiritual way to show he knew the sacred gratitude of the Blue Light Watchers. He'd studied how to do it on the way over, practicing it for days until he was confident he could do it right.
The next stop was Basilik, an industrialized wasteland where the Sunder had hundreds of thousands of giant humanoid machines, in loincloths, working tirelessly to drag massive monolithic super metal beams across rollers, up ramps to assemble indestructible mech chassis to sell to the humans.
"Sir, we take shipments from here all the time. What are we here for?" Pharlie asked.
"Not a what, a whom." Conner said.
The casket of the revered Exalted Inquisitor Eshka Layenna was loaded on board, but it was not made by Sunder. No, it was tech from some other society, preserving her eternally in a state of dormancy, a kind of molecular stasis.
"We're taking her back to the ones who put her in there. They have a gift for us. She is our gift for them. The Sunder have agreed to this, in the name of the war effort."
The Desperado star sailed to the nearby Kriesene system where an old gravity cloud that looked like a planet had hundreds of planet-sized moons dancing around it like an insane ballroom.
"The shoals around their world will make this somewhat dangerous to traverse. We have a map, given to us by the Sunder, so we should be fine." Conner told Pharlie.
"Danger, eh? Kinda like it, don't you?" Pharlie teased.
"That's enough of that." Conner said without any real command in it, smiling.
The Skiesene had a moon-sized space station named Thoughtfulness where they conducted much of their trade with each other. They looked like dark-shelled nightmare creatures, some kind of H.R. Giger prophecy had remembered these creatures long before humans had met them.
Conner witnessed their massed warriors, in stasis, embroidered stole draped over them, crouched motionless atop pedestals with twenty-yard tall tapestries depicting their many victories in bloody combat. They sat there in a great hall in their various forms and armors, but always hideous monsters, reminding him of the Dark Beings vaguely, except devoid of insectoid features.
The Skiesene were delighted by the delivery of their goddess, Eshka Layenna. A time without bloodshed was declared, and the Skiesene offered a shipment of their finest warriors, in egg form.
The Skiesene Khan grinned with uncannily human-looking teeth, but in its grin was a sharpened beak that could pierce the solid dome that was their head, with no eyes or ears, at least not in one place, for they had sensory all over their bodies.
"Uh, thanks. We could always use some special, uh, special forces." Conner accepted the eggs, as he was under orders to do. They were preserved until called, using a key to deactivate the stasis they were in. Then they would serve the orders in their minds, to obey their human commanders.
"I hope they don't have to facehug us and chest burst us." Pharlie chuckled.
"That's enough of that." Conner told her, smiling.
The last stop was the world of the Beebee, aliens who looked like cats wearing incredibly fancy clothing.
"We've tailored new uniforms for the human armies. You'll like them." The Master of Design, top official of the Beebee, told Conner, purring as he went.
Conner put one hand on his elbow and one holding his chin, trying to keep a straight face, when he saw the uniforms.
"They are a little small, don't you think?" Conner looked at the feline models in the uniforms meant for human soldiers.
"And kinda derpy with all those frills and colors?" Pharlie offered further criticism.
The Master of Design seemed to think the uniforms were being complimented, anticipating no other response. It took a moment to sink in that the humans were mocking all their hard work.
"All of the specifications for armored clothing were met. These uniforms will preserve your body temperature in very extreme conditions and will slow ballistic projectiles so that they cannot penetrate the cloth, but instead have their kinetics splattered outward and also the colors shift to the mood of the wearer. You can make it camouflage if you like. We worried that human sizes made dispensing millions of these uniforms impractical compared to making an adjustable size. Try one on." The Master of Design was not offended, but stood his ground, his hair puffing up making him look sophisticated and official. His whiskers twitched handsomely at the end and he gave a prolonged blink.
"They still look silly, why so many frills?" Pharlie chuckled.
"That's enough of that." Conner sighed.
The humans were about to leave and board their ship when Conner spotted an ancient mech standing next to the star port.
"What's that?" he asked.
"The tomb of Drastic Conner Mcfarley, the mech knight who defended our world, surprising a lone scout of the Dark Beings and engaging it in single one-on-one combat, saving our world. Drastic Conner Mcfarley died in his mech during the battle. The scout retreated and left us unharmed." The Master of Design said.
"Why'd it leave?" Conner asked, but recalled what his clan father had done. He awaited the answer he knew:
"Drastic Conner Mcfarley disarmed it, but left its capacity to retreat intact. It is believed he deliberately used this measure of engagement, in order to ensure the enemy would not retaliate by bombarding our world. When one of them dies, the world they die on gets destroyed. He might have survived the battle if he'd just killed it when he had the chance. We know this. He sacrificed himself to save us."
"That's right." Conner nodded. He and Pharlie felt solemn, realizing how far their journey had taken them, all the way to where it had began for them. "We're him, and we won't let you down."

As the last orange light of day drained from the sky, the living dead in Club Vlad rose. Max the skeleton and Jessie the…not skeleton…sewed up the gaping Y-shaped incision on Dom’s chest under Merrick’s direct supervision. Dom sat there, feeling nothing, thinking nothing. He’d woken with a headache and a feeling of cold, and even now, he could feel the dull throb above his left eye. It felt like someone was tearing his brain apart with a fork. He had told Merrick, and Merrick had nodded sadly. “Is my brain rotting?”
“Most likely,” Merrick had said.
There was a certain peace in the idea of losing his cursed humanity. As Merrick had said, he would feel no pain, know no quandaries. He would live only for the night and for his master. On the other hand, watching someone like Matt sit and stare into the distance, drool coursing down his chin and nothing happening behind his dead eyes, scared Dom. He didn’t want to be a braindead idiot. He didn’t care about keeping his emotions, he just wanted to function.
Like Merrick.
There wasn’t much he could do, however. He was dead and that was the end of it.
Once Dom was patched up and dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, Merrick called his children before him. “I have done my best to love and protect all of you,” he began. “Jessie, you were miserable with your grandmother, were you not?”
“Yes,” Jessie said tonelessly.
“You were depressed, bipolar, and cut yourself. Now you’re happy.”
“Yes,” she replied again.
“Joe, you were a two bit nobody staring down a ten year stretch in jail.”
“Yes.” Thin yellow liquid dripped from his nose.
“But now you are free.”
“Yes.”
“You appreciate what I’ve done for you.”
“Yes.”
Merrick flashed then, slamming his fist onto the arm of his wheelchair. “Then why do you keep fucking up? The police were here earlier. They have messages between you and Jessie. I told both of you to delete those. Then I find out that you bit someone and turned them despite my orders. We have an endless supply of blood here but you still went off on your own. How many are there?”
“Just one,” Joe said.
“Are you being honest with me?”
“Yes.”
Merrick sagged back in his chair, looking somehow older. “Joe, take Matt and go to her. Bring her back here before she causes any more problems. God alone knows how many people she’s changed. Too many vampires without a father will bring heat on us, and you know what happens in that case? We get pieces of wood shoved in our chests.”
Turning to Dom, Merrick said, “I have a job for you and Jessie. We’re nearly out of embalming fluid. You haven’t had your first dose and the rest of us are starting to get ripe as well. I have a contact at a funeral home. He texted earlier that the order he placed on my behalf has come in. I want you to pick it up and to pay him.”
Dom had never been picked for anything in his whole life. No one had ever wanted him on their team and no one had ever placed their trust in him the way Merrick was now. He was honored, proud, and would do anything to not let Merrick down.
“That cop who came here might be a problem,” Merrick went on. “We may have to deal with him, but we’ll leave that for another night. In any case, I want this place cleaned from top to bottom. If the police come, I want them to see nothing out of the ordinary.”
Now that everyone had their marching orders, they dispersed. Merrick handed Dom an evelope stuffed with cash, and Dom slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie. The other team - Joe and Matt - left, while the remaining vampires began tidying up.
A fleet of vehicles waited in the parking lot behind Club Vlad. Dom and Jessie took a black pedo van with no back windows. They drove in silence, the radio off. Dom did not want to hear music, nor did he wish to speak to Jessie. Their kinship was one of blood and circumstance, not one of words and emotions. He had no questions for her and wished to answer none of his own. The only thoughts he had were of the mission ahead and of the growing pain in his skull. He thought of the staring stupid Matt, of the decayed Max, and a shiver went down his spine.
What was left of his humanity recoiled at the idea of becoming like them.
The pain grew hotter, more intense. He forced it away and focused on driving.
The funeral home was on North Allen Street, next to a restaurant called Pepperjack’s. A tall, white house with dark shutters and a sign out front, it looked like a quiet, peaceful place. “Pull around back,” Jessie said.
Dom pulled the van around back and parked under a balcony, killing the headlights. They got out and went to the back door, Jessie in the lead. He assumed that she had done this before and that the seller would recognize her. She knocked, and a few moments later, the door opened. A youngish man with a shaved head appeared, wearing an apron and gloves. He saw them and tensed a little. Dom could smell, rather than sense, his fear, and his throat panged with thirst. “Come on,” the man said quickly. He stepped aside and allowed them to enter. Dom noticed that he walked behind them, wary of putting his back to them. “Do you have the money?”
“Do you have our order?” Jessie countered.
“Yes,” the man said, “I’m really risking my neck for this. They don’t just give embalming fluid away, you know. They keep track of it and if they realize I’m over ordering, someone from the state’s going to come down here and check.”
He led them into an embalming room. Three boxes sat on a table. Dom gave the man his money, and he and Jessie carried the boxes outside, loading them into the van. The whole time they were there, the man was edgy, like he was afraid they were going to attack him. Dom would be a liar if he said that the hot smell of the man’s blood didn’t excite him. Perhaps once his brain rotted away, he wouldn’t be able to control himself, but for now, he could.
A lightning bolt of pain shot through his head and he nearly dropped the last box onto the ground.
Once the man was paid, Dom and Jessie drove back to Club Vlad. In fifteen minutes, they were drinking side by side from two passed out partygoers, their reward for a job well done.
Meanwhile, across the city, Joe and Matt weren’t doing as well. They were standing outside of Heather’s apartment. Joe, slightly annoyed (anger being another emotion vampires could feel, along with fear) pounded on the door. He knew she was in there; he could smell the putrid odor of decay. “Let us in,” he said. “We won’t hurt you.”
Joe could barely remember changing her. He didn’t mean to, it just…happened. Like an unwanted pregnancy. You can bite someone as much as you want and drink as much as you want, but if you take too much at once and they die, you get the vampire equivalent of a baby. Joe liked the hunt. It was exciting. Having his meals brought to him Club Vlad didn’t arouse the same level of excitement. It was like shooting an animal tied to a tree. Or hiring a prostitute instead of wooing someone. No real satisfaction to it.
That was probably his greatest downfall. He had lured Jessie the same way, though Merrick was indeed interested in rescuing her from her grandmother. People you have saved obey just as well as people with no brains.
He felt fluid on his upper lip and sniffed. “Come on, let us in,” he said.
No response.
He looked at Matt and nodded to the door. Together, they rammed their shoulders against it. It shook in its frame. They were both dead and weak, but modern American architecture is even weaker, and the door eventually slammed open. The apartment beyond was dark, messy, and reeked of death. They searched high and low, and eventually found Heather huddled in a corner, trying to hide. She was naked save for a pair of panties, her body bloated and beginning to turn black. Her skin hung from her frame and her eyes were filled with blood and fear. It was a wonder no one had called the police yet. The smell was overpowering. “We’re here to help,” he said. “You have to come with us.”
She shook her head and trembled. Maybe she remembered that he was the one who did this to her. Maybe her memories had rotted away. Those were usually the first to go. Then your emotions, then your personality. Finally, your capacity for higher reasoning. “I’m sorry I did this to you,” he said. That was a lie. He was not remorseful. Nor was he proud, for that matter. It just happened. Like rain. “But I want to help you. We can fix you.”
No amount of coaxing or conjoling could induce her to move. Joe weighed his options. He doubted anyone would call the cops even if they heard the door coming down - people who lived in places like this rarely called the cops, which helped Joe and his cause immensely. Even so, there was the possibility. Every minute they spent here was a minute that something could go wrong, and Joe had a lot to lose.
So, too, did Merrick.
Giving up, Joe took out his cellphone and called Merrick. “She refuses to come,” he said simply.
The line was quiet for a moment, then Merrick’s voice came back. Cold. Calculating. “Then do what you must.”
That was the go ahead.
Hanging up, Joe looked around the apartment and found a wooden chair in the kitchen. He lifted it over his head and slammed it on the counter, shattering it into a million pieces. He selected the longest, sharpest, and sturdiest looking one. He went back into the room and directed Matt to hold her down. She fought, kicked, and spat, but she was weaker than even they were. They had been embalmed. She hadn’t.
Matt pinned her hands above her head and Joe straddled her. Animal terror filled her eyes and she whipped her head from side to side. Joe lifted the makeshift stake with both hands, and brought it down as hard as he could, driving it deep into her heart. Her eyes bulged from their sockets and a high, otherworldly scream ripped from her throat. She bucked, thrashed, and kicked her feet. Her resistance began to ebb away until she was twitching…until she was still.
Heather from OKCupid was dead.
Truly dead.
Joe couldn’t help wondering what it was like.
Pulling the stake out, he tossed it aside and got to his feet, Matt doing likewise. A soul petrifying scream might be cause for even the tightest of lips to start talking. “Let’s go,” he said. And together, he and Matt fled, leaving the poor, dead body of Heather behind.
***
As it turned out, one of Heather’s neighbors did call the cops. At 10;13pm, Vanessa Rodregiez arrived with two patrolmen and found the front door of Apartment 237 knocked down. Guns drawn, they entered, Vanessa at the head. The first thing she noticed was the smell. It jammed itself into her nostrils, shoved its tongue down her throat, and violated her - all without even buying her dinner first.
Vanessa hadn’t been at this as long as her buddy Bruce had, but she knew a dead, rotting body when she smelled one. They searched the premises, and sure enough, they found a vic in the bedroom, lying in the gap between the bed and the wall; it looked like the former had been moved, perhaps in a struggle. Vanessa knelt down to check the vic’s pulse, but stopped.
There was no need.
The vic - who looked like a female but could have been an overweight male - hadn’t had a pulse in a very long time.
Examining the body, Vanessa found a wound in the chest, just above the heart. Black, stinking goo leaked from it, and Vanessa gagged. She fisted her hand to her mouth, retched, and then ran for the kitchen sink. Her partner for the night, Jim Walsh, stared down at the stiff before him, and his face turned a sickly shade of green. He avoided puking because he didn’t nose fuck the wound like Vanessa had, but he wasted no time in getting out there, dry heaving in the hallway where the air was somewhat fresh.
After leaving her lunch in the sink, Vanessa radioed back to headquarters, and before long, the place was crawling with cops. The assistant medical examiner - who had taken over after Ed Harris quit the previous night - knelt over the body and studied it. A solidly built black man with a mustache, his name was Leon and he knew death just as well as his old boss, so when he said the vic had been dead nearly two weeks, Vanessa accepted it.
That begged the question: Who broke in and screamed just now? A relative? The caller clearly heard screaming and peeked out her door to see two males fleeing on foot. Maybe they found the vic and freaked out? Or maybe they were the killers returning to the scene of the crime. After all, the vic had clearly been murdered.
In fact, they found a likely murder weapon. A long sliver of wood soaked in black goo. Blood turns black after a while, but there was something different about this stuff. “What is it?” Vanessa asked Leon.
“I’m not sure,” Leon said and pulled off a pair of Latex gloves he’d donned to examine the vic, “could be blood or…”
“Or what?” Vanessa asked.
“Or something,” Leon said. “Give me a few hours.”
And a few hours it was. Just before 1am, Leon called Vanessa at her desk. “I think you should come down here,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later, Vanessa stood over Leon as he pulled the vic’s chest open with a pair of tweezers. “That’s the heart,” he said, “whoever stabbed her scored a direct hit, but this…this is what concerns me.”
He prodded a furry lump with the tip of his scalpel.
“What is it?” Vanessa asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, “it looks like mold.”
That word - mold - triggered a memory in her brain. “Ed said something about mold last night. He found it in -”
“The Mason boy,” Leon finished.
“Yeah. The one who got up and ran off.”
Leon turned away from Vanessa and looked at the dead woman - for it was a woman. Vanessa got the impression that he didn’t want her to see his expression. “I’ve known Ed ten years. I know something happened last night, but a stiff getting up and walking off? I thought he was confused. Now…I don’t know. That makes two bodies in 24 hours. And get this. The chest wound? It was done post-mortem. I can’t find a cause of death anywhere. Except maybe blood loss but it’s hard to tell at this point. And speaking of blood…”
“What?” Vanessa asked quickly.
“When I opened her stomach up, a whole shit load of blood spilled out. And a lot of it was a lot fresher than she is.”
Vanessa furrowed her brow in confusion. “You mean…?”
“It’s not hers,” Leon said. “I can’t be 100 percent sure until I run tests, but I’d put money on it.”
Vanessa’s head spun with information both new and old. You know that full, heavy feeling you get when a poo is brewing in your guts? That’s kind of what Vanessa was feeling, only in her head instead of her stomach.
Leon was just as mystified by the whole thing as she was and stayed up late to run a few preliminary tests. By sunrise, he had confirmed that the blood inside of Heather’s stomach was not hers. In fact, it had come from at least three different sources. “Is it human?” Vanessa asked over the phone.
“Yes,” Leon said, sounding troubled, “it’s human.”
In the cobalt hour before sunrise, Vanessa sat at her desk and tried to piece this whole thing together. They had:

1. A corpse that (allegedly) woke up and dipped out
2. A dead girl who’d been stabbed in the heart with a piece of wood after somehow ingesting the blood of three different people.
3. Some missing kids
4. Oh, and both bodies - the girl’s and the runaway corpses’ - had the same weird fungus in their heart cavities.

All of this - even the missing kids, Vanessa felt - was related. She just didn’t know how. The only answer that half way fit was that both of those bodies were vampires. Like…what’s a vampire but a dead body that gets up and walks around at night? And how do you kill a vampire? Why, you drive a piece of wood through its heart.
The idea that vampires were real was dumb, but the more she turned it over in her mind, the more she became convinced that it was at least an option. A lot of things people thought were fantastic and made up turned out to be real, so why not vampires too?
Shortly after 8, Bruce came in. He was just sitting down when Vanessa came in and slapped her report on the desk. “Buckle up, bitch,” she said, “things just got weirder.”
He stared up at her with one of those grumpy - but cute -expressions he was so good at putting on. As he read, however, his brow knitted. “Jesus,” he muttered to himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a weary sigh.
“I have a theory - kind of,” Vanessa said, “but I don’t want to say it.”
“You might as well,” Bruce said. “It can’t be more kooky than reality these days.”
“Okay,” Vanessa started, “what if - and I’m just thinking out loud here - what if there are vampires in Albany?”
She expected Bruce to give her a dirty look, but he chewed it over, actually taking it seriously. “And those missing boys are victims?” he asked finally.
“Yeah,” Vanessa said. “That girl’s been dead two weeks. Maybe she bit Dominick Mason and he came back for revenge after realizing he was cursed to be a goddamn shit sucking vampire forever.”
Bruce nodded. “Yeah, but who turned her?”
“I don’t know,” Vanessa said, “I don’t know.”
***
Before dawn painted the eastern sky, Merrick Garvis sat in his chamber like a withered king, a mess of IVs hooked into his arms and neck. The vault was silent save for the soft noise of the machines as they filtered out the old embalming fluid and replaced it with new embalming fluid. Embalming fluid always made him spacy, like a drug. The others had gone first, and even now lay near comatose around him like addicts in an opium den.
As far as he knew, Merrick was the oldest vampire in the world, perhaps, even, the oldest vampire to ever live. Though he was not fully honest with Dom, he was not lying when he said that vampires rotted like any other dead thing. Conditions considered, you had a few weeks tops if left untreated. There may be living vampires in remote corners of Egypt or the northern most reaches of Russia, where the climate preserved dead things, but unless you made it to one of those places, you were pretty well fucked.
Merrick was not a proud man, nor was he concerned with saving face - the dead have no need for that. He was being truthful when he said that he feared death. What’s more, he feared being helpless. Deep down, vampires are people, and people don’t exactly have the greatest track record with caring for their infirm. He read once that the first sign of a civilization was a broken leg that had healed, as it showed that someone stayed with and cared for a fellow human long enough for them to get well again. In Merrick’s opinion, that was true…and thus there was no civilization. Merrick was fifty-one when he died in the year 1982. In his lifetime, he had seen The Great Depression, World War II, and a million small acts of cruelty and selfishness in between. He’d seen beggars starving in the streets, abused children shuffled out of sight and out of mind, and disdain for the poor and the weak.
The living were awful, and the living dead were no different. Once their humanity rotted away, they cared only about filling their stomachs. They were like ticks - they would drink until their bellies literally ruptured…and then keep on drinking.
That left him in a precarious position. He was old, his body was weak. He couldn’t stand unassisted and if left to fend for himself, he would decay into a pile of bones within days. He would be cursed to lay in one spot for all eternity, aware and hungry, little more than a ghost tethered to a black and still beating heart.
He refused to let that happen to him. Thus, he had created a family, a clan of vampires loyal to him and to him alone. He did this through acts of simple kindness and understanding…but also through deception. He knew, for instance, how to preserve the brain. He’d figured out how to do it early on - you pickle it. Like a fetus preserved in a jar. He sawed off the top of his own head and filled it with a special solution that kept his brain - and his intelligence - intact. It slowly drained out through the nose and ears in a thin, yellow liquid, but it worked well enough. He couldn’t save everything, however, and had lost vital things in the process, such as most of his human memories, his sense of humor, and some motor functions. He shared this secret with only Joe, and a few others before, because he needed a strong captain. He kept the others in the dark because vampires - like people - are easier to control when they don’t think for themselves.
Right about now, however, Merrick was beginning to regret sharing the formula with even Joe. Joe had brought him nothing but grief. Joe, you see, could think for himself. He could make decisions. He could go behind Merrick’s back. Joe had something called free will, and free will is a worse affliction than vampirism. Free will is messy, free will is dangerous.
Free will could very well turn Merrick into a pile of bones.
That was, of course, if they weren’t discovered first. Joe had made several mistakes lately, not least of which was the turning of Heather. Sitting there in the predawn hour, attended by Tony, his gay bartender and human familiar, Merrick decided to have Joe killed. There are only two ways to kill a vampire: The stake and the flame. The latter seemed somehow appropriate in this case. After Joe, there would be no more captains, only him, one father with absolute power. That was how it had to be. One man, one vision. Democracies didn’t work. That was especially clear today. Everyone was so divided and nothing ever got done. If the humans had one strong leader, they might go in the wrong direction, but at least they would go somewhere. Instead, they stagnated.
Merrick didn’t particularly look forward to killing Joe, but it had to be done. To protect the family. To protect him.
And Merrick would do anything…anything at all…to protect himself.
***
Vampires.
Bruce kept coming back to that single wor, hoping each time that he would chuckle at the absurdity of it.
But he never did.
Did that mean he believed it? Not necessarily, but damn it, he considered it a possibility, and that alone was enough to make him feel like a fucking clown. All the evidence he had pointed to vampires, but then again, it might point to other things as well. Like aliens.
But let’s say the whole vampire thing was real. Who, like Vanessa asked, was patient zero? Who started this whole mess?
A name came to mind.
Merrick Garvis.
He had not had time to check into Garvis the previous day, but by God, he was going to do it now. He ran his name and social through the system and everything seemed to check out. Merrick Garvis was born on June 31, 1963 in -
Wait a minute. Weren’t there only 30 days in June?
Bruce checked, and there were, indeed, only 30 days in the month of June. Hm. Bruce did a little digging and found something out. Before 1987, social security numbers weren’t issued at birth. You had to sign up, using other forms of ID. Merrick Garvis applied for his in April 1984 and the date of birth on his state issued driver’s license was June 31. Bruce spent an hour on the phone with the DMV and learned that they had never issued a license to a Merrick Garvis. He then spoke to the Social Security Administration, and after much wrangling and frustration, he managed to get a photocopy of the license Garvis used to get his social security number. It was dated 1983.
The face staring back at him was almost exactly the same face he’d seen at Club Vlad, except maybe a touch less stiff and waxy. Though not as rough looking, there was no way in hell Garvis was 20 in that picture. It had to be a fake,
Bruce thought back to the events of the previous two days. Missing bodies, staked corpses, hearts that still beat after death.
Vampires didn’t seem like such a crazy explanation.
And if anyone was a fucking vampire around here, it was Merrick Garvis.

Hey All,
I've gotten some great feedback over the last few months, and I think I'm at the point where the improvements I'm going to make are plateauing, with this letter at least. Thanks to everyone who's helped so far, and to the extra betas I've found by posting here.
---
At 100,000 words, WORDSMITH is comedic fantasy with cozy elements about an old barbarian’s quest to build a public library. It is ideal for fans of Travis Baldree’s ‘Bookshops & Bonedust’, T. Kingfisher’s ‘Nettle & Bone’ and Terry Pratchett’s ‘Going Postal’.
Adventure is a young dwarf’s game, and once upon a time Jasper had been the best, famed and feared throughout the realms. Now, with only money and memories for company, and sworn to a life of tranquillity, his past is better left there.
That changes when someone torches the Grand Library. Cas, his goddaughter and city guardswoman, watches Jasper unnecessarily charge into action, and subsequently arrests him. Breaking oaths, interfering with an active crime scene, and destroying a sacred idol leaves him with limited choices.
Facing the consequences of his unsanctioned heroism, he’s tasked to rebuild the library by the regent’s deadline, or face exile. He may seem a poor fit for the job, but when facing the impossible, the best hammer may be the one that knows every problem’s a nail if you hit it hard enough.
Cas has her own mission. Find the arsonist who brought Jasper out of retirement, then put an end to his latest ‘adventure’. As Jasper becomes enamoured with building new friendships and the library alike, he and Cas must both contend with the municipal planning office, a plague of lizards, and the same flames that blackened the library threatening to burn them too.
It's enough to make Jasper feel young again. Cas keeps reminding him that’s not a good thing. That the good old days left deeper scars than he cares to remember. Maybe she’s right, but what’s the harm of one last adventure? It's overdue, and the library awaits.
(Personalisation)
Thank you for your time and consideration.

1. The Bat in the Belfry - 3/5 (In terms of a Batman introduction episode, this does a decent job. It skips the origin story because superhero cartoons are allergic to them for some reason. But this at least vaguely alludes to Bruce's parents being gone, on top of introducing the struggle of being both a famous playboy and the Batman. As a result, the story is fairly generic though. Joker wants to release a laughing gas across Gotham. Gee, I haven't seen that one a dozen times. That said, this iteration of Joker has a really unique and wacky design. Along with zany acrobatic moves that are fun to watch and a great performance from Kevin Michael Richardson, it more than makes up for the subpar story. I also liked the side focus on Bennett and Fa Mulan- Sorry, Detective Yin. They're fun characters.)
2. Call of the Cobblepot - 3/5 (Penguin is quite acrobatic for a pudgy little guy. Alongside Rupert Thorne doing parkour in the previous episode, it seems the show wants to sell me on the idea that these chubby guys are just as combat capable as the Batman. And did they really have to give him the Danny DeVito hands? That's not a mandate anymore! I liked Alfred getting involved in this episode, though he doesn't really do much besides go to the Cobblepot manor. But it's funny that he does so in search of a tray.)
3. Traction - 4/5 (Colorful iteration of Bane. Why is his skin all red? He looks like a monster. But it's a cool twist on the character, so whatever. Although his motivations don't match up to the rad design, since after getting paid to destroy the Batman, all he wants to do is "take over Gotham", which he apparently thinks will be accomplished by just wreaking havoc. What is this, The Spectacular Spider-Man? I did like Alfred having to come and rescue Bruce, and the cute flashback where Alfred comforts him.)
4. The Cat and the Bat - 3/5 (This one's good, but mostly for the action setpieces. I think the rugged artstyle lends itself very well to snappy action, particularly the final scene with the Batman and Catwoman against the Yakuza. And the stuff before with Batman having to catch up to Selina messing with his Batmobile controls was neat too. But I can't say Catwoman leaves much of an impression on me in this one.)
5. The Man Who Would Be Bat - 4/5 (Kirk Langstrom as a character works pretty well as a kooky old man. I liked the visuals for his echolocation. As for the actual story...I mean it's just a typical Man-Bat story. Langstrom becomes the Man-Bat and goes crazy, so Batman stops him. But I did like the larger inclusion of Bennett and Yin, as I like their additions in this show as foils-yet-vaguely-allies to Batman.)
6. The Big Chill - 3/5 (So in this show Mr. Freeze is just another generic jewel thief. Not that I want this series to just copy paste Batman: The Animated Series, but simplifying the villains like this makes it less compelling by default. In fact here, he was always a criminal, he just happened to get ice powers. That said, his design is actually quite rad, and I did like the addition that he has a vendetta against the Batman. Plus it's funny that he took revenge on a random hobo, just for being in his way a few years ago.)
7. The Big Heat - 4/5 (Gee, I bet the writers thought they were hilarious putting these two titles next to each other. I'd say what this episode does slightly better than the others is showing the "struggle" of balancing the Bruce life with the Batman life. And actually giving the villain a narrative connection to it, instead of his schemes just serving as a vague lesson to learn. Firefly himself had a pretty cool looking suit, and the sky action was pretty nifty. Plus it was cathartic when Batman took him down to ground level and stomped. Nitpick: They forgot to animate Batman's mouth in the reflection of the puddle. I hope somebody got fired for that blunder.)
8. Q&A - 4/5 (Bruce listening to hiphop in his earbuds at a classical music theatre... Yeah this sure is a unique Batman. This is the first episode where I was genuinely interested in the story and villain. For starters, since they didn't immediately show me who it was, I got to remain curious about the kidnappings. Then I appreciated that they were connected to a personal vendetta rather than just wanting to steal jewels. I think Batman discovered the mystery a bit too quickly though. He didn't research the victims connections, he just clicked a button and the Batwave did it for him. But I enjoyed Cluemaster. Funny design. He's HUGE. I chuckled at Batman casually walking into his his moms house and her thinking she's his friend. And I thought it was fun how he defeated Cluemaster by asking the Batman's identity. Side note, that is an enormous basement.)
9. The Big Dummy - 4/5 (Wow, it's Homer Simpson! Well actually, Scarface sounds more like Krusty the Clown when he's yelling. That aside, we're back to villains just wanting to steal stuff for profit. Yeah, sure, whatever. Scarface trying to slap Batman was funny, though. And I found the idea of making him a huge puppet where Wesker himself takes the puppet position by the giant arm a funny twist on the character. The vague subplot about Bruce having a date with some Becky chick feels kind of tacked on and unnecessary, but I digress.)
10. Topsy Turvy - 4/5 (First "villain comes back for revenge" episode. Joker's plan is unfortunately fairly generic, but his zaniness still makes it fun. Not to mention seeing the Batman locked in an Arkham cell and dressing up as Joker. Why did Batman lock in the guard when leaving though? Rude for no reason. Also, I'm glad the fake Joker in this episode had to stay quiet so he won't be found out, unlike in The New Batman Adventures where a goon dressed up as Joker can just perfectly imitate his voice.)
11. Bird of Prey - 4/5 (Okay, I'm just gonna say it: Stop showing front facing Alfred! Without that little patch of visible hair, he looks completely bald, and it's weird! That aside, I guess after the series of villain introduction episodes, it's time for a batch of sequels. This is the better sequel than the Joker one, since I liked that Penguin had a clear cut motive. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but Penguin's zaniness was more amusing. No doubt helped by Tom Kenny's performance. Him wreaking havoc around Wayne Manor and harassing Alfred was just funny. And it made Alfred hitting him with a chair in the end better. I thought his rooftop battle with the Batman was pretty creative, and I liked that Alfred dressed up as Batman to fool the journalist. Also how he intentionally kicked their video tape into the fire.)
12/13. The Rubber Face of Comedy/The Clayface of Tragedy - 4/5 (The cops literally have Joker at gunpoint but they let him proceed with his slow getaway. I'm starting to understand why Batman keeps one-upping them. Great two-parter though, but part 1 is really nothing but setup for the real meat which is part 2. Part 1 is just about Joker causing chaos again, except the tone is more dramatic on account of this being meant to be more serious than the average episode. And while Joker's antics are fun, given how little it had to do with part 2 other than him being the cause for Bennett becoming Clayface, they didn't really need to spend a WHOLE episode for just that setup. It results in part 1 being just good, while part 2 is fantastic. Sadly, combined, I can't give them 5/5. But part 2 gets that honorary score for itself. You could have cut Joker's generic havoc-wreaking in half and have the Clayface transformation start around the 10 minute mark of part 1, leaving you with about 30 minutes to develop it further. But then they couldn't have that cliffhanger, now could they?
As for the actual story... Depressing. I'd say it's a bit early to change the status quo of Bennett since while he is a good character, we haven't really seen MUCH of him, so it's not a huge blow to suddenly make him a villain. But it's a pretty good, genuinely saddening twist regardless. And while the emotional moments feel a little hurried (hence why you could have cut some Joker nonsense) I think they're effective enough. Yin crying, etc. And Bennett's transformation itself is genuinely horrifying stuff, so you really feel the fear he must be going through.)
14. The Cat, the Bat, and the Very Ugly - 3/5 (And now we're on villain team-up episodes. Except they're still just generic stories about them wanting to steal stuff! Well, okay, I guess Penguin DOES want to use the relics to... I don't know, blow stuff up? It just isn't very riveting is all. I do find Batman and Catwoman being stuck to each other interesting in theory, but they don't really do much fun with it. And why did Batman lie to Yin about it? I guess he's worried he'll look suspicious if he's with Catwoman, but also, he could have just told the truth? The lie just incriminated him more. I also question this because the episode ends with Yin TRUSTING Batman, which makes no sense if she literally caught him in a lie the FIRST time she called him about a case.)
15. Riddled - 3/5 (That's certainly a unique version of Riddler. I respect it, simply because it's fun that the show dares to completely revamp characters like this. But the episode itself is mostly just decent. Yin and Bats going across town solvring riddles is mildly fun, but the actual confrontation with Riddler is just okay. I did like the 20 questions game, but couldn't Batman easily get out of that by not answering? I found it funny how dense the Police Chief was to understand even the simplest riddles, especially with how bluntly Yin had to explain the last one. Side note: Riddler uses the term "brainiac" in this. But that term exists because of the Superman character. So has a Brianiac attack on Metropolis happened here and been made publicly known or what?)
16. Fire & Ice - 4/5 (Gee, with a title like that, I sure was scratching my head wondering which two villains it could be about. I'd say while this episode is good, it felt a bit thinly set up as nothing but "what if ice villain with fire villain??". I did find it amusing that they turned on each other near the end and the conflict just became Heat vs. Cold. That scene with Yin yapping about knowing Bruce's secret though... Give me a break. Even if they WERE gonna have her find out his secret identity, that's most certainly saved for a Serious:tm: season finale or something with heavy stakes, not a random Firefly episode.)
17. The Laughing Bat - 4/5 (Golden concept for an episode. Joker trying to imitate the Batman is unhinged and hilarious. And Penguin being caught in the crossfire completely discombobulated by the switcheroo was great. Praise aside, I was a little disappointed that Batman turning into Joker didn't go further than...he can't stop laughing. Couldn't have Joker-ified him any more? White skin? ANYTHING else to have him also vaguely look the part? Overall I also felt there was too much focus on Bruce laughing as opposed to Joker being the Batman, when that was the best part.)
18. Swamped - 3/5 (While I appreciate that this is a villain introduction episode that goes beyond them being a jewel thief", Croc wasn't too interesting. He wants to flood Gotham because he likes water, but then Batman stops him. Although I liked the way he did it by forcing him to stay in water. :ohgood: Also neat that this episode introduces the Batcave "museum". This series gradually introducing all of these iconic aspects of Batman lore as opposed to having it all pre-established is fun.)
19. Pets - 4/5 (Season 2 really IS the season of villain team-ups. I was rolling my eyes at the prospect of another generic Penguin episode of him wanting to steal stuff, but got my excitement back up when they showed Langstrom. Although they could have devoted some more time to Langstrom actually being aware of Penguin's scheme and wanting out instead of just... One. And overall, it IS just another episode where Penguin tries to steal stuff, so yeah.)
20. Meltdown - 4/5 (Wow, this was JUST like the Batman Beyond episode "Meltdown". While a good episode, I have to say the Bennett-Clayface conflict feels a bit forced at times. Him repeatedly getting into encounters with Joker, the very man who caused him to become Clayface, and struggling with not morphing to take his rightful revenge? Valid. Understandable. But him randomly being willing to kill Batman and become an outlaw on a whim? I don't know. His fight scene against Joker on stilts was pretty fun though. That said, Bennett is a good guy and all that, so I'm hopeful for a redemption arc where in the end he becomes a superhero with his powers.)
21. JTV - 4/5 (It's another Joker shenanigans episode. What is there to say? Not that that's a bad thing, since Joker shenanigans ARE fun. He concocts some nutty TV show-themed scheme, and then Batman stops him. Cash was a bit of an annoying inclusion though. Did he even serve any narrative purpose? I guess he vaguely emphasizes how well Yin and Batman work together, by him working badly with her. I did like the "animated" JTV promo. But who even made that? I guess one of Joker's henchmen can animate.)
22. Ragdolls to Riches - 4/5 (Oh boy, the umpteenth episode about a villain stealing some jewels. Wait, it's TWO villains this time. Wow, this changes everything! Jokes aside, it actually kind of does, because Ragdoll is entertaining enough on his own. His costume is cool and unique in its simplicity, and his distorting body leads to some very expressive movements and action which make for a fun watch. And if that wasn't enough, his rivarly with Catwoman and repeatedly trolling her on purpose was pretty darn amusing. Though despite being the titular character, the episode is mostly about the Bruce/Batman/Selina/Catwoman mystery. It is fun seeing the "4" of them interact and not realize who the other is. Especially when Batman, the world's greatest detective, believes Selina's blatant charity scam and hands her a huge check. It's funny seeing Bruce be this oblivious.)
23. The Butler Did It - 3/5 (Another flipping jewel thievery episode! At least there's a mystery element to it this time, in that you initially don't know who the villain is. And when you do find out it's Spellbinder, there's the twist that he swaps his mind control targets from butlers to their employers. And it was really fun to see Alfred be the one to figure this out and escape the room he put himself in to save Batman's ass. I liked the bit where Batman hesitated to punch Alfred. And I think some of the hallucinations were fairly creative. That said, it was still a jewel thievery episode! Get some new plots, show.)
24. Grundy's Night - 4/5 (While I did have thoughts on this version of Grundy, those feel irrelevant when it turns out he was just Clayface in disguise anyway. That said, props for making a twist I could genuinely not predict. However, the reason I couldn't have predicted this is because after all that development of Bennett and his descent into Clayface, I wouldn't have expected his next appearance to just be him doing something generically villainous that Batman must put a stop to. It comes off as a bit awkward, because you'd think this would be more emotionally significant considering he was Bruce's best friend. But not only do we not even see his Bennett form in this episode, Batman doesn't even refer to him as such, just "Clayface". And then he goes home all cheery as if he stopped any ol' twerp. Huh?)
25. Strange Minds - 4/5 (While this episode falls into "Joker shenanigans" territory again, at least the focus here is less about just stopping him and instead delving into his mind. It leads to the zaniness being cranked up more, which is fun to see especially with how expressive Joker is in this show. Although I feel like they could have been a bit more creative with the visuals. I liked the flying fish, Joker as the moon, and the normal Joker managing the idea vault. But other than that it doesn't get more wacky then just a crowd of Jokers. But I liked the solution of how Batman made him disclose the information by making him think they had exited his mind. Cliché, but clever. It's a bit weird how Hugo Strange spots Batman in Joker's mind and immediately assumes it's the actual guy, though. For all he knows that could have been mentally conjured up by Joker. Batman would likely be on his mind a lot. Also, Harley Yin.)
26. Night and the City - 4/5 (Woah, TRIPLE villain teamup? Daring today, are we? I liked that Penguin didn't even know who Riddler was. And despite that, he's clearly stomping both Penguin and Joker in this contest. He came up with the idea to catch Batman in the first place, had the most elaborate bat-bait AND was the last guy standing in a fight against him. Joker and Penguin just followed Batman and quickly fumbled. I guess with Commissioner Gordon and the Bat-Signal being introduced in this episode that this marks the end of Batman being an enemy of the GCPD. Not that I mind, since while I liked the development of it, with Bennett gone and Yin already on his side, there wasn't a lot further you could push it. It's a shame this is Yin's last appearance, though. I don't really understand why, since while she's fired in this episode (for like what, a few hours?), she gets the job back and everything goes back to normal. Frankly it would have been more interesting if she WAS fired and then became a vigilante herself/sidekick to Batman as referenced in this very episode.)
Movie: The Batman vs. Dracula - 3/5 (Starting the story with Joker and Penguin? Yeah, this is a The Batman movie alright. They really can't help but spam these two villains. That said, decent movie, but I'm really scratching my head as to why they thought Dracula was the ultimate villain they could utilize for it. There is some thematic connection with him being able to transform into a bat, obviously... But that's as deep as it goes. And the few bits of Bruce recalling the death of his parents was like, come on, you really felt a need to rely on that as a plotpoint in a movie about Dracula?
The film, much like the show, is fairly barebones. Dracula rises and wants to take over Gotham, so Batman must stop him. The side story of Bruce having a romance with Vickly Vale feels very tacked on and pointless since not only was she not much of an interesting character, just a dime a dozen love interest, but she doesn't even appear in the series going forward. So, what? Also, did Bruce really need to hastily steal someone's lipstick and a platter to write "Alucard" and mirror it to figure out it spells Dracula backwards? Just rearrange the letters in your head.
The most interesting thing about the movie is it gets slightly more visually grim. Stuff Penguin bleeding in the beginning alone was a surprise, as tame as it was, because that's not something I would have thought the censors would allow. Of course I quickly realized it was plot relevant, but then they immediately go on to show Dracula "killing" a guy. Which, while I know having finished the movie that he was cured, the way the scene initially portrays it is obviously supposed to make you think that's what happened. There's also Joker practically bathing in blood and Dracula literally being burned alive in the end. Sheesh. So much for Batman's code. Vampire Joker is probably the best part of this movie. That blood bank scene is really cursed [good thing], and KMR's performance of Joker starving while Batman has him locked up was great. I mean Batman having to feed Joker his own blood just so he doesn't starve is a fairly unique plotpoint. Also his reaction to being un-vampire'd is pretty funny. "Where's Dracula?" "I'm looking at him".)

Note: Taken from Introducing my first OC
PS: Largely minor changes.
(Let me know if there is any inconsistency.)
Letter R in team REPR(Reaper): Rogert "Roth" Oberon
Sex: Male
Age: 25 during the Fall of Beacon, 26 or 27 during Atlas arc.
Birthday: 18th day of the 10th month
Height: 1,87 meters
Species: Faunus, Bear. Notable markers: Bear snout.
Family: Father and mother, lost a younger sister and brother in a Grimm attack.
Class: Tank. Speciality: Defense, taking and holding ground.
Colours: Cares little for the colour rule yet the colour of the symbol is brown and uses black armour. Varied colours in the rest of the attire intended for camouflage depending on the environment.
Semblance: =Redacted under orders of Headmaster of Beacon= Authorized personnel only as follows:
Animal morphing, Roth Oberon is able to turn into a big bear and is able to remain in full control after years of practice. However, to maintain control of his semblance he needs to change into a bear once every 2 weeks for at least 2 hours to avoid permanently damaging his body. Gained the semblance in his 3rd year as a Huntsman trainee during a hunting mission. Becomes stronger, aura takes more damage and is more animalistic in animal form.
=Classified information ends=
Profession: Huntsman in training at Beacon Academy, team leader. (Former)
Vale defence forces. (Former)
Guardsman of Beacon. (Current)
Appearance: Strong arms with strong legs, broad shoulders, gold brown bear eyes, and brown hair. Bear mouth/snout. Note: Functional muscles instead for show.
Weapons:
Graduate Huntsman in Atlas arc: Two gauntlets with automatic machine guns and a sword blade coming out of them, grappling hooks on both, a spear tip and spear adjusted for his height and physique that can be split into 2 pieces. Carries dust grenades with him with empty dust slots and different dust with him.
Student to graduate Huntsman in Mistral arc: Spear, machine gun gauntlet, sword gauntlet, one-shot reloadable rocket launcher with ammo and a spear tip from a broken spear.
Strengths:

• Roth is very strong and durable allowing him to survive hits that would kill many others.
• Adaptable to changing situations and has strong willpower, keen intelligence, and a sharp mind.
• Versatile combat technique and knows how to use a variety of weapons or forms.
• His ability as a leader and calm attitude has kept his team in tip-top shape and has made them self-reliant on themselves making the team effective alone, in pairs or as a group.
• Bear´s sense of smell.
• Classified ahead: Can gain bear´s abilities because of his semblance when turning fully into a bear or just partially.

Weaknesses:

• Can be slower in a fight than most fighters even in his younger years.
• Workaholic.
• Roth´s darker impulses are closer to the surface when he is in charge.
• Great anger towards Grimm makes him hunt them with abandon or lure them in relatively easily. (Weakness in academy years, in adult years unorthodox trapping and luring method against Grimm. Double-edged sword.)

Inspiration: What I want to be. A person who could beat Hazel Rainart and Brutes from Batman Arkham Knight. Gregor Eisenhorn of Warhammer 40k. Kratos of God of war in his Nordic life.
Skills:

• Knows many melee weapon combat forms and has a lot of fist-fighting experience. After training and fighting in missions in a military unit for 3 years after graduation, he has learned to fight like a commando.
• Edit: Knows how to train dogs.
• Knows how to make new weapons from the ground up with primitive equipment and knows how to maintain them effectively and how to repair them.
• Rogert knows how to survive in the wilderness for potentially years. Building shelter, use of camouflage, hunting for food and foraging, how to lose a hunter, navigating etc. His speciality is tracking a target or missing supplies.
• Advanced stealth skills and ability to disappear enhanced by military education.
• Knows how to make grenades and bombs and how to defuse them. (Trained in the military and by Parish Broc.)
• Knows the basics of using military equipment and weapons after graduation and training in the military.
• Interrogation skills enhanced by his physical presence and knows how to gain information by talking. (And knows how to extract information by inflicting pain and suffering. Trained with some success by Elena Nathara.)
• Knows psychological warfare and guerrilla tactics. Specializes in Grimm.
• Knows criminal psychology, how to establish a crime scene and how to gather evidence. (Trained by his father and Raina Odell.)
• Knows how to administer first aid. (Basic and Huntsman academy training.)

Personality: Rogert is a loner who was given the job of a leader despite not wanting it. He became more comfortable in the role over the years yet deep down never truly believed he should be a leader.
While a humble person, Roth has no illusions of his strengths and how powerful he can be when in battle.
Roth values loyalty and honesty, things he has shown to his team by having no secrets from them and has encouraged his team to do the same with great effect. Because of his values in honesty, Rogert does not forgive attempts to lie to him and tries to limit his words to be as truthful as possible.
Roth has a ruthless attitude when it comes to leadership and dealing with enemies. As a leader, Roth expects nothing but competence and giving 100% in combination with a firm chain of command and on-the-spot obedience.
Roth is a strong believer in learning and improving skills. Because of this, Roth has learned from his teammates the skills he lacked before meeting them and has instructed them to do the same.
Desiring always to have the upper hand, he learned to keep his emotions in check at all times and focused on his studies in his free time and school time. Other people often consider him emotionless, yet no one is willing to say it in his earshot, and he doesn´t mind this thought about him.
Rogert has mastered his emotions, and he can make decisions that would make other people disgusted with themselves be it torture or cruel punishments without flinching as he got older. While his team reminds him about his better nature and while his actions have never been directed against an innocent, Rogert believes he can´t afford to hesitate to act when many lives are at stake.
His team, REPR, has helped him loosen up, and he discovered his liking for playing the saxophone and driving. His team has helped him to become a better man than he thinks he needs to be as the years went by.
Facts about the character:

• Rogert prefers to be called Roth because the name is easier to pronounce, and he prefers a shorter name.
• Rogert put the team to vote during graduation on whether they should stick together as a group. Ultimately, the team was split up, yet REPR occasionally would help each other on big operations. He voted No, yet never said why, even when asked.
• Roth´s closest relationships are with his parents, Elena and Raina, and he thinks highly of Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck due to his teaching and wisdom.
• Originally intended to be a counter for Elm, an Ace Operative during early development phase.

Extra skills:

• Scholar: His lack of social interaction in his school years made Rogert focus more on his studies than on making friends. Due to this, he has gained a lot of knowledge and an interest in researching history and myths. Math skills and history were his best subjects, and he often likes to talk about both when asked.

Plz buy it for me

NOTICE

IT HAS BEEN CONFIRMED THAT UPDATE 1.25 WILL BE OUT MAY 27th WITH PRICE INCREASE AND WILL MERGE THE LIVONIA DLC IN ALL NEW COPIES OF THE GAME PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE GIFTING AND THE PIRCE WILL BE CHEAPER THAN THE DAYZ+LIVONIA BUNDLE
Anyways start we shall :-

who am I?

I live in india and am a student

what is Dayz?

It’s a paid game that offers a Thrilling experience it is a apocalypse-survival game it offers PvE and PvP experience ON VANILLIA it has a massive map you can team up with friends and make a base you have to explore for supplies one wrong turn you are Dead it also has the massive amount of wildlife it is also deemed to be the MOST or one of the most realistic games as it has medicines WHICH YOU HAVE TO USE IN CERTAIN CASES it also offers a wide path of thingys (don’t remember the name) you can become a person eating phsykopath or a PVPer or a Hunter or a medic, etc it’s a 3D version of project zomboid you can die from heat/cold/hunger anything you can’t trust anyone cause they can also eat you… then you can become a bush sniper or a kitted out military gear dude or a survivor guy the main threat and ally is players they can betray you too it is also the main enemy as the ai are kinda dumb and wolves too this is also one of the few games where you can TEAM UP WITHYOUR FRIENDS GET CAPTURED AS PRISONERS AND BE FORCE FED YOUR FRIEND . The game also has a massive mod creation scene NOT GO MENTION DAYZ FROSTLINE (New DLC) Coming Late this year (November) which adds a NEW SNOW MAP SO YOU FOOD FREEZING AND YOU FREEZING TO DEATH IS A POSSIBILITY ICE FISHING IMAGINE CANADA BUT LIKE AUSTRALIA

why I want dayz?

Dayz offer a unique blend of survival, exploration, and player interaction thatoffers a adreline fueled experience in which players must scavenge for resources, fend off zombies, and contend with harsh environmental conditions to stay alive. What sets DayZ apart is its emphasis on realism, where every encounter with other players is a potential life-or-death situation you can become friends with randoms and rivals with others and make massive bases one day you could be a team of four other day you could be a cannaible (guess what happend to the other three) or a bush sniper

Develepor Info

The developer (Bohemia interactive) is based in Prague Czechia it was founded in may 1999 and is known for Arma (series) vigor,Ylands,minidayz among many others

DayZ dev info

Dayz was released in on 16th December 2013 on early access program for 20 USD cheaper console support came in 2019 the game is developed by Bohemia interactive and also released by them. In the last 30 days it has had 34 thousand people on average and 64K peaked so no it is not dead

orgins

DayZ Originated as a ARMA mod under the same name.

fun fact

Real champagne can on,y be brown in champagne france UNDER VERY SPECIFIC RULES

Steam Id and game link

Game link https://store.steampowered.com/app/221100/DayZ/
Steam ID https://steamcommunity.com/profiles/76561199379713123/
Sorry for the short post but this is the end of thinking capacity ok?

Our #keeprenorad series on up and coming bands in Reno by Lauren Juillerat now has an article version on Faded Shawties with photos by Daniel Garzon shared with us by the band with permission to reuse.
Formed nearly two years ago by Nico Villalobos, Daniel Davis, and Eduardo Alonzo, Faded Shawties emerged from a previous musical endeavor. The trio's journey began in the halls of Hug High, where they first crossed paths as members of the school's jazz band. Despite occasional reprimands for not paying attention in class, their shared love for music forged a lasting bond.
Initially, Daniel and Nico embarked on their musical journey when they formed their band, Post War Era. However, after the band disbanded, Eddie and Daniel regrouped, inviting Nico to join them once more. Thus, Faded Shawties was born, a name that would eventually become known in the Reno music scene.
Balancing school commitments with their musical aspirations was not easy, especially for Daniel, who was still a high school senior when the band took shape. Their shared passion kept them motivated, and the trio persevered, supported by the guidance of a familiar face – their former jazz band teacher who attended one of their recent shows.
Faded Shawties has built up an impressive fan base within the last couple years by performing a dozen times at a variety of local venues. “It was crazy cause we were not really supposed to get a show in the first place, but it kinda just happened,” says Eddie the guitarist of the group.
Find full article here: https://www.ourtownreno.com/keeping-reno-rad/2024/4/19/faded-shawties-redefining-renos-music-scene-with-swagcore

This story has been gaining some small online traction over the past couple of days, and Russell Edwards has been namedropped again by Keith Bennett’s brother, Alan Bennett, on social media. I want people to be in no doubt about what Edwards did back in 2022, and I want to make sure that the following ranks near the top of Google searches too so that people can easily find information that discredits this complete and utter charlatan.
Header photo description and credits: Greater Manchester Police employing a drone in the excavation of the site searched for the remains of Keith Bennett on Saddleworth Moor, 2nd October 2022. Manchester Evening News

Who is Russell Edwards?

Edwards is a self-proclaimed “amateur detective”, who has for many years invested a lot of his own time and money in trying to get to the bottom of numerous infamous unsolved cases. He has claimed to have identified Jack the Ripper as a Polish barber named Aaron Kosminski, and wrote a book about his “findings” called “Naming Jack the Ripper” - which have since been called into question along with the credibility of both Edwards and the forensic scientist he collaborated with in regards to both Jack the Ripper and the Moors Murders, Jari Louhelainen.
Edwards also runs a Jack the Ripper guided walking tour in London. I won’t link to it because a) I don’t want to drive up clicks to it and b) the website contains a lot of misinformation as well as graphic autopsy images of Ripper victims without warning. I initially thought he had stopped doing these, but the most recent review listed on there was from January of this year.
He claimed to have started looking into Keith Bennett’s disappearance in 2015, but had been interested in the case since around the time the remains of another Moors Murders victim, Pauline Reade, were discovered in 1987.

The known facts of Keith Bennett’s disappearance and murder

Keith was walking to his grandmother’s house on the evening of 16th June 1964 when he was abducted by Ian Brady and Myra Hindley. According to their accounts, he was driven up to Saddleworth Moor and endured sexual assault before he was strangled to death and buried in a shallow grave. There is a detailed and extensive write-up on Brady’s and Hindley’s conflicting accounts linked here. Tragically, to this day Keith Bennett remains the only one of the couple’s victims whose remains were never recovered.
I would strongly encourage everybody to read these FAQs around the search for Keith too. I wrote these up a while ago, and Alan himself has been kind enough to contribute to them as well after the fact.

The 2022 “findings”

First off, here’s where exactly Edwards made his “discovery” in relation to where the other bodies were found. I should state that this area consists of plenty of gullies and peat soil. If you click on the 2022 Search on Saddleworth Moor flair, you‘ll see everything we discussed in this subreddit as the search was being carried out. But I will recap what happened anyway.
In a statement published on 30th September 2022, GMP Force Review Officer Martin Bottomley said:
“At around 11.25am on Thursday 29th September 2022, Greater Manchester Police was contacted by the representative of an author who has been researching the murder of Keith Bennett, a victim of Ian Brady and Myra Hindley. Following direct contact with the author, we were informed that he had discovered what he believes are potential human remains in a remote location on the Moors and he agreed to meet with officers yesterday afternoon to elaborate on his find and direct us to a site of interest.
“The site was assessed late last night and, this morning, specialist officers have begun initial exploration activity. We are in the very early stages of assessing the information which has been brought to our attention but have made the decision to act on it in line with a normal response to a report of this kind.”
It was first reported in the Daily Mail that a “skull” had been found, although the same article then went on to say that “detectives are preparing to exhume a particular area where suspected skeletal remains have been found including what experts believe to be a child’s upper jaw with a full set of teeth”. It was also reported that a small piece of blue and white striped material, and potential samples of body tissue (although this was later discredited as a probable mixture of vegetation and muddy water), had been found.
Edwards had claimed he and his team had conducted extensive soil analysis of the area, which they had discovered 4 weeks before. There were high levels of calcium, which can indicate the presence of human remains (but the team did not mention that it also indicates the presence of limestone or another high calcium natural material). Describing the dig, he said “the smell hit me about 2ft down. Like a sewer, like ammonia. I worked as a gravedigger when I was 19. It hits you, that smell of death. It is distinctive.”
Alan Bennett later stated that the smell was probably methane - of which there are pockets containing it across the moor. Edwards also falsely stated that everything was left in situ - more on that in the paragraph after the next one.
On Saturday 1st October, Greater Manchester Police issued a statement saying that “no identifiable human remains have been found” - despite what several tabloid and local newspapers had been reporting. It was confirmed that drones were being used in the search on the 2nd October, and a statement issued by GMP later that day confirmed that excavation of the site will continue for the foreseeable future.
Edwards and members of his team started posting on Facebook and declaring that Keith Bennett had already been found. On 2nd October, Jari Louhelainen, a Senior Lecturer in Molecular Biology at Liverpool John Moores University and a member of Edwards’ team, posted a photo of himself analysing what he suspected was a “bunch of hair” from the dig site. He later confirmed in the comments of his post (after being called out for posting it in the first place) that it was a “look-a-like plant material”.
On 4th October, Detective Chief Inspector Cheryl Hughes, of GMP’s Force Review Unit, said: “Forensic Archaeologists and Forensic Anthropologists have now completed a methodical archaeological excavation and examination of the area previously dug and refilled by the member of the public. No bones, fabric or items of interest were recovered from the soil.
“These accredited and certified forensic experts are now continuing with a methodical and controlled excavation of the area immediately surrounding the original site to provide a higher level of assurance of the presence or absence of any items of interest. Further soil samples have been taken for analysis, but at this time there is no visible evidence to suggest the presence of human remains. The scene examination is ongoing.
“A report of possible human remains is always treated with seriousness. As such, we have deployed police search advisors who can support our scenes of crimes officers – this will result in more visible and high profile tactics, such as officers walking in lines to identify any potential sites of focus.
“GMP is committed to providing Keith’s family with answers following this report, both from the physical excavation and subsequent analysis of samples. This will take some time but we will keep the family updated at every stage and request that their privacy is respected.
“We have seen the outpouring of support since this news broke so know how our communities feel about this case but we are asking members of the public not to travel to the area and can assure them that we will provide timely and appropriate updates.”
At 2pm on 7th October 2022, Greater Manchester Police announced that they had closed the scene on Saddleworth Moor after finding no evidence to indicate the presence of human remains. “At this time, there is no evidence of the presence of human remains.”
Assistant Chief Constable Sarah Jackson, portfolio holder for crime, said: “We have always said that we would respond, in a timely and appropriate manner, to any credible information which may lead us towards finding Keith. Our actions in the last week or so are a highly visible example of what that response looks like, with the force utilising the knowledge and skills of accredited experts, specialist officers and staff. It is these accredited experts and specialists who have brought us to a position from where we can say that, despite a thorough search of the scene and ongoing analysis of samples taken both by ourselves and a third party, there is currently no evidence of the presence of human remains at, or surrounding, the identified site on Saddleworth Moor. However, I want to make it clear that our investigation to find answers for Keith’s family is not over.
“We understand how our communities in Greater Manchester feel about this case, the renewed interest in it and the shared desire to find Keith. Much of Saddleworth Moor is private land so we would ask that members of the public, in the first instance, report any perceived intelligence to their local police service. The discovery of suspected human remains must be reported immediately to enable the use of specialist resources to investigate appropriately.”
Senior Investigating Officer Detective Chief Inspector Cheryl Hughes said: “The investigation into Keith’s disappearance and murder has remained open since 1964 and it will not be closed until we have found the answers his family have deserved for so many years. We are thankful for their continued support of our ongoing enquiries. This has been a distressing time for them and we ask that their privacy is respected.
“We understand the confusion which may have been caused to Keith’s family and communities across Greater Manchester by reports to the contrary. We hope that by giving this detailed update today, we provide reassurance that GMP are committed to finding accurate answers for Keith’s family.
“In response to the report made on Thursday 29 September 2022, officers met with the member of the public who later provided us with samples and copies of the photographs he had taken. He also took officers to the location from which he had obtained these and provided grid references.
“In the days since, independent accredited forensic archaeologists and certified forensic anthropologists, together with GMP’s Crime Scene Investigators, have completed a methodical forensic archaeological excavation and examination of the identified area and beyond. An accredited forensic geologist also took a number of soil samples – analysis of which is ongoing.
“The items given to us by the member of the public have been examined by a forensic scientist and though this hasn’t yet indicated the presence of human remains – more analysis is required. With regards to the photograph, we have sought the assistance of a forensic botanist. We are now utilising the knowledge and skills of a forensic image expert to put a standard anthropological measurement to the object to assist with identification. At this stage, the indications are that it would be considerably smaller than a juvenile jaw and it cannot be ruled out that it is plant-based.
“The excavation and examination at the site is complete and, to reiterate, we have found no evidence that this is the burial location of Keith Bennett.”

Aftermath

It was discovered that two of Edwards’ team members, Lesley Dunlop (a geologist) and Dawn Keen (a forensic archaeologist) were not accredited professionals in their respective fields. Alan Bennett clarified in a Facebook post on 5th November 2022, in reference to Keen:
“Any professional archaeologist would ask for a scale in any pictures or video taken at a scene [in reference to the fact that police confirmed the object found was too small to be a juvenile jaw], that was not the case here and the reason police had to call in a photographic specialist to determine the scale of the supposed jawbone..which turns out to be too small for a child from what I've been told so far and, of course couldn't be found anyway and could only have been vegetation if anything at all.”
I am not entirely sure what the “blue and white striped fabric” turned out to be - I assume that nothing was found.
Alan has since posted evidence that Russell Edwards had been planning the “discovery of Keith’s remains” as part of a stunt to promote his upcoming book on the case - a book that Edwards has been radio-silent about since all of this controversy.
Edwards has refused to apologise to Keith’s family and despite being proven wrong, and him and his team being called out for the charlatans they are (with even him admitting that his own reputation is in tatters), as of December 2022 he stood by his actions and his claims that he believed he had found Keith’s body.
To my own understanding (though I do not speak on behalf of Alan Bennett or on behalf of anybody who was involved in this whole debacle, let me be clear), there has been complete radio-silence on news of Edwards’ book since this date.