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

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

Idk what my problem is but for the last week it is all that I think about. I read that it was on the rise in young people and I am 26. Then I have very mild stomach pain that idk if is real or in my head. I’m medicated have been for years but I still worry all the time about health. I feel so alone.

Credit to u/SpacePaladin15 for the Nature of Predators universe. Rain World is a video game developed by and property of Videocult. I claim no ownership over either.
Sorry for the wait. Life happened but I just finished my semester, so I’m hoping the next chapter will be finished sooner rather than later. Please let me know if I missed any typos or made any editing mistakes. It’s greatly appreciated.
–
Memory Transcript: Sefril, Farsul First Contact Officer
Date [Standardized Human Time]: July 15, 2136
When I came to, I just laid still. I wasn’t sure what had happened though what was certain was that I was both still alive and still in this dingy box of a room. The predators were you of sight in one of my few blindspots. Jinsul and Dornucl were still alive, with Dornucl understandably agitated and Jinsul seemingly lost in thought.
Stranger yet, no one seemed to be hurt. Maybe Jinsul had gotten them?
Careful, I sat up, only to be greeted by the predators grooming each other. They stared back at me as I froze once again.
“Finally,” Jinsul said, causing me to jump, “I need to ask you something.”
“Oh not this again,” Dornucl said, annoyed. “Ignore him, he’s gone mad.”
“What?” was my only response. The predators seemed to perk up, shifting their reclining posture slightly, ears standing on end.
“You’re supposed to be a scientist, and as such you understand the meaning of overwhelming evidence, yes?” Jinsul said.
“What you’re suggesting is not only the most unscientific conclusion I’ve heard but is also something I’d expect to come out of someone with terminal predator disease,” Dornucl interjected.
I glanced back terrified at the predators, who had not yet chosen to strike and instead decided to lay there. Menacingly.
I pressed myself against the back wall, hoping to fall straight through and away from them.
“Why haven’t you done anything about…them?” I said waving my tail toward the predators. “You’re an exterminator, so…exterminate.”
“With what?” Jinsul shot back and began waving his pistol with one paw while shaking the flamer laying beside with the other, “The handgun that won’t fire with damp ammunition or the flamer that will kill us all in this tight space? Besides, they won’t attack us.”
Dornucl groaned and rubbed his tentacles into his face, while my mouth was agape in shock.
“What do you mean ‘they won’t attack’?! Their bleating predators!”
“Gods, that’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Jinsul practically screamed in frustration. He took a breath, “OK, sorry, just listen alright? Have you been having weird dreams?”
I stiffened, “I had a dream last night where I almost drowned, but I don’t see what that has to–”
“So, you're telling me you didn’t almost drown?” he said with a knowing look.
I considered it with dawning horror, “But that’s–”
“Impossible,” Dornucl spat out, “And ludicrous.” He turned to me, “As I said, he’s snapped.”
“Then how else do you explain it? My brothers and sisters in arms have confided in me the same: dreams, visions, and inescapable feelings of familiarity in the unfamiliar. Those who heed them escape danger, while those who don’t, don’t.”
As Jinsul spoke, a true zealotry was imbued in his voice.
“I’ll give you this, by all means, these visions should be impossible and unexplainable by science.” Fervor glinted in his eyes. “But when science fails, we must turn to faith to guide us.”
A knot formed in my stomach as I got a sneaking suspicion of where he was going.
“It is my belief and that of my lieutenants and clergy that the gods have sent us these visions.” He announced this without a shadow of a doubt in his voice. “They’ve been guiding us from the moment we’ve entered the orbit. The delusions the crew had in orbit? Also the visions.”
It doesn’t make any sense, but he’s right on one thing. These premonitions are impossible, yet they happen and help us avoid danger. However, there has to be a more rational explanation. There just has to be.
“But why?” I ask. “To what end? If your gods are doing this, to what end? If they are behind everything, the visions and maybe the crash, then why what would justify so much suffering? It just doesn't make any sense.”
“That’s the nature of the divine,” he said somberly, “We can speculate why they would send the visions and make us…feel them and their pain all we want, but we are imperfect creatures, and they are things of perfection. We simply need to trust they are leading us to where we need to go.”
As I considered his words, Dornucl once again spoke up condescendingly.
“I can’t believe you even have to CONTEMPLATE what he’s saying!” He slumped down and motioned towards the predators. “Fine then, what do they have to do with your ‘gods’ plan’? Your duty as an exterminator is baked into your religion? What do you have to say to that?”
Jinsul involuntarily flicked his ears, betraying a rising irritation. “I don’t know, I don’t like it, and I don’t have to. They haven’t given us visions of them attacking us and they’ve decided to disable our best weapons. I don’t need to understand why, all I need to know is that there is a reason they would do so. Besides, they haven’t even tried to attack us. You're a biologist, do you consider that normal?”
“Do you even hear yourself? You sound like a lunatic! I could have you put away for this!”
Unlike his normally cool, level-headed, and almost jolly demeanor, Dornucl’s features were twisted in barely veiled rage. It was terrifying to see him on the verge of doing something awful. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the predators.
The one with the grey fur was still lying down, but the other with the dark green fur had stood up and began stomping around in exaggerated and dramatic steps. All while growling and barking.
It was terrifying. However, it was dulled by the sheer surrealness of the situation. Its entire demeanor was less intentionally threatening and more childish mocking, right down to flailing its limbs in much the same way Dornucl did unconsciously to emphasize his point. It may even be funny if we could understand what they were saying.
Wait a minute…
I paused to think about that absent-minded thought, the gears and pistons finally shaking off the shock and beginning to fire and spin. I listened closely to its vocalizations and began to pick out a form of structure in how they were articulated and gestated. I recalled the predators' behavior and came to a grim conclusion.
“We have a problem,” I said so quietly it could barely be considered a whisper.
“Oh, what tipped you off genius?” Dornucl responded sarcastically.
I stumbled a little at the insult but continued.
“No, I mean a bigger problem,” I took a deep breath, “I think they’re sapient.”
The silence was deafening. Even the predator had stopped its mockery and began exchanging words with the other grey-furred one.
Dornucl glanced at the and sighed. “In hindsight, that does explain their behavior.”
Somehow, despite this revelation, Dornucl regained his composure and his cool demeanor.
“Well, in a certain sense, this simplifies things somewhat. We just have to wait for the translators to complete processing their language, then we can hopefully negotiate with them.”
I gawked at what he just said, while Jinsul broke down into laughter.
“And I’m the crazy one!” Jinsul managed to get out between the cackles, “Do you even hear yourself? Mindless animals are one thing, but this? We have the next the Arxur right before us!”
It was at this point that Plako decided to wake up. One can only imagine what was going through his head when he was greeted by 2 predators, a hysterical exterminator, a biologist trying not to show his frustration, and an anthropologist doing her best to fall through the wall.
He began to stammer. “Wh-what h-happened? Why haven’t they eaten us?”
Dornucl leaned over to him and deadpanned. “The predators are sapient.”
Plako froze after he processed this information.
Jinsul calmed down enough to speak more coherently, “Gods, it all makes sense. They must’ve bombed themselves back in the stone age, and have only recently been reclaiming their former technology.”
I spoke up. “I don’t think that’s the case. Remember, the worm showed us an image of that other creature. These predators likely evolved sometime after the civilization's collapse.”
“Well,” Jinsul said while deep in thought, “Now I can say for certain the gods must be involved.”
“Wh-what?” Plako asked trambling.
“Think about it. This whole situation is so astronomically unlikely, from being in an uncharted system in the middle of nowhere at the same time as a single Arxur ship to surviving the crash, and then meeting these predators, and them not attacking us. The gods’ intend for us to purge these creatures before they can spread and save the remnants of this civilization from–”
“No, I’m pretty sure it was laughing at you, not with you.” A masculine said from the back of the chamber.
“Fine, but I think I’m finally getting somewhere.” A feminine voice responded.
Jinsul went quiet as our gazes fell upon the predators. The translators finished translating. No one knew what to do, so we ended up just staring.
They both stared back with their unnerving abyssal eyes.
“I do wish they’d stop staring though. It’s starting to get weird.” The female said with a tone of unease.
“Let’s bring them to the village and have Oracle translate. It’s probably just a misunderstanding,” the male responded.
“Right, there's nothing we can do about it now.” She plopped beside the male and both began to get ready to sleep the best one could on the hard floor.
I felt something poke into my side, causing me to jump. Dornucl had crawled over to me and began to speak in a whisper. “What do you want me to do?” I asked.
His frustrated look returned. “You're the first contact specialist, go first contact.”
“And their predators!” I said, raising my voice a little louder, “They’ll eat me!”
He groaned and put on a forced calm. “While I disagree with Jinsul’s reasoning, they haven’t eaten us yet and we all want it to stay that way. Now if they decide they do want to eat us, we don’t have any weapons that wouldn’t be suicidal to use. If we want to get out of this alive and well, we’ll have to at least communicate with them.”
Jinsul, who had been effortlessly eavesdropping on us, muttered something under his breath. Dornucl ignored him as he continued, “So please at least try. Even if you fail, we’re likely doomed anyway.”
As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I just wish it wasn’t me who had to do it or that I was the only one remotely qualified to do so. Haf was still unconscious, Plako looked on the brink of tears, Dornucl was just a scientist, and Jinsul wasn’t in the mood.
I gathered my strength and began running through what I could say. After a minute of idle thought, I came up with the only thing I could say. I stood up on quivering legs, took a brave step forward, and called upon the translator’s imparted knowledge.
“J-just so yo-you know, we’re not very tasty…and we’ll give you in-indigestion, so you shouldn’t eat us.” I felt like I was about to throw up.
The predators just stared at me, jaws agape and revealing menacing fangs. Jinsul nearly collapsed in renewed laughter. Dornucl buried his eyes into his tentacles and muttered something to himself.
“What was I supposed to say?” I said to Dornucl.
“ANYTHING BUT THAT!” he shot back.
Before I could snap back in frustration, the grey predator spoke.
“You speak our tongue the entire time? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
We paused, and even Jinsul stopped laughing like a madman. Wordlessly, Dornucl shoved me forward.
“N-no…” I stammered, “We have an implant in our heads that translates languages in real-time while allowing us to speak stored languages. It only just figured out your language just now.”
“So it’s a Mark of Communication?” It asked.
“I don’t–”
“No no,” the green one interrupted, “If they had one, then we wouldn’t be able to understand them.”
The grey one nodded sagely.
I had been expecting an equally long-winded and terrifying conversation about the plausibility of a universal translator and whether or not it was magic, not such a matter-of-fact statement. Before I could shake off the confusion, Dornucl suddenly spoke up, “What’s a mark of communication?"
“Definitely from beyond the wall,” the green one said to the grey.
The grey one nodded and turned back to us.
“A mark is a special gift, given only to one who reaches the top of Pebbles and meets with him, wherein he provides the mark and the knowledge necessary to complete the Pilgrimage. Did you receive your ‘translator’ from another like him?” They both seemed oddly interested in the answer.
“We made them,” I said, then quickly added, “The Federation did. We didn’t build them personally. Just to reiterate, you're not going to eat us, right?”
“Of course not.” The green one said, its voice rife with disgust. “Why do you–”
Jinsul swiftly cut it off.
“Do you think you win us over with such obvious deceptions?” Jinsul stood and sized up the predators, “I know this game. You’re just keeping us around till you get hungry. When I get off this rock, I’ll ensure the god’s wishes are seen through and this entire planet is burned from orbit!”
The predators seemed confused about what was said. The green one stepped too close to me, with nowhere to go, I froze and closed my eyes.
This is it Sefril. You knew this was coming. Don’t resist and maybe it will be–
“Is he okay?” it asked, feigning concern and pointing to a still-ranting Jinsul, “In, y’know…” it said as it tapped its claw against its head.
Jinsul paused momentarily as he took in what was just said, then began fuming again. “I DON’T HAVE BRAIN DAMAGE!” he shrieked.
It took a step back at the outburst. It put its arms out, but instead of lunging toward him, it seemed as though it was trying to shield itself from him, or at the very least keep him at a comfortable distance.
“I didn’t mean to offend,” It said, the translator framing it apologetically to my confusion, “I have a cousin who fell off a pole as a pup and landed on his head. You sorta act like him.”
Jinsul reached a new, as of yet unknown level of hate. He stood there for a second, simmering not unlike a faulty water boiler. Dornucl stepped behind him, raised some robust science thingy above his head, and brought it down on Jinsul’s.
Jinsul flopped to bring like a rag doll beside Haf. Everyone, including the predators, was speechless. Everyone except Dornucl.
“Everyone shut up!”, he said in a practical growl, “This is confusing for all of us, and antagonizing each other isn’t going to make this situation any better. Here’s how this will go: We’ll have a polite conversation, get to know each other, and then figure out what to do.”
He turns to the predators. “My name is Dornucl, and this is Sefril, Plako, Jinsul, and Haf. What’s your’s?”
“My name is Stone,” The grey-furred one responded, “And this is Light.” He said pointing to the green one.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Light said, not skipping a beat, “Where are you from?”
Oh boy, getting right into it.
“So…” I began, but Plako jabbed me.
“You can’t,” he whispered in a panic, “There are predators, if they find out about the federation it’ll be the Arxur all over again.”
I look nervously at Dornucl, who nods reassuringly. I take a deep breath. “I know, but they’ll find out sooner or later. Besides, they may be predators, but they are also primitives. We have a natural advantage, if not physically than technologically and intellectually.”
I returned my attention to ‘Light’ and ‘Stone’, who did their best not to look like they were eavesdropping. “As I was saying…this is a little complicated. You know the stars, right?”
They nodd.
“We are from the stars.”
They blinked at us. They glanced around at us, trying to read our expressions.
“What do you mean?” Stone asked hesitantly.
I took a deep breath and launched into an explanation. “You know how we are currently in this world? There are others like, very, very far away. So far away that if you spent your entire life running as fast as you could you’d never even glimpse it.”
“Then how did you come here?” Light asked, “Did you use magic like the Ancients did?”
I took a mental note to inquire more about these Ancients, then resumed. “No, we, and the Federation as a whole, use large machines called ‘spaceships’. Each is equipped with a device called a subspace drive, which allows for faster-than-light travel. With this, we can travel between stars in days, weeks, or months depending on the distance between the stars.”
“Hey, I’m pretty fast, but I don’t think that going faster than me would make much of a difference if it’s that far away.”
Stone let out a good-natured snicker. “I think she meant light from a lantern or the sun.”
“Ah,” she remarked, ears pressed back in mild embarrassment. She tilted her head in confusion, “But that sounds like magic to me.”
“It’s not, ok? It’s just science.” I say with a sigh. Surprisingly, the word science seemed to translate without much of a fuss and they even nodded along. Something else to look into.
Stone asked the dreaded question: “Then how does it work?”
“I don’t know but I’m sure Plako could give you a basic…” I began to say when Plako started to make wild motions, trying to communicate he had no idea how it worked without drawing attention. He succeeded in trying to tell me that while failing to stay incognito. The predators turn their piercing eyes on him.
“Don’t worry about him,” I say hastily before they can speak, “It’s not his specialty.”
“What’s his specialty?” Stone asked. Plako visibly cringed, but this time Dornucl saved him.
“Let’s save the more technical discussions for tomorrow. It’s late, and we’re all tired.”
Light gave Stone a look before turning back to us. “Agreed. We both had a rough cycle. We even died a few times.”
They settled down while we were left to ponder the absolute bombshell they had dropped on us. Plako seemed checked, while Dornucl and I just shared a look. I recalled what Jinsul had come up with and felt a pit form in my stomach.
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked dumbfounded.
Stone looked up from where she was cuddling up next to Light. “What do you mean? Was it something I said?”
“Yes, it was something you said,” I said while trying not to hyperventilate, “You said you died. What do you mean by that?”
Both predators looked confused. “You know, the Cycle. Wake up, Die, wake up. Don’t you have the Cycle where you’re from?”
“...no…” I say in an empty voice. “By any chance, you wouldn’t happen to remember these deaths as dreams?”
The predators gave me a look of confusion, before Light nodded. I stared for an eternity, and this time the predators were the ones to give us uncomfortable looks. They whispered between themselves, occasionally shooting glances back towards us though taking no other action.
Unfortunately, our solace from their gazes didn’t last, as Stone turned back to us. “I can see that there are certainly…things that need to be sorted out between us, but I think Door-Knuckle had the right idea.”
I nodded, barely registering what he was saying. The others muttered in half-hearted agreement. Satisfied, the predators continued to snuggle up beside each other. Within moments, they were fast asleep.
We stayed quiet for a long while. Plako crawled closer to Dornucl and me. “They’re lying, right? I mean, they have to be. It’s what predators do.”
I couldn’t muster myself to answer him. Dornucl seemed flustered.
“Say something…please…” Plako pleaded, raising his voice above the whisper he had it at before. Thankfully the predators didn’t wake. We just sat there, letting it all sink in.
“It’s…let’s…” Dornucl started to say, before settling on “Damn it.”
[First] [Previous] [Next]

For the past year I’ve been dating my gf. We met in 8th grade at the time she had a boyfriend so whenever I would make advances they’d just get shut down. We rekindled my senior year of high school when I discovered her instagram page. At the time I didn’t know if she was currently in a relationship and didn’t really care to ask. We made small talk here and there but never anything flirtatious or sexually suggestive. One day she texted me and asked if I wanted her to hook me up with one of her friends, so of course me being me I accepted the offer. She then proceeded to ask me if I was a cheater, I told her no. She then asked for my number to put us into contact and right after I sent it. She texted me on iMessage stating that she thinks we’d make a good couple. I had been tricked. And in this moment when I read her text I couldn’t help but feel like the nice guy who finished last and got what was left over. we started chatting again more frequently and this was probably at the peak of my “hoe phase” I had just recently got a car gifted to me by my loving parents. So as a horny teen who just recently graduated I was doing bad. Seeing girls daily (intimately) sometimes even two. So as you could imagine I was not in the mental head space to jump into a relationship especially seeing that I’ve never been in one. Mind you she knew the type of guy I was, Because during my “hoe phase” I would publicize me going on dates with various girls on my instagram story cause I thought it was cool and my buddies would always ask how can I maneuver so carelessly and still have women that still put up with me. Around this time we weren’t in a relationship yet so their wasn’t any consequences for my actions. She’d see it complain then brush it off. But seeing that I did use to like this girl a lot…and I mean a lot, Just to put it into perspective for you on how delusional and down bad I was. When we first started chatting again, I went to our old Snapchat messages and reread every single one which took about 3 hours and they were so cringey and sappy to me that I took the time to delete every single one. (She was one of those weird people who’d saved the messages instead of letting them automatically delete after 24 hours) I felt like I had to do this because I didn’t want her to have any recollection of that desperate version of myself. Fast forward a few weeks and we went on our first date. I decided to take things slow with her by limiting myself to only kissing and fingering her. Then About a month after that is when we first had sex. And it felt exactly like I expected it to…magical. It was like we were two bodies who were meant for each other that finally met. Fast forward a few more months now it’s time for her to go off to college and when she left I slowly started reverting back into my old ways of seeing multiple girls a week and being promiscuous. This continued up until about January the next year when I got caught. Long story short, she cried I cried and we both decided that we’d like to move forward. During this season of our relationship I was constantly feeling guilt so much to the point where I ever considered suicide. I was constantly in my head saying things like “is it even worth it” “she probably doing it too and you just don’t know” “leave her” “it’ll never work” “you won’t regain her trust” “our relationship is irreparable” “don’t waste anymore of your youthful years on this failing relationship”. And with due time these negative thoughts stopped consuming my mind and we actually started doing better. I quit my job moved in with her and started working remotely. At this point in my life I couldn’t be any happier. It felt like a dream come true. All it took was one weekend and all of this ended. At this point it’s around spring break so all the surrounding colleges are having parties. I devised a plan to pick all the boys and go on a little road trip. We hit different colleges daily to party, drink and smoke and the biggest of incentive all, to meet girls. Looking back on it, this was a recipe for disaster. On one particular night I uploaded a video of me getting twerked on my by a girl to my close friends on instagram not remembering that she was still included in it. And before I could even sober up and realize what the fuck I’ve just done she eventually saw it and messaged me stating that this is her last time and “we’re done”. In this moment when I read the text while being drunk & high I just couldn’t find it in me to care or fight for our relationship. So I just thought to myself “ok”. As the night proceeded I found myself in some random suite where a girl approached me and began express her interest in me and long story short I ended up cheating. When all the fun was over and I dropped all the guys back home. I was still tasked with having to drive my girlfriend m back to her dorm cause she stayed with family for the weekend. I didn’t want to take her but no other buses were departing and everyone who she could’ve possibly asked was already preoccupied or just didn’t feel like doing a 4 hour drive there and back. And plus before all this turmoil I had already promised to her that I’d drive her back. I go to pick her up and she’s all moody and for the first 3 hours of the ride she gives me silent treatment. And the first words out of her mouth were “you know when we get back to my dorm you’re packing your shit and leaving right?” At first I didn’t respond. I laughed actually, not hysterically but more of a “wow after all we been thru you’re really ending this?” Laugh. All types of thoughts started racing thru my head. Part of me wanted to serve the car in front of an oncoming 18 wheeler but then I remembered that she’s still here with me and as ironic as it sounds I’d never want to hurt her, especially in a way that could result in fatality. The laughing slowly turned into silent tears. The pain I was feeling in my stomach was so excruciating it felt as if I had just been stabbed with a 10 foot sword repeatedly over and over and over again. I eventually started uncontrollably crying and spewing out my feelings. While doing this I confessed to cheating on her and told how I’d been long before that weekend. I pulled over to the side of the interstate in the middle of nowhere with no reception got out and just started crying even harder so she couldn’t see. I felt like my life had been ruined and the only person I could blame for it was myself. I eventually got back in and started driving in silence again. After all that crying with the added partying the past week and weekend I must’ve been real tired cause I started to doze off which I usually don’t. I’ve taken the drive enough to become accustomed to it and have built up enough stamina to make it all the way through without having to fight the feeling of tiredness. She noticed this and offered to take the wheel which I respectfully declined. I then told her I’d be pulling over to the side of the road to catch a quick 2 minute nap. I typically do this whenever I’m on extra long drives and my friends know me for it. I set a 2 minute timer on my phone and let my body temporarily rejuvenate as much as possible. And chances are they usually fall asleep too. Because I’d literally rather trust myself to drive tired before I let one of my unlicensed friends behind the wheel. I put my head down for what felt like 10 seconds and woke up to her nudging my shoulder saying that 7 minutes have passed. This bothered me because if I was so tired to the point I myself didn’t hear the alarm she should have came to the realization that I was genuinely tired and let me rest a little longer. But because it was her birthday she probably overlooked this aspect of my situation because she was just tooeager to get to her own birthday party that her friends had started without her. I began driving again will still tired and now aggravated from being woken up. I began to speed at this point we’re 40 miles away from our destination. The tiredness began to take over again and before I knew it I wake up to the screaming of my name as the car is slowly drifting off the road and I’m stuck in mud on the side of the interstate. A state trooper and tow truck arrive to assess the situation and we end up taking a Uber the rest of the way. At this point I’m stranded. I spent my last on tow truck fees and don’t even have anything saved up to pay for the mechanic fees, let alone worry about gas money. We somehow managed talk and temporarily bandaid the under lying issue and sleep in the same bed that night but things progressively kept on getting worse and worse as the days went on. It got so bad to the point where we slept in different rooms, Or so I thought. The morning after I go into her room to check on her and see paper towels and her sitting up still crying in the same position she was the night before. I on the other hand actually slept pretty well. She then came into my room still with water in her cute pearly big eyes. And to my surprise sat down directly on my lap and told me how she couldn’t get no sleep. We hugged and talked and cried then ultimately came to the conclusion that our relationship is worth more than my stupid mistakes and I have some more maturing to do.

First/Previous
"Watch out!" Jack yelled out to the crowd as the now-glowing overhead turrets, long dormant and forgotten, suddenly whirred to life with a mechanical hum, tracking his movements as he ran, shoving past a group of unsuspecting Xarak to the side as he moved to dodge the torrent of rapid fire aimed right at him, kicking up smoke as the superheated plasma churned the ground underneath him, before the sound of gunfire abruptly stopped.
"Fucking overheating shittubes!" the voice on the speakers cursed. "The Outsider is by the two broken pillars!"
"I see him!" a voice replied from out of the crowd as Jack got his bearings, spotting a group of three uniformed soldiers rushing towards him. As the leader moved to stab him with a nasty-looking barbed shortspear, Jack quickly juked the direction he intended to dodge, dipping to the right as he smashed the avian in the stomach with a vicious kick, shuffling back as he caught the blade of the second soldier with his bracer before throwing them off balance, lashing back at the first with his elbow as he did.
He moved to check the third that was moving to take a swing at him with a bat, but before Jack could do so the soldier was suddenly yanked back as a long, coiled leather whip snapped around them. Following along, Jack spotted an older grey-skinned ganger in black leathers with a coarse, black beard to match his scraggly hair sat down with his back to a wall, casually drinking a beer as he observed the chaos with a mischievous smirk.
As the soldier pulled back his bat to strike the interloper, the ganger grinned and looked down where his legs were already spread wide, revealing a strange metal crotch plate. Suddenly making a jerking motion with one of his legs, the plate flipped up to reveal the barrel of a huge codpiece gun that flipped up to point directly at the soldier, before it fired once, catching the solder completely by surprise as the top of their body was utterly obliterated by a bolt of powerful plasma energy. Smirking, the ganger gave Jack a wink, chugging down the rest of his drink, before charging into the brawl.
Hearing an almighty roar, Jack turned around only to be knocked back yet again as a broken, avian body was roughly lobbed at him, staggering him backwards as the Redeemer turned to the last of the bird-like gangsters, picking him up with immense strength and smashing them to the ground before advancing towards the human more cautiously this time, shoving drunken brawlers out of the way.
“I have long waited for this moment, Outsider. With your death, my King shall grant you redemption!” The Redeemer snarled. Now having a good look at him, Jack couldn’t see any visible weapons on him, which was strange. Last time, he’d brought a gunship and was taking potshots at him with some kind of high-powered rifle. Then again, considering what happened last time, maybe The Redeemer wanted the satisfaction of using his bare hands to beat him to death.
It wouldn’t be a terrible plan considering everything the Ogar had pulled off so far…
While sports on Earth were often separated by gender, despite some resistance from the more liberal-minded, due to biological differences between men and women, combat sports were a whole different game, with mixed martial arts organisations having very specific weight classes for fair competition between athletes, with two fighters of similar size and weight less likely to cause serious injury to each other.
But if you placed an experienced lightweight against even a novice heavyweight? That would introduce major problems for the smaller fighter, who would need to contend with the extra size, reach and power of their larger opponent. Not an impossible fight, but a tough one.
And Jack very much felt like a lightweight here.
Though of course, he had faced larger opponents before. Even an Ogar, though they had defeated the Laird with a cunning trap. However, he didn’t know how well matched he and The Redeemer were in a fair close-range fight outside of the opening moments of the ambush.
Still, he had little choice but to find out. He didn’t have an easy way to escape, and he didn’t know what the status of the others was. If he ran while they were still here then The Redeemer and the Regulators would simply go after them instead to get to him…
No. He couldn’t allow those thoughts to shake him. His friends knew what the hell they were doing, and they could handle themselves just fine. He had to worry about himself right now.
He couldn’t run, so he had to fight.
With a speed he didn’t expect from The Redeemer, they grabbed a nearby chair and lobbed it right at Jack in one smooth motion before following through with another charge.
‘Aegis!’ Jack yelled as he brought his forearm up, as his new and improved shield eagerly sprung up to take the hit from the chair, before a fist smacked into the side of his head as The Redeemer used the chair as a distraction to change his angle of attack.
Spinning with the blow, Jack fought in his mind to stay in the fight as his vision blurred, with the powerful strike threatening to knock him out then and there, before another fist caught him in the stomach, with his battleskin dispersing a hit that would have otherwise easily taken the air out of his lungs.
Retracting his shield, Jack ducked another punch that threatened to decapitate him as he skidded under the blow, parrying a backfist with his forearm that tingled painfully as he ate the blow, before clocking the Redeemer with a punch to the jaw, his gauntlet extending to cover his knuckles with a well-forged plate of metal to add their power to the strike, before the Redeemer threw out a punch that caught him on the shoulder, sending the deathworlder reeling back.
Jack grit his teeth as he fought through the pain, adrenaline rushing through him. He wasn’t out of the fight yet, but he knew he’d gotten the worst of that engagement.
The Redeemer clearly understood this as well, as the zealot strode towards the human with a confident, wicked grin.
But this time, Jack was ready.
‘Caltrops’ Jack whispered the command word, as his gauntlets gave him a good handful of them, subtly tossing them in front of him with an underhand throw, which had gone unnoticed by the Redeemer as they stared at the human with hatred.
Suddenly dashing forward to quickly close the remaining distance between them, the Redeemer roared as he charged Jack again, suddenly grunting in pain and stumbling as his full, heavy mass sent a sharp, painful spike straight through his armoured boot, causing him to lose focus as he looked down at his foot for just a moment to see what had happened.
A moment of distraction that Jack used to its fullest, as he quickly swung his axe down right at The Redeemer’s head.
However, the Ogar reacted with surprising dexterity as he used his forward momentum to avoid the full force of the axeblade, his metal helmet taking a glancing blow as he shoved Jack off balance, causing him to stumble. Quickly predicting what would come next, Jack dropped his axe on purpose as he prepared for a takedown attempt, dropping low and widening his stance as the Redeemer tackled him around the waist to try and bring him to the ground for a quick finish.
“There will be no salvation for you, human!” The Ogar growled through his pain as Jack was forced back by the Redeemer’s superior strength.
“Aww, did you miss me?” Jack taunted, holding on and walking back with the ever increasing momentum The Redeemer was building as he was pushed back along the dancefloor. “I saw your tantrum on the TV afterwards, didn’t know you were a bitch too!”
‘That’s it, asshole.’ Jack thought to himself as he felt his axe clip back onto his back. ‘Get mad. You showed me last time that you like to talk too much. I need to time this right…'
“Your blasphemy ends here Outsider! I shall smite you in the name of my King!” The insane zealot roared out in an enraged challenge.
With a roar the Redeemer pushed with much greater strength, forcing Jack to change his slow backpedalling into a full on sprint as he scrambled to stay on his feet, fighting to keep his grip above that of the Redeemer’s to maintain his control of the grapple for as long as he could as he was gradually being put off-balance, almost being lifted upwards.
‘I’ve got to hold on until the last possible moment…’ Jack thought to himself, as tables, chairs and people alike were battered to the side.
‘Now!’
As the wooden pillar supporting the balcony passed them in a blur, Jack shifted his weight to the left and relinquished the grapple, using the Redeemer’s momentum against him as he shoved the Redeemer off balance, as they smashed into the crumbling brick wall head first with an almighty crash.
As they stumbled back, yanking their head back out through the newly formed hole, Jack growled as grabbed the Redeemer around the top of one of his legs, yelling with effort as he was only just able to lift the Redeemer up and over him, slamming the Ogar down on the top of his head as hard as he could in a vicious suplex that gave a satisfying crack.
Growling with effort, the Redeemer pushed himself back into a crouch and looked up just in time as Jack’s foot smacked into the side of his head in a savage kick that cracked his metal helmet and dislodged one of his fangs. Roaring in rage and pain, the Redeemer got to his feet only to meet a flying knee that shattered his nose as his helmet cracked and dented with the heavy impacts.
“Redeem that you ugly cunt!” Jack growled, moving in for another strike as the Redeemer shoved him away, showing no signs of faltering as he slowly got to his feet, even after the devastating blows he just took. The Redeemer simply gave Jack a wicked grin of satisfaction, before it fell slightly upon seeing something to Jack’s side.
As Jack’s Ring of the Berserker vibrated again, he spun around to spot a large, lanky Vivren with several piercings in overt heavy armour grinning at him with malicious intent as she pointed a wand at him and cast a word of power.
Before he had any time to react, Jack’s entire body erupted in a wave of agony unlike anything he had ever felt before…
*****
“Fuck! Alora! Sephy? Chiyo? Dante?” Nika coughed as she got up from where the balcony had collapsed from under them.
Looking around, she could see even more patrons fighting around them, revelling in the chaos of the brawl, but she couldn’t spot any of her friends in the immediate aftermath, as thick dust plumed out from the wreckage below her.
‘At least the crew of the ship we’re meant to be travelling on are probably out by now.’ The Kizun thought to herself. ‘Can’t go back, the CorvMart crew will have moved on by now, so sticking to the original plan is probably the best move, unless we can steal a vehicle one of us knows how to pilot.’
Assessing the situation before her, Nika went for her bo staff, though made sure that her shotgun was well within easy reach. Though many of the people fighting around her looked rough, they weren’t attacking her or her friends, and until that changed they could make good allies of convenience, or for a smokescreen to give their enemies the slip if they had to run.
Though slaying as many of their attackers as they could would be preferable.
‘Best way to do that is link up with the others, we’re better as a unit.’ She reasoned, hearing an almighty crash. ‘Well, that’s probably Jack.’
Dodging a thrown bottle as a Squarri ganger missed their intended target - a pissed-off looking quadrupedal furry species that Nika didn’t recognise - before dodging a swing of a bat from a Xarak that saw her as an easy target. Quickly raising her staff she parried the backswing before cracking the other end of the staff across the reptilian’s face, knocking the rough-looking thug out as he collapsed to the ground.
Yet before Nika could think to move on from the conflict, she had to dodge out of the way using her tail as a large Balnath with some kind of cleaver-like sword took a swing at her. Recognising the sigil of the Regulator group Chiyo had told them to watch out for - a stern-looking demonic rune surrounded by a neon-red triangle - Nika parried the next sword swipe from the figure.
“Let me guesth, you want to get to the Outthider?” The Balnath sneered at the Kizun with a lisp so thick that in any other situation she’d have to stop herself from laughing. “I’m stho thorry, but we can’t let you have sthilly ideas like that!”
“Are you for fucking real?” Nika asked as she dodged to the side and put some space between them before quickly switching to her shotgun, letting loose a powerful blast that the Balnath was able to raise his shield up to block.
‘Skill like that? Probably the leader or an officer of some kind.’ The Kizun noted to herself. ‘No choice. I’ve got to kill him.’
“Yeah, I know that you’re finking! You fink my teef make me sound sthupid?” The Balnath growled, with a few experimental chomps. “Well these teef like to gnaw and gnasth on Kizun flesth!”
“Come and try it!” Nika snarled as she twirled her staff around her in a well-practised flourish, eagerly accepting the challenge.
The Balnath charged forward with lightning speed as it came at Nika with a series of feints, before swiping at her with a brutal overhand chop, using both hands. The Kizun was able to deftly parry with her staff, the kinetic modules battering her opponent’s grip to the side, though she felt the strength behind the blow and knew that the Balnath was stronger.
Still, she knew she could take him.
Ever since she was little she had roughhoused with her brothers and the local boys in fights around their ranch, and had learned the hard way from an early age that her gender and short build worked against her when facing her peers, so she had trained to be the strongest she could be, and learned to be quick and tactical to make the best use of that.
She had eventually kept up with the neighbourhood boys, using holds and precise strikes until her elders found out what she was doing when she was meant to be working on the ranch to help the family scrape by, and quickly put a stop to the shenanigans.
When she moved to the city, she only got better from there.
The tip of her staff thundered against the Balnath’s shield like the striking of a gong, forcing the larger being back as Nika could tell he was already tiring. Though she wanted to finish this fight quickly and get to her friends, she knew she couldn’t allow herself to give her opponent an opening, even as she sought to exploit an opening of her own. She had to be patient.
Her staff rattled against the shield again and again, as she felt her opponent’s defence get weaker and weaker, with the powerful force of her kinetic module focusing the strength of her strikes into a single point. Eventually something would break, his shield of his arm. Once his defences were finally down, she would go in swiftly for the kill.
Her opponent’s frustration won out as his shield shattered and fell to the floor, forcing him to attack Nika with a vicious two handed swipe. She blocked the strike handily, before the Balnath grabbed her staff, locking them in a clinch.
“Giff me sthome help over ‘ere!” The Balnath called out, as Nika reached for a knife, forcing the Balnath to adjust his stance as she stabbed blindly, glancing off armoured plates before finding purchase somewhere, causing her attacker to grunt with pain as he shoved her back, holding her up against a wall.
‘Shit.’ She cursed in her mind. ‘He’s stronger than me, but all I need is a moment to take him by surprise and I can break away and kill him!’
She held strong with her arms, holding the Balnath back as his jaws snapped shut barely an inch away from her neck. He tried again, and she pushed back harder, the jaws snapping shut around nothing, but much closer this time.
He tried again, bringing his vicious maw even closer still…
‘Gotcha!’ Nika thought to herself, as she jerked her head forward in a headbutt, catching the Balnath by surprise and giving the Kizun the space she needed to bring her knees up to her chin, before kicking out as hard as she could into the face of the Balnath, knocking him back with a roar of pain, before he leapt forward with a side swipe that Nika used her tail to quickly dodge, before in the same motion she brought the tip of her staff round and smacked the Balnath as hard as she could, right in the face, the powerful strike shattering its lower jaw completely.
“My fathce!” the attacker got out, clutching what little remained of his lower jaw, before looking up in the next moment as they stared down the barrel of Nika’s shotgun.
“Plea-” They got out, before their head was obliterated in an explosion of dark, blackish blood as their body clattered uselessly to the ground.
“Fuck you.” The Kizun retorted. Using her tail to quickly clip the sword to the magnets of her armour, Nika could see more Regulators in the crowd heading towards the DJ booth. Quickly checking her weapons, she headed right into the brawl!
*****
“You don’t belong here, girlie!” the thug cackled as their cybernetic arm crackled with electric discharge.
“Replacto!” Alora snarled as she swiped her wand out, blasting her attacker with a sudden flash of light that sent him stumbling back, clutching at his eyes.
“Anyone else?” Alora asked, trying her best to channel Nika’s cool, calm demeanour, crossed with Jack’s intimidating presence as the cluster of gangers and mercenaries all looked around at each other for just a moment, before deciding that the Eladrie wasn’t actually that intimidating, as one tried to rush her with a broken chair.
‘Oh by the Mother Tree! How do those two do it?’ Alora cursed in her mind as she summoned her spiritual weapon - a spear of light - that she quickly stabbed at the fish-like Osi, gutting them in the stomach which quickly made them drop the chair, while Alora wisely moved to the side to get out of the vicious melee happening all around her. Where were the others?
‘I have to make sure they’re all right.’ the Eladrie determinedly told herself as she began casting another, more complicated spell…
“Attention all idiots!” The voice over the speakers sneered out over the ever-changing music that the DJ didn’t seem to have any control over. “We discussed this. Though the Outsider is a priority, you target the spellcasters first if you can! Must I do everything myself?”
Thrumming with sudden power, the turrets above them finally opened fire, shooting almost indiscriminately at the crowd below, cutting several of the brawling patrons down before they even knew what hit them.
Chanting and waving her hands around as quickly as she dared, Alora maintained her concentration of her spell, completing it just in time as the turrets finally tracked her as she summoned a great holy aura of light to cover herself that would give her the protection she needed, the Armour of Faith deflecting the lights of the laser turrets harmlessly aside.
A loud bark sounded out, and knowing Dante’s warning for what it was, Alora spun around to see two Regulators, who were both Vulstas fighting through the brawl to get to her. Unlike Rena, these two were males, both carrying plasma shotguns but unable to get effective shots off through the crowd. Not that something like that stopped them from trying…
“Stevarin!” she yelled out, pointing her wand at one of the two who was about to open fire on a downed ganger, as with a flash of yellow light their movements slowed, quickly freezing stiff as a board as they failed to resist the Holding spell, their eyes widening in sheer terror as the gang-mates of their would-be-victim set upon them in a fury with fists and clubs, before a spell cast from the rafters sent all of them clattering to the ground clutching at their minds.
‘One of the enemy mages providing overwatch.’ Alora noted as she quickly looked up for any sign of them, but not seeing them. ‘Under a veil of invisibility no doubt.’
Feeling the dull impact of a shotgun blast dissipate harmlessly against her magical armour, Alora spun round to the other Regulator, cursing her moment of hesitation as the Vulsta drew a long knife with which to get in close with.
Remembering her fight with Izadora all those weeks ago, Alora waved her arms around quickly to summon a bubble of light to engulf her, before quickly following it up with an explosive flash that thundered all around her like a flashbang grenade, while leaving her unharmed.
As the light dissipated, she deftly avoided the blind lunge from the temporarily blinded Regulator, before jamming her spear into his stomach, using her reach advantage to dodge the desperate swipes he sent her way.
“Garrash!” Alora spoke a quick cantrip, using her affinity with life magic to channel poison through the top of her spear. Her already-weakened attacker quickly slumped to the ground as the debilitating effects took hold, but before Alora could pull her spear back, she was hit by a spell that came from above, disrupting her magic and causing her magical spear and armour to disappear.
‘Damn! It’s that mage above me!’ Alora cursed to herself as she quickly ran underneath one of the balconies, as the turrets chased after her with gunfire. ‘You want to hide in the shadows like a coward? I’ve got something to fix that!’
Quickly making sure there weren’t any immediate threats around, Alora quickly rummaged through her pockets for a wand of white crystal she had prepared about a year ago that still had a few charges. Casting quickly, she levelled it towards the ceiling and prayed to all the gods that she was aiming it at where the enemy mage was hiding,
“Glitasha!”
A spray of shining, sparkling particles of light shot out of her wand, puffing out to cover a good half of the ceiling, and as they began to fall to the floor and latch on to the people below, Alora spotted a huddled form by one of the rafters.
‘Got you!’ She thought with satisfaction.
“Ilthax! Get out of there!” The voice over the speakers warned, presumably the name of her target, but it was too late…
“Solaris!” Alora yelled, throwing her palms out in a thrust as a great javelin of light shot out of her palms. The enemy mage had barely moved before it impaled their centre of mass, sending what must have been a fireball spell way off target which blasted apart a huge, gaping hole in the back wall.
The invisible form of the glitterdust-covered mage slowly began to materialise as the blue-furred, ape-like Regulator clutched at their chest in pain, with wide eyes of disbelief at the spear of hard light that had gone right through their torso. As their flight spell dissipated, their lifeless body fell three stories from the rafters to slam down on the ground floor below.
“Nice one Alora!” the Eladrie heard the voice call from behind her as Nika came up next to her, the Kizun bleeding from a cut on her face. “Where are the others?”
“I don’t know. But we need to find them now!” Alora frantically told them as she took in the sheer state of chaos around them. Many broken bodies lay amongst the carnage, and though the Eladrie knew some would likely be still alive at the end of the night, she knew that many would not.
“You don’t need to tell me twice!” Nika agreed with a grim expression.
*****
First/Previous
Looks like Jack, Nika and Alora are holding on for now! But how long can they keep it up?
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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.

This is long but I would appreciate help so much. I
I have seen a

• Dentist
• Oral pain specialist who is well respected
• And a PT who specializes in TMJ.

Two year ago, after getting a new retainer (my dog ate mine, went 5-6 weeks without one entirely), I legit woke up the next day with jaw clicking/popping that was minor but consistent. I’d never had issues prior. The dentist was very confused but redid my impressions and ultimately that didn’t help things. The oral pain specialist says that some jaw clicking is normal, and as long as it’s not painful he encourages me to just chug along. He said I could try PT and a mouthguard but said the jury was out on if they’d work.
For the longest time I had no pain at all from my jaw popping, it’s was just that, popping, sometimes subtly and other times more obviously. My PT noticed recently that the bottom part of my jaw is moving right when I open my mouth. She told me to work on looking in the mirror and practice the botton of my jaw opening straight down. Since doing this things have gotten worse. My range of motion is more limited when I open straight down (I cannot open nearly as wide and yawning always ends in a weird pop). Additionally, my jaw seems to get stuck (locked?) in either a “straight down/limited range of motion” OR “open to the right but wide range of motion.”
I am so confused and have no idea why this problem is so unsolvable? If I was clenching or grinding I'd get it, but this feels so random? All the doctors I see seem to just be shrugging and not offering real solutions. It’s starting to grow more uncomfortable and at times painful. My denist and oral specialist both said they don’t see any signs of clenching or grinding on my teeth, so I don’t think this is a mouth guard solve? I am just so perplexed.
Couple facts to reiterate

• As mentioned, my jaw popping came out of no where.
• No jaw trauma in my history
• I’m 28
• No signs of clenching or grinding
• Not a jum chewer
• My mom has TMJ from clenching, so maybe it’s somehwat genetic, but again, I’m not clenching.
• Not interested in Botox, esp when this doesn’t seem to be a clenching issue.
• I'm insanely stressed and working on it. This started during the worst depressive episode of my life and am in active therapy.

I guess my ask, is there anything I’m missing? Anything else to try? I’m so discouraged by this. I’m really worried it’ll turn into a bigger deal as I get older and cause pain. :(

Hi All, Throwaway because reasons.
Some friends and I have some real concerns about a single mom we know who has taken her child out of school for "medical issues". While I believe this child's pains are real, she seems to completely ignore medical advice in favor of her own research, and lies repeatedly about the doctor's diagnoses. This has been going on for quite a while, and none of her stories make sense. She has told us that doctors tell her the child should be in the hospital, but when she goes to the ER she either gets turned away OR the one time she got the child admitted she basically threw fits and sabotaged any hospital efforts to get him better. The hospital sent multiple psychologists to her child, as well as to her and she made her child lie during it, so the child "joked" with the psychologists telling them the wrong info and was completely uncooperative because she says the child is the "happiest child in the world" and has no psychological issues. Which considering the family's incredibly instability I know is not true.
I could write a novel on her bizarre behavior, lies, and uncooperative ways with doctors. I asked my doctor friend if I should call CPS and she said that I have to consider if foster care will actually be helping the child at all. Which considering the instability the child already experiences, I don't think it will.
Should I alert the schools? Should I bow out of concern at all? I really don't know how to handle any of this.

I find myself deeply longing for a sincere and profound connection. Hopefully, you are looking for the same?
I think most of us are afraid in some sense to love and to be completely vulnerable yet despite the risk we long for it.
The capacity to love, sometimes even in the face of pain, is one of the most beautiful aspects of being human. It's a strength, and not always a weakness.
At my core, I'm a person of love, of care, of deep unyielding affection for those I hold dear.
Through the journey of healing and self-discovery, I've realized that I have much love to share. Love that is not bitter, but kind; not resentful, but forgiving; not closed, but open and willing to grow alongside someone special.
I'm sincere in my attempt to forge a connection and hope you are too, I'd try to share things about me that might give you idea of the person I am.
Essence of Me:
I am a mix of old-school romance and modern sensibility, holding onto the ideals of loyalty and sincerity. I think handwritten notes, surprise dates, and the belief that small gestures make a big difference. I am someone who thrives on deep connections and meaningful interactions.
I’m someone who believes in the power of midnight conversations, in the healing balm of shared laughter, and in the silent solidarity of presence.
I believe in the power of empathy and the importance of being there for those who matter, even if it's a call at 3 AM. I value integrity, kindness, and a good/weird sense of humor. I find beauty in the mundane, the kind of person who finds joy in the little things and believes in taking the time to truly understand and appreciate others.
Physical Attributes:

• Height: 5'11" (181cm)
• Build: Slim
• Hair: Deep black, kept in check
• Eyes: Light, sometimes dark brown :3
• Beard: Short, fashionable, and pristinely groomed
• Complexion: FaiTanned

Interests:
I find solace in music that echoes my moods, books that transport me to other worlds, and quiet moments in nature that ground me. I cherish activities that nurture growth, whether they're intellectual debates, serene walks, or shared laughs over coffee. I'm drawn to the arts as much as to the simple pleasure of a sunset.. I also have a keen interest in cooking and experimenting with new recipes, finding the act of creating something delicious for others as a form of expression and care.
To sum up some typical interests include: Philosophy, nature, languages, books, reading, writing, video games, sports, art, poetry, travelling etc
What I Am Looking For:
I'm in search of someone who values open and honest communication as much as I do. Someone who understands that relationships are about growth, learning, and supporting each other through life's myriad challenges and joys. I am looking for someone who is eager to prioritize getting to know each other, willing to open their heart, and ready to build something meaningful together.
Expectations:

• Mutual respect and understanding
• Openness and honesty in communication
• A shared desire to prioritize our relationship and growth
• An interest in exploring life's depths and joys together

The Quest for You:
What am I seeking? Not a perfect person, but a real one. Someone whose heart speaks the language of kindness, whose spirit dances to the tune of sincerity. I dream of a connection where words are just the beginning, where vulnerability is not a weakness but our strongest bond. I yearn for a love that’s both a safe harbor and a grand adventure, a partnership built on mutual respect, understanding, and the shared bravery of baring one’s soul.
I seek a fellow traveler in this journey of life, one who understands that while our pasts may shape us, they do not define us. Someone who stands at the intersection of hope and reality, ready to embark on a path not devoid of challenges but rich with the promise of true companionship.
Epilogue of Hope:
If my words have stirred something in your heart, if you too are navigating the vast oceans of life in search of a genuine connection, then perhaps we are two stars meant to align in the constellation of fate. I extend my hand, my heart, and my story to you – not in desperation, but with the quiet confidence of one who has faced the night and yearns for the dawn.
Laconic messages with just "hi", "what's up," and the likes will be most likely ignored. If I can beat my own laconism when introducing myself here, so can you.

small wins are still wins and I wanted to share mine. 19 years old and almost a year ago I made the decision to stop taking hormonal birth control. this being said i haven’t taken metformin since 2022 so my pcos has pretty much just been untreated for the past 8 months after also quitting hormonal birth control. Im bipolar and the mood swings and general side effects weren’t worth sacrificing my mental health to continue it. Anyways about the start of last week I started taking myo d chiro inositol (40:1) i might be saying that wrong)) and today I GOT MY PERIOD! day one it is not nearly as painful as when i was on birth control and it’s super manageable as of right now but we’ll see how I feel on day 2 which is usually my worst day. so far other symptoms which have been slightly alleviated; sleeping better and deeper, less sugar cravings and smaller portions due to lessened appetite (a huge deal for me) and my acne is already starting to clear up. Idk how it’s possible it worked so quickly could be placebo I have no real clue. needless to say I am looking forward to continuing to take inositol and see where it takes me. advice and suggestions/thoughts on if it’s a placebo very welcome

Could this be one of the reasons why I sometimes have very slight chest pain after a long day with my current bra? (Don't worry, I have had medical examinations and it is not an illness that gives me this pain.) I would like to add that this sensation disappears quickly after the joy of removing the bra. In addition, I noticed that I had a slight mark that had appeared under both breasts, and it is probably linked to the metal frame, which is why as a second question, I would like to know if it is a good idea from me to want to find a new bra without any underwire, and therefore in my "real" size. I don't have much information, experience, knowledge on this area so I rely on you and your good advice I hope

I decided to share this here because I felt I would like to talk more about this book but I also do not think it's the kind of book you can just throw in the face of your friends and ask them to read it so you can later blab about.
"This was one hell of a read. So messed up, it could just be another Black Mirror episode. This does not make it an unrelatable story to the reader, though. There are parts that spoke to me strongly (regardless of the writer's intentions).
I loved how free this book is—not bounded by logic and not intended to be. You take it, digest it, and relate to whatever you feel like (or wherever you are in life right now). At some point, you might just pause reading, hold your hand in your other hand, and check how real you are and what that even means.
If you are a person who is currently struggling to find your purpose in life, this read is not meant to give your life meaning. Not that it is a pointless read, but it is not meant to answer your questions. At some point, I found out that my anxiousness is feeding on the words. Him addressing how painful and empty living can be is surely something I personally dread.
I sometimes feel like summarizing the books I read. I'm afraid I would later have no memory of the whole experience. Part of me now believes that this just could be the point of reading, experiencing the same book differently every time you get a hold of it.
This is not a book I would recommend to anyone, not that it is not a great read, but it is the kind of book you come across based on where you currently are in life. It can be a boring, meaningless read for some, too slow for what they would expect a book to be. But this is not a book that you approach already coming with a set of expectations and waiting to pin down some life lessons from. It is meant to hold you up, shake you vigorously, and drop you from a high point, leaving it to your imagination whether to land in an open green field or in running spring."
One key lesson I would take from this read though is valuing things in relation to their opposites: appreciating freedom when we are bound, and recognizing the importance of constraints when we feel too free and unanchored. Similarly, we understand the value of life through the lens of death, and the significance of death through the experiences of life.
What was your take on it?

My father and I haven't seen one another for a few years. The last time we spent time together, I confided in him and told him I was having a difficult time and was depressed. I had been diagnosed with cervical adenocarcinoma in situ and needed to have a hysterectomy and I was feeling very alone and afraid. When I told him I was depressed his response was, "are you taking medication?". I haven't been able to have a relationship with him in person since then. It felt like the last straw. There's a lot of history between us, including things like emotional neglect and abuse and I'm in therapy working on myself and seeking advice on how to have a relationship with him. I'm estranged from my Mother and so he's my only family. I believe there both narcissists, but my father and I bonded more when I was younger. We do communicate by text message sometimes, but it hurts me when I allow myself to be vulnerable and tell him I love him. For example, last night I was thinking about how he's getting older and that he won't be here forever and how it will feel if I'm not able to fix the relationship to at least the point of being able to be around him in person without it hurting me emotionally. I was thinking about some of the fun things we would do together when I was a kid. And so I reached out to him to tell him I loved him. Just a simple text message that read, "I love you, Dad." Well, he's read it according to the read receipt, but he didn't reply. This wouldn't matter much if this was the only time he's done it, but he's left me on read many times after I've reached out to tell him I love him. It's painful and makes me rethink even trying to have a real relationship with him again. It also makes me question as to whether I'm the narcissist if this hurts me.

Disclaimer: I'm not a professional HW PVP player. I've played on and off on dial up when the OG homeworld on WON and later, HW2, all the way up until HW remastered. I just like homeworld.
Got HW3. Played around 10 1v1s. Initial thoughts:

1. Hey, it's kinda raw, but has potential. Directional damage is there. No subsystems and no hyperspace are a bit of a bummer but to be honest - it's not THAT neccessary for PVP. Game could use some build bottlenecking because right now, there's one single build and you either do that or lose.
2. Dunno how 2v2 goes but in 1v1 the maps are claustrophobically small, and your mothership is... actually quite a bit more mobile than before. Games end fast.
3. Terrain in space is interesting, but the pathfinding is absolute ass. I get you're suppose to use stances to dance around the cover - but it never works properly for me. I usually just put everything on aggressive because I really don't need my corvettes to wig out next to a piece of cover while not doing anything. Spamming waypoints and sometimes patrols can get the job done.
4. The default keybinds are all over the place. Dunno if it's just me but WASDQE are on camera control, which I guess is okay, but the default keybinds leaves no function for patrols, docking, and abilities. So gotta rebind all of those.
5. Because the maps are so small, and the amount of resources you're able to pull in ramps up way to fast, with no real room for contesting resources (because you start so close to the enemy), there's one single early game tactic. Spam strike craft until either you or the enemy runs out. Like zerg vs zerg. The game is decided when one side either has 1 less muta or when all the zerglings are killed. So 3 minutes into the game, you know who's going to win. And no, there's no chance to come back because you start out so close to each other.
6. I like the abilities. I know people say it's basically an APM check, but it's really more of a timing check. You need to time the abilities. Hit it when your guns are on target or waste it.
7. The control groups... My god what are the control groups... every time you add a new ship to a control group, you lose the formation, and have to bind again. (Better remember your hotkeys). It's such a pain in the ass that often it's better to create a new group with the reinforcements.
8. I like how there's a clear rock paper scissors system EXCEPT you never get a chance to see the paper or scissors part because early game is just rocks smashing other rocks, because it takes too much RU and time to get paper, and if you stop spamming rocks you lose. And if you have the bigger rock, why would you build paper and scissor anyway? Just build more rocks!

BUT - BUT - listen, I know it sounds negative, but a lot of it is super easy to fix. Make the maps bigger. Work on balance. Make map control important again. I'm gonna keep playing this. I think it scratches a certain itch, and I think there's a lot of potential for it to be good, even though there are probably only 5 of us who actually play this game for the PVP.
Anyway, my two cents.

I know this is unnecessarily long, so if you are not in the mood for reading, I understand. But I would greatly appreciate anyone who would take the time to read my story that is probably TMI and badly in need of some editing. I just really need some advice from people whose heads are less cloudy than mine.
My fiancé M/42 and I F41 have been together for about 4 years and have known each other since high school. I knew he was a recovering addict when I got together with him but I fell head over heels in love and didn’t see the relapse on the horizon that would occur shortly after the honeymoon phase and would eventually almost kill me - I took a swipe of some mystery powder and touched it to my tongue (fentanyl) thinking it would help me get through the most stressful day of my life as i was ceaning out his place while I was packing him up for detox. It was a total freak accident, I’m not an addict, never done anything like that in my life, I’m a single mom and a kindergarten teacher, but I loved him so much I just followed him down the rabbit hole and honestly just became so disoriented in this world I (naively) didn’t understand or even realize I had signed up for.
Anyway, He literally saved my life, and said I also saved his, because that day is what motivated him to get and stay clean for good despite being an active heroin addict for the majority of his life.
He worked an incredibly thorough program, and he gained more friends, money, and more overall success in 2 years than I’ve been able to scrounge up in an entire lifetime. And it’s no surprise honestly. He’s a special person. Absolutely brilliant, charismatic, driven, and has a heart of gold.
Within a year of getting sober, he moved me and my daughters into a gorgeous home adjacent to a golf course, bought luxury vehicles for both me and him, convinced me to quit my teaching job which was making me miserable, so I could finally be fully present for my girls, and then put a giant diamond ring on my left hand. He completely spoils us. We went from having nothing to having every tangible thing, we could possibly need.
The stability that he provided for us meant the world to a single mom who was barely making ends meet, but it was always just the icing on the cake for me. He’s my best friend in the world, he makes me laugh so hard my mouth hurts from smiling, he show me that he loves even the parts of myself that I don’t find lovable. I found my soulmate.
His program started slipping after 2 1/2 years (last November). He was already struggling in his role of being a stepfather, and we were fighting a lot about parenting stuff. He has a lot to learn, has little patience, and seems to have very unrealistic expectations of my kids. He wanted Parenting to be this effortless thing, and he just doesn’t get that it’s not. And that kids are not always going to behave themselves and that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with them. so we were fighting a lot.
In December, he started complaining about his chronic back pain again (a real issue for him as he’s had five back surgeries due to a snowboarding accident in his early 20s-this was during that height of Purdue Pharma and what got him hooked on pain meds)
While I know he was legitimately in pain, it was also a red flag because pain was the culprit for his last relapse. He decided to go in for a sixth surgery and was told he would have to wait three months. He found a surgeon who has made a lot of profit off of him over the years (as he’s a PI attorney) and was willing to prescribe him generous amounts of pain pills to get him through the three months of increasing pain that he was experiencing. He spent the next three months in bed, depressed, checking out, taking pills depressed, checking out- as I became increasingly suspicious that his behavior was much too loopy for the amount of medication he was being prescribed. I fell into the role of his nurse, and his babysitter. Making sure he didn’t text to nonsense to clients, making sure he didn’t fall and make his back worse, making sure he wasn’t interacting with the kids, etc
I knew he wasn’t being honest with me, but he just kept gaslighting me. It honestly felt like he was psychologically tormenting me, treating me as though I was totally paranoid, heartless and out of line. I thought after the surgery, it would finally get better. I made a promise that I would be there for him because he had never had anyone there for him for the previous surgeries and it had been a really traumatic experience for him in the past. I really stepped up and tried so hard to his rock. The hospital experience was horrific, mainly because no amount of diloted was relieving him of the pain. None of the nurses understood why he needed so much more than everyone else, but I think his tolerance had just become so high.
After that nightmare was finally over I was really counting on things getting better, as the plan was for him to taper off the meds, live pain-free, and get back to normal. It didn’t go that way. It just kept getting worse and no matter how many times I told him that I didn’t trust him he just had an excuse for an explanation for everything. He is a master manipulator and I listened to him do it to everyone, doctors, the pharmacist he formed a “friendship” with, literally everyone.
On Mother’s Day, it got to a point where he couldn’t hide it anymore. He disappeared for the day, Ended up, passing out at a gas station and was unreachable for hours, when he finally came home, the car was all fucked up and he claims it was someone else’s fault. He went straight to his home office and I didn’t see the rest of the night until I walked in on him smoking crushed up pills. After that, he confessed everything to me, including the time that he told me not to check the mail because he had a special surprise for me to thank me for all the love and support I gave him To help him through his surgery. it turned out he had drug dealers sending him drugs in the mail. Needless to say there was no surprise for me me. Just heartbreak and betrayal. I felt like a fool.
I was still processing this the next day when , after insisting on taking a photo of me in these designer sunglasses he purchased for me out of guilt. I asked him not to take my photo, because I had tears in my eyes, but he insisted. He was napping next to me and I opened his phone to erase the photo. we’ve always had each other’s passwords, and have looked through each others photos before for various reasons, sharing photos, etc. I cannot emphasize enough how much I trust his loyalty to me when it comes to anything other than drugs.
But for some reason, all of my photos, the ones I was taking on my phone were showing up in his feed. I was so confused, so I started scrolling through deleting unflattering double chin pictures of myself when I came across that menu photos organized based on face recognition. One of them was his ex. I remember him telling me he deleted all of his photos of her the first time he told me he loved me.
I opened it and scrolled through hundreds of pictures of their happy life together. The pictures got more and more sexual, one of her with her legs spread, another another of them in the bathtub together, her kissing him while he had his hands around her neck, another screenshot of her naked in the shower with a thumbnail shot of him in the corner obviously jerking off to her on FaceTime. Because I’m a masochist I decided to take it one step further and look in his video folder. I found a There I found a thumbnail shot if a close-up of him penetrating her. I watched it and it just completely crushed whatever was left of me.
I’m normally a really passive person, and I just completely lost my mind. I reacted as though I had caught him cheating on me. I just couldn’t handle the physical evidence of such a close up shot of him being inside another woman. It’s stupid because I know, like me, he has a past. Obviously he’s been with other women. Obviously he’s been attracted to them. But it just scarred my brain, I literally haven’t even been able to eat since because I’ve been so nauseous. I know it’s ridiculous, because this is a reality I was well aware existed, but seeing it with my own eyes… I don’t know what to say. Other than that I need a lobotomy.
He says he erased all of those videos and photos from his phone, and something weird happened where all of his photos from the cloud just re-uploaded when he got a new phone. He’s not a technical person and I actually believe him because, aside from being a complete liar when it comes to drugs, he has always show me the upmost, integrity, love and loyalty. So it’s not that I don’t believe him. I just can’t get that image out of my head.
I can’t tell if this intense emotional reaction I’m having would be the same reaction anyone would have if they saw what I saw, or if I’m combining the feelings of betrayal over the gaslighting and the relapse…, the last four months of feeling completely invisible, hopeless, and like he was choosing drugs over me. My mind is like mush and I seriously can’t differentiate between these two very separate issues. I’m so confused, but that’s what gaslighting does to you. It makes you question your reality.
He said that he’s finally willing to go into detox, so at this point, I have waited this long, it would be silly not to stick around and see if he’s finally going to put an end to this. What’s getting me is that he’s still making excuses, still not seeming very remorseful, and is still so deep in self-pity that he doesn’t seem to have any awareness of how badly I’m hurting because of him. It feels like he just doesn’t care. anyone who’s ever loved an addict knows that feeling well.
I’m in Al-anon, and I’m well aware of all of the things I should be doing, focusing on myself, etc. but I’m just not doing well, and I can’t seem to find my way out of this dark hole. Anyone who has made it this far deserves some sort of a Reddit badge of honor. This was more of an autobiography than a simple question. I just wanna hear some outside input because I don’t trust my own mind right now. I’m willing to take your criticism, just please be kind. I know I’ve made mistakes, I’m just hurting so badly. I can’t seem to sort through this. Thank you so much if you took the time to read all of this and still want to respond. You have no idea how much it means to me.

Well. Tomorrow was the day. David was aware of the looming deadline over his head, but the fact that it was tomorrow felt more real. David spent most of the day taking a moment to himself. From the Cyclops, to the chimera, to his two quests, he never felt like he did enough. His quests were just glorified scouting expeditions, so he hardly had any Kleos from that. Every injury, every broken bone, every cut and scrape kept him up at night as he wondered if the oath would kill him or if his journey would be the one that would be his end. And at the same time, a question ran through his head, every single day of his time he was in camp.
Was David a hero? To be honest, he wasn't sure.
All his sweat, all his tears, all the times he fought through the pain of broken bones, the times he fought back his anxiety. He refused for it to come to nothing. Even when he felt like he would end up like he’d fail. That he'd end up a cautionary tale for campers to refuse to do Styx Oaths, he still carried onwards.
His mood soured even more as he remembered Alkis. Hm…he wondered what was up with his friend/mentor. As his oath got closer and closer, he saw less and less of the son of Dionysus. A part of him wondered if he distanced himself, in case that he would end up having to deal with David if his oath were to be broken. Whatever happened to him, he hoped that he was doing well. He heard he was doing better at Olympus, back when camp visited. A shame he couldn’t be there to catch up.
As David’s mind continued to muse, another uncomfortable part of him realized that the oath that caused him so much stress might not have been such a bad thing. He found friends, and a girlfriend on his journey. Even his body changed, his physique turning more into lean muscle as he grew to be well over six feet in height. Win or lose his little wager, one thing was for sure, David changed for the better at the end of it.
Well, it still wasn't hard confirmation, which was killing him. Self-improvement was great and all, but David really hoped his efforts were enough to not get eternal damnation. In the last week, David spent the last few days in a state of peace, more or less. Like when you finish a final exam. No matter what happened, David couldn't stop it now.
So, Was David a hero? Well, he did all he could to try. The rest was up to fate.
But, David was not the only one with their mind on the next day. To his surprise, both of his best friends, Cel and Jules worked on the beach to set up a bit of an early birthday party. They set up a good amount of streamers and balloons on the beach, David’ favorite music and set up lots of sweets, with David’s favorite food, al pastor. It was nice to know that, even if ths was his last day before damnation, he could enjoy himself.
Eventually, as the birthday party went on, David stood up to give a speech. He gave a somewhat awkward smile as the night went on, well aware of his time that may be coming to the end.
“So…almost eighteen years. If you told me when I came to camp that I'd make a dumb bet in front of my dad and risk my eternal damnation, I'd probably think you were crazy. And maybe run away. But yeah, uh. Word of advice: please don't do a Styx oath. It's not just a spicy way to say I swear. Trust me, the stress will kill you.”
He chuckled as he took a drink of water. Clearing his throat, he continued to talk.
“But, to my family, to my friends, to Ellie. Thank you all, for helping me. I'm so lucky to have all of you in my corner. I've done all I could to uphold my end of the oath.”
He took a shaky breath, giving a smile that he tried to be reassuring, but it came out as more nervous than anything else.
“To be honest a part of me feels that I could have done more. But, whatever happens, happens. I just wish I could have had more…ah. You know…this is getting really heavy and like, I'd rather not so uh. Ahem. Everyone, please. Enjoy yourself. There's cake still I think…”
As the night went on, the son of Ares opened presents. He wasn't sure how practical this was, if he was being honest considering there was a non zero chance he wouldn't be able to enjoy it. But, he appreciated the gesture so, he gratefully opened each one. A Mythomagic box set, some Yu-Gi-Oh cards, some celestial bronze weapons… as he opened and opened every gift, there was one more box he saw. It was the size of a shoe box, in bronze giftwrapping. It didn't have a tag, or any way to tell who it was from. Huh. Odd. David opened the gift, and in the box was a bronze survival lighter and two pieces of paper, one folded and one rolled up. David picked up the smaller paper and read it out loud which said:
“To [DAVID RUIZ], we have reviewed your Styx oath in full and have determined that the oath has been fulfilled. In this package is your contract, now null and void. As it is no longer eternally binding, we recommend for you to dispose of it, as to avoid identity theft. We here at Styx Legal Associates recommend the traditional method packaged in with it, but as it is no longer binding for all of the afterlife, feel free to shred, burn or dispose of it as you see fit. Sincerely, Styx Legal Associates."
David opened the other paper, and sure enough it was his exact words, written on the contract. Along with…huh. So the Underworld has his social. Honestly, should have seen that coming. Making sure Jules didn't catch a peek at that, he grabbed the lighter and held it under his contract.
The paper burnt slower than David thought, the fire slowly chewing the contract as it pitted and blackened. David didn't realize he was holding his breath, until halfway through he let his breath out.
Two years. He forced himself in this oath for two years, proving to himself and hopefully, his father that he could shape up. It was risky, but his mind recalled when his Conquistador ancestors arrived to the New World, how they burnt their ships. It was a declaration, no going back.
Well, they were bastards, but the gesture was a neat idea.
David's eyes fixed on the paper, as if it would magically grow back if he turned his face away. This was it. Decisive victory, over his father for thinking he was a waste of space. But most importantly, against himself. His cowardice, his weak will, his anxieties. He took the pressure of the oath and became much better for it. For all the sleepless nights, for all the broken bones and near-death experiences it caused. The strange thing was he wasn't sure that he'd take it back if given the chance.
He wouldn't have met Ellie, or any other of his closest friends if not for his binding oath. So, as strange as it was, he felt a bit bittersweet as he watched it go up, now only a quarter of the contract left. As horrible as it was, it was a chapter of his life that molded who he was. Without the oath, forcing him to push himself every day to his limits, to ensure his own survival he wasn't sure that he'd be the person he was today.
Yet, he was looking forward to this new part of his life as the flame ate away at the paper. He watched it start to engulf the last remnants of it, reaching up to his fingertips.
“Ah!”
He instinctively waved his hand, dropping the shreds of paper as it fell onto the ground below. It burnt the last remnants until nothing was left but smoking ashes that David quickly put out with his shoe.
Finally. David was free.
And so, the Son of Ares, brave hero, on the night before his eighteenth birthday, wept.
OOC:
And there we have it! The conclusion to one of my favorite story arcs I've ever done in RP. Thanks to all of you for following along, from start to end! When I made David, I was surprised that, what originally was a simple character concept quickly became one of my favorites. It was really fun to write a character go from a wimp to a true hero in every sense of the word. With that, the curtains close on a two year long story arc. If you wanna rp with David, or just have your character hang during the party, both are good! This is a celebration both IC and OOC!
That being said, I'm not completely finished with David, so stay tuned...

(sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes english isn't really my first language) i will not say anything about my location but trust me I MET A VAMPIRE. a few weeks ago i was talking to a girl on instagram and i said "vampires are so cool i wanna be one of them" and she replied "i don't think so." and i got suspicious about it. i said "why? i always wanted to be one" and she said "trust me you wouldnt if you knew how it is" and i got even more suspicious and said "how tf do you know being vampire sucks,are they real" and she said "if you have heard of something, it already exists or used to exist." and then i was like mega flabbergasted but i didn't wanted to believe yet because i thought they were just urban legends or smth.after a really long conversation she said "no i don't have any superpowers only eternals and their descendants has the things" because i asked "so you have those i mean you know the powers you really have them?" now i don't want to continue this by using she said and i said and only tell what i learned.first of all she is my girlfriend now and she's like MEGA CLINGY AND ATTACHED(i like this tbh) and she said don't tell anything but i really wanna tell! so let me just tell. there are eternals that has the most authority and power.they are the children of lilith.and only those became vampires with a blood of an eternal counts as an eternal.there are 111 eternals.222.clans.333.families.444.sub families(idk what it is but the thing they call "family" is not like the ones that we have.something like sharing the same blood.) anyway.they need blood once a week.eternals doesn't need blood to survive.they get the blood they needed at nighttime by seducing.because lilith's(their ancestor not god) favorite sin is "lust" so they seduce their victim at night.follow them.and drink their bloods without killing.killing isnt bad but the things is they can lick the sharp teeth's wound and heal the victim.and this healing makes victim forget everyting about it.they have a library that has the information us humans never has. like the ancient books,books about other real races(every one of them) or the cult books idk whatever you can imagine is in that library.weirdly enough the library is combined with the church(they have a different one) and they sometimes use special rooms in library to breed. yes i'm serious. and when the child is born. the eternals gather.take the child if the child has a potential to become a strong eternal.and if child is normal.they wash the child with blood.and give the child a name. like christening.the child doesn't use christening name in public life.the id card name and christening name is different.they are like have better perception than us like idk she said she can see things on other objects.seeing the spells eternals use.i said how does the magic look like and she said you can't imagine even if i told you how it is. you have to witness it but it'll probably be your last because eternals hate humans.they have a MASSİVE hierarchy.the weak always obeys. my gf is both a vampire and a elf so she doesn't have all vampire stuff. like she has strong and sharp teeths.a very pale skin.a lust for blood.and when i asked about it she said "we watch those vampire movies as a comedy show,nothing is real about them" other than that they all like us.working earning money socializing hitting your pinky toe to table leg etc etc.and if someone is exposed as a vampire.they brainwash the exposed one and somehow deleting every proof about it. like idk how but she said if the exposed vampire gets brainwashed. every proof,text,pic,any information about it in everyones mind gets deleted.i didnt believe this one but she said the eternals really has unique powers.and one thing i forgot to tell they experience the flames of hell every few years to get used to it.everyone.from child to old experiences the hell flames only as a pain.not any damage just pain.and she said it was HORRIBLE like very very very very painful. the reason behind that is the eternals tell that they will go to hell no mather what or who they are.every vampire goes straigt to hell because they are lilith's children. so they make themselves experience the hell's fire every few years to remind how it feels.and if i'll wont be online anymore then i'll get executed :3

I dont fall in love easily. But this girl (call her X) when I was dating her proved again and again that she did love me. When I showed signs of doubt, she often cut her arms to show her pain. I eventually let all my gaurds down, closed my eyes and allowed myself to fall in love with her. Alas she loved me... she was the one... right?
I found out she was cheating on me after 6 months of dating (with lets say Y)
Confronted them both, she took his side and told me that she was infact cheating on him with me. So she had more responsibility towards him. She also humiliated me and told me to "just suck it up, its over amongst us"
Later that day I texted her, she said "Im sorry I love you more but I cant be a cheater"
His bf got to know and confronted me again.
She kept going back and forth until she texted me "we wont talk from now" (No formal breakup).
I begged her for a phonecall so I could get answers to all my questions but she stopped replying.
She blocked me on all accounts except facebook.
I kept texting her on facebook for 5 days hoping for a reply but she didn't reply. Eventually I stopped trying after 5 days.
I deleted facebook... my mental health took a toll... I woke up screaming often times at nights. I used to use facebook lite to chat with her the most. Whenever I saw the fb lite interface on someone else's device, I got anxiety attacks. I laughed on a few days until I cried. I took therapy for the first time.
To know the answers of the questions I had in my heart. I manipulated his bf into being real good friends with me. He now feels bad for me.(I still hate him) I found out that she was infact dating me prior to him and she cheated on me with him. She was just lying to me.
She is also lying to him that she has blocked me on all accounts but she has me unblocked on fb.
It's been a month and luckily I have a lot of dependable friends who helped me get better soon.
Not even a month later, Today I found out she had unblocked me on all her accounts and had texted me on insta, wanting me back.... when I saw her texts I started hyperventilating.
No one ever loved me so much that she could harm herself for me. At the same time no one ever harmed me so much mentally.
What should I do? Please help 😭😭