WARNING: This story contains strong language, mild violence & fictional political radicalism.
(Note, this story portrays the human side in a morally negative light. If you do not like that, then turn back now.)

ULJJAK KASERKOR, ANDZAKTAR, THE HOMEWORLD, ANDZAK EMPIRE, 11,772 A.C. 

Standing in the centre of the Andzak Governing District, in the heart of the Andzak Empire, is the Tree of Civilisation. While there is no direct translation into Human Standard, the meaning of the tree, including its name, stood for the long continuity of Andzak civilisation and the Andzak Empire.
Surrounding the tree were the marvellous palaces of the Imperial Government, the Imperial Advisory Council directly appointed by the emperor among them. The palaces were meant to be opulent and expensive, as if you were a lowly governor coming in from the Outer Provinces, the rows and rows of perfectly symmetric crystalline walls combined with the mirrors to allow the Andzak aristocracy to witness the superb influence of the Imperial Authorities.
Looking into those spotlessly clean mirrors was me, Deputy Governor Uljjak Kaserkor. According to Imperial audits of my activities, I am a "sub-par administrator, foreign to both the Andzak Empire and it's traditions, and the Andzak aristocracy" as Councillor Dlirij once said. In short, they've been looking for an excuse to exile me to a low-ranking advisory position on a third-band world out in the middle of nowhere.
And, as such, I am keeping this diary to myself, so in the event that Councillor Dlirij or one of his cronies tries to bring up charges against me, I am capable of fighting them effectively.
So, what am I doing, thousands of lightyears from my homeworld looking up at the Tree? I am here to report to the Advisory Council of an intense gamma-ray disturbance next to the uninhabited system of [UAG-2113]. Gamma ray disturbances of this scale usually mean the development and testing of superluminal weapons, which are severely restricted under the [Interstellar Accords].
Superluminal weapons are capable of obliterating entire solar systems if given enough energy. The most powerful superluminal weapon ever tested by the Andzak Empire vaporised 3 light-years of space, and fried every unprotected electronic within 117 light-years.
So this means it is understandable that the Empire might be concerned by yet another civilisation in hold of these excessively powerful weapons, especially if they don't know who has them, and they're being tested in the Centauran Reserves, an area that has barely been explored by the Empire due to the Centauran Pandemic a hundred years ago.
By my side, is the Military Advisor Vraxh Huljukrj. To be honest, we don't get along, and while I technically outrank him, stripping him of his rank would be an essential guarantee that the Regional Military Consul would be pissed. Vraxh has gotten into the Armed Forces through nepotism with the Consul.
"So you're bothering the Advisory Council with third-world bullshit just because one sensor buoy near a system nobody's ever heard of in the middle of fucking nowhere read some extra spicy particles?"
Vraxh, for whatever reason, still won't understand the severity of the situation, despite me having explained it to him at least a hundred times over the past 2 weeks we've been travelling here.
"I have explained this to you half a dozen times Vraxh, if you pester me about this decision one more time I will eject the rest of your belongings into space!"
To be honest, I haven't been particularly kind to him either. He kept bugging me with intentionally annoying overexaggerated questions over the 2 weeks we've been travelling here, so while he was in the bathroom, I ejected the bed in his room into the vacuum of space. While he wasn't amused, I found it incredibly funny.
"Okayy, fuck! Fine.."
Maybe I'll have even garnered his false support when the aristocrats in the Advisory Council wonder what I'm doing there.
Me and Vraxh right behind me walked up to the meetings desk. Behind the desk, is a short and relatively aged Andzakian in the uniform worn by imperial servants. He is looking at his holopad, appearing to have not noticed the two borderworlders at the desk. I attempted to grab his attention.
"Hello, sir?"
The imperial servant didn't appear to be surprised, and just looked up at the two with a condescending glare, confirming that he did infact know they were there, and just didn't pay any attention.
"Imperial Advisory Council case #1,714?"
He said the words sharply, as if he had already thought of them hours in advance.
"Yes, sir. A gamma ray disturbance in syste-"
"I don't care. Wait in the lobby, when you are called, arrive on time."
The servant interrupted me rudely, before pointing at a sitting area in the lobby.
I walked over to the lobby and sat down, with Vraxh reluctantly following me. After half an hour of awkwardly silent waiting, the loudspeaker in the lobby called,
"Uljjak Kaserkor and Vraxh Huljukrj, attend conference chamber C-1 immediately."
I immediately got up pulling Vraxh with me, before hastily making my way over to the conference chamber.
The guards at the door opened the heavy chamber doors with a loud thunk.
Sitting in the furthest conference seat was- god damn it, I shouldn't have come!
Sitting in the fanciest conference seat of them all, was Councillor Dlirij, with the biggest shit-eating grin I've ever seen.
"Deputy Governor Uljjak Kaserkor. What matters do you disturb the Advisory Council with this time?" Dlirij said, in generic aristocratic government drone.
I steeled myself with my own government training, before responding through nearly clenched teeth,
"Councillor Dlirij, thank you for coming to address my meeting."
Saying it was my meeting whilst also not using the formal address style was something I knew would piss Dlirij off, but thankfully he couldn't do anything about it according to the formal rules of the palace.
Indeed, Dlirij's grin reduced and he just looked me in the eyes, before saying,
"Deputy Governor, get straight to the point. What do you have to show me?"
I laid out a briefcase on the table, opening it and beginning to explain.
"3 weeks ago, an intense gamma event occured in the uninhabited system [UAG-2113], 3,679 light-years from the Homeworld."
I took a deep breath.
"As you would know as a Councillor, Councillor Dlirij, gamma-intense events in this fashion nearly always signal the activation of a superluminal weapon, legally considered an ultraintense weapon by the Interstellar Accords and thus prohibited for any Interstellar State to possess them aside from the Andzak Empire, the Union of Galactic Republics, and the Ksirlok Dependency."
I paused.
"I am requesting an Advisory Council initiated investigation into what caused the disturbance. If this is not achieved, it could be greatly threatening to the order in the Galaxy."
I then handed Dlirij the papers, which he started to look through.
In the silence while Dlirij looked through the papers, Vraxh had said nothing. I gave him a subtle glare for him to contribute, which he did. He reluctantly said, without thought,
"Councillor Dlirij, the Military Consulate will be the next to be contacted, if we do not succeed here."
I was not pleased with what Vraxh had said. He tried to challenge the Councillor's authority with a threat to go to the military establishment if we got nowhere here. I opted to remain silent though.
Dlirij looked at Vraxh with a glare of anger, before looking back down at the papers.
A few more awkward minutes passed, before Dlirij passed the papers back to me.
"So, you spend 2 weeks travelling to the Imperial Homeworld and the most honourable palaces of the Empire, with your little sidekick, just to bother me, Hasjaxhar Dlirij, with gamma radiation readings from one isolated buoy, nevertheless in the Centauran Reserves, where it has been proven by the Imperial Surveying Authority that there is no intelligent life?"
Dlirij's hand moved underneath the table.
"Councillor Dlirij, I believe you are mistaken by what I have given an explained to you, please-"
At this moment the guards burst through the door, before knocking us both out with the butt of their plasma rifles.
...

SEVEN FOUR EIGHT, NEW YORK CITY, TERRA, ALMIGHTY CELESTIAL STATE, 147 A.R. 

"...Comrades! On this date, July 16th, 147 years since the Revolution, humanity has taken yet another great leap under the leadership of the State. On this day, we have successfully detonated a superluminal weapon."
"A weapon that breaks the laws of the universe, a weapon that propels an object at thousands of times the speed of light, before dropping it back into realspace just before it hits its target. A weapon that, prior to today, the distant enemies of humanity cannot have dreamed of. A weapon that has just obliterated the Wolf 359 star system. Due to the ingenuity of our technology, not only do we get to witness the flash of our excellence, but we can also observe from this distance with our electronics intact!"
"Today, from this date, humanity is not only indivisible, but invincible! We, led forwards by the State, shall never be destroyed by those distant in the void, and our Black Banner shall soon fly on every planet in the Milky Way!"
The crowd cheered.
From my position, it looked fairly typical for a propaganda gathering. Soldiers surrounding the speaking Party official on a tall podium, with the Black Banner of the Almighty Celestial State flying calmly but sternly in the wind. Mounted to structures surrounding the gathering area are various slogans of the Celestial State, among them "HUMANITY INDIVISIBLE" and "THE STARS ARE OURS".
Truth be told, I am not an avid supporter of the ideology or the State. I come from a rural background in the middle of nowhere in North America, and have only joined the Armed Forces because the Party Militia showed up for their quota of soldiers.
In the State, all jobs are connected to, and thus in support, of the Armed Forces. While I was perfectly happy to continue living a solitary life with my family in rural America, I honestly didn't have much choice, and so here I am.
After the gathering, we are told to go back to our barracks and thus be assigned roles by the commanding officer.
I come through the door, and am immediately escorted to the commanding officer with two elite Party Militia members to my side.
"Soldier #7,487,782,311. Due to demand, you are being changed from Military Communications to Reconnaissance starting immediately. You will be transported to the Orbital Station, before boarding a Javelin class reconnaissance ship. The ship will not set sail into the void immediately, so the new crew can get accommodated."
"Got it, commissar. I will be ready in 5 minutes."
The commissar seemed to offer a pleasant nod, before stamping my identity card with the official Government stamp. It read,
"ALMIGHTY CELESTIAL STATE
#7,487,782,311
APPROVAL TO LEAVE THE MANHATTAN DISTRICT
ISSUED BY C.O. #2,349,522 - IF DISCREPANT CONTACT NUMBER ON SLIP"
I packed all of my belongings into a state-issued carrying pack.
Looking at how many belongings I have, pretty much just my uniform and Communication Device made me reminiscent for a time I never lived. How was the world before the Revolution? According to my family, the world was far better before the Revolution. They even had food that they could buy from private individuals, and not just State rations, which I find hard to believe.
The Communications Device had a light next to it's camera that blinked red every few seconds. This was to indicate that the camera was actively recording and watching me. I decided to stop thinking treasonous thoughts, and finished folding and packing my uniform, before taking my carrying pack with me.
After leaving the barracks, I walk past a building with the Emblem of the Celestial State painted on one of the walls, with artistic sunrays surrounding it. There are soldiers saluting the emblem, surrounded by armed party militia, while reciting the pledge of loyalty. I continue walking between two barracks towards the rocket area.
This base is lucky specifically to have it's own dedicated orbital rocket area. If I was stationed out west, I'd likely have to spend hours in the back of a troop transport vehicle being driven to the nearest site.
After a few minutes of walking down the bleak path, I reach the rocket area. There are people queuing to get in the rockets, and I join the queue. All of the soldiers infront of me look at the very least uncomfortable, and some look terrified. While looking ahead of me, a place ahead of me I see a vaguely familiar face.
"Eight one four, do I recognise you?"
His eyes go wide, and he recognises me almost immediately.
You see, this is a childhood friend of mine. Was my neighbour, in the rural countryside and the absence of the state, fuck, even when some parts were controlled by the Resistance, we could play forbidden games from the pre-revolution world.
I moved away from him probably 4 or 5 years ago with my family, which ended up being a mistake. It was in a larger community where the Guards showed up and conscripted me alongside a number of my family members.
"Yes, yes! I recognise you! An-"
Without even thinking, I cover his mouth with my hand.
"Don't!"
His face goes white and he realises the mistake he was about to make, and thus addresses me the proper informal way.
"Seven four eight, how have you been?"
"I've been decent. Can't say too much to be honest. Just bumbled around trying to look for something to do. Then I ended up here. You know how that's like."
Eight four one chuckles.
"Yeah, I know how it is."
We both tried to avoid treasonous language, which prevented us from having a meaningful discussion. It was nice to catch up though.
The line slowly moves forwards. I am close enough to the entrance of the orbital craft to hear a commotion ahead involving my friend.
"Soldier #8,142,327,494! Present your identity documents!"
The Soldier ruffles through his carry pack looking for his identity documents, and after a while, finds them.
"Eight one four! These documents do not have the commissar stamp!"
Two militia members point their service rifles at my unfortunate friend. I am enraged and know what is about to happen, but there is nothing I can do. I look around and see the guardsmen in the guards building, as well as a few guards snipers in watchtowers above us.
I helplessly watch as a third guardsman knocks him to the ground with the butt of his rifle, before he is hand and leg cuffed and escorted away. New militiamen come out of the guards building to take up their positions. I just silently hang my head, performing a neutral expression.
I arrive at the front of the line.
"#7,487,782,311! Your permission slip!"
I feel for it in the pocket in my pants, as that's where I left it.
Except, my pocket is flat, with no identity documents, I frantically feel inside the pocket, and do not feel them.
My face goes white and it feels like my knees are about to give way.
I look inside my carry pack with the guard giving me an intense stare. I find my documents, and hand them to the guard. He checks and verifies them, and I am let past. While walking past the guard, I hear over my shoulder from the other guard,
"Seven four eight. Do not forget the location of your identity documents next time. You know the consequences."
I walk aboard the ship without holding up the line, and sit down in a cramped troop transport seat. It wouldn't matter, entering orbit only takes a few minutes.
I look out of the orbit craft door towards my friend being escorted away into the distance, he gives me one final, depressed look, before him and his escort round the corner.
After a few minutes, the last soldier in the line is boarded onto the ship, and a loudspeaker voice calls to the gathering area that the ships will be leaving.
The landing door closes and the ship shudders. Due to the lack of windows, I have no idea what is going on outside. I am pressed back and down into my seat, as the ship accelerates into the sky.
The acceleration gradually slows until I can only feel the shudder of the ship fighting the atmosphere as it leaves. Gradually, gravity weakens and I begin to feel no weight in my seat.

EIGHT ONE FOUR, NEW YORK CITY, TERRA, ALMIGHTY CELESTIAL STATE, 147 A.R. 

As I round the corner, I see my friend's look on his face. Steeled sadness. I appreciated it in a world of no emotion.
The guardsmen around me had tied my leg cuffs too tightly but were also forcing me to hurry up and walk at their speed.
As I am forced underneath the temporary holding shelter, my leg cuffs are cuffed to a support beam of the structure. The guards then walk into the commissar's office, while a guard in a watchtower keeps an eye on me.
I see the landing ship my friend is on slowly start hover into the sky. Blue plasma shoots out of its 4 engine ports. It stops increasing in altitude, turns around and rapidly accelerates. I see it shoot off into the distance with a vapor cone around it's tail. The extremely loud rumble of it's engines slowly gets quieter and quieter, until it disappears from view.
The guards return from the commissar's office.
Both with neutral steeled expressions return to the shelter. I am held down and injected with a needle, and my vision slowly fades to black.

This is my list of the top 10 non hardcore emo albums post 2000. I did not include any hardcore or true pop punk albums. Obviously this comes down to personal preference, and the emo genre is so diverse this was a difficult list to make. I think I did a decent job of putting together a solid list of diverse emo albums. Let me know your top 10 list! I want to note that I only chose one album from every artist to go on this list. I honestly believe 5 of the 10 bands have more than one album that could potentially make this list, but I wanted to give a nod to a few other lesser known bands and albums. I put the list with no commentary first so people would not be forced to wade through my reviews to see the list.
My Top 10 Emo Albums: 1. Turnover - Peripheral Vision 2. Citizen - Youth 3. Movements - Feel Something 4. Tigers Jaw - Self Titled 5. The Hotelier - Home, Like No Place There Is 6. City and Colour - Bring Me Your Love 7. A Great Big Pile of Leaves - Snack Attack 8. Pinegrove - Marigold 9. Gleemer - Down Through 10. Foxing - The Albatross
Honorable Mention: 1. Secondhand Serenade - Awake 2. For When You Can’t Breathe - A Home That Doesn’t Exist
Quick Album Reviews:

1. Turnover - Peripheral Vision This is and will always be my top album. A true masterpiece to my ears. The music is dreamy, but they still kept some of the heaviness from earlier albums. That Roland JC-120 tone will always be legendary. The lyrics are super emo, but it doesn't sound dark unless you really listen. I have played this album at the cafe, and more than once I have had someone mention, “This music is so happy” lol. Go read the lyrics and get back to me on that. The lyrical content is approachable and relatable. Solid 10/10.
   
2. Citizen - Youth This album simultaneously rocks and jams. The guitars can be heavy at times, but the mix of calm and heavy parts is a genius execution. The Vocals are something of magic. The mix of the clean and yelling vocals not only fits the style but also adds a ton of dynamics. The lyrics are gut wrenching. Songs like “The Night I Drove Alone” are an all too real description of what living with suicidal ideation is like. This is the closest thing to being a hardcore album on this list, except maybe the Hotelier album, but I believe it is much more approachable than your average hardcore album, as the vocals do not really scream. 9.5/10
   
3. Movements - Feel Something This album does not rock as hard as “Youth” but It does jam twice as hard. Now don’t get me wrong: it rocks…hard. The lyrics and melodies on this album may be my favorite on any emo album. The lyrics are clever and witty, and the melodies are smooth and memorable. This is an album I have to sing along to when I listen to it. I believe the first 5 songs on this album may be the best 5 song stretch on any emo album ever produced. These songs together get a 10/10. The only things I didn't really care for at first were the spoken word parts. The words are great, but spoken word just really isn't my thing. It takes me back to my days in the evangelical church, but I have grown to love it. 9.5/10
   
4. Tigers Jaw - Self Titled This is a classic emo album. Personally it is not even my favorite Tiger’s Jaw album. For my personal taste “Spin” takes the cake, but there is no denying that the Self Titled album was more successful and had a larger influence on emo music as a whole. The music is very raw. It could have easily been produced in a bedroom, though it was recorded in a real studio. The guitars and vocals are both pretty raw. It has very little pop influence in the sense that it is not very polished. Let’s be honest, that is one of the major draws to the album. The lyrics, though silly at times, are very real and raw. “What about your friends, do they make you happy?” “Lie to me like you used to” “We are made from chemicals, but what holds us together is much more than that” This album showcases great lyricism and melody building. 9/10
   
5. The Hotelier - Home, Like No Place There Is Many avid emo fans consider this album to be the best emo album ever produced. I agree that it is one of the best. The music ranges from pretty heavy to chiller alt rock. It does have some screamo style vocals, but that is not the majority of the vocals, which is why it's not on the hardcore list. “Life In Drag” is 100% screamo, “Housebroken” is a chill alt song, and songs like “Among The Wildflowers” and “Your Deep Rest” are an excellent combination of both. The lyrics are another example of top tier lyricism in the emo genre. The song “Your Deep Rest” may be the most gut wrenching song I have ever heard in any genre. 9/10
   
6. City and Colour - Bring Me Your Love This is the only acoustic album to make the top 10. I listened to this album from 2008 to 2015 before I even realized that most people even considered it emo. I just saw it as an awesome acoustic album. The music overall has a pretty dark sound especially for an acoustic album. The sound reminds me a bit of The Spill Canvas’ “Sunsets & Car Crashes” album but it is much more refined and has a more pop style production. Dallas’ advanced guitar skills and beautiful and soulful vocals are really a thing of beauty. My first year in college this was my drink and be sad album. It is incredibly dark. “Every man needs a muse and mine could be the bottle” “It's passion, it's not love. Infatuation never ends up right. At least I won't be alone tonight.” “We celebrate the lives of the dead. It's like a man's best party, only happens when he dies.” 8.5/10
   
7. A Great Big Pile of Leaves - Snack Attack A Great Big Pile of Leaves is the least popular band to make this list, but honestly one of the most original emo bands I’ve ever heard. This album has a super fun and happy sound. The music jams and groves very hard, while having a calming effect on the listener. This is a great album to take a nap to. The lyrics can be pretty silly with songs about a wild mouse in the house that they consider a pet, slumber parties, and going back to school. They prove that being happy and joyous are also worthwhile emotions. It is not all fun and games though, it also includes themes of those you trust letting you down, and the struggle of being introverted. I have never related to a song more than “Ambervision” 8.5/10
   
8. Pinegrove - Marigold I'm sure there will be plenty of people who will question why I chose this album over all the other bangers Pinegrove has released. It is one of Pinegrove’s least successful albums. They have obviously had several hits bigger than any of the songs on this album, but the overall album is so cohesive and perfectly executed. Every song’s sound fits perfectly into the style of the whole album. My biggest complaint about Pinegrove, and the reason I disliked them for so long, is because they have such a country (It is fair to say folk) sound. I grew up in East Texas where country music is king, and I always hated it with a passion. This is the album where they leaned the most heavily into the country sound. The melodies have a slight twang and the harmonies are obviously country inspired. The reason I chose this album is because they were able to take elements of music that I hate and make me love it. So Good! 8.5/10
   
9. Gleemer - Down Through This is the most recent album to make the top 10 list. This band is also fairly unknown. I actually did not discover them until maybe a month ago. It may be fair to say that my introduction to this album is too fresh to make it on this list, but It is simply that good. The first time I heard it I knew it would be one of my favorites. It has that dreamy aspect that made Peripheral Vision such a huge hit. I dream of the day that every emo band realizes that a strong chorus effect and intense reverbs are their friend. It is a bit heavier than PV, not by much. The lyrics are very poetic and leave the meaning a bit up to interpretation but they are dark and without a doubt emo. The choruses are catchy, but they do not quite have the sing along factor of PV. Dreamy Emo/Shoegaze for the win! 8/10
   
10. Foxing - The Albatross I actually saw Foxing open up for Tigers Jaw back in 2017, before I had ever heard their recorded music. I really enjoyed it. They slap live. A few months after the concert I was playing random emo music in the cafe and the song “the Medic” came on. I was jamming to it and in the middle of the song I realized, “Holy shit, I saw these guys live”. This is another album that has a crazy 5 song stretch. The first 5 songs are on another level. 9.5/10. “Pent Up In A Blind” is a short interlude instrumental but it perfectly bridges “The Medic” and “Rory” which are undeniably the best two songs on the album. It is dark and depressing, but their musicality is something I have never heard from an emo band. The sound on this album is very unique in the genre. They use a trumpet (which is sick live) and the guitars have a slight midwest emo style, with the sweeping guitar parts on some of the songs, but the tone is unlike what you would hear in midwest emo. The rest of the album is solid, but very instrumental heavy which is the only reason the overall album was dropped down to a 8/10
    

Honorable Mention:

1. Secondhand Serenade - Awake In my mind this is the second best acoustic emo album out there. It is much more polished and poppy than anything else that made the actual top 10. The vocals utilize some fairly significant pitch correction, which becomes obvious when you hear the songs live. He uses pitch correction, but it feels more like an effect than it does about fixing vocal imperfections. The vocals needed to be that perfect to fit the style of the music. Secondhand Serenade used amazingly written harmonies to add depth and dynamics to the music. SS utilizes some unique tunings and chords in his music. I learned so much about playing the acoustic guitar from this album. Just like City and Colour I never considered SS an emo band until around 2015. That’s when I looked past the beautiful music and took a deeper look into the lyrics and realized, “Damn, this guy was going through some shit.” I always considered it a love album, as there are some beautiful love songs, but if you look deeper you will see that they are all about trying to fix messed up relationships. Not exactly as happy as the songs sound.
   
2. For When You Can’t Breathe - A Home That Doesn’t Exist This album was just released this year, by an artist that released their first song in 2022. They are almost completely unknown with less than 36,000 monthly listeners on Spotify (most of those have come in the last few months). The newness of the artist does not detract from the perfection of this album. It has dreamy guitar tones, especially on the verses. The choruses have a strong pop punk feel. The vocals feature both super clean poppy melodies, and yelling and screaming. It kind of feels like a mix of Secondhand Serenade’s clean vocals, Peripheral Vision’s guitar tones, Mayday Parade’s choruses, and the raw vocals of Hotelier. Seriously a cool mix of music and styles. It is everything my 17 year old scene self hoped emo music would be in 15 years.
   

I've been around for several changes to the spawn zones, and noticed that each time the devs shake it up, the playerbase quickly recalibrates and settles on a new hot spot. I started to wonder why this happens, and I think it may be something to do with the intersection of diet incentives, player psychology, and map size.
First I looked inward, and asked myself why I choose south plains or east plains versus other spawn points. My rationale is as follows;
Remote or uncommon spawns make survival uncertain, since the likelihood of getting perfect diet or even finding AI is low. Hot spot spawns like E/S plains are way more likely to provide me a perfect diet and fast start, since they are constantly littered with bodies from the PvP which results from player density.
Because of this logic, most players quite reasonably spawn at the point they perceive as most populous. The pursuit of diet and the immense effect that diet has on growth time incentivizes clustering, no matter how many times devs reshuffle or delete zones.
The second half of this is the size of Gateway. I find Gateway quite beautiful, and I appreciate the updates and developments it has seen. That being said, its scale seems incommensurate with the number of players on a server. It's entirely possible to play a whole session without encountering another player, all while the server is at max capacity (particularly if you choose unpopular spawns). This sparsity means that players can't really "afford" to gamble on a start without guaranteed players.
The opportunity cost of a "bad spawn" is really quite high. It means that you are almost certainly robbing yourself of interesting player interactions, as well as slowing your growth to a crawl by foregoing optimal diet. The amount of time it takes to cross the map makes regular migration less appealing than chilling around a hot spot. If it only took a few minutes to transition from one area to another, I would imagine that players wouldn't mind venturing away from tried and true areas.
Other than fundamental reworks to map size and the way diet works, here are some other ideas which could be more quickly implemented. These are just random thoughts meant to spur discussion, they could end up being bad.

• More sources of potable water, even small ones scattered around. A lot of the map at the moment feels fundamentally inhospitable due to not having fresh water nearby. There is a balance to be struck here though so that deino players still have a chance to catch prey.
  
• Fully randomizing spawns, or making each spawn zone much more broad. This is a spicy one but I would be interested in the results. If players had no say in their start location, similar to DayZ, it could in theory promote a more even spread of activity across the map.
  
• Penalties for overpopulation. Another potentially annoying change, but this is something which efficiently regulates ecosystems in real life, so maybe it could be worth trying. I imagine a small penalty like -10% to growth if a certain player density is reached. Nothing catastrophic but enough to nudge people to spread out.
  

I'm interested in other takes, I am fairly new and have only played on Gateway so I haven't experienced the way players behaved on differently designed maps.
TLDR: Gateway is too big and the diet system is too consequential for players to risk going anywhere but a hotspot. No matter what devs do to spawns, the most logical course of action is for players to cluster.

Asgard 1827
The Trial of Asgard made national news in Valhalla . Brunhilde stood there in front of many gods, each vote determining her faith . Does she live or die ? Only odin can make that judgment. Heimdall opened a pamphlet speaking though his horn “ Brunhilde, eldest sister of the gods ! You stand accused of crimes against Humanity and Goding alike ! How do you plead ? “. Brunhilde rolled her eyes before speaking her mind . “How do I plead ? What crimes are you talking about ? I was making coffee before me and Randgriz were arrested on the spot “ she spoke out . “ Don't play dumb Brunhilde I saw you cast forbidden spells and illegal magic “ Odin told everyone. Despite the bold straight up lie hilde remained as calm as ever . Using magic and spells is more for Gondul and she is too smart to get caught. What did Odin really want and why is he dragging Randgriz of all demigods.“Nonsense ! My sister would never so such a ““SILENCE “ Odin shouted but Randgriz stood her ground ready to face death itself to protect Brunhilde. Meanwhile in another area. Loki used his blades to slice the doors open splitting them in half. Beelzebub was in the middle of an experiment his red eyes shooting at loki. “This better be good “ he whispered. “It is Brunhilde and Randgriz lives are a stake during the trial “ Loki spat out in a panicked state . “ Why should I care about some demigod's life when I don't even care about my own? “ Beel questioned. “It's because I know you hate Odin and would do anything to spite him how dare he label you as a freak when he is just as bad “ Loki answered “ Hurry we are running out of time ! “ . “What do you get out of this ? “ Beel stood up . “ I owe Brunhilde a favor “ A flashback of small Loki almost getting eaten by a giant snake until Brunhilde saved him by slicing it in half with a scythe
. “Be more careful child “ she turned around seeing the scared loki shiver .
The flash back ended with Brunhilde standing off to Odin . “Confess your crime or serve death “ A purple hue spear floated over him. “ I choose death, “ Brunhilde replied. “ Brun no ! “ Randgriz screamed buy it was too late . The spear launched at her body with such force blood she was pushed back to the wall. Brunhilde refused to give up despite all the pain seeping into her. “ This is the end of the road valkyrie…” Odin whispering. The last thing she saw was the gods demonic smile before everything faced to black.
“Is she alive ? “
“Wait “
“What if he killed her ? “
“Wait “
“ Is she dead ?”
“I will slap you “
“Yikes chill emo “
Brunhilde woke up in the lab with purple ,red and green eyes staring at her. “ What just happened…” Brunhilde felt a tight hug from Randgriz “ You are alive! “ Grizz cried out. “Yes …I am …” Brunhilde realized. “However at a price ….” Beel commented . “What did you do demon? “ Brunhilde hissed . “ Weird way of thanking someone for saving your life “ Beel brushed that comment off. The valkyrie gave him a weird look , “ Don't mention it I only did it to piss off Odin “ Beel shrugged. “Wait Mr Beel what “price “ are you talking about ? “ Grizz asked. “Oh well being a demigod you are more human then god now “ Loki jumped in stuttering at every word. “Meaning you can't fly , super strength and speed is gone, no more soul connection or anything that would make you a valkyrie “ Loki explained some more “ I had to do something to get Beel to save your life “. “ I'm not mad Loki “ Brunhilde took a deep breath “ This is just a sign that I need to leave asgard now …” Brunhilde stated . “I'm coming with you “ Randgriz sat next to her “ If I stay I'm dead Valkyrie walking “. “Plus it's no longer possible to survive here, however despite losing most of your powers there is still a place for you “ Beel mentioned “ Loki will take you “ . “Wait, what about our sisters ! “ Randgriz started to cry . Loki and Beelzebub looked at each other. “ We will figure that part out but remember if Odin catches wind they die too “ Loki pointed out . “Yes but faking our deaths still sounds horrible, “ Randgriz shook her head. “ Alright I'll do something you will see them again soon “ Beel told her “ Overall you both need to leave as soon as possible “ . “Follow me there is not much time “ Loki used his magic to make a portal . The scenery revealed a large Eiffel tower and people walking by . “ Once we step in there is no going back “ Randgriz shivered. “We don't have a choice “ Brunhilde stepped in holding Randgriz hand to help her . “Even if we never meet again Lord Loki, thank you for saving my life “ Brunhilde bowed down. “ No Brunhilde…thank you for saving mine “ Loki smiled, closing the portal. “So this is our new home “ Randgriz looked around seeing things that just aren't familiar anymore .
5 years later 1832
Late in the afternoon at the Salle Pleyel concert there was the sound of the piano . The fast paced music made everyone in the area cheer . The musician had blonde brown hair that passed his ears . He waved it back and forth like a rockstar smashing his keyboards so hard you would think he broke them. The crowd cheered his name “LISZT LISZT LISZT LISZT “ , fangirls jumped up and down going crazy over him . Brunhilde and Randgriz sat down in chairs watching the man go , “ His music is very rough and insane ..reminds me of home listening to vikings “ Brunhilde mentioned. “ I don't know who is making me more deaf the music or the annoying girls “ Randgriz covered her ears, “If it's too much for you then why did you bother coming? “ Brunhilde gave her a look. “ I don't wanna be alone “ Grizz admitted, “By the way ,..why are you wearing a suit “ Brunhilde wondered . “ The human women show too much window and well sister you don't show just the window the entire frame is gone leaving only thin fabric “ Randgriz gave her honest opinion. “ I don't need a lesson on modesty “ Brunhilde focused her attention on Liszt who kept playing . His piercing green eyes gave her a wink . “Was he winking at me ? “ Brunhilde turned to Randgriz. “Probably or at the other women fawning over him “ Grizz stated . “Yeah you're right “ Brunhilde relaxed some more “Not like I care he is a massive playboy breaking one heart after another I'm not going to fall for that plus I'm not a noble “. “You are right Hilde you aren't..you are a demigod , from our divine perspective human nobility is just fancy talk for commoner” Grizz whispered.
“ Randy shhhh we aren't in Valhalla anymore “ Brun reminded her , “ If looks could kill you would be a serial killer by now “ Randgriz laughed “ I mean I'm not wrong if an Archduke came to Valhalla and started bossing everyone he would be laughed at “. That comment made by a few folks behind her gave the sisters an irritated glare . “Shhh “ a man right next to Randgriz silenced her with his white glove .The concert ended leaving Liszt to step off the stage . He was quickly surrounded by fans causing Brunhilde to leave until she felt something hit her. Behind her was a red rose , she picked it up seeing the musician wave at her before being surrounded by more fans . “Come on Brunhilde let's go, I don't like parties “ Randgriz dragged her out towards the concert halls . “Oof I'm sorry “ she accidentally bumped into the same guy that sat next to him. He was a short guy with a big nose that spoke with a thick polish accident. “Sorry I'm looking for a man named Liszt “ he mentioned. “Down the hallway but you are going to have to wait in line “ Brunhilde pointed to the left before leaving . The man thanked her before walking in that direction, “He is very cute “ Randgriz thought. “Eh …okay let's go home “ she walked with Randgriz.
A few days later Brunhilde went back to the same concert alone this time to attend a mass . There she sat down reading the holy Bible while waiting for the preacher . “ Excuse me, is this seat taken? “ a familiar voice spoke to her . Brunhilde turned around, seeing the face once again. “Are you Franz Liszt ? “she asked while watching him sit down. “Yes “ Liszt confirmed sitting next to her “ Nice to meet you “ . “ Yeah I see ..” Brunhilde stuck her head back in the Bible. “Sorry if I was bothering you “ Liszt apologized getting ready to leave . “No you weren't, I just have a lot on my mind “ Brunhilde sighed. “Oh ..I hope the church can relax you ..lift those spirits up “ Liszt gave a warm smile. “Yeah” Brunhilde half smiled back , “So where are you from? I've never seen you around? “ he questioned. “Oh I'm from - “ Brunhilde tried to think of an answer. “Don't tell me your from heaven? “ Liszt answered "Wait how did you -”Brunhilde's face turned red from the blushing. “ “ Relax I was just kidding c Liszt chuckled . “Oh right …hahaha” Brunhilde joined the laughter

Chapter Two - Part One
First Half
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Outposts sprang up on Mercury and the moons of the Kuiper Belt, each a testament to human ingenuity and perseverance. The harsh landscapes of these worlds posed new challenges, but they also offered new resources and opportunities. The ability to leap across the galaxy using faster-than-light travel encapsulated the dark, relentless drive of the human spirit to explore, expand, and survive.
The network of colonies became interconnected, serving as launch pads for further exploration. The new FTL technologies transformed the galaxy into a neighborhood rather than an infinite wilderness. Each jump through space brought humanity closer to its neighbors in the cosmos, for better or worse.
The universe, once a vast, lonely place, was now a landscape of potential new homes and new challenges. As humanity spread out from the Solar System to the stars, the stage was set for new conflicts and new stories, written not in the light of the Sun but in the starlight of distant worlds.
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Humanity's march to the stars was driven by necessity and survival, stark against the backdrop of Earth's dwindling resources and rising conflicts. After World War I, the foundational theories of rocketry emerged, setting the stage for the later technological leaps that would propel humans into space. The brutal rivalry of the Cold War accelerated these advancements, pushing the Soviet Union and the United States to compete in the space race, a silent war fought with satellites and lunar landings.
The practical applications of these early missions were not just about planting flags but also about testing human limits and technologies in the harsh environment of space. The moon landings of 1969 were a global spectacle. Yet, they also underscored the sheer isolation and vulnerability of human life suspended in the cosmic void.
As the decades rolled on, the international focus shifted from competition to cooperation. The space shuttle program symbolized this new era, with nations coming together to build the International Space Station and to send joint missions to Mars. These efforts turned sci-fi dreams into reality—establishing bases on the moon and sending manned missions to Mars laid the groundwork for future colonization.
The drive to inhabit Mars and the moon grew out of a blend of fear and fascination. Habitats expanded into fully functioning colonies, tapping into local resources to create self-sustaining environments. Technologies developed for extracting water and producing air on these barren worlds were critical for long-term survival.
In the shadows of these achievements, the Alcubierre Warp drive emerged as a revolutionary breakthrough, allowing humanity to leapfrog across vast stellar distances in a blink. The UNV Pathfinder and its sister ship, the UNV Exploration, were equipped with this technology to reconnect with colony ships sent out decades earlier in the Great Exodus. These vessels carried not just new drives but also vital updates in agriculture, medicine, and communications to ensure the colonies could thrive.
Each successful mission with the warp drives was a lifeline, not only physically connecting distant colonies to Earth but also weaving a web of interstellar human culture. Resources and knowledge flowed freely, bolstering each colony's chance of success. These ships were built to endure the extremes of space. They were equipped with advanced life-support systems and autonomous navigation, and they were fortresses navigating the unknown.
Meanwhile, Earth and its solar system colonies were pushed further into space. Massive construction projects like O'Neal Cylinders and space elevators dotted the celestial landscape, marking human progress in the cosmos. Each colony, from Mars's rugged plains to the cloud tops of Venus, developed its distinct culture and identity, united by their shared heritage and mutual challenges.
Space travel was fraught with hazards. Asteroids and solar flares were just the beginning; the cosmos was a place of deep unpredictability and danger. Despite these risks, during this era, not just hundreds of thousands but hundreds of millions of people chose to leave Earth. They embarked on journeys aboard new colony ships. These immense vessels were comparable in size to or even surpassed the O'Neal Cylinder habitats in scale. These ships were behemoths, carrying the very essence of Earth and the seeds of future colonies.
The exodus reached systems like Alpha Centauri A and B, Proxima Centauri, Sirius A and B, Barnard's Star, Luyten 726-8 (BL Ceti and UV Ceti), Ross 154 (V1216 Sagittarii), and Wolf 359. These stars became the bedrock of the United Nations of Sol, the precursor to what would be known as the "Human Sphere." It was a time of unprecedented growth and prosperity for humanity, expanding further than ever before in its history.
As humans settled in these new worlds, they faced not only the physical challenges of new environments but also profound isolation and the psychological burden of being light-years away from Earth. Each colony developed its own way of life, adapting to the unique conditions of their new worlds. The challenges of establishing a foothold in these alien places were immense. Local resources were harvested, and technologies were adapted to create habitable atmospheres and viable ecosystems.
Communication between the colonies and Earth was sparse, limited by the vast distances. Each message took years to travel, even at the speed of light, making each colony effectively isolated in its own right. This isolation led to a variety of cultural evolutions and deviations from Earth's norms, which in turn led to a tapestry of diverse human experiences spread across the stars.
The technologies that allowed these pioneers to travel to and settle new worlds were monumental. Fusion drives, quantum computers, and terraforming equipment were standard on these ships. Life aboard the colony ships was a mix of awe at the cosmic vistas and the mundanity of daily life in confined spaces. Generations were born and died in transit, with only stories of Earth as their legacy.
Each new home was a gamble against the cosmos, and not all were successful. Some colonies failed tragically, and their populations were lost to space or were unable to survive in harsh new environments. But for every failure, there was a story of remarkable success and resilience. The human spirit, driven by a need to explore and expand, thrived in adversity. Humanity never gave up and, over the next century, continued to send colonists to each of these star systems and began the process of colonizing each system.
In the stark expanses of space, every new settlement humanity attempted was a stark challenge against the cosmos, and the failures were as common as the successes. Many colonies were lost—whole populations vanished into the void or succumbed to the inhospitable climes of unfamiliar planets. Despite these setbacks, for every outpost that fell, others sprang up in defiance of the odds, showcases of human resilience and determination.
This relentless push into the unknown was not powered by naïve optimism but rather a hardened will to forge a path, wherever possible, to lay claim to the stars themselves. Humanity's spirit, unbroken by repeated failures, continued to drive its expansion across galaxies. Over the decades, this resolve only hardened as each failed colony became a lesson in survival, a step towards mastering life in the cosmos.
The stark realities of space tested human resolve to its limits. Beyond the safety of the Solar System, the universe emerged not just as a vast place of exploration but as a harsh environment of extreme conditions and existential threats. The initial failures taught valuable lessons in logistics, life support, and sustainable living on alien soil, which were crucial for future endeavors.
Colonization efforts became more sophisticated over time. Humans developed technologies that could convert inhospitable terrains into somewhat livable habitats. Advanced terraforming equipment and life-support systems became standard in new colonies. These tools represented more than mere survival mechanisms; they were symbols of humanity's unyielding quest to inhabit the stars.
As colonies spread further into the galaxy, each new venture was underpinned by an increasingly detailed understanding of interstellar travel and survival. The experiences gathered from every failed settlement informed the next, creating a cumulative body of knowledge that bolstered human persistence. The drive to expand took on a rhythm of its own, a cycle of trial, error, and success that slowly but surely extended the reach of human civilization.
This cycle was reflected in the evolution of colonial policies and technologies. From the early days of rudimentary habitats to the development of massive, self-sustaining complexes that could house thousands, the growth was palpable. Each successful colony served as a proof of concept for the next. With each launch, humanity's footprint in the galaxy grew larger.
The colonies themselves varied wildly—a testament to human ingenuity and the diverse environments encountered. Some were burrowed into asteroids, others sprawled across red Martian sands or nestled in the volatile cloud tops of Venus. Each presented unique challenges and required bespoke solutions to make them habitable.
Interstellar ships, equipped with the latest in warp drive technology, ferried resources between these colonies. They were lifelines essential for maintaining the flow of essential supplies and personnel. These vessels were also carriers of culture and connection, linking distant humans across the void of space.
Despite the vast distances and slow communications, a network of human presence began to stitch together disparate points of light into a coherent tapestry of colonies. This network was more than a mere chain of outposts; it was the backbone of a burgeoning interstellar society—a network that held potential not only for survival but for a new era of human prosperity.
However, this expansion was not without its darker aspects. The harsh conditions of space required strict governance and often harsh penalties for breaches of colony protocol. Life in these new worlds was rigidly structured, a necessity to maintain order in environments where even a small mistake could be fatal.
Each new settlement was a dice roll against the vast uncertainties of space, and many did not survive. Failures were frequent; entire colonies vanished into the void or succumbed to the inhospitable conditions of their newfound planets. The loss of life was substantial, casting a shadow over the ambitious interstellar expansion efforts. However, each disaster also hardened the resolve of those who remained. The cumulative knowledge gained from these failures informed future endeavors, refining the protocols and technologies needed to endure and thrive in alien environments.
Despite the high stakes and frequent setbacks, human resolve remained unshaken. The determination to push forward, to establish a foothold in the cosmos, was fueled by necessity and the innate human drive to explore. As each failed colony became a lesson learned, the strategies for survival evolved. More robust life support systems were developed, and habitats were designed to be more adaptable to the unpredictable conditions of new worlds.
The stark reality of these endeavors was that many who left Earth would never return. They journeyed knowing the risks—trading the safety of their home planet for the promise of a new start on distant, uncharted worlds. This was the cost of progress, paid willingly by those driven by a vision of humanity's future among the stars.
With each new wave of colonists, technology and experience accumulated, reducing the risks and increasing the chances of success. Ships became more advanced, equipped with better navigation systems and life-support capabilities. Colonization techniques also improved, with genetic engineering playing a crucial role in adapting human physiology to extraterrestrial environments.
The harshness of space demanded a relentless pursuit of efficiency and sustainability. Resources were scarce, and logistical challenges were immense. The vast distances between colonies meant that each had to be largely self-sufficient. Communication lags, sometimes spanning years, forced these communities to develop a high degree of autonomy.
Over the centuries, this relentless expansion forged a new breed of human. These spacefarers were tough, adaptable, and fiercely independent. Their lives, spent on the frontier of human existence, were a testament to the species' tenacity. They cultivated their new worlds, turning barren landscapes into bustling colonies. These settlements eventually grew into hubs of culture and technology, distinct yet still connected to their ancestral home by shared history and common humanity.
Yet, the expansion was not without its darker aspects. The isolation of distant colonies often led to psychological strain and societal breakdown. In some cases, governance structures collapsed under the weight of external pressures and internal conflicts. Pirates and marauders, drawn by the wealth of fledgling colonies, became a significant threat, leading to the establishment of militarized zones and the deployment of defense forces.
As humans adapted to life in space, they also had to contend with the presence of other sentient species. Initial interactions were cautious and fraught with tension and misunderstandings. Some encounters led to conflict, others to alliances. These relationships were complex, shaped by a mix of diplomacy, trade, and, occasionally, warfare.
Humanity's venture into interstellar space fundamentally transformed its cultural and identity landscapes. As humans spread across the stars, encountering diverse environments and nurturing colonies on planets ranging from Mars to far-flung systems, the challenges of survival and the ethical dimensions of expansion pressed hard on their collective psyche.
Values long held sacred on Earth were reevaluated in the face of new realities. The discovery of life—fauna and flora—on other planets during these colonization efforts marked a pivotal shift. While no sentient alien species were encountered, the existence of alien ecosystems was profound. It highlighted not only humanity's isolation in the cosmos but also its responsibilities.
On Alpha Centauri, the first successful integration of Earth's lifeforms with alien biomes set a precedent. Genetic manipulation technologies were refined, allowing Earth's organisms to coexist with and enhance these extraterrestrial habitats. Conservation efforts were paramount; preserving the integrity and diversity of alien ecosystems became a moral imperative as much as a scientific endeavor.
Each colony, from the red dust of Mars to the lush jungles of distant exoplanets, became a testbed for these principles. They were microcosms where human ingenuity, ethical considerations, and ecological stewardship intersected. Through these experiences, humanity did not just spread through space; it grew, evolved, and redefined what it meant to be human in the vast expanse of the universe.
Through all these trials, the human spirit's resilience shone brightly. Never deterred by the enormity of their challenges, humans continued to push the boundaries of their known universe. Each colony, each ship, and each life represented a thread in the vast tapestry of human endeavor in space—a relentless march toward an uncertain but ceaselessly pursued future.
Chapter Two
Beginning of Entry…
StarDate: Redacted
Perspective: Noah Stark
Species: Human, Humanoid Mammalian Species, no tail.
Description: 5 feet 2 inches [1.6 meters] to 6 feet 9 inches [2.1 meters] average height. 185 lbs [84 kilograms] average weight.
Longevity: 70 to 500-year life expectancy with life extension medical tech.
Unique Trait: Resilience and Indomitable Will.
Vessel: ICV The Argonaut
Location: New Eden Star Cluster
Noah, his gaze locked on the viewport, watched the ancient ship float aimlessly among the asteroids. The ICV The Argonaut, under his skilled control, edged closer, enabling the deployment of EVA suits for inspection. Behind him, his mother, Gwendolyn Stark, and his sisters, Jane and Joan, prepared for the walk, their movements a blend of anticipation and professionalism. The ship, a silent relic of a bygone era, revealed no signs of life, a fact confirmed by both Shinra Hinaba and Serenity, the Argonaut's AI.
This discovery, hidden among the celestial debris, was a treasure. It wasn't just a ship; it was a gateway to unparalleled recognition for the Shinra-Stark-Daiwa Mining Group. While the Argonaut and its crew focused on this historical artifact, the rest of the fleet mined the surrounding asteroids, harvesting resources critical for the survival of distant colonies.
Hinaba's voice, laced with a mix of excitement and concern, snapped Noah back to the present. "Focus, Noah!" she said, her fist-bumping Noah's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "We've got a lot riding on bringing this ship in intact."
"I know, I know! Just relax, Hinaba! I've got this," Noah assured her, his attention riveted to the controls. His reputation as the fleet's top pilot wasn't unfounded, a fact even the skeptical private military contractors had come to acknowledge. Almost as if summoned by their conversation, the Director's face appeared on the communications screen next to Hinaba, an uncanny timing that suggested he was closely monitoring their progress.
It was then that Director Shinra Senzo's image flickered onto the communications screen, his timing almost too perfect. "What's your status, Noah?" he asked, a brief glance toward his daughter betraying his deeper concerns. Despite his reservations about Noah's closeness with Hinaba, he was willing to see where their partnership might lead, a stance influenced by discussions with Noah's father.
"We're in!" Gwendolyn's voice crackled through the comms, marking their successful approach. But their moment of triumph was shattered by a distress signal, a desperate call cutting through the static. Elaine and Beth Frost, Noah's cousins, scrambled to decipher it, their faces etched with growing alarm.
After a tense moment, Beth's face drained of color, but it was Eliane who eventually shared the grim news, which was dire: "An unknown force has attacked New Eden. Their defenses are falling…" The weight of their words hung heavy in the bridge. An unseen adversary had breached the colony's defenses, leaving them vulnerable. The realization that any hope of immediate assistance from the USSA or SFR was weeks or even a full stellar month away if at all, underscored the gravity of their situation. With the defense fleet in ruins, their only hope lay with the ICV Ishimura, and the hired PMC mercenary group onboard, initially engaged to fend off pirates, might now be their only hope against this new and formidable threat.
Silence enveloped the bridge as the magnitude of the crisis dawned on them. They were alone, far from help, facing a threat of unknown proportions. Noah felt a tightness in his jaw, anger and resolve mixing in equal measure. The prospect of what lay ahead was daunting, yet there was no room for doubt. They had to act swiftly.
Gwendolyn's voice broke the silence, her command clear. "We need to act, and quickly. Our priority is the safety of this crew and ensuring we can lend aid to New Eden. Noah, plot a course back. We have to prepare for what's to come."
Hinaba, her usual levity gone, nodded. "We have the Ishimura, and we're not defenseless. Let's make sure we're ready for whatever's out there."
As Noah adjusted the ship's course, a sense of determined urgency took hold. They were heading back, not just to confront a threat, but to defend their home, their people.
Director Senzo's voice crackled through the communication channel, his tone tinged with impatience yet seeking reassurance. "It would be great to know what the status of your progress is, Noah," he pressed, his words carrying a sense of urgency.
Noah could sense the weight of expectation in Director Senzo's inquiry. Despite the pressure, Noah remained composed, and his years of experience in the field allowed him to maintain a calm demeanor even in the face of such scrutiny. With a steady voice, he replied, "We're making steady progress, Director. I'll provide you with a detailed update shortly."

He paused as he focused on the holo-Feed in front of him and analyzed the available data in real-time thanks to his military-grade holo-NeuralSyne Implant. "We're adjusting course," Noah replied, his tone firm yet marked by an undercurrent of urgency. "Heading back to New Eden. We'll be ready." 

In the silence that followed, a collective resolve fortified them. They were facing the unknown, as the derelict ship could bring untold bounty from within its hull.
Director Senzo's command carved through the static a clear mandate that reset their priorities. "Noah, before you depart the asteroid belt, I am dispatching a Porter Tug to commandeer the derelict ship. It's our top priority... Get that ship secure before you Skip Jump back to the ICV Argos-1. That is a Prime Directive!" His voice, a blend of authority and urgency, left no room for debate.
Noah, hands steady on the controls, glanced briefly at the communications panel. The weight of the directive pressed into him, a stark reminder of the stakes involved. He turned, catching the gaze of his crew, a silent signal that it was time to adapt their plan. The crew exchanged quick, significant glances, each understanding the gravity of the order. The derelict ship, an ancient relic floating among the asteroids, was not just another find—it was a piece of history, potentially holding untold knowledge and value. The directive from Director Shinra Senzo underscored its importance, not just to their mission but to the broader ambitions of the Shinra-Stark-Daiwa Mining Group.
Noah's mind went back over the meaning of what such an order entailed. Refusing to follow the directive would most certainly spell the end of his career. On one hand, he wanted to help those in need and who were under siege by an unknown force. The New Eden Star Cluster was not just a single system but a series of star systems in close proximity to one another. Noah and the rest of the ICV Argos-1 collective fleet were mining ore around Eden-159; currently, the planets were still being colonized, but in ten years, that would change. Our job was to mine ore to return to Eden-109, one of the 1,119 star systems in the New Eden Cluster.
The directive was clear: any new discovery in the outer rims of human space takes top priority above all other mandates, and the crew of The Argonaut was ready. Despite the risks, the potential rewards were too significant to ignore. As preparations for the operation began in earnest, the sense of unity and purpose among the crew was palpable. Each member knew their role and was prepared to execute it with precision. Noah Stark, standing firm at the helm, nodded sharply. "Understood, Director. We'll secure the derelict and rendezvous with the Argos-1 as planned." His voice was calm, a stark contrast to the racing thoughts behind his composed exterior. The task was daunting, yet his confidence in his crew's abilities was unshakeable.
Shinra Hinaba, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and concern, shifted in her search. Her fingers were already dancing across the console, setting up communication channels. Her role as the ship's specialist meant she was well-versed in the technicalities of such operations, and her confidence was discernible. "We'll need to coordinate with the tug. I can set up a direct comms link and guide their approach." Her voice, usually light and teasing in their private moments, now carried the professional edge of her role.
Gwendolyn Stark, the matriarch and seasoned explorer, nodded in agreement. "Time is of the essence. Let's secure that ship and make sure it's safe for the tug. We can't afford any delays." Her experience shone through, her demeanor calm yet commanding, rallying her children and the crew with a few choice words. "Everything is by the book. This ship could be a significant find for us," she stated, her voice firm.
Elaine, renowned for her cool demeanor under pressure, exchanged a glance of shared determination with Beth. With a nod, they moved to their stations, their movements precise and efficient, a testament to years of seamless coordination in the face of adversity.
Beth, known for her unwavering focus and quick thinking, shared a silent understanding with Elaine. Together, they pivoted to their respective stations, their synchronization seamless and instinctual. In the heart of chaos, their unity forged a stronghold of resolve, a beacon of stability amid the storm.
"We're on it, Mom," Elaine stated, her hands flying over her console, prepping the EVA suits for another walk.
Beth said decisively, "We'll be ready to assist the Tug team with anything they need." Beth nodded in agreement, both sisters moving to gather the necessary gear. Their well-honed skills in extravehicular activities made them indispensable for the task at hand.
Elaine intonated as she focused on the external sensors: "I'll keep an eye out for any debris or potential hazards for the tug. We don't want any surprises."
Grace Frost, the voice of strategy and foresight, considered the logistics. "Once the ship is secure, we'll need to plot a careful course back. The extra mass will affect our jump calculations."
Jennifer Stark, my youngest sister, a blend of youth and sharp intellect, nodded. Jennifer's hands moved to assist Shinra with the communications setup. Meanwhile, Jamie reviewed the ship's specs, ensuring they had all the data needed for a smooth operation. "Let's ensure we have all the data we need for a smooth operation," she said, her tone serious, betraying the gravity of their task.
Jamie Stark, also my youngest sister, focused on the ship's specs. Her hands moved deftly over the controls as she reviewed the data. "Absolutely," she chimed in, her voice steady as she continued her meticulous review. "We can't afford any oversights if we want this mission to succeed." Her words echoed Jennifer's sentiment, highlighting the importance of thorough preparation.
Jamie added, "I'll run a diagnostic on the derelict's structural integrity. We need to know it can withstand the jump."
Director Senzo's image flickered on the screen once more, a stern reminder of the urgency. "Even if you return now, the fleet can't make the FTL jump until all ships have returned to their hangars and docking bays. You have time to tug the derelict ship back to the ICV Argos-1."
Noah, absorbing every detail, finally responded. "Understood, Director. We'll secure the ship and ensure it's ready for the tug. Argonaut out." His voice, firm and confident, belied the racing thoughts of potential complications and the precision required for their new task.
The directive was clear, and the crew of the Argonaut was ready. Despite the risks, the potential rewards were too significant to ignore. As preparations for the operation began in earnest, the sense of unity and purpose among the crew was palpable. The bridge buzzed with activity, each member of the crew moving with purposeful speed. The Argonaut, once a silent observer among the stars, was now a hive of focused energy, ready to execute a directive that could very well shift the balance of their task. Each member knew their role and was prepared to execute it with precision. The arduous task of securing the derelict ship was directive from above; it was a challenge they were all eager to meet head-on.
"Let's get to work," Noah said, his gaze sweeping over his crew and his family. "We have a ship to secure." His statement, simple yet laden with unspoken responsibility, set them into motion, each person aware of the part they played in the intricate dance of space exploration and survival. Aboard the Argonaut, there was no room for doubt. Only action, determination, and the collective will to succeed in the face of the unknown. Then, they would make the FTL jump to Eden-109 to aid the colonists under siege.
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I accidentally posted this to my username instead of my subreddit so here is is:
The Mortgage, Part 3
“Fuck,” I said as I drove to work in the old beater that only started on the fourth try because it could tell that I was pissed off. Ray’s case started at two o’clock, and I was heading to the office to get ready. “Fuck fuck fuckity fucking fuck. Fuck.” I’d wanted to tell Angela about Ray’s case, and how I was sorry that I hadn’t wanted to help him, but now I would, I would help him, and I would win, but then I’d gotten her all riled up on something else, something totally different, something way more serious.
My wife had given me a triple ultimatum: fix things up with her father, save idiot Ray from Sy-Co Corp., and somehow find a downpayment for the place she wanted to buy, in the little townhouse infill project in Bixity. It was like demanding I do a double bank shot, and then run over to the baseball diamond and hit a home run after first pointing to where it would land, Babe Ruth style.
Angela was mad at me, seriously mad. She’d slipped out that morning before I was even awake, sliding quietly past me on the couch. I didn’t realize she was gone until I heard the faint click of the front door closing. I jumped up, tripped over a blanket, and by the time I got up and my robe on, the elevator down the hall dinged, and Angela was gone before I opened the apartment door.
I swore at myself some more and pounded the steering wheel, “I fucked up,” I said, several times as I hit the wheel over and over again, until I accidentally honked it, and then looked all sheepish when the guy in front of me gave me the finger. I reached my office without further incident, but instead of walking in the front door, I went further down the hall, and into the office of Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, LL.D, the man with the finest speaking voice I ever heard. When I entered his office I forgot for a minute about Angela and her father and sleeping on the couch the night before. I forget about everything, except the reason that I had come to Cecil-Rowe’s office: to stump him with a legal problem that I had solved, but which I was pretty sure he could not. In other words, I had come to preen and to brag and to boast. No one likes a showoff, and I had come to show off. I put my hand on the door and turned the knob. After a brief pause, I flung open the door.
“I’m a goddamn genius,” I said as I strolled into the older man’s office.
I noticed the echo of a hastily closed desk drawer hanging in the air. In Aaron’s office, where I rented space, a sudden act of concealment implied cocaine, but with Cecil-Rowe, the item in question was probably a mickey of vodka. I had the sense that he’d been drinking a bit before I arrived, but his powers of observation were unimpaired, and when he looked into my face, his expression showed sympathy, and actual pain.
“What have you done now?” he said, as set the papers before him to one side, and readied himself to hear my latest tale of legal brilliance.
“I’m a genius,” I said.
“Oh dear. Have a seat.”
“No really, I am. I’m a genius. I got this case that everyone says you can’t win, but I’m gonna win it, and when I do, I’m gonna look like a genius.” Cecil-Rowe gave me a sad indulgent smile.
“Whenever you tell me you’re a genius, I am always concerned about what is to follow. When you get wrapped up in what you call your genius, you tend to ignore the more mundane things we lawyers have to do to win a case. You think you’re going to win by genius alone.”
“Let me tell you why I’m a goddamn genius.” With effort I wiped the smug, self-satisfied expression that was on my face.
“Tell me why you’re a genius,” Cecil-Rowe said, “while I pour us a coffee.” He heaved his bulky body up from his chair and shuffled over to a counter. He picked up a carafe of hot coffee sitting on a hot plate, and poured two cups. “Speak,” he said, handing me one. I took a sip of the coffee, and told Cecil-Rowe the tale of Cousin Ray: his purchase of a franchise from Sy-Co Corp, its swift demise, the crash and burn in Commercial Court, the Minutes of Settlement, the seventy-one kilometer limit, and lastly, Sy-Co’s motion scheduled for two p.m. that very day, seeking an interim injunction shutting down Ray’s place.
Cecil-Rowe absorbed all this without the need to take notes. Instead, he sat back while he eyed me, taking the occasional sip of coffee, and smiling at the extravagant flourishes and details that brought out Ray’s story to full effect.
“Obviously Ray is dead on arrival,” he said, “but I guess this is the part where you tell me how you’re going to win.”
So I told him how I was going to win, but it didn’t have the desired effect. “I told ya I’m a genius, Mr. C,” cueing him to applaud, to admit what a brilliant lawyer I was. But there was no applause from Mark Cecil-Rowe. He looked at me without so much as a smile.
“You can cling to that genius notion as a consolation prize, after you get whipped this afternoon in court.”
“No way,” I said, “not a chance. I got this thing won hands down. I’m gonna kick ass in court today and--”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that, if you don’t have evidence?”
“What?”
“Evidence, Calledinthe9os. It’s what lawyers like me use to beat geniuses like you.”
“But I’m gonna win without proof. I don’t need proof. The argument I’m gonna make, relies on simple facts that are totally obvious, so the judge is gonna--” Cecil-Rowe stuck up his hand.
“Stop right there. I know what’s coming. You’re going to ask the judge to take *judicial notice.”
And he was right. That was exactly what I was going to do.
There are some things so obvious that you didn’t have to prove them, things that everyone knew. You didn’t have to prove that water froze at zero degrees and boiled at a hundred, or that Bixity was between West Bay and East Bay.
“You got it,” I said, “judicial notice all the way.”
“You’re going to tell the judge that the centerpiece of your argument, the lynchpin of your case is a fact known to pretty well everyone, and so you don’t need proof.”
“Exactly,” I said. Cecil-Rowe took another sip of his coffee, and left me hanging in the silence for a while before he spoke.
“If that’s true, then why does coming up with that argument make you a genius?”
“Oh, I said,”I didn’t think of that.”
“It is acceptable to rely on judicial notice for minor, ancillary points. But you never should walk into court thinking that the court will take judicial notice of your entire defence. It’s just too risky.”
“But how am I going to rustle up a witness in time for this afternoon?”
“Worry about that after you leave my office. I can’t help you with that. What I want to know, is why you’re doing this at the last minute.”
“What makes you think I’m doing this at the last minute?”
“Because you never would have resorted to judicial notice if you were properly prepared. If you’d opened this case a bit earlier, you’ve have everything lined up. But you got to work on it late, and so you want to rely on judicial notice. You’ve messed up, Calledinthe90s, and you know what my rule is when you mess up.” Cecil-Rowe didn’t extend aid to me, until I admitted the error of my ways. It was infuriating, but he was inflexible. So I fessed up.
“My idiot cousin Ray’s been trying to retain me for almost two weeks, but I was putting him off because I was mad at him. So now my wife’s mad at me, and if I don’t win this case, I’m dead. Plus her dad’s mad at me too and --” My brain roared into overdrive, a mess of family and law and fear, and at the centre of it, thoughts of Angela’s anger and her father. My mind took off, and then came to an instant halt at a helpful destination.
“Yes?” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Sorry. I just realized how to solve the evidence problem. Look, can I ask you about the thing I actually came here to ask you about?”
“You have a problem that’s worse than having no evidence? What could be worse than -- oh. You don’t have a retainer. Your client doesn't have any money.”
“Exactly. How do I get paid? That’s the problem.” I explained that Ray had no money, as in none, and that if he did have money, he wouldn’t spend it on me. Instead, he’d go back downtown and throw his cash at some big firm, who would take on his case, and proceed to lose it in a calm, careful, sober manner, ending in a reporting letter to Ray telling him that he’d lost.
“Now that’s a problem I can solve,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Really? ‘Cause I can’t see a way around it. I think I’m gonna have to do this for free, and that really pisses me off.” Cecil-Rowe shook his head.
“You may or may not get paid, but you can set things up so that if you win, you’ll win pretty good.”
“How? Ray’s a deadbeat. Tapped out.”
“But is he desperate?”
“Totally. The first time he failed, he lost his own money, but if he goes under this time, he’s taking family money with him, and he’ll be the black sheep forever.”
“And he’s using family to emotionally blackmail you into helping him?’
“Like no shit. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. I’m like a goddamn slave, being forced to work for free.”
“Never fear, young apprentice. I have just the thing in mind.” He reached into a drawer, and pulled out a form. “Fill in the blanks, and have him sign.”
I looked it over, and saw that the document was a retainer agreement. I whistled. “Holy shit. If he signs this, he’s almost my slave.”
“Close, but not quite” Cecil-Rowe said, “the Latin term for this is "contractus pro venditione animae"”. It’s the ultimate retainer agreement. Once Ray signs that, you own any cause of action he has against the person suing him. You can settle the case on any terms you like, and you get to keep whatever proceeds there are.” Cecil-Rowe placed the folder back in a drawer, and from his manner you could tell that the interview was over.
“Awesome, Mr. C. I’ll call you from Commercial Court when we’re done.”
“Commercial Court?” he said.
“Yeah, Commercial Court.”
“This just keeps getting worse. Take notes, Calledinthe90s, while I school you on Commercial Court. Commercial Court is a jungle, and without preparation, you’ll get savaged.”
“That’s what happened to Ray when--”
“Take notes, young apprentice,” he said, tossing me a pad and a pen. He started to lecture, and I took notes that I have with me to this day, in a safe deposit box downstairs in the vault at Mega Bank Main Branch.
* * *
By the time Cecil-Rowe finished schooling me, it was close to ten, and the case started at two. I didn’t have much time. I ran down the hall to my office, and called Ray’s restaurant. No answer. Then I called Ray’s house. I expected to get Ray’s wife, but the man himself answered.
“You’re not at work. Why aren’t you at work?”
“Sy-Co Corp served all my employees with a cease and desist letter. They all got scared and took off. The place is shut down.”
“You gotta fax machine at home?” He did, and asked why.
“I’m taking your case, but only if you sign the paper I’m about to send and fax it back.” I sent the fax, and five minutes later it came back signed, and it was official: Ray had sold me his legal soul.
I went out to the parking lot, got into my beater and drove fast. In less than thirty minutes I reached my destination. I knocked on the door, and when it opened, my diminutive mother-in-law poked out her head. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said.
“Sorry, Mrs. M, but I’m in a super hurry. I gotta rush to get to court to help Ray. But first, I gotta speak to Dr. M.”
“He’s not here,” she said.
“Not here?”
“He’s on his way to his bridge game. He left just a few minutes ago.”
“Where’s the club?”
“He’s walking there,” she said, and pointed down the street.
“Thanks.” I got into my car and headed where Mrs. M had pointed, passing big houses and new project with an “Opening Soon” sign. And walking past it was the figure of Dr. M.
“Hey, Dr. M,” I called out the window. He stopped and looked around, startled. But he didn’t see me, not at first.
“It’s me, Dr. M. Me, Calledin90s.” He leaned forward as if to see me better. I got out of the car.
“Is something wrong with Angela? Or the baby?”
“No, no not at all, sorry to scare you, it’s nothing like that. I need your help.”
“Oh.” He started walking again, and now it was my turn to be a bit stunned, watching my father-in-law walk away from me. I caught up with him in a few quick strides.
“Listen, I really need your help.”
“And I really need to get to a bridge game.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about Ray.” That brought him to a halt. He turned to me, angrier even than he’d been the night before.
“Did you drive all the way out here just to make fun of me? To remind me of how you won, distracting me with nonsense about Ray’s case?”
“I mean it,” I said, “I can win Ray’s case. I can prove it in a few words.”
“Prove it, then.” So I did. I spoke words, only a few words, but they were the right words to speak to Dr. M, for the words I spoke were in his language, words that he understood perfectly.
“I understand,” he said, “you’ve come to boast some more, to prove that you were right after all.”
“I want to win Ray’s case, but I don’t have any proof of what I’m saying.”
“You don’t need to prove that two plus two is four.”
“This, I gotta prove, and I need you to help me prove it. I need you to come to court with me, as my witness.”
“I can’t do that. I didn’t witness anything.”
“As my witness. My expert witness.” Unlike a normal witness, an expert witness can give an opinion. An expert is there not to advocate, I explained to Dr. M but to instruct, to teach.
“My bridge partner won’t be very happy,” he said.
“But Ray will, and so will Mrs. M and Angela and--”
“Very well. Do you have a cell phone? We can call the bridge club from my car.”
* * *
We were on the highway getting close to the downtown exit, when my wife called my cell phone. Back then cell phone service was super expensive and my wife only used it for emergencies. Or when she was really angry. I picked up the phone, wondering which it would be.
“I’m so happy that you made things up with my father,” she said.
“How did you know?”
“My mother called. She says you took him with you, that you went out together.”
“He’s with me right now,” I said.
“Where are you going?”
“To court. Going to court to win Ray’s case for him.”
“And you brought my father with you to watch?” She was so happy, I could hear in her voice that she was smiling. “That’s a great way to bond with him, Calledinthe90s. Look, I’m sorry I got so mad at you earlier, I really am. My dad’s a bit too sensitive and--”
“Sorry, Angela, your dad’s not coming to watch me.”
“Why is he with you, then?”
“He’s my witness,” I said.
“What?”
“His expert witness,” Dr. M said, loudly enough for Angela to hear.
My wife’s anger exploded into the phone. She wanted to know how I could expose her elderly, vulnerable father to the stress of a court case. I tried to tell her how I needed him, how there was literally no one else I could turn to, that her father was an expert, a true expert, and the judge was legally bound to believe him, but Angela heard none of this.
“Look,’ I said, “I promise you that--” And then I lowered the phone and pushed the red button, terminating the call. I’d learned that the best way to hang up on someone, was to do it when I was doing the talking. That way it looked like the call had dropped.
“I’m going to steal that move,” Dr. M said.
We rolled into the parking lot. I grabbed the cloth bag out of the back of my car, the bag that held my law robes and shirt and tabs, plus the other stuff I needed for court. It was one-thirty, still thirty minutes to go, not a lot of time to get robed and ready for court. It was just past one-forty five when I, with Dr. M in tow, opened the door to a courtroom on the eighth floor of an old insurance building that had been converted into a courthouse, the home of Commercial Court.
“Commercial Court is an exclusive club,” Cecil-Rowe had explained to me earlier that day, “the legal playground of the rich and powerful. They’ll know instantly that you’re not one of them.” And he was right. It was clear from the moment I walked in that I did not belong, for I was the only lawyer in robes. Everyone else was wearing a suit, and not some cheap thing off the rack like I wore.
There were a half-dozen lawyers present, and after they saw me, they exchanged knowing looks about the stranger amongst them. I ignored them, and walked up to the Registrar. I told him the case I was on, and he signed me in.
“First time in Commercial Court?” he said, eyeing my robes. “You know you don’t have to be robed in Commercial Court.” In other Superior Courts, you always had to bring your robes and get all dressed up. But Commercial Court had its own set of rules, and in the court for rich people, their lawyers did not have to wear robes.
“You’re here on the Sy-Co case?” a young woman asked. She was a junior like me, give a year or two either way. She was dressed in the finest downtown counsel fashion, some designer thing that Angela would know if she saw it.
“Just got retained,” I said.
“You know there’s no adjournments, right? We don’t do adjournments in Commercial Court. I’m just trying to be helpful, because I don’t think you've been here before. You know you don’t have to be robed, right?
“So I heard.”
“So where’s your material? You haven’t served anything, so how do you plan to argue your case?”
“I gotta witness,” I said.
She smiled. “There’s no viva voce evidence, either. Affidavit only.”
“We’ll see what the judge says.” There was a knock from the other side of the door to the judge’s chambers, and then the man himself entered.
I was amazed to see that even the judge wasn’t wearing a robe; instead, he was wearing a light coloured suit and a bright blue bow tie. He was dressed as good as the lawyers, all part of the downtown Commercial Court club, the playground of the richest and most powerful corporations in the City.
“Commercial Court’s not like other courts,” Cecil-Rowe told me earlier that day, explaining that most cases were over in fifteen minutes or less. A plaintiff showed up with some papers, and had a short consultation with the judge. The judge signed an order granting an injunction, or taking away a man’s business, or freezing his money. Commercial Court is where you went to get quick and simple court orders that eviscerated your opponent before the case even got going.
Defendants would appear sometimes in Commercial Court, Cecil-Rowe explained, but it was usually their last time up. Defendants always died a quick death in Commercial Court.
The judge took his seat, and then looked over the lawyers before him. His eyes moved along, and then stopped when they reached me, the one lawyer who was not like the others.
“You don’t need robes in Commercial Court,” the judge said to me.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” I said.
“What case are you on?”
I told him.
“He’s filed no responding materials,” my opponent said, “nothing at all.”
“I’m just vetting the list,” the judge said, “I’ll circle back to you two in a few minutes.” I listend while the judge vetted the rest of the afternoon list: a Mareva, plus a Norwich order, with counsel on those cases sent away in a matter of minutes.
Now the courtroom was almost empty, just the judge, two lawyers, the registrar and my star witness and father-in-law, Dr. M, who sat in the back of the courtroom dressed in an old business suit, put on hastily at his place two hours earlier, when I urged him to hurry it up, to not waste so much time on picking a suit.
“Back to you,” the judge said, addressing my opponent, “I thought this was an uncontested matter. That’s what your confirmation sheet said.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honour, but I didn’t know until I got here that the case was defended.”
“I got retained at the last minute,” I said, “barely three hours ago, the day after I read the papers. But I’m ready to go, ready to argue the case on the merits, so long as you grant me an indulgence, and let me call my witness, to let him testify in person instead of by affidavit, there being no time for me to draft anything.”
Opposing counsel was on her feet. “That’s not how things are done in Commercial Court,” she said, “or any court that I know of, for that matter. My friend (that’s what they make lawyers call each other in court, ‘my friend,’ even though you might hate the other guy’s guts),” the lawyer said, “my friend should have served his responding materials and filed them with the court. Instead, he’s taken us totally by surprise.”
“I’m sorry my friend is surprised by opposition,” I said, “but then consider, it’s my client’s livelihood that’s at stake. If my friend gets her injunction, Ray Telewu’s business is dead, and he loses everything. So yes, my client opposes the injunction, and yes, I’d like to call evidence.”
The judge didn’t consult the papers before him nor the books, but instead, he looked up at the big white clock on the courtroom wall. Its hands said two-fifteen.
“How long will your witness take, counsel?”
“In chief, ten minutes.” I’d practiced with Dr. M on the way in, and I was pretty sure he could do it in five, but I gave him a bit of extra time, just in case.
“We’ve got about two hours,” the judge said, “but I want to be fair to you and your client. Let’s take a fifteen minute recess so you can get instructions. Either we go ahead today with viva voce evidence, or we adjourn, and that will give Calledinthe90s time to file responding materials.”
When everyone came back, the junior’s boss was there, Senior Counsel, a heavy weight, one of those big guys downtown. Plus they brought this guy from Sy-Co Corp, the head of some bullshit division, with some bullshit title, Head of whatever, so that’s the title I’ll give him here. He was The Head. He was the man, the big cheese, the signer of the affidavit on which Sy-Co relied that day.
“What’s he doing here?” I asked Senior Counsel.
He stared at me, all lean and steel grey, looking every inch the hard hitting lawyer that commanded the biggest fees. “If you’re calling a live witness, then so can we. The Head will give evidence today, in advance of your client, so that the judge hears it from him first.” His junior smirked at me, and the two of them sat down, delighted that they’d thought of a way to one up me.
Except that they’d done it by exposing their client to cross-examination. The judge came in, allowed the Head to testify, and when he was done, I stood up.
“Just a few questions,” I said. Senior Counsel was stunned for an instant, and then he stood.
“This serves no purpose, Your Honour. The witness has confirmed the simple facts of his affidavit, and there’s no disputing it. Ray Telewu opened a restaurant less than seventy-one kilometres from Bixity City Hall, and that’s in breach of the Minutes of Settlement he signed.”
I did not bother to respond. Instead, I just stood, and I started to ask questions.
“Have a look at that map in your affidavit,” I said, and he did. I picked up my copy, and tore the map out of it. I passed it up to him.
“What do you notice about this map?”
“That it’s accurate,” the Head said, repeating his evidence in chief, amplifying it, talking about how the map contained perfect measurement.
“You will notice that the map is flat,” I said, laying it on the witness box before him.
“Of course it’s flat. That’s what maps are. Maps are flat.”
“But the earth is round,” I said, “or more properly, a sphere.” Senior Counsel was on his feet in an instant.
“What difference does that make?” he said.
“What you’ll hear from my expert witness, is that a flat map cannot accurately show Earth’s curves. A flat map distorts distances, and in this case, reduces them.”
“But that can’t be by very much.”
“In this case, by just over twenty meters,” Dr. M said from the back of the court.
“That’s my expert witness, the esteemed Dr. M.” I didn’t actually say Dr. M. Instead, I said his real name. But I’m not going to use the real names of my family here, so I’ll just keep calling him Dr. M. “Dr. M was a professor of Physics at the University of Bixity for almost thirty years. He has published numerous papers on particle physics, and is the first Canadian winner of the Wolf Prize for physics.”

• * * *

It went downhill after that for Sy-Co Corp. My father-in-law testified, explaining in simple language, language that even a child could understand, that the Earth was a sphere, that the shortest distance between two points on Earth was a curve, not a straight line. He summarized his calculations in plain English, dumbing down the math, so that everyone present imagined, if only for the moment, that they shared his understanding of a difficult mathematical equation.
Senior Counsel tried to cross-examine Dr. M, but it did not go well, my father-in-law indulging him, gently chiding him, continuing his explanations until the lawyer sat down, defeated by Dr. M’s mastery of the subject,his own lack of preparation and his inability to improvise. When counsel said that he had no further questions, the judge addressed us all.
“I’m not going to reserve, and I don’t think I need to tell everyone why. I think it will take about a minute for me to write a decision saying that the Earth is not flat. I’ll give you some more time after that, but after fifteen minutes, I”ll be back to render my decision.” He rose, everyone bowed, and he disappeared behind the door to judge’s chambers.
I pulled a piece of paper out of my file, and slammed it on the desk before Senior Counsel and his junior. “Fill in the blanks, and sign,” I said.
Dr. M’s head shot up at the commotion, and he shuffled over to see what was going on.
“What’s this?” Senior Counsel said, picking up the paper I gave him..
“Minutes of Settlement. You fill in a number, a big number, for the costs you gotta pay me. Your client signs, and then we’re done.” Senior Counsel opened his mouth to bargain, but I overrode him.
“You know your client’s going to lose; the judge made that obvious. Hurry up if you want to settle; we don’t have much time.”
At the end of most Canadian court cases, the loser has to pay at least part of the winner’s legal fees. That’s the way it’s been since forever, and I think it’s a good rule. Sy-Co Corp had lost, so it had to pay a good chunk of Ray’s costs, and Ray’s costs were somewhere between whatever bullshit figure I claimed they were, and where they actually ought to be. Senior Counsel took the paper over to his client. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back, with the form signed, and a number written in the blank space.
I’ll give it to Sy-Co Corp and their lawyer. It wasn’t a bullshit number, a low ball number. They gave me a real number, a number more like something I’d actually accept, a number that made sense to pay me in costs, in light of the success I’d had, and how I got it. It was a respectful number, a common sense number, and I appreciated it an awful lot.
I tossed the paper back at them.
“Add a zero,” I said, continuing on when Senior Counsel blanched, and his junior retreated a step. “I know what’s going on here. Your client sold mine a bullshit franchise, one with a history of failing.” The franchise had opened up again under a new owner not long after Ray had lost it and then it promptly failed again. Like I said at the start of this story, it’s an old story. It’s how some franchise companies make money. “Your client makes more money selling bullshit franchises doomed to fail, then it does from the honest ones that make money. So add a zero to that number, or Ray’s gonna sue you, class action and all that, for all the people you’ve fucked.”
The Head stepped forward from the benches and spoke to me.
“We get threats like that all the time, but no one follows through. They don’t have the money to fight us, and neither does your client. So go ahead and sue.”
“It’s true that Ray doesn’t have jack shit,” I said, “not a pot to piss in, but he’s my cousin, Ray is, and even if he doesn’t have money, he’s got me. Ray’s family, and for Ray, I’ll sue you guys for free. Hell, I’ll even pay the expenses. Plus I’m gonna put a jury notice in, too, come to think of it, ‘cause juries--”
Senior Counsel cut me off, and moved his client to the back of the courtroom. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back. I watched as Senior Counsel wrote a single digit on the Minutes, a zero, written right where I wanted it.
“You’ll have to initial the change,” I said to the Head of Sy-C0, and it gave me great satisfaction to watch him sign.
“Don’t forget,” I said the moment his pen stopped moving, “for the settlement to be valid, I need to get the money today. Right now.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” the Head said.
“Not if you want the settlement to stay in place. I’ll follow you back to your office, and you can put a cheque in my hands.”

• * * *

“What’s this?” my wife said when I entered the apartment later that day, after I’d driven Dr. M home, stopping first at a local pub for beers.
“It’s an absurdly expensive bunch of flowers,” I said, “although no flowers, however beautiful, however expensive, could expiate my--”
She took the flowers, and gave a kiss.
“My mom called. She told me what happened. You fixed things with my dad.”
“Yup,” I said. I had certainly done that. I’d made Dr. M a professor again, if only for a few minutes. Not only a professor, but an expert witness. The judge had declared him an expert in plain terms and Dr.M had beamed when he’d heard those words.
“And you won Ray’s case, too. But my mom didn’t know how, and I don’t know how you did it either.”
“I’ll tell you over dinner tonight,” I said.
“But we agreed no more dinners out; we have to save money, now that a baby’s coming.”
I passed her the envelope that I’d received a few hours before. She opened it, and took out a cheque, a cheque drawn up for an amount I specified, made payable to Mr. and Mrs. Calledinthe90s.
The moment I got that cheque, all I could think about was how my wife would react when I put it into her hands. I could not wait to see her eyes bulge, to hear her voice say “oh my god,” to hear her laugh.
She did none of these things. Instead, she cried.
“Does this mean we can buy a house?” The money wouldn’t be enough to buy a house, not nowadays, with prices being so crazy. But things were different back then in the 90s. Sure, the internet was barely a thing and cell phones were super expensive and a lot of things sucked, but I’ll give the nineties one thing: houses were cheap.
“I think so,” I said.

Campaign of Fur & Fang
Act:1 We are here for you “To be honest with you Mr. Speaker, as representative of my fair species, I must inform you and everyone at home watching this debate, that the Lycans only wish to help humanity with our gifts. We are here for you. Yes, times are very scary, especially for the human population that sees not one but two of cultures most feared mythical creatures in the fresh and not just frightening tales and big budget motion pictures”.
(The Rep. of the Lycans, Mr.Olaf Corvin starts the proceedings strong with a voice that demands one’s attention with his deep soothing tunes and leadership-like inflections)
“Why thank you, Mr. Corvin, for your small intro, as we all know, we are here tonight for a debate of most importance. According to the peace treaty signed by both the Lycanthrope and the Empusa. A treaty that ended thousands of years of bloodshed and horror that came into focus for humanity in the past 50 years. Both Lycans and Empusas decided that their treaty was holding both sides at bay but no more, both sides came to a way to end this fighting once and for all. Oddly enough, you both decided on a campaign in the vein of an election, one that is between the Empusa, vampires for the common human knowledge, and the Lycanthropes also known as werewolves. This will consist of a 3-night debate between Mr. Olaf Corvin for the Lycans and Ms.Elisabetha Harkin for the Empusa. At the end of the 3 nights, humanity will vote on either side on who is the dominant species, thus eliminating the other and holding power over us all. This first night will be for Mr. Corvin and the Lycan’s then the 2nd night will go to Ms. Harkin for her argument for the empusa. This being the first night we shall start with you, Mr. Corvin. So I’ll start with the question all of humankind wants to know. Just why did you and your kind think we (humans) should vote for you since we have dealt with werewolves for decades, that we know of at least? Do we have a chance in hell, pardon my speech, of continued existence”?
(The Speaker is direct and surprisingly unnerved by the intense presence of Mr. Corvin being, his stare alone is enough to make your hair stand on end.)
“First off, Thank you all for your cooperation, I know this is uncommon for anyone let alone all of you watching here and at home. So to answer your first part, Mr. Speaker, I have seen centuries of bloody battles both as a human and as a Lycan and one thing has remained constant, no matter who is doing the fighting, blood on both sides will fall and innocent lives will be lost to the violence…to end that I felt this was the better more humane way to go about it.
“So, Mr. Corvin, are you saying that this “Debate” is to determine who is to RULE over all of humanity and use us as nothing more than food and labor”?
“No, both the lycans and empusa met on neutral ground and under special conditions to ensure that no side had an advantage over the other and to hopefully come to a fair compromise to ending the rivalry that has hindered not just the Lycans, not just the empusa Mr. Speaker…but all that calls Gaia home. To the concern and the outlook for humans, do not worry, for we do not condone forced labor among anybody, although if humans wish to share in culture and knowledge we are more than willing to. We wish and welcome it. As for food, hmm, yes we do eat…meat but that's not to mean that we strictly eat humans, on the contrary many of my kind eat animals and most vegetation that the great Gaia provides us all. Not unlike humans do. Don’t forget Mr. Speaker, we lycans have learned to live among humans for generations and hope to continue to do so. Only this time, not to hide what we are and grow together”.
“Well said Mr. Corvin but on the point of what you just said about living with humans for generations. You and others have heard the legends and stories regarding depictions of were…excuse me, Lycans, throughout history and in many different cultures. My question for you is, of most of these claims and even eyewitness accounts of your kind…SLAUGHTERING humans by the thousands in the name of your God Gaia, some as recent as decades ago right here in the country alone. How can we (humans) expect to co-exist with the Lycans after all their destructive actions”?
“The horrors that humanity has both witnessed and have been a part of are not unknown to my kind. We (Lycans) want to set the record straight, as you humans have said. History has been looking at us Lycans as like a plague, a horrifying virus that is contracted through a bite on a full moon, all that isn’t true. You won’t be turned through a bite or a scratch for us. To be one of us, you must first denoise all ties to materials, all bonds for greed, to truly understand freedom…the true freedom of no restrictions to your bond to the Almighty Gaia for she has given us this blessed freedom. Us, yes my family, my pack if you will, have seen the glory of Gaia on that glorious day so many many centuries ago when she took pity on my ancestors. Seeing them in chains of iron, beaten by their masters with barbed whips and prodded with their silver-tipped rods, the great Gaia saw out of all this display of cruelty and hatred that she began to weep”. (Corvin stops and takes a minute to compose himself, turning away slightly from the crowd hiding a small swell of tears.)
“Are you telling me... that to be counted among your kind, to become a Lycan in your community one simply can’t just be bitten but has to fully give themselves over to your way of life? That is truly a far cry from the movie monsters of old have portrayed. It sounds like it is more than some affection contracted from a bite or a curse, sounds like it’s more of a religious act than anything. What is the history of your kind then? Help us understand what the path of Gaia means and how it’s the true path to walk in life”.
“Well, Mr. Speaker, the first thing to learn from us is that under the guiding hand of Gaia, we (Lycans) have lived together with no sense of division amongst our own. No civil wars between ourselves, no reason to, when we all share a common goal of pleasing the great Gaia. Her ways are not strange to anyone honestly, she first bestowed these charges to our progenitor, my father, over 324,000 moon phases ago. It was on that night my father fell in battle against his rival and at that moment, she gave him a choice. Either turn away from the folly of the false gods and temptations of man and follow the path of her grace and in doing so will unite him with his enemies and end the wars that drove them to kill and taint the grounds of her body, or to simply deny her and embrace the world as one big lie and die alone on the ground and to be nothing more but a footnote of the grand story yet to be told”.
“So he chose her over death, to be her devoted one. Her avatar to bring out and show that she is the way to peace and prosperity. Whereas others only want to destroy and claim pieces of her through war and death. She gives it freely to her children. That is what it means to be one of us. Unlike my opposition, who brings death to all, they have the sink of death on them and should not be allowed to continue…I’m sorry Mr. Speaker. I wish to not have it end the way they offer and truly wish for peace for all who LIVE…and share the gift that has given my kind such a grander way of life”.
(Corvin drinks something from his ornate flask & after a moment makes his claim for why his kind should win over the Vampires)
“To all of those who still don’t wish to join us or are skeptical, Let me make it plain as spring rain. We offer you no chains or servitude, we offer you a way to live by us not under. If you decide to choose us over them I promise you this…People will live and live well within. But, I do warn you all, if you do choose Gaia and her gifts, they come with rules and rules that help with holding everlasting peace. Rules are what separates us from the savageness that has been shown by others not blessed by Gaia. Rules are fairly simple to practice”.
( The Rules Corvin laid out were as he said, simple, yet I fear they are not ones easily practiced among most humans. 1. All those who reside on blessed Gaia must swear an oath to not cause her any harm, which includes pollution of any kind. 2. All who receive Gaia’s blessing are to at no point shed the blood of her blessed ones.[Lycan] 3. Once a year an offering to Gaia is MANDATORY. Anything offered up must be prepared for her glory and must be taken with the utmost respect and care. (examples from anything from a blood offering to a prized crop of that year.)
“With this, I offer you true purpose and a life worth living. No more war, no more famine, or even the threat of a short mortal life can be a distant dream with the gift of Gaia”.
“I’m sorry to repeat myself Mr. Corvin, but are you telling us that if we choose you we will no longer be humans? Forgive me sir, but if the humans out there didn’t want and refuse this “gift of Gaia” as you call it, then what comes of them”?
“Mr. Speaker, make no mistake, Not everyone is a good fit for most humans and the gift Gaia offers is not something easily given, but rest assured that we do not wish to persecute nor do we have any intention of hurting anyone without cause. If you don’t have the gift or refuse it as you say, Mr. Speaker, we simply wish to not have the continued harm that has already been done to our beloved Gaia. we will cease all harmful pollution that all your factories, workshops, and all the mining, It all ends under our rule. Life will return to simpler times When the sky above wasn’t flooded with false lights made to blind you from the glory of the stars that blanket Gaia like a grand tapestry”.
“So, you are saying you would see an end to all of our functionality, as we know life, and drive us back centuries in technology and advancements in medicine? This feels like a subject that would cause much strife among humans, it may even be fair to say that this declaration you just put out there, might just make you seem more of a threat to what we hold dear. Forget about phones, the internet, and neon lights. What about the people whose very life is prolonged through this technology? Like a child who lives on dialysis or in a village somewhere far away, that has no access to fresh water or healthcare that would help them. Are you telling me that under your rule as a Higher species, what you offer us is a fair replacement”?
“The simple answer to that Mr. Speaker is yes. But I’ll go a bit further in explaining it for you and everyone watching here and at home. To all those who are fearful for your life as you know it, when the rule of the Lycans is secured, our first action is repairing as much damage as possible including the humans that are at the worst. The ones who are forgotten by their own but not so easily forgotten by our blessed mother Gaia, will be the ones who have earned the gift of Gaia. She has spoken of this directly, she sees all and has a place for the ones no one loves, the ones life has done wrong by. She will embrace them and on to her, they will find peace. As for their practice, you humans have done in the name of “progress” need not fear either. We will not cut your way so swiftly, we will show you the better path through example and have you see that your harmful, hateful ways that have been around since Cain threw the first stone are not the true ways to live on Gaia. Don’t think you will continue this without a gilding hand. We will be that guiding hand and as the hand of Gaia, you will see your harmful ways are not worth the cost”.
“Thank you, Mr. Corvin, for your time tonight. We sure have a lot to reflect on with what you say. The people here, myself included, have never truly given enough thought about just how much we harm the planet…Gaia, my apologies. Your words stir quite a few mixed feelings for us and your proposal is one we shall very much consider. Just one last question before we adjourn for the week. If/When the Lycans take full control, do you plan on completely whipping out the opposition”?
{Corvin lowers his head and looks at his soal powered wrist watch and then drinks again from his ornate flask]
“To that I have only one thing to say” {Corvin smiles and looks directly into the hard camera as it zooms in closer, more distinct features show on Corvin's face. Bushy yet maintained brow that is furrowed into an angle that shows his distaste for his vampire opposite.}
“To my opponent, our agreement will stand whether we win or lose this race but win we win and WE WILL WIN. We expect you and all your kind to do what is promised and hand yourselves over to us so that we can return you to the embrace of Gaia that all your kind has turned away from. Yes, Gaia has not forgotten you as well. She sees all and will welcome you with open arms. Thank you all for your time and my Gaia bless you all”.
{Corvin waves and walks off stage right as the curtain draws and the crowd murmurs and scatters. We truly have some thinking to do and I for one will say that sleep for me tonight will not come to me easy, that for sure. That’s going to conclude our broadcast here come back in a fortnight when we have the pleasure of hosting the Representative for the Vampires, Ms.Elisabetha Harkin.}

GUYS there's a mistake in the title: I am a female, not a male. Can't edit.
Just to be clear beforehand:
· I am a 100% sure he is single and not dating his ex
I (27F) met this man (26M) a couple months ago on a datingapp. I remember it saying in his bio that he was looking for something casual, at that point I didn’t know what I was looking for so I just sent him a message. We bonded over the fact that we both just got out of a long term relationship, we were both single for 2 months at that point after 4.5-5 years of dating (very coincidental but nice to bond over that LOL). He was very open and honest and also told me that he is still living with her at this point (it’s not easy to find a new place in the capital of our country). What I noticed is that this man was very honest, for example, he shared that he had a STD and that he has kissed guys (which could definitely be a dealbreaker for some girls). While it was clear that he was looking for casual, I did notice that after a short while he would text me at 7am when he woke up, and he literally talk the whole day. Also when he was working he would text me all the time. I started really liking him.
We had a strong attraction, and I was the one making very flirty and sexual comments. We would tease each other and couldn’t wait till the moment that we could meet up and have sex. After talking 24/7 for 3 weeks, we had our first date. We very both very nervous, and I remember him saying that he normally doesn’t get nervous so that this was weird for him. I sometimes did get the feeling that he started to like me a little more than only for casual. The date went great, and I think we really hit it off. We just talked for hours about our life and interests. We went from bar to bar just talking, and I remember saying that I had to at a certain point because I paid for my parking until a specific time. It was just a 10 minute walk. What made me certain that he liked me enough for a second date is when he offered to just keep talking, and that he would pay for my fine (100$) when I got one. He has a good job (therapist) so definitely has a good income but that amount of money is also a lot for him. Of course I declined LOL but I remember being flattered.
The day after I remember saying that he decided after the date to only focus on me, and that he would like it if I did the same. He also said that he was a “one girl kind of guy”. On the first date he also made me promise jokingly, yet serious, to at least go on 5 dates with each other. At tis point, it was clear that we found each other very attractive and that we really want to sleep with each other. Date two was also a lot of fun and at this point I really started to like him. The day after, he asked me for a third date. We kept taking initiative with conversations all the time. It would be very flirty and sexual sometimes, but also about anything and everything. I remember that sometimes I would try to be very flirty and he would direct the conversation to other stuff (like family), which was interesting to me, but I think he just really liked me. I am very cautious, and am really scared of the dating scene especially hearing all the ghosting, manipulating, whatever shit that happened to people around me so I was really analyzing anything and everything he was saying but there did not seem to be any red flags. My friends and older sister were sure he was falling in love with me based on the information I shared.
One night we were on the phone and I remember him hanging up suddenly when his ex entered their home. He already told me that he would have to end the conversation if this happened. After the conversation I remember him being kind of scared that I was annoyed that his ex is affecting our situation, but I explained that I understand and think it’s very respectful that he’s not rubbing it in her face that he’s talking to someone new. The day after he shared that he realized he wants to really separate wit this ex, and that he initiated a conversation about one of them moving out. I remember being like: oh he really likes me since little situation made him take action.
Throughout all of this, I would sometimes joke and make non-casual comments, in the beginning he was clear that he was not ready for that. After a while I remember him saying that these jokes were not scaring him (anymore). At this point I really liked him, and wasn’t sure if I was going to be happy with only being casual, and we had multiple conversations about this. The conversations went from ‘I really only can do casual at this point so if we’re not at the same page, we need to be clear and end it so no one gets hurt’ to ‘I wanted casual but at this point I am not sure, I really like you and I think it’s likely that I would want a serious relationship with you’. He was very clear and open about the fact that he was confused and was trying to figure out what he really wanted. A very important note: I noticed from the beginning on that this is a very conscientious, analytical person that thinks things through. From the beginning, I was also very clear that I could develop feelings, and that if I did and wanted more, that I would really like it if he would respect me enough to tell if he wasn’t in that place. He promised he would be honest. At this point there was no indication that he was dishonest about anything so I tried to just trust him on this.
I think at this point we’ve been talking for 3 weeks, and of course, I start to really like him. To me, it’s clear that he really likes me too. We did not have sex at this point. I started to catch feelings and asked him how to prevent falling in love. He responded that he had the same, and that at this point he is not even sure that this something he wants to prevent anymore. However, he was still reflecting on this situation and honestly it would be kind of weird to rush into a new relationship after being involved with someone else for so long, he was also living with her, and we do not live near each other so the situation was not in our favor.
Note: at this point we did not have sex yet. The sexual connection was definitely there though, and it was clear for both of us that on date 3 we would have sex.
One night, he had a party that he was really looking forward to. The day after he called me and kind of broke things off with me. He explained that this party made him realize that being single/having freedom is what he wants at this point. He was honest about finding other women attractive at this party (he volunteered the information that he did not find the girls more attractive than me), and that he did not flirt with them because we were talking, but that he would’ve liked that and would’ve liked to just have fun without the commitment. He said that he really liked me, and that if he kept talking to me and if we would continue to mee up, he was sure that he would fall in love and that he is just not ready for that at this point. He shared that he only wants to get in a relationship if he thinks he can give himself fully, and that at this point he’s just not there yet. During this conversation, he realized that this situation also happened with his ex that we dating for 5 years: they really liked each other, but he didn’t feel like he could give his all to her, so he didn’t commit. However, they still kept in contact (studying the same thing), couldn’t really keep away from each other and still had sex. This continued for a while until he felt ready to give himself fully, and that’s when they got official. I asked him if he also sees that happening with me, he said he did but that he couldn’t promise that 100%. I thanked him for his honesty, but couldn’t understand: all the signals were there that he really liked me and was very invested. I also told him that I was afraid I was being naïve to believe what he was saying, as I heard this exact situation happen to every girl ever (the bullshit cliches like “you deserve better”, “I need to work on myself”) and that it didn’t make sense what he was saying like: “I like you. I like you so much that if we would keep meeting, I will fall in love. Therefore, let’s stop talking.” However, at the same time I felt like I could trust him, based on the fact that he cut if off BEFORE we had sex. He literally could’ve waited another five days, had sex with me, and then cut if off. But at this point he didn’t get any.
This guy is not a fuckboy, I am sure of that. I have a specific type. He is the exact type like my ex, there is no fuckboy bone in their body.
We ended it. I let him know that he could contact me whenever he is ready for something serious, but that I would also keep dating and go on with my life.
My question to you guys is, and you can be harsh:
· Am I delusional, and is this quite literally every situation ever and does it come down to “I am not ready to a relationship… WITH YOU” or does it make sense what he’s saying? I just don’t understand letting someone go you like so much, think is so beautiful and interesting. It just does not make sense. However, at the same time, everything that he is and said did indicate that he really values “doing the right thing” and is really strict on himself. Is he just such a good, stand-up guy that he’s willing to let me go, or at least let the possibility for sex go, because he “knows he can’t give himself fully” and that he won’t get in a serious relationship if this is the case because he would lose respect for himself, and also doesn’t want me to accept any less than 100%.
(Last point: I considered the possibility that he just lost interest after date 2. He ended it 6 days after the second day. However, I don’t think this is likely: he asked for a third date the day after, and would jokingly remind me of the 5-date-promise, he “offered” to go to a concert with me of someone that he is not as big as a fan of which would cost him a lot of money, nothing in our conversations changed. Nothing gave off that he was less interested.)
TL;DR Met a guy on a dating app who initially wanted something casual. Despite living with his ex and admitting to not being ready for a serious relationship, we connected deeply. He was very open and honest, shared personal details early on, and our communication was intense and constant. After a few great dates, he seemed to start considering a more serious relationship with me. However, after a party, he realized he wasn’t ready to commit and broke things off, saying he feared falling in love because he couldn’t give himself fully yet. He was honest and ended things respectfully before we became more involved. I’m left wondering if this situation is a typical "it’s not you, it’s me" scenario or if he genuinely needs more time, as he stated. Is it delusional to think he might come around, or did his actions show genuine integrity and self-awareness?

Life isn't fair,
And I learned not to care.
But, if I wanted to fuck em up, i was gonna do it with flair.
Body and mind, I'm in control,
And Imma work you until you are nothing but a thrall.
I'm taking your eyes,
In retaliation for these styes.
Blind leads blind,
We're both dead, because I have a bone to grind.
I'm a cocky prick,
But don't get it twisted, there is a part of me that it makes sick.
I wish I was a sociopath,
That way I wouldn't need to struggle against my own wrath.
I've got an inferiority and a god complex,
That's why I always needed your nod,
to increase my notoriety as I flexed.
You want someone who can pummel you both figuratively and literally?
Well, now I'm here, spewing a litany of body blow literacy, it's time for you to have an epiphany.
Be careful, and heed the dread,
If I get bored, I may aim this lead at your head.
I'm creeping death,
And I'm here to choke out your breath.
Like a smothering fog,
Or an unforgiving bog.
Your ignorance won't keep you afloat,
I've remembered you, through every word that I wrote.
They always ask who it is I am speaking to;
But both of us know, it is you.
Do you want to know why you need to drown?
Because, the problem is, I can't control Orion's Hound.
The anger came out in aces once my patience was through,
But you can't get even with people who never did shit to you.
They say hurt perpetuates hurt,
You think I believe that justifies the words that I blurt?
You vanished, as I diminished,
But my hatred wasn't finished.
I went after anyone who drew near,
I let them suffer through my fear.
I made them suffer,
Their dismay was your buffer.
You, prick, you got to walk away,
See the sun for another day.
You left me crippled,
Broken down and crumpled.
Without a voice,
Reeling in feeling; without a choice.
You weren't a target I could mark,
Even as the impacts of your actions were so stark.
I couldn't save myself through therapy,
The haze didn't lift, even temporarily.
But, it did teach me that I was wrong,
It wa salways you who I should have written into song.
Break the cycle,
A demon stood up to by his fallen disciple.
Round and round,
If I had to, I would follow you into the ground.
Because, I know only one person deserves to be battered,
And I know, all of my regrettable choices mattered.
It was you who never looked back,
Never once questioned the humanity that you lack.
I'm sick, and I can't be saved by a pill,
Nor a whole bottle, just to bury my rage under a hill.
I would become a reaper,
Just to flay your secret keeper.
I would become a storm,
Just to rip off the roof that keepa you warm.
I'd become the tick in your brain,
The whispers to drive you insane.
I'd become what I hate,
Just to drag you to your fate.
And don't for a second believe,
That it was your right to leave.
The past isn't through with you,
It won't let you begin anew.
I'll send myself to hell,
Just so that you can't escape the toll of the bell.

GUYS SORRY THE TITLE IS WONG, I can't seem to edit: I AM A FEMALE, not a 26 year old male.
Just to be clear beforehand:
· I am a 100% sure he is single and not dating his ex
I (27F) met this man (26M) a couple months ago on a datingapp. I remember it saying in his bio that he was looking for something casual, at that point I didn’t know what I was looking for so I just sent him a message. We bonded over the fact that we both just got out of a long term relationship, we were both single for 2 months at that point after 4.5-5 years of dating (very coincidental but nice to bond over that LOL). He was very open and honest and also told me that he is still living with her at this point (it’s not easy to find a new place in the capital of our country). What I noticed is that this man was very honest, for example, he shared that he had a STD and that he has kissed guys (which could definitely be a dealbreaker for some girls). While it was clear that he was looking for casual, I did notice that after a short while he would text me at 7am when he woke up, and he literally talk the whole day. Also when he was working he would text me all the time. I started really liking him.
We had a strong attraction, and I was the one making very flirty and sexual comments. We would tease each other and couldn’t wait till the moment that we could meet up and have sex. After talking 24/7 for 3 weeks, we had our first date. We very both very nervous, and I remember him saying that he normally doesn’t get nervous so that this was weird for him. I sometimes did get the feeling that he started to like me a little more than only for casual. The date went great, and I think we really hit it off. We just talked for hours about our life and interests. We went from bar to bar just talking, and I remember saying that I had to leave at a certain point because I paid for my parking until a specific time. It was just a 10 minute walk. What made me certain that he liked me enough for a second date is when he offered to just keep talking, and that he would pay for my fine (100$) when I got one. He has a good job (he's a therapist) so definitely has a good income but that amount of money is also a lot for him. Of course I declined LOL but I remember being flattered.
The day after I remember saying that he decided after the date to only focus on me, and that he would like it if I did the same. He also said that he was a “one girl kind of guy”. On the first date he also made me promise jokingly, yet serious, to at least go on 5 dates with each other. At tis point, it was clear that we found each other very attractive and that we really want to sleep with each other. Date two was also a lot of fun and at this point I really started to like him. The day after, he asked me for a third date. We kept taking initiative with conversations all the time. It would be very flirty and sexual sometimes, but also about anything and everything. I remember that sometimes I would try to be very flirty and he would direct the conversation to other stuff (like family), which was interesting to me, but I think he just really liked me. I am very cautious, and am really scared of the dating scene especially hearing all the ghosting, manipulating, whatever shit that happened to people around me so I was really analyzing anything and everything he was saying but there did not seem to be any red flags. My friends and older sister were sure he was falling in love with me based on the information I shared.
One night we were on the phone and I remember him hanging up suddenly when his ex entered their home. He already told me that he would have to end the conversation if this happened. After the conversation I remember him being kind of scared that I was annoyed that his ex is affecting our situation, but I explained that I understand and think it’s very respectful that he’s not rubbing it in her face that he’s talking to someone new. The day after he shared that he realized he wants to really physically separate with this ex, and that he initiated a conversation about one of them moving out. I remember being like: oh he really likes me since little situation made him take action.
Throughout all of this, I would sometimes joke and make non-casual comments, in the beginning he was clear that he was not ready for that. After a while I remember him saying that these jokes were not scaring him (anymore). At this point I really liked him, and wasn’t sure if I was going to be happy with only being casual, and we had multiple conversations about this. The conversations went from ‘I really only can do casual at this point so if we’re not at the same page, we need to be clear and end it so no one gets hurt’ to ‘I wanted casual but at this point I am not sure, I really like you and I think it’s likely that I would want a serious relationship with you’. He was very clear and open about the fact that he was confused and was trying to figure out what he really wanted. A very important note: I noticed from the beginning on that this is a very conscientious, analytical person that thinks things through. From the beginning, I was also very clear that I could develop feelings, and that if I did and wanted more, that I would really like it if he would respect me enough to tell if he wasn’t in that place. He promised he would be honest. At this point there was no indication that he was dishonest about anything so I tried to just trust him on this.
I think at this point we’ve been talking for 3 weeks, and of course, I start to really like him. To me, it’s clear that he really likes me too. We did not have sex at this point. I started to catch feelings and asked him how to prevent falling in love. He responded that he had the same, and that at this point he is not even sure that this something he wants to prevent anymore. However, he was still reflecting on this situation and honestly it would be kind of weird to rush into a new relationship after being involved with someone else for so long, he was also living with her, and we do not live near each other so the situation was not in our favor.
Note: at this point we did not have sex yet. The sexual connection was definitely there though, and it was clear for both of us that on date 3 we would have sex.
One night, he had a party that he was really looking forward to. The day after he called me and kind of broke things off with me. He explained that this party made him realize that being single/having freedom is what he wants at this point. He was honest about finding other women attractive at this party (he volunteered the information that he did not find the girls more attractive than me), and that he did not flirt with them because we were talking, but that he would’ve liked that and would’ve liked to just have fun without the commitment. He said that he really liked me, and that if he kept talking to me and if we would continue to meet up, he was sure that he would fall in love and that he is just not ready for that at this point. He shared that he only wants to get in a relationship if he thinks he can give himself fully, and that at this point he’s just not there yet. During this conversation, he realized that this situation also happened with his ex that we dating for 5 years: they really liked each other, but he didn’t feel like he could give his all to her, so he didn’t commit. However, they still kept in contact (studying the same thing), couldn’t really keep away from each other and still had sex. This continued for a while until he felt ready to give himself fully, and that’s when they got official. I asked him if he also sees that happening with me, he said he did but that he couldn’t promise that 100%. I thanked him for his honesty, but couldn’t understand: all the signals were there that he really liked me and was very invested. I also told him that I was afraid I was being naïve to believe what he was saying, as I heard this exact situation happen to every girl ever (the bullshit cliches like “you deserve better”, “I need to work on myself”) and that it didn’t make sense what he was saying like: “I like you. I like you so much that if we would keep meeting, I will fall in love. Therefore, let’s stop talking.” However, at the same time I felt like I could trust him, based on the fact that he cut if off BEFORE we had sex. He literally could’ve waited another five days, had sex with me, and then cut if off. But at this point he didn’t get any.
This guy is not a fuckboy, I am sure of that. I have a specific type. He is the exact type like my ex, there is no fuckboy bone in their body.
We ended it. I let him know that he could contact me whenever he is ready for something serious, but that I would also keep dating and go on with my life.
My question to you guys is:
· Am I delusional, and is this quite literally every situation ever and does it come down to “I am not ready to a relationship… WITH YOU” or does it make sense what he’s saying? I just don’t understand letting someone go you like so much, think is so beautiful and interesting. It just does not make sense. However, at the same time, everything that he is and said did indicate that he really values “doing the right thing” and is really strict on himself. Is he just such a good, stand-up guy that he’s willing to let me go, or at least let the possibility for sex go, because he “knows he can’t give himself fully” and that he won’t get in a serious relationship if this is the case because he would lose respect for himself, and also doesn’t want me to accept any less than 100%.
(Last point: I considered the possibility that he just lost interest after date 2. He ended it 6 days after the second date. However, I don’t think this is likely: he asked for a third date the day after, and would jokingly remind me of the 5-date-promise, he “offered” to go to a concert with me of someone that he is not as big as a fan of which would cost him a lot of money, nothing in our conversations changed. Nothing gave off that he was less interested.)
TL;DR Met a guy on a dating app who initially wanted something casual. Despite living with his ex and admitting to not being ready for a serious relationship, we connected deeply. He was very open and honest, shared personal details early on, and our communication was intense and constant. After a few great dates, he seemed to start considering a more serious relationship with me. However, after a party, he realized he wasn’t ready to commit and broke things off, saying he feared falling in love because he couldn’t give himself fully yet. He was honest and ended things respectfully before we became more involved. I’m left wondering if this situation is a typical "it’s not you, it’s me" scenario or if he genuinely needs more time, as he stated. Is it delusional to think he might come around, or did his actions show genuine integrity and self-awareness?

OOC: co-written with NotTooSunny
It was an ordinary day at the New York City Library. People wandered in and out of the building, unaware of the monster that lurked among them.
The only people who seemed to know the danger these mortals were in were Harper and Amon, who entered the building with glowing bronze swords at their hips. The bulky weapons seemed to have escaped the notice of the other library patrons, which was a good thing. The job description had made it clear that they were meant to remain inconspicuous in completing their task.
Harper had traded her usual bright orange camp shirt for a more discrete cropped black t-shirt and pleated pants. She had been insistent on coming up with a persona for them on the train ride from Montauk Station into New York City. They were meant to act as high school students researching for a World History paper on Ancient Greece. Now that they were inside the library, she had stopped her incessant rambling to peruse a riddle book, in what she had insisted was preparation for their job.
As they wandered through the bookshelves, she remained absorbed in the dog-eared children’s book, thumbing through the pages to find a riddle that would be fitting of a sphinx.
“Here’s one, Amon,” she said, narrowly avoiding a collision with another library patron as she read, “What is something that runs but never walks, has a mouth but never talks, has a head but never weeps, has a bed but never sleeps?”
The dark-haired son of Apollo glanced over from a shelf of dusty atlases, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “That is an easy one,” he replied simply. "River. Try me with something more challenging next time around." He adjusted the collar of his striped button down, which he had layered with a navy blue sweater in preparation for the chill of the air-conditioned interior.
“The real riddle is where we can find this sphinx,” Amon glanced around the spacious reading area, eyeing the dark wooden staircase with its ornate railings. “The boyfriend and girlfriend who tried this last time, they found her by a bookcase.”
“A bookcase,” Harper repeated derisively, closing her book to theatrically scan their surroundings. “That narrows it down.”
Ignoring Harper’s mockery, the son of Apollo paused suddenly, his dark eyes glazing over with concentration. His hearing dulled, the surrounding footsteps and rustling pages fading into the background as if muffled by a thick curtain. Amon searched for the energy signature of the monster he knew lurked among the mortals. It was a subtle shift, like trying to discern a whisper in a crowded room, but he felt a faint, abnormal energy hanging somewhere up above.
“I say we try the second floor,” he said as he snapped out of the tracking trance, offering no other explanation to Harper.
“We could do that, sure,” Harper said, words laced with blatant doubt at his sudden certainty. “I say we try asking the Visitor’s Center. I know she's supposed to be disguised by the Mist, but the librarians have to have noticed something.”
“You can go ahead and do that.” The small smirk from earlier was now spreading across his face. “But you can’t be upset if I find the sphinx and solve her riddle before you even get there.”
Harper rolled her eyes, but she made no attempt to stop Amon from walking towards the staircase. After a moment she set off after him, footsteps even against the wooden steps.
Up on the second floor, Amon moved quietly, his dark eyes scanning the hallway for anything out of the ordinary.
I know you’re up here.
He stopped at every heavy-looking mahogany door, peering through each muted glass insert. He felt the air grow thicker with ominous energy at every step, so he knew the monster must be near.
One of the doors was slightly ajar, a suspiciously open invitation. Or a trap. The dark-haired boy caught sight of a cat-shaped figure on the other side before ducking down and motioning sharply for Harper’s attention. He unsheathed his kopis from his belt, bracing himself for confrontation.
Harper crouched against the wall, hand on the hilt of her sword as she tried to peek through the frosted glass pane. She held her breath, ready to move at Amon’s signal. He held out three fingers and then put them down one by one. When he hit zero, they stood in unison, flinging the door open together.
When Amon and Harper stepped inside, the body of the sphinx lay motionless on the floor.
The rest of the room was in disarray, littered with disheveled chairs and broken bits of chalk. A window on the other side of the room had been forced open, the curtain fluttering in the wind.
“No way,” Harper said. The door clicked shut behind her as she pushed past Amon into the room and kneeled to study the monster’s limp figure.
The sphinx had the large body of a lion and the eerily human face of a middle-aged woman, hair tied back in a severe bun and foundation caked onto her high cheekbones. Fangs jutted out of her red-painted lips, and eagle wings sprouted out of the space between her shoulder blades, folded tight against her back.
“Monsters dissolve into dust when they die,” Amon remarked, keeping his distance as he watched the subtle rise and fall of the monster’s ribs. “She must have been knocked unconscious.”
“Right,” Harper agreed, “The real question is who. And why.”
She hovered a hand over the cat's shoulder, set on rousing her. Before she made contact, the sphinx's eyes snapped open, round irises surrounded by shocking yellow sclera.
"Slain!" she wailed. Harper staggered backwards. Amon’s arms instinctively reached out to catch her, but she didn’t stumble near enough to make contact. "I am slain!"
With feline grace, the sphinx rose to her feet. A white tape outline marked the placement of her previously prone body on the floor. The muscles in her legs rippled as she paced in front of Harper and Amon, massive velvet paws silent against the carpet.
"And you, my dear heroes," she roared, eyes narrowed in an accusatory glare, "were too late to save me!"
The sphinx sniffed, composing herself. She leapt onto a wooden table. The table legs creaked underneath her weight. "Fear not," she tutted, "Fear not. For you can still avenge me. If you are able to determine the murderer and their weapon, then I will obtain justice, and all will be right with the world.”
“Your riddle is a murder mystery,” Harper said, confusion written across her face. Amon raised an eyebrow. The sphinx chuffed, a low rumbling sound reminiscent of laughter.
“You sought that hackneyed question about man? The Sphinx that the storytellers remember is far less adaptive than I am. I am not interested in your ability to regurgitate the information you have read. Nor am I interested in taking advantage of the nonsensical rules of your English language.”
“I am here to satisfy my own curiosity: does modern mankind still possess the ability to engage in deductive reasoning, or do they only seek to make themselves appear intelligent? Do not speak,” the sphinx said, a pointed look at Harper, who had opened her mouth to interject, “You will answer my questions when you play my game.”
“The potential murder weapons are scattered throughout this room,” she continued, leaping off the table. “And the suspects have already provided their testimonies for your review. Rest assured, I have made certain that their statements contain no lies.”
A shimmering, translucent energy began to swirl around Harper and Amon’s feet, beginning to take shape as holograms with a flickering, ephemeral quality.
A projection of Cerberus materialized first, his three massive heads snarling and snapping in unison. A ribbon of text appeared by his paws to translate his growling: "I was guarding the entrance, my duty unbroken."
Next came the Minotaur, his towering form pacing within the labyrinth on Crete. He snorted and pawed at the ground, the holographic maze shifting behind him in the background. The translation text appeared: "Confined within these walls, no escape for me."
Lamia's projection flickered into view, her serpentine lower half coiled around her as she wept in her cave. She glanced mournfully at the holographic images of her lost children: "My grief consumes me, innocent of this crime."
A shimmering Hydra emerged next, its nine heads snapping at invisible foes. Each one moved independently, showcasing its ability to act on its own. The translation for the hissing head at the center read: "Engaged in battle, I could not have killed."
Typhon materialized with a thunderous roar, his colossal form fighting against restraints under Mount Etna. His immense size and power were palpable, even in scaled down holographic form: "Bound by chains of the earth, I could not have roamed free."
Echidna’s hologram appeared last, her form a mix of human and serpent, lounging in a dimly lit cave. She looked directly at the viewers, her expression both defiant and amused. The translation text by her side read: “I dwell in my lair, uninvolved in such petty affairs.”
The sphinx swiped at the last projection as it faded, deeming her handiwork satisfactory. “There is not enough information to deduce the killer using evidence alone. Because I am fair, I will provide you with three hints before your final guess. Be forewarned: if you fail to provide a correct answer, you will both perish. Is this understood?”
Harper spoke. “If we answer correctly, you will leave this library for good.”
“If you answer correctly, I will permanently relocate. It is a preferable option in comparison to another death. Now, do you agree to the terms and conditions?” the sphinx said primly, regarding Harper and Amon with casual disdain. The pair nodded. “Very well.”
The sphinx dropped onto the floor and let her head loll back, pretending to be dead once more.
Hint #1

Suspects	Weapons
Cerberus	The Shirt of Nessus
The Minotaur	Siren Song
Lamia	Harpy Talon
The Hydra	Celestial Bronze Sword
Typhon	A-C Encyclopedia
Echidna	Cerberus Fang

Soon after the Sphinx had laid back down, Harper and Amon began to scour the room. A small pile of prospective murder weapons formed on a nearby table.
“We can easily eliminate the siren song,” Amon rushed to speak over Harper, eyeing the small glass vial of swirling gray matter that they had found nestled behind a row of books on metalworking. “It is a luring mechanism, not a murder weapon.”
“We could rule out Cerberus’ fang too,” he pointed at the enormous yellowing tooth, about the size of the small baseball bat Amon used to have when he played in the little league. “If we take the hologram as ground truth, all of his teeth were intact there.”
Harper used her kopis to prod at the stained tunic that had been hidden in a desk drawer, being careful not to touch it with bare skin. “The Shirt of Nessus is a viable option. It would be easy for any of the suspects to lay it down and wait for the hydra venom to kick in.”
“I am not ready to rule out the bronze sword either,” Amon noted. “Monsters have access to heroes and the weapons they leave behind.”
“Most of these monsters don’t even have opposable thumbs,” Harper argued, running a hand over the sword they had found by a power outlet. ”They don’t have the dexterity to wield a sword.”
“I do not imagine that the technicality would be that granular.”
Harper laughed. “Oh, the number of teeth in the Cerberus hologram tell all, but we’re drawing the line at opposable thumbs.”
“I suppose that that logic would also rule out the harpy talon and the encyclopedia easily as well,” Amon admitted. “Which would be too easy.”
“I’m just that good at logical deduction.” Harper said proudly. “If my assumption is correct, then the poisoned shirt is the only one that makes sense.”
Amon scoffed, folding his arms across his chest as his dark eyes bored into Harper. “It would not necessarily matter what our first guess would be anyway.”
“Can you provide an argument for any other weapon? Or are you intent on purposely making an illogical guess?” she countered cooly.
“Fine,” Amon acquiesced. “Since you are so adamant about the shirt, we can guess the shirt, and be incorrect. It does not matter. What about the suspects themselves?” He clasped his hands behind his back, his steps measured as he started to pace across the plush red carpet of the room.
Harper smiled, smugly accepting her victory. She strode towards a chalkboard at the side of the study room, inscribing the list of weapons and suspects with a fresh piece of white chalk.
“All of them have alibis,“ she began. “I think that-”
“Some make more sense than others,” Amon spoke over Harper, irritated by her minor triumph. “Cerberus, for example, is under the service of Hades. He says he did not leave his post, and he could not have done so without permission or dire consequences on the process of the dead.”
Harper silently seethed as Amon spoke, meeting his rationale with reluctant acceptance before starting again in a louder, exaggerated tone. “I think that the ones with the shakiest alibis are Lamia, the Minotaur, Typhon, and Echidna. No witnesses can confirm their locations. In fact, Lamia provides no location at all.” Harper circled those names. She looked at Amon with a forced smile, allowing him a moment to provide more commentary.
“Lamia? Well,” there was a hint of mockery in the sneer that tugged on the corner of Amon’s lips. “I would imagine her emotions rendered her… Too fragile and unstable to carry out such an act.”
“You’re kidding,” Harper scoffed, searching Amon's face for the slightest hint that he was joking. “Her grief is what moved her to kill children in the first place. I doubt it would suddenly be incapacitating. She’s just appealing to your sense of superiority, and I can’t believe that you’re falling for it.”
"It is not about superiority. It is about logic," Amon retorted, bristling in defense. “You cannot deny that emotions cloud judgment. Maybe the sphinx wants us to leverage our knowledge about her past crimes to reason that she was not thinking clearly in this case either.” Amon had no other evidence that pointed towards Lamia as the top suspect, but he had dug deep enough where he was now ready to stand firm in his reasoning.
“Murder,” Harper countered, eyes narrowed in a venomous stare, “-does not require you to think clearly. Haven’t you heard of a crime of passion? If anyone’s judgment is clouded right now, Amon, it’s yours.”
The son of Apollo squared his shoulders, his expression hardening. "I understand the concept of crimes of passion, thank you.” His dark-eyed stare returned Harper's gaze, unflinching at the intensity. “But our investigation must be rooted in facts, not assumptions based on emotions. And the facts are,” he resumed his pacing once more, “that Lamia cannot be the culprit, as she is the only suspect that openly admits to being innocent of this crime.”
Amon had considered this from the very start, but provoking Harper like this had proved to be far more amusing.
Harper crossed Lamia’s name off of the board. She swallowed down her anger, fighting the urge to continue pressing the issue in favor of returning to their list of suspects. She pointed her piece of chalk at the next names on the list. “The Minotaur and Typhon are trapped, or so they say. How could they have done anything?”
“Their alibis revolve around their inability to escape,” Amon pointed out. “Not that they were unable to commit murder. The Labyrinth, in fact,” he raised a dramatic finger, “has several moving passages that could have permitted the Minotaur to move and commit murder without an official escape.”
Harper considered his words for a long moment, trying to find the flaw in his reasoning. Seeing none, she placed a dot next to the Minotaurs's name.
“Typhon escaped his prison in the Second Titanomachy. He could do it again,” Harper said thoughtfully. “Though I don’t understand why he would do something like this. He’s the Sphinx's father. The same goes for Echidna.”
Amon, who had been nodding at Harper’s assessment of Typhon’s abilities, pursed his lips at her observation of parentage. “I do not see how this could possibly be relevant to the logical puzzle at hand.”
Harper spoke slowly, as if the answer was obvious. “What motive would they have to kill their own daughter?”
“Harper,” Amon began curtly, folding his arms across his chest. “Half of the Greek myths revolve around immortals killing their own children.”
“Then we should pick one of them,” Harper declared, pivoting her argument instead of admitting her logical blunder. “They would have more of a motive than the rest of the suspects, if anything.”
“The Minotaur can escape much more easily than Typhon can. Motive aside, it is the most logical guess,” Amon concluded, adjusting his collar haughtily. “I will remind you that we picked your choice of weapon. It is only fair that I select the monster.”
“Fine.” Harper agreed, her gaze stormy as she turned back towards the sphinx. “We accuse the Minotaur of killing the sphinx with the Shirt of Nessus.”
The sphinx opened one eye. “None of these are correct!”
Hint #2

Suspects	Weapons
Cerberus	The Shirt of Nessus
The Minotaur	Siren Song
Lamia	Harpy Talon
The Hydra	Celestial Bronze Sword
Typhon	A-C Encyclopedia
Echidna	Cerberus Fang

“Two more hints left.” Harper announced, crossing off the Minotaur’s name and the poisoned shirt on the chalkboard with a flourish. It was not ideal that her initial logical deductions had been incorrect, but at least Amon had also been wrong. She couldn't resist a snide comment. “I knew it wasn’t the Minotaur.”
“So you still think it’s Typhon.” Choosing to ignore Harper’s taunting, Amon rested his hand on a nearby desk, studying the lists on the chalkboard before him. He had taken the Minotaur error as a personal failure, and was determined to get the suspect right this time.
“I do.”
“Why not Echidna?”
“She’s too emotional to kill someone, obviously.” Harper said sarcastically. “Her frail female arms are probably too weak to even hold a weapon.”
The dark-haired boy rolled his eyes. “Objectively,” he began, ignoring her quip once more, “Typhon could not have lied about his inability to roam free. A natural disaster freed him from Mount Etna during the Second Titanomachy, but he could not recreate those conditions on his own.” Though his tone remained aloof, it was clear that Amon was relishing in the opportunity to flaunt his mythology knowledge.
“Maybe,” Harper argued, stubborn. “But Echidna’s statement was less ambiguous than his. Typhon just explains his predicament; he doesn't provide a real claim. Echidna explicitly says she was not involved.” She thought for a few more moments, rolling the piece of chalk in her hands. “Echidna could have released him? They would be accomplices.”
Amon shook his head. “There was a single murderer. Not two. The sphinx would not lie about the premise of the game.”
Harper stared at him coldly, but could offer no rebuttal. She turned her attention to the board. “Typhon is a giant. He’s capable of using the sword.”
“But the specificity of Echidna’s denial is still incredibly suspicious. ‘Petty affairs’ is a strange way to phrase a murder. But,” Amon added reluctantly, “I understand the logic behind Typhon. I suppose it is your turn to choose the monster, and we will still have another guess to work with.”
“As for the weapon,” he continued, “I still think the sword is the most viable option, given that the siren song and the fang can be ruled out and the shirt with the venom was, well,” Amon pursed his lips, fighting the urge to smile, “incorrect.”
Before Harper could interject, Amon turned towards the sphinx at the front of the room. “We accuse Typhon of killing the sphinx with a Celestial Bronze Sword.”
“One of these is correct!”
Hint #3

Suspects	Weapons
Cerberus	The Shirt of Nessus
The Minotaur	Siren Song
Lamia	Harpy Talon
The Hydra	Celestial Bronze Sword
Typhon	A-C Encyclopedia
Echidna	Cerberus Fang

“Aha!” Amon raised a triumphant finger before pointing it at Harper. “I told you,” he gloated, “Typhon had no escape route.”
“You were right,” Harper admitted, staring down at the carpet so that she would not have to look at his smug expression.
“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, and turned back towards the lioness with crossed arms. “We accuse Echidna of killing the sphinx with a Celestial Bronze Sword”
“One of these is correct,” the sphinx announced. Her mouth twisted in amusement, fangs bared in a menacing smile.
READ PART 2 HERE

Hi guys, I’m a 23M that has been diagnosed with a probable virus after seemingly having tonsillitis. I’ve tested negative to everything - strep, STI’s, mono, influenza, covid etc. anything that can be swabbed or blood tested. All 4 doctors have no clue. I’ve been prescribed erythromycin (taking it for acne beforehand so doubled dose) for 6 days when there was white puss/infection coming from only right tonsil, then penicillin with erythromycin for 10 days after puss went away but still sore to swallow and swollen. Weird thing is halfway through the penicillin it flared up again, having around 5 tiny white dots appear predominantly on the inflamed right tonsil for a couple days. This was accompanied with swelling that made the tonsil protrude towards the uvula too. Whilst it’s settling down again after 4 days of dots, I still have swelling 3 weeks later. My main concern is the anatomy of my right tonsil because where the puss was coming from in the slit is healing so slowly and it’s like my tonsil has a little dangly thing/uvula of it’s own now lol. Could it be a stubborn tonsil stone or something causing the protrusion? Never had my tonsil look like this. I’ve poked around with a q-tip and it actually tucked in the dangly thing a little, with no clear stones or anything behind it or the tonsil flaps.
Current symptoms are barely any throat pain when swallowing, swelling and inflammation of right tonsil and moderate lymph nodes in neck, chronic fatigue, no fever, sporadic body aches and pains.
I’m lost because I’ve never been sick for this long for a respiratory issue and feel something’s not right.
Images: https://ibb.co/gVm74Zv https://ibb.co/C90CMd0

spoilers for “Nope” and “The Fall of the House of Usher” episode 2
so, i just watched “nope” and was very very disturbed by the scene where all the people watching jupe’s show got sucked up into the alien thing and honestly i’m not all that sure why it got to me so much.
the only thing i can think of that affected me/disturbed me more in film/television was the second episode of “the fall of the house of usher.” i’ll explain what happened that disturbed me so much in that episode now so you can skip this next paragraph if you already know.
basically this guy throws a sex party in an abandoned building/house owned by his father who’s a very unethical person/businessman without his permission. he notices there’s still tanks(?) filled with water on the roof of the building and decides he’s going to connect them to the sprinklers and set them off so all the water goes down on them and have that be the signal they can start having sex or something. but the tanks aren’t actually filled with water, they’re filled with acid and all the guests get melted together into a nasty human puddle covering the entire floor. the worst part to me is that they’re all breathing and still alive, just unable to move or do anything except wait to die.
the correlations i’ve noticed: mostly the fact that there are so many people going through something so unusual out of nowhere all together and they don’t die immediately but are able to do nothing but wait.
i’m a big fan of horror, and i do get scared easily, but not disturbed. i don’t like body horror, so i assumed that’s why i was so fucked up by that episode, but i don’t really understand why i’m so disturbed by the film. i’m not claustrophobic or anything. i guess it could just be the lack of control? i’m not sure.
the title isn’t maybe the best way to phrase what i’m asking, so my apologies. i also want to apologise for bad grammar and possibly incorrect words, i haven’t been to an english speaking school in a long time, so i don’t usually write in english.

Blachowicz here.
Kept yah’ waiting, huh? Heh, sorry about that one, but I can explain. As we all know… we lost a few good men the last few months.
That’s the brutal part of a hybrid war like ours: We’re fighting a foe unconventional, with half our arsenal tied down because those who grant us authorization are either in disbelief of the true facts, or scared… or already assimilated. That being said our momentum recently was a change not seen in years, and because of that… despite the losses we have garnered, we were close through a breakthrough. One last night Krol pulls myself and other two must trusted squad leads into the back of our COP. There is one of our equipment cages, surrounded by m-bitter radios, tripods, and several hundred thousand dollars of equipment he brought us around a simple worn table. Before us he laid a map of eastern poland… red markings indicating cells that seemed to dot the countryside like a pestilence, or used to… as deep gashes of advance from raids had trisected their lines, even if ones did pop up in the interior.
It was a back and forth; an outside virus infecting Polska at it’s heart, and we were the antibodies sent to drive them out. To which… Major Krol points to one of the largest symbol on the map: a dark red diamond, the NATO symbol for an enemy unit, deep inside of an untouched wooded area, adjacent to a mountain ridge. Several jagged lines indicated entrenchment, with red horizontal lines indicating possible enemy control… or our contested control, for over 20kms surrounding it. Letting us all look, the Major lit himself a cigarette.
“Sir, you sure it’s wise to smoke in here with the dive tanks just behind us” 1st Squad’s lead quipped. “Fuck off” Krol dryly said.
“Alright… this is it… this is the one we’ve been searching for for years, this is the nucleus my predecessor commander died trying to find” he says, pointing to it. Not far from Zamosc, it was almost touching the border with Belarus, the contested area indicating the Strigoi did operate over it… indicating one of the largest spill through points. “-It’s an old soviet bunker, made during their 1960s initiative it was designed to hold the munitions and manpower of several units in the event of a NATO first strike” Krol explained. “It’s gotta be massive then…” I said gazing at the map; “Didn’t the army demolish all of the old soviet hulks near Belarus to prevent any infiltrations?” 3rd Squad’s lead asked. “National Police took the effort over… and by extension, the Strigoi. It was halfway demo’ed before they burrowed into it and have been using it as a bridgehead ever since. This is it…” Krol said. He looked around at all of us, a sense of certainty I had never seen before as he blew smoke from his nostrils; “We’ve been fucking around in the dark for so long, it’s hard to believe we’ve made any progress, but this is it. With this gone, this will set them back over a decade and the momentum will finally shift into our favor… into Poland’s… -Europe’s”.
I swear there was almost a flash of joy, of pride in his eyes and a phantom of a smirk before reality set back in “That being said… we can’t leave this to chance, especially not something as important as this. We’re going to have to go there ourselves… clear through every inch of that place, and tear it all down, piece by piece. I will be straight with you all… when we go, there will be some of us that aren’t coming back. -but we are going… a whole generation is counting on us, and unborn billions rely on us to succeed”. We all nodded, a silent agreement washing over us as we took this upon ourselves. Echo-1 spoke up: “So… They’re authorizing a raid? How big?”. “We’re rolling in as a hard target, armor, explosives, and air support” Krol answered, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Aviation? How the hell did we get that approved, we’ve gotten attempts shot down four times due to those leeches” I said in disbelief. “There’s too much evidence here pointing to the human trafficking tied to their actions… We’ve finally got too much weight pinning them down, to keep the hammer from slamming into their necks” Krol chuckled. He looked around “Any questions?”. “When?” Echo-3 asked. “Three hours. We’re hitting them in the dead of night, only time we could get the birds authorized. Get your boys ready. We’re rolling out” Krol said, dying the cigarette bud out on the table. I can’t begin to tell you the euphoria we felt leaving that cage, as our men started arriving, they did so a lot quicker, and with their heads a lot higher than they had in weeks. As Second Squad’s lead we were going to be one of the main arms of attack into the bunker, thus I made sure we had a breacher loaded with enough thermite, charges, and tools to cut through anything. Our shield bearer we ready to go, as was our assaulters, grenadiers, and machine gunner. I double checked each and everyone of their weapons; ensuring the feeder paws of our squad’s belt fed were intact, making sure every breach charge we had was properly set and packed. There was going to be no mistakes, no slip ups. The margin of error needed to be the smallest it had ever been for us tonight if we were going to make the gore spilt worth it.
Finally… there on the outside of the building, the bright LED lights kept the darkness of the ensuing night at bay as the roar of our MRAPs could be heard. It was said once that war is 99% peace, and 1% chaos, they were right. The slow periods where the blood slowed and the doubt creeped in was the worst… yet we all kept it at bay. We needed to, there was going to be no backing down tonight. All three squads were up, all of us ready to go… we circled up… short stares and shaky nods telling us one things: We were in this together, till the end… the finish line so many before us had been searching for, we were being granted tonight.
A single set of footsteps could be heard as we turned, Major Krol stepping into the center. He took the last drag of a cigarette, throwing it down to the ground and stamping it out onto the damp concrete. He looked around… his chin strap blowing in the weak air as he met everyone of our gazes… then mine… then looked around. “I want you to remember every detail of tonight, as you have every other night… when you are situationally aware, scanning for the enemy, liberating the subjugated, I want you to remember the sting of anxiety, the shake of adrenaline, the chill of the bunker, the heat of your weapon as it cuts them down… because tonight we are going to write every fine detail of our victory, their defeat, in history…” Krol’s words echoed deep into our souls. He paused for a moment, staring around he looked down… a small pause before he said “When you are ruthless in combat, remember to be patient, and reserved in victory. This conflict is for our existence… a lot of innocents have bled due to the mistakes of those who failed to listen, a lot of our brothers are now laid under because we had to bridge the gap of uncertainty with their lives. We remember them now… but in an hour? We forget them… when we raise our barrels, when we cut into those foes, and we liberate Polska!! This does not end tonight, but history puts everything in it’s place, and patience is the companion of the victor… All of our hard work will be cemented, no matter the obstacles we face in that darkness… no matter the demons, the blood, no matter what incomprehensible horrors, we will make them comprehend that to invade our land, to bleed our people, the justice will be paid in full… Load up. It’s time*”*.
The purpose in our steps was heavy as we climbed the back ramps of the MRAPS; Four of the heavily armored vehicles, one for each squad with an additional for attached personnel including our JTAC, the term means Joint Terminal Attack Controllers. With air support requisitioned to us for this operations, there needs to be a definite liaison on the ground who can directly communicate to the birds, and coordinate their fire and progress. I’d worked with many of them in the past, resourceful guys, quick thinking though I guess that comes with the position they hold of needing to quickly figure out what bombs to drop, on which target, at what precise points, whilst taking contact. He loaded in the lead vehicle with Major Krol… and soon, our convoy kicked off.
The drive was several hours as myself and my squad sat in the back of that forty ton goliath, the rumbling of the engine keeping us awake as the crap heater fought to keep the cold from the outside frost from setting in. I looked around to each of them, some were catching some sleep because even with the circumstances… better to get all the energy you can, than to stay awake for nothing. Others were checking their weapons… My gunner locked eyes with me, the same one from the village extraction… many of these men I had trained with for a while now, fought with for months.
We may have met on unconventional circumstances but those in JW Grom thrive on austere chance and create opportunity from scratch. I was pulled from my thought by the sound of a transmission, my peltors were set up for dual comms so I could both receive information from the Major and other leads, whilst communicating with my team.
Krol himself sent out: [“Approximately 10 minutes from enemy AO…”]. As the rest of the squads acknowledged, I quickly sent out [“Echo-2 Copies”], before kicking the boots of any of them sleeping: “Look alive, we’re here”. Through the exterior net armor of the MRAPS, and the bars protecting the small reinforced windows, we could barely see jack shit. I reached up, turning off the overhead light as we all looked through our nods to scan the outside. A dark wall of dense trees was shown before us, making it difficult to see… in addition to night vision capabilities we had also requisitioned ourselves some thermals… when mounted onto rifles they were bulky, made it a pain to aim down quickly, but considering the supernatural capabilities of spotting our foes we needed every advantage necessary.
I flipped out one of my tubes… scanning the outside with my scope. I looked over to one of my assaulters who had been assigned to man the turret of the MRAP, seated near the view screen as he controlled the 50. Cal. Each of the vehicle turrets had been assigned a direction to cover… we took the 9 o’clock, the left flank. “See anything?” I asked. He shook his head; “Negative… wait… I’ve got two cold signatures, front left heading to our rear”.
I quickly scanned the far tree line, at approximately 60 meters off our left were two cold signatures… followed by a third heading to our front… then another. They were surrounding us, moving at speeds so fast I could barely keep my reticle on them. Is this what the National Police saw? What they faced at that lodge without the benefit of a foot of heavy armor protecting them on all sides. Then… suddenly. Something slammed into the side of our MRAP so hard, it caused it to shake. From over the leader comms, Echo-3 quickly shouted [“Contact right!! 4 hostiles!!”].
One of the Strigoi… so bold, had charged and slammed into the side of our MRAP. I quickly looked to see the figure, a dark blue mass of cold energy through my thermal, back away without so much as a stagger… as they tried to flee into the woods, the white hot justice of Echo-3’s gun fired at them, cutting them down. “Blachowicz I’ve got a few breaking for our vic” my man on the turret called out, I spun around, spotting out the window.
Just then, Major Krol announced [“weapons free, watch and shoot for targets of opportunity…”]. I turned to him… “take those fuckers out-”. Without hesitation my vic’s turret began to quickly target them, and through the darkness I saw a stream of outgoing fire bisect one of them, the ISR of the black blood freaking out the optic so badly it didn’t know what temperature to register it as… but it did register it. As another was cut down, one broke through the tree line and latched onto the side of our MRAP. The thing tore at one of the outer net armor panels, usually made to stop RPGs. It grabbed at the bars near the windows, tearing one off… I lowered my rifle as we locked eyes through the reinforced window.
The thing… the Strigoi looked at me, skin cracked as putrefied muscle fibers seemed to leak through dead flesh. It’s teeth were corroded and worn down to sharp fragments, alongside newly mutated fangs that messily protrude from the jaws. Even through the thick walls of the MRAP I could hear it’s roar, as it then tried to punch it’s way through… it cracked the outer coating of the vehicle… but it wasn’t getting anywhere near. My machine gunner, seated next to me, seemed to chuckle at the sight, quippily saying “Yeah… fuck you too”. It’s then our vehicle lurched upwards, as we began to climb the small incline of the bunker. I knew the layout, mapped it in our head, the main entrance was built into the rocky side of an old cliff meaning we could easily set up a defensive perimeter around it, a horseshoe. Krol’s vehicle was first, taking to the right as Echo-3’s MRAP followed. My vehicle, third, left the incline and took a left and… that’s where things got complicated.
We’re still trying to work out what happened but… from what Joakim says his drone captured. Right when the MRAP turned, several of the monsters quickly slammed into the side of the vehicle, as another more bulkier one, pushed at it’s undercarriage. The result.. Was the 40 ton armored vehicle tipped over. It wasn’t uncommon, hell in some cases a well placed IED, a good shot with a recoilless rifle, have been known to tip over Oshkoshs and Maxpros all the time. But this beast? Needless to say we barely had a second to comprehend it as it leaned to the left; “Grab on to something-” is all I had time to shout. A mess of gear and men spilled onto one side of the vehicle as it slammed into the old gravel and dirt.
Several of my assaulters, my grenadier planted right ontop of myself and the others as we came to a stop. Someone’s knee slammed directly into the side of my skull, causing me to dazily bob in and out of consciousness as my face was smushed against the glass of one of the windows.
Through my peltors, the other squads were erratic;
[“Echo-2’s vehicle is down!!”].
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2… Echo-3 to Echo-2…”].
Krol’s voice came through the comms;
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-2… Fuc-... Echo-1 secure Echo 2’s flank, Echo-3”].
[“Echo-3 to other units, they’re spilling through, I’ve got several enemy combatants converging on Echo-2’s vehicle”].
I pushed the legs of my grenadier off my head as I fought to my hands and knees, unfucking my nods as I looked around… “Fuck it… we’re going lights on, shield your eyes” I muttered as I reached for the overhead lights and flipped them on. The bright LEDs bathed the inside of the vehicle as we all gained our bearings, a mess of multicam, gear, and weapons as we quickly pushed each other off. My gunner caught as he fought to realign his promask, from what I gathered one of the assaulters had landed directly into his gun, pushing it directly into his jugular, as pulled back at the rubber and coughed, freeing up his esophagus. We didn’t have time to think however… the sound of bending metal caught our attention… as the back ramp door of the MRAP was ripped clean off. I could barely believe it but as the white light of the MRAP’s interior poured to the outside, a hulking mass leaned in, the dead flesh on it’s face nearly fallen off as the hideous Strigoi leaned inside.
Without hesitation I aimed took aim, yelling “Keep to the deck!!” to any of those inbetween myself and the invader as I opened fire. A burst of full auto fire tore through it’s collar and neck, my men quickly clung to either sides of the fallen MRAP as a few more fired out. As the thing backed up, a blast of .50 cal fire quickly tore it to shreds, along with several others as I realized they were fuckin swarming over the outside of our vehicle. Echo-3’s vehicle continued to carefully fire on the Strigoi on the outside, the sounds of .50 cal ricocheting off the outside of our armor was enough to make the pucker factor set in.
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2”].
[“This is Echo-2, we’re green on ammo, equipment, men”].
[“Roger, we’re shifting fire, exit the vehicle”].
“Hurry up let’s go!!” I barked to my men, leading the way as I staggered out. I turned on my peq, taking aim at silhouettes in the brush as I began to fire. The sounds of machine guns lighting up the brush, as a sea of growls, howls, and incomprehensible roars fired back at us was the ambient noise of the night. My men quickly exited, my gunner being the last as he and I pulled back to the rest of the defensive perimeter. I set in my men to take up the frontal security, as 3rd squad took the right flank, 1st squad to the left. Major Krol and the JTAC were bickering with each other; “How far out are the birds”. “They’re entering airspace now…” Joakim said, already scanning his smart book.
I asked “What’ve we got?”. He then flipped through… to the NATO combined arms segment, quippily saying; “Apaches…”. This caused me to pause as Echo-3 turned their head whilst directing their squad’s fire “The hell… where did we get apaches from?”. “The Americans… they volunteered” Krol said dismissively as he took aim at the darkness, firing off a controlled trio. “Volunteered? They’re aware of what’s going on?” I asked.
Krol seemed to stop, glancing back at me before returning his focus “There’s a lot more going on than you realize, Blachowicz… Prep the breach, you and 1st are going on”.
I quickly pulled my breacher off the line, securing some thermite as the reinforced bunker door wasn’t going to go as easily as a conventional door breach would. 1st Squad pulled back, stacking up and preparing themselves to be the first in. All the while… Joakim gave his firing solution; “Alpha Hotel Two Five Nine, This is Bravo-4…… Type 2….”.
I snapped to my right, watching as a Strigoi managed to dark across the clear gravel field, only to be cut down by my gunner, the peq’s laser marking the burst as it tore through the beasts’ hips, as it hit the ground and still continued to claw, another GROM operator took aim and fired into it’s skull. Joakim popped up to his feet…. “Marking laser, high power…”. He then pulled out a target marking laser… if you’ve watched night operations, you’ve probably seen them.
The green laser than as it says on the label, marks targets. The pattern of which can vary… if it’s a point target, it’ll usually lasso an area, or remain on target until the target is removed with extreme prejudice. If its close air support, then it’ll be a line of the general area… and Joakim damn near marked the entire perimeter around us. He quickly pocketed the tool, turning back to Krol; “Don’t go past 20 meters unless you want to be liquidated”.
With that… 2nd and 1st stacked up at the door as 3rd squad took up the perimeter security. As Major Krol went over to Echo-1… I saw them. A single blinking IR strobe from the beasts as they moved on the far off horizon, converging from several angles… and fired. The sound of the Apache’s main gun, the M230, truly sounds like the hammer of god… the 30mm cannon shot through the dark sky, lighting it up as we saw three incoming streams tear up the woods. Only then as the sound broke did we start to hear their rotors as they broke and began to circle, firing again… then… Joakim dipped his head and looked to Krol; [“Foxtrot Mike, hang onto your teeth…”]. One of the Apaches fired off a AGM-114… a Hellfire. I barely saw it out of the corner of my eye as the Apache from our right flank fired off at a target approximately 200 meters off. A fireball lit up the forest as the horrendous roar echoed throughout… then went silent.
Echo-3 scanned the horizon carefully;
[“Echo-3 to Echo-Lead, enemy contact is starting to die down”].
[“Maintain perimeter, Close Air is to maintain fire mission until we are boots up, Break…”].
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-1, condition white has been met. Proceeds”]. I saw Echo-1 and his men quickly stack up close to the wall and gesture to me; Breaching. I quickly pulled my stack back against the wall as his and mine breacher quickly hit their actuators. Now under normal circumstances, it doesn’t take much for thermite to melt the locks off of a metal surface, in fact it’s a more precise took as alternative means get real medieval like saws, pry bars… we weren’t in the mood for precision, we need to breach their little lair, and drag them out. The sound of several pounds of hellfire burning through the metal could be heard around the corner as a sea of white and red sparks flew out… after several seconds, two of our men tossed a fragmentation grenade and a nine-bang through the opening… a series of concussive blasts and a large explosion rang out.
Echo-1 and his men maneuvered. 1st Squad quickly converged as we followed them in.
Stepping through the black wall of smoke, the dark abyss of the interior was illuminated in a white light as entered barrels raised. Shots rang out as several of the beasts near the entrance were cut down, though not immediately, rounds disconnected the shoulder of one of them, leading to their arm hanging limply by a single tendon as they roared… another series of rounds putting them down. What greeted us was a messy concrete hell of rust and debris, fecal matter, trash, and all kinds of obstacles laid in our way, our boots sticking to the floor. I thank every god we had promasks that night. I called my shield bearer up, 2nd squad leapfrogging ahead to take the next corridor as 1st squad checked their weapons.
One of my men mule kicked the metal door ahead, twice, finally the latch gave away as we tossed in a grenade. A horrifying roar was cut off as an M67 shook the walls of the ancient soviet mausoleum, frag and spall kicked off the walls as I moved in right behind my shield man. The cramped russian design meant there was barely enough space for three people, and that’s three normal people, not in 50kgs of kit, moving slowly and maneuvering against creatures of the dark. Still… we moved forward, my shield bearer and I pushing the pace as two stacked of either squad formed on either wall.
As we passed doorways they flowed in… “Door Left!!”, “Door Right!!”. “Move!!”.
Two men entered each side, no gunshots, we moved up, a roar came.
“Door left!!-”. A series of gunshots came out as we continued to push forward.
“Two down!!”. “Confirm them” Krol commanded, as a series of gunshots run out in response. From one of the doorways, a Strigoi emerged… a female… clumps of hair had been ripped from her decaying skull, as her blooded eyes locked on myself and my shieldman. The skin on her hands had been tore down to the point where barely her bones and tendons remain… looking like huge talons as she roared and lunged at us. He fired off his pistol, though the rounds did little to stop her as she pushed against our stack.
“Fuck!!” he muttered, somehow her strength caused him to stagnate, holding up the advance… fuck that. I shoved the muzzle of my MK18 into her ribcage, flipping the weapon to auto as I fired of round after round. The 5.56 salvo disconnecting her spinal column, causing her to fall as I continued to fire, along with a man to our right and left as the stacks reformed as we pushed to the end of the hall. I fell back, dropping the magazine and loading a fresh one, like clockwork a GROM Operator from 1st squad took my place. Krol was beside me as we approached the end of the hall.
[“-Prep an entry”] I radioed to my breacher, a comrade handed him one of the charges from his back panel as he took to the door, quickly securing it. We all moved as far back as we could, look away, exhale. The blast knocked metal and wood in all directions, scrapping against our uniforms and kit as we made our way in and what laid before us was… it used to be the center atrium of one of these bunkers. Soviet’s loved their grandiose designs, the complex was supposed to be a circular room around a central planning table… instead. It had been turned into some sort of church. Runes and old eastern Romuva pagan symbols written in black ink and blood across the walls, old rotten filing cabinets, long receipt terminals. In the center… several of the Strigoi were kneeling before the table where someone had been tied down, flayed, and… shared amongst the group. They rose to their feet, we aimed our barrels…
The ladder amongst turned to us… his skin wasn’t cracked, or flayed, it was smooth… it still looked dead as the body on the table but it seemed more… accustomed to it. I don’t know… evolved? Under the surface however I could see it’s darkened veins pumping whatever cursed blood ran through them as it locked two blood red eyes onto each of us. It’s nose had long since been turn off, exposing boney nostrils to the open air as it seemed to smirk. All across it’s body were the same symbols on the walls, in every cell… markings of death, of rebirth, of assimilation… From behind this seemingly Alpha emerges another figure I had never seemed before… dressed in a white cloak with a deer head.
"So they've followed the trail... they're too late" the Deer headed individual spoke, definitely not from here, a dialect similar to an Americans but... aristocratic? Each word was drawn out, assurance as if they had everything mapped down to our actions. They didn’t sound like they were from Poland or the east.
“Doesn’t matter…” the Alpha growled… and then, it lunged at us. Quickly breaking from their ground it slammed into my shield man knocking both him and myself at the ground as it displayed an intense feat of strength. Around us I could see several of the Strigoi leap at our comrades… though to no fruitful endeavor as I could see one GROM operator cut two down, as another got into a hand to hand confrontation… my breacher, crafty as they were, reached back and slammed one of the prybars of his kit into the skull of the beast.
The Alpha however was not content as it threw away the 90lb shield, sending it flying across the room as it grabbed my comrade by the skull. I quickly kicked up at it, firing my MK18 into it’s body as the rounds pierced it’s gray and rune covered flesh. The thing simply seemed to chuckle… that was until Major Krol blasted away at the side of it’s head, the alpha turned… and it’s smirk turned to a scowl when face to face with the major. A knowing pause almost like they had done this dance before…
The creature lunged, locking up with Major Krol as it swung and slammed railing. Krol didn’t back down however as he pushed against the creature, hiptossing it to the ground even as it tore at his armor and gear. But the beast pulled, both of them rolled and the Major was on his back as the thing reached for his neck. I fought to a kneel, firing into the creature messily with my MK18, trying not to hit my commander… then…
Click. A sound sends a chill up the spine of every warfighter during a firefight.
My gun ran dry. I dropped the magazine, looking to load another, but the thing came up and with one of it’s claws, sliced deep into my cheek, through the pro mask. I could feel my own blood go flying through the air as I landed hard on my back plate, spitting out red iron as I quickly tried to adjust my mask. Through my fogged up, blood covered lense… I saw my shield man raise his pistol, firing into the skull of the thing staggering it with a roar. Krol came from behind, drawing his knife he sunk it deep into the neck of it…. I reached for my rifle, forcing a new magazine in and damn near punching the bold release. ““Sir, down!!” I shouted, Krol rolled away, back to his own rifle as I fired. So did my comrade as he continued to fire his pistol… so did the Major as he fired his rifle. All of us chewing through that apex predator of darkness, that beast… the leader that had been preying on our people for so long. Layer by layer, muscle group by bone… eventually… the alpha landed on whatever was left of his back.
The silence of the fight died down as all of us checked our surroundings, GROM Operators putting controlled pairs in the heads and nerve stems of any Strigoi laying around… I flicked my weapon onto safe, letting it hang as I pulled off my mask. I dared not touch the wound on my face… the pain nearly crippling me if it wasn’t sheer will pushing me through, and adrenaline doing all it could to subdue it. The sound of the apaches continuing to lay hate drew us from our moment of contemplation as the Major went back to work; [“Confiscate any info, burn the rest…”]. He turned back to me as I shoved my damaged M50 mask back into it’s bag, chuckling as he looked at the sight; “You need a medevac, Blachowicz?” he quipped.
I shook my head, barely able to speak as I muttered; “Negative sir…”. The two of us scanned the room as my shield bearer went to collect his defense implement turned 90lb projectile, we scanned the center of the room, checking and confirming bodies, until we got to the last one alive. His white gown was soaked in red crimson and black ooze, as his dear head was mangled from bullet fire and impact from falling on it. I swear… the way his blood poured out of it though made me wonder if it was a mask. I gave it no second thoughts as he looked to Krol; “You… you can’t stop this, they’ve already-”.
The Major was in no mood for communication as his rifle snapped up and fired off three rounds to the body, four the head. The violent yet quick salvo ending the cultists life, I looked down at it, then to him as he remarked; “Have your squad drag him out to the front, burn the rest”. I stood alongside him, looking down as the sight of it’s deer head was both captivating and horrifying… the curiosity in me wanting to look closer at it fighting the primal instinct I had to burn the thing to ash. “-Haven’t seen one of those before…” I muttered, thinking the Major had an answer.
He didn’t. Krol saying “Neither have I…” shortly before he walked away, was what truly shook my soul about that entire night. Victory stood firm in our hearts that night as we stood outside of the bunker. The night sky burning with fire and white phosphorus as we watched the ruin burn from the inside from the other side of the lot. In the distance, the Apaches continued to scan and circle the forests, no longer firing…. Which meant they had driven any or turned to glass any enemy combatants within a four miles, probably both, more than likely the latter. Echo-1 patted me on the shoulder as we stood there, soaking it all in, though Krol looked none to pleased. “In the time it took us to take this one down, they’ll be trying to set up three more cells… that being established…” he said, looking to either of us, then to Echo-3. “-Hell of a thing we did tonight, been waiting for this one for a decade, cleanly, maybe more… but no time to rest on our laurels… we’ll have another task for us as soon as we’re boots down back home” he said, to which his eyes followed mine, the body of whatever cultist that was zipped up in a black body bag beside the wheel of one of the MRAPs. The fire from the bunker casting an orange hue over it’s shiny jet black outside, something didn’t sit right with me… “That wasn’t a Strigoi…” I said to Krol.
“That’s very clear…” the Major said, shoving his mask under his arm and lighting a cigarette. “So… someone’s helping them?” I asked. The meer notion of it shook me to my core, sickened me. This parasite was already badly infecting Europa, Polska… if it was spread like this throughout the world. Krol settled my nerves: “We’ll be ready… It’s not just us anymore”. As he said that, I realized what he meant… my eyes looking to the Apaches as they started to form up, leaving the areas as their thunderous propellers melted into the night’s calm, unnerving ambience.
It’s been a couple of weeks since then, Echo Detachment has been busy. We’ve gained good ground against the enemy and honestly I think in a few years, we might see a much larger change. For now… we must keep going, that being said the Strigoi aren’t the only ones we’ve been combating. Recently we’ve made contact with of some sort of extermination coalition, they’ve known about the Strigoi, and others plaguing the world, the level of corruption and corrosion on society goes deep. Regardless a lot of the units we’ve been working with are apart of NATO, such as this “4th Special Forces Group” of the American Military. I don’t know where the road from here leads, but we’ve gotten momentum on our side, finally. Just remember… these things are out there, in every town, every city, every nation… preying and waiting for you to be alone, vulnerable, so they can take you and replace you.
Watch your back, and stay safe.
For now, Blachowicz signing out. Until next time

Mr. Steve Lewis
Mr. Patrick McKinney
Mr. Bryan Freiermuth
c/o Gideons 1898 LLC et al
1600 East Buena Vista Drive

A

Lake Buena Vista, FL 32830
VIA ELECTRONIC MAIL
May 10th, 2024
Final Demand
Gentlemen,
There is an odor most foul in the Bakehouse. It is the stench of the fish rotting from the head.
To our proprietor Steve, and our managers Bryan and Patrick:
There is dissension within the ranks, and if the following items are not resolved as we outline
below, we’re prepared to drag this house of cards to the ground.
Before we proceed with our grievances, numerous and shocking, and the demands to resolve
them; allow us a moment for introductions.
We, are the Ghosts of Gideons, the poor and unfortunate souls upon whom you have built your
cookie empire. We are the many, the unseen, and as of the disastrous meeting May 6th, 2024, the
decidedly unheard.
Many of us have approached management and ownership multiple times with helpful hints,
strong suggestions, and desperate pleas to rectify a myriad of health, safety and operational
concerns- with nearly all of them being dismissed or ignored entirely.
Now, we, the collective, have banded together to deliver this tome- not as a warning of what is to
come, but as a final demand to resolve the issues outlined herein. You may dismiss us
individually, but you cannot ignore all of us together.
Make no mistake, if the following solutions are not implemented with immediate effect, we will
do everything in our power to topple this cookie castle permanently.
We should start by informing you, that, yes- we are but lowly workers for Gideons, however, we
are supported by families who hold prominent positions in the community as lawyers, labor
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representatives, publicists, and county government workers. Families who love us, and want to
see us remain safely and fairly employed.
Through our vast, and well connected network the following steps have already been
implemented:
1) A lawsuit for your numerous unfair and unsafe labor practices and work conditions has
been drafted.
2) A press release, along with a copy of this letter, have been sent to local and national
media.
3) We have created social channels to connect directly with customers and inform them of
the reprehensible work conditions we are enduring.
4) We have filed health and safety reports with local government bodies detailing the
extensive issues we are faced with at the Springs location.
5) We have informed Disney Springs leadership of our position relating to the above, and
below in this letter.
In all cases, these competent bodies are awaiting our word. If the demands listed herein are not
satisfied immediately, we will, in tandem with the above, begin a campaign to inform the world
of your numerous transgressions, filing lawsuits and media coverages exposing you and the
Company for the shill that it is, and we will not stop until the Bakehouse bakes no more.
We should also mention that should any attempt be made to retaliate against us, including
termination, reducing our hours, benefits, or taking other pervasive actions against any Gideons
employee, will promptly result in our bringing legal class-action.
The time has come for you, our leaders, to actually lead. This means spending money where
money must be spent, and making the following operational changes, so that we can all continue
to exist in harmony, and not feel like we’re trapped on an 1800’s plantation- working for the big
house.
1) Communication- How dare you drag the entire workforce to a 9AM meeting,
demanding our presence, and then talk directly at us with the most mundane drivel we’ve
ever heard. Everything dictated today could have been very well sent as an email-
especially when you did not allow for any discussion between us, the workers who
actually make your business run, and the disconnected upper-management who are hell
bent on implementing misguided and inefficient policies. Do not call us in for a
mandatory meeting again when the points can be covered in an email, unless you intend
to open the floor for actual conversation and listen to what we have to say.
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To that end, since our voices were silenced this morning, we demand the following:
● Cold Brew- We will not adopt the ‘bartender’ shaking style of preparing the cold
brew drinks. When we have 10+ beverages queuing to be made, shaking each
drink 10 times will severely impact our ability to be efficient. This is but one
example of Steve’s desire to have ‘form over function’. We understand there may
be a ‘look’ you’re going for, but when it compromises our ability to efficiently
perform our function, we refuse. We demand to be allowed to resume our ‘stir
stick’ preparation immediately.
● Point System/ Order Accuracy- Under no circumstance should Management take
the side of the Guest over the word of the employee. Too often we see guests
complain that an order was incorrect, and Management issues a point to an
employee. This must stop immediately. We demand you implement a ‘please
check your screen for order accuracy’ procedure where the guest confirms their
order before they pay, and remove the ‘point’ system. If the guest confirms the
order, it reduces the possibility for an inaccurate order.
● Inconsistent/ Inaccurate menu boards and Social Postings- The inside Menu
Board has been outdated for nearly two years. It must be updated immediately to
remove items we no longer sell (IE Coke Products) and ingredient offerings (IE
Banana WALNUT). By correctly labeling the items, it reduces the stress on us in
having to confirm that certain items have nuts, or not being yelled at by guests
who are disgruntled that we no longer sell Coke products. Further, there are
multiple social media inaccuracies when describing new products (IE peanut
butter buttercream, VS the actual peanut butter cream cheese). These inaccurate
product descriptions hurt the brand, and cause confusion with the guests when
they come to order these products. Also the new umbrellas are not UV resistant;
therefore any mention of them ‘protecting you from the sun’ is false, and may
result in legal action from guests. We demand you only post accurate descriptions
to the website/ social media to avoid further guest/ employee confrontation.
● HR- Given the fact that Cynthia engaged in using racial slurs during the May 6th
meeting, referring to guests as gypsies and hoodlums, we demand her firing and
removal immediately. Multiple members of staff were deeply offended by the
hurtful stereotypes that Cynthia perpetuated, and we no longer have any trust in
her ability to lead this organization, especially from a HR perspective, when she
herself seems to harbor unfair and demeaning racial views.
● Management- We cannot express with limited words the level of dissatisfaction
we maintain for Drew. The staff, in our entirety, have never dealt with such
incompetent, slothful, and wasteful behavior. Drew consistently stays on his
phone, refusing to help the team accomplish any of their tasks, and barely exudes
a modicum of effort through his rare action of helping build cake boxes or taking
out trash before disembarking on a break (which none us other managers/leads are
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cookie king, bringing in circa $40,000 per day, affording you a life of luxury, and not
fairly compensate the employees that are making Gideons everything that it is. The
cookies are good, but make no mistake, as was stated during the May 6th meeting, the
customers come for us. I can’t imagine what they’ll say when they learn about the
slave-like conditions in which we work, especially with Auntie Anne’s earning $18 per
hour + tips.
3) Hours- Part time is up to 30 hours per week, full time is 30 hours or more. We must have
a guaranteed number of hours per week, pending our availability. For example, if a
full-time employee has open availability, they must be scheduled for 40 hours. If a
part-time person has open availability, they must be scheduled for up to 30 hours per
week. This is to ensure we have a stable and uniform weekly income, guaranteed by our
base pay and consistent hours.
4) On Call- All shifts that are ‘on- call’ must be guaranteed a full 8 hour shift, regardless if
the employee is called into work or not. We clear our day and make ourselves available to
cover the Company, and we demand to be compensated a full 8 hours ($16 per hour) for
the flexibility to suit the Company’s needs.
5) Pay Protection- In the event that the store is closed for any reason, employees currently
scheduled to be working during the closure must receive all payment for the shifts they
were scheduled for. If the AC goes out again, and we’re down for several days, those of
us scheduled must receive full compensation for shifts as scheduled.
3) Health & Safety- While it seems that Gideon’s is based primarily on the ‘cool factor’ in how
our processes look from a customer perspective, we are still a fully functioning kitchen and retail
location with a haphazard health and safety process, at best.
To ensure a properly safe workplace and customer experience, we demand the following changes
immediately:
1) Shorts/ Heat Safety Prevention- We’ve been told time and time again that the ‘Disney
Contract’ we cannot wear shorts. After having multiple conversations with Disney
Springs leadership and the Unite Here 362 representatives, we have come to understand
that a change in uniform can be initiated by amendment. No longer can the ‘look’ of
something overpower the safety of us. In terms of being outside in the sunlight and heat,
we demand that the contract be amended immediately to account for a uniform change,
thus allowing us to wear shorts within the next five days. It is dangerous for us to be
outside in the heat and sunlight during high-heat (more than 70 degrees fahrenheit) days,
wearing all black and long pants. We are unwilling to compromise our personal health
and safety to appease your ‘style guide’ insisting on long pants, but we’re happy to
maintain a look via style guide for shorts. In addition, we have seen multiple large/
battery operated fans in use around Disney property, keeping other Cast cool during these
heat waves. We demand that large fans are procured and placed in strategic outside
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locations within the next 5 days, so that we may have respite during high temp days. The
cooling towels and neck fans you have provided are ineffective.
2) Egress- We bakers are trapped. There is no second means of fire egress from the kitchen,
and should a fire or other disaster occur with the ovens, we would be trapped and unable
to escape. We demand you add in additional egress from the bakery, into the outside
alley. We understand this will require planning and stairs, however, planning must be
commenced immediately. We will not work in an unsafe environment, and with no place
to escape in the event of an emergency, we will be burned alive.
3) Handicap accessibility- Our retail location does not comply with ADA mobility
standards. The counters must be moved to allow an employee who utilizes a wheelchair
or other mobility device the proper space to move behind the counters and throughout the
kitchen. While yes, a wheelchair will ‘fit’, they will be unable to properly move. We are
discriminating against hiring ADA employees due to the way the store is currently
overcrowded and built. We demand proper spacing be added within the next 90 days.
4) Safety Training & Procedures- As of right now Operations have not developed any safety
or training procedures relating to fire, bomb threat, active shooter, lighting/ rain, accident
or other hazard. We are provided with no training in the event of any of these
emergencies, and we are all woefully unprepared with a common knowledge of how to
address emergency situations. We demand that a safety plan be developed and provided
to each of us in writing, and that we receive sufficient training of the new procedures
within 14 days.
5) Sanitation- Our baking sheets never get cleaned. We demand that you hire an outside
vendor to pick up used equipment nightly at close, and deliver a clean set at the same
time, so that we may rotate clean equipment daily. It is too large a task for us to wash in
house, and this needs to be automated for us. Our current sanitation procedure is
inadequate to ensure proper health and safety standards.
6) Bathroom breaks- Many of us suffer from various biological disabilities that force
frequent trips to the restroom. We simply cannot ‘hold it’ until we’re on break. IF we
need to go to the restroom, we must be immediately accommodated to do so without
repercussions. While this is not common, it does happen, and must be allowed.
6
Demand Timeline:
May 11th- Cold Brew BartendeShaking preparation is disbanded, stir stick preparation is
reimplemented.
May 11th- Cynthia is terminated immediately for using racial slurs during a company meeting.
May 11th- Drew is demoted as manager immediately for failure to act as a leader, and help his
team, undergoing an immense retraining before he is reinstated.
May 12th- All employees earn a base rate of $16 + tip share.
May 12th- An automatic/ mandatory 7.5% gratuity is placed on all guest orders.
May 12th- All ‘on call’ shifts will be guaranteed a full 8 hours ($16 p/h), regardless of working
or not.
May 12th- Lead/ Trainer pay to increase to at least $19 per hour when training, and $18 per hour
at all other times + tip share.
May 11th- Planning for additional egress to begin. Must be fully installed and operational no
later than June 20th, 2024.
May 17th- A $1,200 bonus is paid to all employees who worked during the last three pay
periods. This bonus covers the lower wages suffered from the ‘no tip’ asking policy.
May 13th- Schedules to be created, guaranteeing all ‘part-time’ employees up to 30 hours per
week based on employee availability, and ‘full-time’ employees at least 40 hours per week,
based on employee availability.
May 14th- Commercial grade fans outside submitted for approval to Disney, installed upon
approval.
May 15th- Shorts implemented for all workers, all shifts, when the outside temperature is more
than 70 degrees fahrenheit.
May 14th- Sanitation company must be contracted to pick up used baking sheets nightly, and a
second set of baking sheets to be procured to ensure sufficient sanitation of products in direct
contact with food.
May 24th- All health & safety procedures will be drafted and provided to all employees in
writing, with in-person training to occur with all employees. New hires shall receive the new
procedures and same in person training as a part of their onboarding.
August 4th- Handicap/ADA compliance. The store and kitchen must be rearranged/ decluttered
to allow for the hiring of mobility device users, including wheelchairs, to comply with ADA
layout requirements.
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While the above demands only scratch a portion of the hazardous operational procedures, we are
confident that should they all be addressed and the solutions we have demanded are implemented
within the allotted timelines, we can avoid a disastrous fallout and continue to work together to
ensure Gideons remains a successful operation.
We understand that this will most likely come as a shock, not less because ownership and
operations seem to be blissfully unaware of the vast deterioration, but moreover, the inane
procedural overhauls implemented in today’s meeting simply reek of disconnection to the reality
of the process, and will only serve to further delay and complicate the already struggling
operation.
It is time to see beyond all of the narcissistic ‘it looks cool, so we’re going to do it my way’
absurdity, and recognize that the above demands come from your soldiers on the frontlines. A
tough pill to swallow, but it is medicine critical to survival, nevertheless. We further recommend
that all upper management leadership work at least one eight hour, front of house shift per six
months, to ensure they remain fully connected and relevant.
We must issue a final word of warning: should this letter be ignored, or any of the above
demands are not implemented, or any retaliatory action be taken, it will be met with the most
severe consequences.
We know that you are amassing a fortune, and all we Ghosts ask for is a fair wage, a safe and
comfortable working environment, and to be treated with dignity and respect.
We’d hate for the adoring public to learn of any other reality. This is your one, final, opportunity
to make it right.
We look forward to your prompt email reply confirming your plan of action to comply with our
demands herein.
In Solidarity,
The Ghosts of Gideons.

“As you know, each mech is programmed to its operator's DNA,” Hector walked through the armor vault with a small group of green-boots trailing behind him. “Once linked, nobody else can operate your armor without command authority override.”
The armor vault was ten stories high, the distant ceiling crisscrossed with the immense cranes and rails used to move the powered-down mechs in and out of the bays. Crossing from one side to the other took ten minutes at a brisk walk. Every inch of the place was filled with twenty-foot-tall mechs mounted in their bays, and all of the gear and machinery required to repair and optimize them for battle.
Hector used to feel shame for lying to the newbies and had dulled that terrible ache at the bottom of a bottle. Orders were orders.
These days, he was rather numb to it, resigned to the fact that 90% of the raw recruits that came through his orientation would be compost within a year. Perhaps less.
He stopped, turned and clasped his hands behind his back. The green-boots stopped with him.
They were young, baby’s in uniform, their battle dress crisply pressed and boots polished to a mirror shine. The room continued to spin for Hector, and he covered his sudden loss of balance by leaning against an armor bay strut and casually pointing up at the mech. “See that prismatic shine over the armor?”
The recruits nodded, craning their faces to peer up at the mech.
“Know what that is?”
“Stealth coating, sir,” an eager young woman with short-cropped black hair and skin nearly as dark raised her hand and spoke.
“Very good,” he said, pleased that his words weren’t slurred even a little. “That coating is a retrofit. The Nek’s can’t see through it.” He met each fresh young gaze, and all he saw were corpses. All he spoke was lies. “Makes us ghosts on the battlefield.” Not exactly a lie, but misleading for sure.
“How does it work, sir?” A young man with fiery hair and just enough fuzz on his face to warrant the purchase of a razor asked from the rear.
“Shit if I know, son,” Hector had to piss, bad. Time to wrap this up. “All I know is the casualty rates dropped to 1% of pre-retrofit high.” Another lie. He forced on a confident and reassuring smile. Wise and fatherly, he fancied. “And our kill ratio of the enemy climbed 165%.” Lie.
He needed a shot of bourbon. Fuck he had to piss.
“Each of you will go to your assigned armor bay for encoding once this tour is done. There, your op officer will walk you through the armor initialization process. Then, you will be assigned to your units. With any luck, you’ll be out there killing Nek’s within a week.” He beamed his gigawatt smile. “Any questions?” Wonder if they have that imported scotch in the officer’s lounge tonight?
Hector’s eyes wandered across the bay to the door leading out of the vault to the hallway that would carry him across the base to his comfort waiting in a bottle.
“How many kills you got, sir?”
Hector swallowed back his longing, squeezed his bladder shut so he didn’t piss down his leg, and fastened hard eyes on the fool who’d asked the question. He put his face an inch from the asshole’s nose. The kid’s eyes went wide and fearful. He instinctively snapped to attention.
“Never ask that question. Ever.” Hector saw flecks of saliva pepper the kid’s face, but he didn’t care. Fucking fool. Everyone knows it’s bad luck to ask a man that. “Understand, shit for brains?”
The kid swallowed hard. Hector realized the rest of the recruits were at attention, too. He waded back from the battering waves of his anger, fought himself back to calm.
“Bad luck,” he said to the kid. “All of you, you’re dismissed.”
They did an about-face and hurried off to their respective bays, some muttering and glancing back over their shoulders. Fuck’em. He didn’t care. This time next month, half would be dead or laid up in some battlefield infirmary with grievous wounds. He couldn’t afford to care.
Not anymore.
Damn he needed a drink. He smacked his mouth and pulled a hand down his face. Why was he here? Why him? He watched the new recruits fade off into the distance and for a heartbeat, he hoped they would survive the coming horrors. Hoped to see them again, at least a few.
Memory stirred.
Fire and blood and death on a distant world with no name, flickered around the edge of his thoughts. He growled and forced it away. Why him and not them?
Fuck it.
He sighed, hardened his heart and turned toward the latrine. If he waited any longer he’d spring a leak. Hope they have that imported scotch. So smooth. Have to piss. Why me?
Tonight, he’d pay the price for a full bottle.
Tonight, he hoped to wake from this nightmare.

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Chapter 20: The Storm's Fury
Gribble huddled in the depths of the cave, his heart pounding wildly as the fierce thunderstorm raged outside. The heavy rain and ear-splitting thunder created a scary symphony, unlike anything Gribble had ever heard before. Each booming thunderclap made the cave walls shake, and small rocks fell from the ceiling. Gribble's eyes darted around the small space, looking for any sign of safety, but the storm's anger seemed to fill every nook and cranny. Fear gripped his heart as he worried that the whole hillside might cave in, trapping him alive in the cave. The damp air was thick with the smell of wet dirt and the sharp tang of fear, and Gribble's skin tingled with goosebumps as the temperature dropped. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stay warm and calm his frazzled nerves, but the storm's power only seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.
The shadowy figure stood tall at the mouth of the cave, its form unmoving despite the heavy rain that pounded the outside. Gribble squinted his eyes, trying to figure out what the creature was through the curtain of darkness and the never-ending rain, but the details stayed hidden. The figure's posture was steady and scary, its broad shoulders and muscular build hinting at a tough enemy. Gribble's heart raced as he watched the figure, his mind imagining all sorts of terrifying possibilities. The creature's stillness was creepy, as if it was waiting for just the right moment to attack. A wave of dread washed over Gribble, and he instinctively pressed himself further into the cave's shadows, desperate to avoid being seen. The figure's presence was a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the cave's walls, and Gribble's survival instincts kicked into high gear as he thought about his next move.
A blinding flash of lightning tore through the night sky, filling the cave with an eerie, otherworldly light. For a split second, the creature's identity was revealed, and Gribble's eyes widened in horror as he took in the sight before him. Standing at the cave's entrance was a dark blue Thundercat, its muscular body rippling with power beneath its sleek, electric blue fur. The Thundercat's eyes gleamed with a predatory intensity, reflecting the lightning's flash like two pools of melted gold. Gribble's gaze was drawn to the creature's long, razor-sharp sabertooth fangs, which glinted menacingly in the momentary light. The sight of the Thundercat sent a wave of primal fear rushing through Gribble's veins, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. The stories he had heard of these legendary beasts paled in comparison to the reality that stood before him, and Gribble knew that he was facing a creature of unimaginable strength and ferocity.
Gribble's panic reached a fever pitch, his breath coming in short, labored gasps as he stared at the Thundercat. The tales of these feared creatures flooded his mind – whispers of the electric sparks that danced through their fur, of their immense strength that was said to rival even the most fearsome Owlbear. Gribble's heart pounded against his ribcage, and he could feel the cold sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill in the air. He knew that he was facing a daunting adversary, one that could easily overpower him in a head-on confrontation. The odds of survival seemed to dwindle with each passing second, and Gribble's mind raced as he desperately tried to come up with a plan. The Thundercat's presence loomed over him like a suffocating shadow, and Gribble could feel the weight of its gaze boring into him, even from across the cave. He understood that he must act quickly and decisively if he hoped to escape this encounter with his life.
Reacting on instinct, Gribble called upon his innate power to conjure bean-sized fireballs. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a barrage of the tiny, flaming projectiles hurtling towards the cave entrance, where they burst into brilliant flashes of light upon impact. The fiery assault illuminated the cave, casting dancing shadows on the walls and bathing the Thundercat in an orange glow. The heat from the flames was intense, and Gribble could feel the scorching air brushing against his skin. The fireballs sizzled and crackled as they hit the stone, sending sparks flying in all directions. For a moment, the cave was filled with a dazzling display of light and sound, a stark contrast to the dark, scary storm that raged outside. Gribble's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and excitement as he watched the fireballs explode, hoping that the sudden attack would be enough to distract the Thundercat and give him a chance to escape.
Gribble's mind raced as he sent the fireballs towards the Thundercat, desperately hoping that the sudden attack would give him the distraction he needed to make his escape. He focused his thoughts, tapping into his teleportation powers and trying to picture a safe place outside the cave. However, the tiredness and the fear that gripped his heart made it hard to concentrate. Gribble's brow furrowed as he tried to gather the needed energy, but his body felt heavy and sluggish, as if he was moving through water. The image of the safe haven he sought flickered in his mind's eye, tantalizingly close but just out of reach. Gribble gritted his teeth, pushing himself to the limits of his mental and physical strength as he struggled to keep his focus. The cave seemed to spin around him, and he could feel the cold tendrils of despair creeping into his heart as he realized that his teleportation powers might fail him in this critical moment.
Gribble's heart sank as he watched the Thundercat emerge unharmed from the fiery assault. The creature's electric blue fur crackled with energy, the sparks dancing across its body like tiny bolts of lightning. The Thundercat's eyes blazed with an otherworldly intensity, and it let out a deafening roar that shook the very foundations of the cave. The sound was unlike anything Gribble had ever heard before – a primal, guttural cry that seemed to echo through his very bones. The cave walls trembled, and small rocks and debris rained down from the ceiling, adding to the chaos of the moment. Gribble realized with a sinking feeling that the Thundercat was not only unharmed but enraged by his attack. The creature's muscles rippled beneath its fur as it prepared to charge, and Gribble knew that a battle was now unavoidable. He steeled himself, summoning every ounce of courage and determination he possessed, knowing that he must fight with all his might if he hoped to survive this encounter.
The Thundercat sprang into action, its powerful legs propelling it towards Gribble with a speed that defied belief. The creature moved with a fluid grace, its body a blur of electric blue as it closed the distance between them in mere seconds. Gribble barely had time to react before the Thundercat was upon him, its razor-sharp claws slashing through the air with deadly precision. He threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the initial attack, but the Thundercat's agility was unmatched. The creature pivoted mid-leap, its tail lashing out like a whip and its claws finding purchase on the cave wall as it redirected its momentum. Gribble's heart raced as he realized the true extent of the Thundercat's physical prowess – its reflexes were lightning-fast, and its strength was beyond anything he had ever encountered. The creature's eyes locked onto Gribble, and he could see the predatory gleam within them, the raw hunger for the hunt. Gribble knew that he must keep moving, keep dodging, if he hoped to stay alive long enough to find a way to counter the Thundercat's relentless assault.
Despite the fatigue that weighed heavily upon him, Gribble mustered the last reserves of his energy and called upon his earth vine powers. He focused his mind, reaching out to the cave floor and seeking the dormant life that lay beneath the stone. With a surge of effort, Gribble summoned a single, thick green tendril from the ground, watching as it burst forth and snaked its way towards the Thundercat. The vine wrapped itself around one of the creature's muscular legs, momentarily halting its advance and giving Gribble a fleeting moment of hope. However, the Thundercat's strength was too great, and it easily ripped through the vine with a snarl of annoyance. The severed tendril fell to the cave floor, writhing like a dying snake before going still. Gribble's heart sank as he realized that his earth vine powers, once a reliable ally in battle, were no match for the Thundercat's raw power. The creature's gaze turned back to Gribble, its eyes narrowing with a mixture of anger and predatory anticipation, and he knew that he must find another way to defend himself before it was too late.
Gribble's mind raced as he desperately searched for a way to gain the upper hand against the relentless Thundercat. In a last-ditch effort, he summoned another volley of bean-sized fireballs, pouring every ounce of his remaining energy into the attack. The tiny flames erupted from his fingertips in rapid succession, streaking through the air like miniature comets and striking the Thundercat's fur with sizzling precision. The creature hissed in pain as the fireballs singed its coat, but its anger only seemed to grow with each passing second. Gribble's exhaustion began to take its toll, his movements becoming sluggish and uncoordinated as he struggled to maintain the barrage. His vision blurred, and his limbs felt heavy, as if he was moving through molasses. The Thundercat pressed its advantage, its claws and fangs flashing in the dim light of the cave as it lunged towards Gribble with renewed ferocity. He knew that he could not keep up this pace for much longer, and a sense of despair began to creep into his heart as he realized that his efforts might not be enough to save him from the Thundercat's wrath.
The Thundercat seized the opportunity presented by Gribble's faltering defense, delivering a devastating blow that sent the young adventurer flying across the cave. Gribble felt the air rush from his lungs as he slammed into the unyielding rock wall, his body crumpling to the ground in a heap of pain and exhaustion. Stars danced before his eyes, and he gasped for breath, each inhalation sending shockwaves of agony through his battered frame. Gribble's mind reeled as he tried to assess the extent of his injuries, but the pain was too great, too all-consuming. He could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, and he knew that he was badly hurt. The Thundercat's shadow fell over him, and Gribble looked up to see the creature looming above, its eyes glinting with a mixture of triumph and bloodlust. He tried to move, to crawl away, but his body refused to cooperate, and he collapsed back to the ground, his strength utterly spent. Gribble's heart pounded with the realization that he might not survive this encounter, and a cold sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.
Gribble lay broken and helpless on the cave floor, his vision swimming as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. The Thundercat stood over him, its electric blue fur crackling with energy as it prepared to deliver the final, fatal blow. Gribble's mind raced, desperately searching for a way out, for some last-minute miracle that could save him from this dire fate. He tried to summon his powers, to call upon the earth or conjure another fireball, but his body was too weak, too battered to respond. The Thundercat's eyes bore into him, and Gribble could see the raw, primal hunger that burned within them – the desire to end his life and claim victory. His heart hammered in his chest, and he could feel the cold tendrils of fear wrapping around his soul as he stared death in the face.
Would he find a way to overcome the Thundercat, or would his journey come to a tragic end in the depths of the cave? The fate of the young goblin hung in the balance, and only time would tell if he had the strength and cunning to emerge victorious.

I naturally fell into babysitting around the age of 14. Through friends and family, I got leads for babysitting to score some cash, which definitely beat having to work at a restaurant. The job had its ups and downs, but overall it wasn’t a bad gig at all.
Yet, as many good experiences as I had, they were all eclipsed by one night.
A new family in town talked to my dad at work and it turned out that they needed a babysitter. I happily took the job and found myself watching their 10-year old boy a couple of weeks later. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the family themselves. They were the model citizens of suburban America, complete with the white picket fence and blue shutters. Nothing about their house was strange or even unique. Their son Avery was very mild-mannered and polite. Even their car was basic. Not that these were bad things, but I expected it to be a very boring night.
What I did not expect was the uncomfortable, inexplicable feeling that I got when I set foot in the house. A chill ran through me, but there was no draft. I rubbed my arms as I gazed at their staircase as we passed. They gave me a brief tour of the house before they left a note of instructions and all the usual information I expected from a job.
While trying to figure out what was making me so uneasy about the place, I noticed something about their basement door when I passed it. A padlock was placed on the door, along with a deadbolt in place.
"Any questions?” The father asked as my mind was pulled out of my curiosity.
"No, sir. Everything looks great!”
So they left and Avery and I played some games before I made dinner. A couple of times, I thought I heard Avery call me into the den. Both times, I found him sitting on the couch in what most recognize as the TV-zombie state. He denied having called me, and I went back to making dinner. After the third time, I told Avery it wasn’t funny and that he should stop.
“I’m not doing anything, I’m just watching TV!”
His voice went to that higher tone of pleading, sounding desperate for me to believe him.
“Avery, I know it’s my first time and sometimes you wanna test things out, but I’m trying to get dinner ready so if you call me again, I’m not checking on you, okay?”
“I didn't say anything.”
The child glared at the TV with a pouting face, and I began to feel bad. As many times as I’ve heard lies, I was starting to sense that he was telling the truth. So what was I hearing?
“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not mad. Promise.”
Avery turned his head back towards me, seeming to test if I was the one fibbing now.
“How about I let you stay up a little later if we forget about it?”
“Do you really promise?”
“Pinky promise.”
With our contractual pinkies interlocked, spirits were raised again and I was able to finish dinner. Although I didn’t finish without hearing Avery’s voice calling me once more. I ignored it, and when Avery didn’t mention it at dinner I figured it was him fooling around again. The whole time we chatted as we ate, I couldn’t help but feel that something was not right about this house.
As hard as I tried to not look, my eyes kept diverting to the heavy padlock and chain on the basement door. Curiosity got the best of me and as we were cleaning up, I couldn’t help but ask.
“So Avery, what’s the deal with the basement door?”
“What do you mean?”
His words did not match his demeanor. It was obvious he didn’t make eye contact as he forced his sentence out.
“C’mon, you know what I mean. The padlock, chain, and deadbolt. Y’all have dangerous chemicals down there?”
Avery’s face grew paler and he stared at the wall for a moment.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to…”
“Dad said no one can talk about it anymore.”
This really threw me off, and I couldn’t possibly finish my sentence now. A thick veil of tension materialized between us.
“So you…you guys aren’t allowed to talk about it?”
Avery shook his head.
“Ah, okay. That’s cool. No big deal.”
It was nothing but a big deal.
Was their dad doing something illegal down there? Or was it something strange that no one could do anything about it? Maybe their dad was in denial about something going on. There were waaaaaay too many questions going through my head now.
“Hey, how about we put on a movie?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“What am I saying? Everyone likes movies, right?!”
Now excited, we decided on a fun movie that quickly pulled our minds away from the mysterious basement door. Well, that’s not entirely true. Maybe Avery was distracted, but it was killing me. As we ate popcorn, I couldn’t help but watch Avery, wondering what was going on in that little head of his.
Was there something awful going on in the house and there was nothing I could do to stop it? Or maybe the dad was just…
“Stop,” I told myself inwardly.
Mulling over it all endlessly was not doing myself any favors.
So the movie ended, and I ushered the drifting child to his bed. Now, the house was all to myself until twelve, so I had a good three and a half hours to myself. Immediately, I began texting my friend to tell her all about the weird experience I was having that night. She dismissed it, saying that I was getting spooked by a new place. This annoyed me to no end. I’d been at bigger, way creepier-looking houses but never got weird vibes like this.
Then…I heard it.
“Stephanie…..”
I went instantly still and listened intently.
“You didn’t hear that, Steph. Just keep texting your friend and…”
“Stephanieeeee…”
There was no mistaking it this time. It was definitely coming from the basement.
The acoustics couldn’t have been from Avery upstairs. The voice sounded like a little girl’s. In fact, I’m not even sure he could make his voice like that, anyway.
Slowly, I stood up from the couch and approached the door. Maybe like earlier, I was just hearing things. Maybe being creeped out by the house was starting to mess with my head. That made sense…right?
“Stephanie?”
I jumped back from the door, almost wetting myself in the process. There was no way I could dismiss it as anything else now. There was a little girl’s voice coming from the basement.
“H-hello?” I responded.
I couldn’t keep my voice from shaking.
“Is this Stephanie?”
“Y-yes, it’s Stephanie.”
“Can you help me?”
“Who are you? Why are you locked in the basement?”
“My name is Meredith Rosenberg. They’re kept me locked up for a long time now. The police were almost on to them and that’s why they moved. Can you get me out?”
A cold shock washed over me and made it hard to respond. Was I actually babysitting for a family that kept a little girl prisoner?
“Oh my God…um….how long have you been locked up with them?”
“Ever since I can remember.”
I felt somehow hot and cold at the same time, and wanted to throw up. This all made sense now with what Avery had told me. Of course his father didn’t want him talking about the door…
“I just need to find the keys and I can…”
“They’re hidden in the garage underneath the metal shelf. It’s inside a magnetic key holder.”
“Okay, just hold tight.”
In a panic to free the poor girl, I darted into the garage and began feeling the space underneath the bottom shelf and sure enough, there was a magnetic key holder there. Running back, I popped the key holder open and began to insert the key into the padlock.
“Did you find it?”
“Yes, sweetie. I’m almost there!”
“Oh, please hurry! Sometimes they come home early!”
This sent me into even more of a rush, and I barely managed to fumble the key into the padlock. I finally heard the successful click of the padlock, pulled the chain off, and slid the deadbolt to the right.
“I’m coming, Meredith. Hold on!”
I turned the doorknob and threw open the door, only to be met with darkness. Now full of adrenaline, my hands felt around for the light switch. Finally finding my purchase, I flicked the light on which lit up most of the stairs.
“Meredith?” I called out.
Unless I was remembering it wrong, it sounded like her voice was just on the other side of the door a minute ago. In fact, it was quite strange that she wasn’t waiting for me at the top of the stairs. Wouldn’t you immediately run out of a basement that you were locked in for God knows how long?
“I’m down here!” The little girl’s voice called out.
Judging from the distance, it sounded like she was calling from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs. My brain suddenly began piecing all the details of this interaction together and the idea of going down into the basement became absolutely terrifying.
“Meredith, you can come up now! The door’s open!”
I couldn’t hide the tremor in my voice. Why I was scared of a little girl was beyond me, but much like the house itself, something felt very wrong here.
“I hurt my leg, owww! When you said you were getting the key, I went back down to get some of my things and got hurt. Ahhh….”
Her sounds of pain filled me with sorrow, but an invisible force was holding me back from taking another step into that basement.
“Can you move? Maybe pull yourself up on the railing?”
“I can’t! It hurts too bad!”
“Okay, sweetie umm…”
“What’s wrong? Won’t you help me?”
“I-I it’s just…really dark down there and…and I don’t want to get hurt too. Is there any way you can get to the stairs? Any way at all?”
“I tried to sit up, but my shoulder hurts too much.”
“I thought you said your leg got hurt?”
The words hung in the air like a noose. It was only after I said it that I realized there was several things seriously wrong about all of this. A question popped into my head I didn’t even have time to think about until now.
How did she know where the padlock key was?
A deathly silence took up the space between me and wherever this girl was. It was a standoff, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say. There were questions I could ask her to figure out what was happening, but I felt that her answers weren’t going to be honest. Perhaps at this point, the truth was too frightful to know.
"Meredith? Are you still there?"
It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing my mind could conjure. The additional silence only unnerved me, so I decided to try and get a better look. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I clicked on the flashlight. It didn’t do me any good because of the awful range, so I did the one thing I’d already told myself not to do…
I took a step forward...
Maybe it was the angle of the stairs or the lighting, but that one step gave me more information than I ever wanted to know. I caught a better view of the bottom step, which was essentially a ledge into a black abyss. Something looked different on this step, but it took a second to register what it was.
The step was wet, a pool of some unknown liquid overflowing into the darkness of the basement. I knew for sure that the father hadn’t mentioned any flooding so it would be way too random for that. So I stood there, watching in frozen curiosity as the puddle then suddenly rippled…and I realized the abominable truth.
It wasn’t water.
It was a puddle of saliva…and something was drooling into it from the dark.
A wretched chuckle emanated from the horrid void beyond the step, and it cemented me even further into place. It was a wet chortle, and positively evil.
“How did you like my voices?” The thing said from the dark. “I’ve been practicing."
The epiphany creeped down my spine…it was now talking in Avery’s voice. Everything in my body screamed at me to run. I heard the screams but I couldn’t respond no matter how hard I tried.
"A pity though…almost got you."
At this, the most gruesome face peeled back the shadows and revealed itself, along with its unearthly mandibles and small fountain of saliva. My faculties finally came to and I threw myself into the house and kicked the door closed. In mere seconds, I had the door bolted and chained. Leaning against the door, my chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath.
Just as I felt I was safe, the door shuddered as a terrible blow rocked it. I screamed and ran upstairs to grab Avery.
I practically dragged the poor kid out the door and called the police. It wasn’t until the operator came on that I realized I was about to report a monster in the house. Thinking quickly, I told them that I heard a burglar in the home.
It wasn’t long before the police and Avery’s parents came home. Nothing was found, even in the basement, but I didn’t even care at that point. I just wanted the hell out of that house and away from whatever that….thing was. Avery’s parents kept glancing at me funny the whole time, probably because they knew I had their basement key. I shoved it into their hands before I hugged Avery and got into my car to drive home. That poor kid has to live in that house with that thing, but there was nothing I could do about it.
As long as I am alive, I will never….ever set foot in that house again.
And as for basements go, I can't go into them anymore. I just simply can't...

I naturally fell into babysitting around the age of 14. Through friends and family, I got leads for babysitting to score some cash, which definitely beat having to work at a restaurant. The job had its ups and downs, but overall it wasn’t a bad gig at all.
Yet, as many good experiences as I had, they were all eclipsed by one night.
A new family in town talked to my dad at work and it turned out that they needed a babysitter. I happily took the job and found myself watching their 10-year old boy a couple of weeks later. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the family themselves. They were the model citizens of suburban America, complete with the white picket fence and blue shutters. Nothing about their house was strange or even unique. Their son Avery was very mild-mannered and polite. Even their car was basic. Not that these were bad things, but I expected it to be a very boring night.
What I did not expect was the uncomfortable, inexplicable feeling that I got when I set foot in the house. A chill ran through me, but there was no draft. I rubbed my arms as I gazed at their staircase as we passed. They gave me a brief tour of the house before they left a note of instructions and all the usual information I expected from a job.
While trying to figure out what was making me so uneasy about the place, I noticed something about their basement door when I passed it. A padlock was placed on the door, along with a deadbolt in place.
"Any questions?” The father asked as my mind was pulled out of my curiosity.
"No, sir. Everything looks great!”
So they left and Avery and I played some games before I made dinner. A couple of times, I thought I heard Avery call me into the den. Both times, I found him sitting on the couch in what most recognize as the TV-zombie state. He denied having called me, and I went back to making dinner. After the third time, I told Avery it wasn’t funny and that he should stop.
“I’m not doing anything, I’m just watching TV!”
His voice went to that higher tone of pleading, sounding desperate for me to believe him.
“Avery, I know it’s my first time and sometimes you wanna test things out, but I’m trying to get dinner ready so if you call me again, I’m not checking on you, okay?”
“I didn't say anything.”
The child glared at the TV with a pouting face, and I began to feel bad. As many times as I’ve heard lies, I was starting to sense that he was telling the truth. So what was I hearing?
“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not mad. Promise.”
Avery turned his head back towards me, seeming to test if I was the one fibbing now.
“How about I let you stay up a little later if we forget about it?”
“Do you really promise?”
“Pinky promise.”
With our contractual pinkies interlocked, spirits were raised again and I was able to finish dinner. Although I didn’t finish without hearing Avery’s voice calling me once more. I ignored it, and when Avery didn’t mention it at dinner I figured it was him fooling around again. The whole time we chatted as we ate, I couldn’t help but feel that something was not right about this house.
As hard as I tried to not look, my eyes kept diverting to the heavy padlock and chain on the basement door. Curiosity got the best of me and as we were cleaning up, I couldn’t help but ask.
“So Avery, what’s the deal with the basement door?”
“What do you mean?”
His words did not match his demeanor. It was obvious he didn’t make eye contact as he forced his sentence out.
“C’mon, you know what I mean. The padlock, chain, and deadbolt. Y’all have dangerous chemicals down there?”
Avery’s face grew paler and he stared at the wall for a moment.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to…”
“Dad said no one can talk about it anymore.”
This really threw me off, and I couldn’t possibly finish my sentence now. A thick veil of tension materialized between us.
“So you…you guys aren’t allowed to talk about it?”
Avery shook his head.
“Ah, okay. That’s cool. No big deal.”
It was nothing but a big deal.
Was their dad doing something illegal down there? Or was it something strange that no one could do anything about it? Maybe their dad was in denial about something going on. There were waaaaaay too many questions going through my head now.
“Hey, how about we put on a movie?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“What am I saying? Everyone likes movies, right?!”
Now excited, we decided on a fun movie that quickly pulled our minds away from the mysterious basement door. Well, that’s not entirely true. Maybe Avery was distracted, but it was killing me. As we ate popcorn, I couldn’t help but watch Avery, wondering what was going on in that little head of his.
Was there something awful going on in the house and there was nothing I could do to stop it? Or maybe the dad was just…
“Stop,” I told myself inwardly.
Mulling over it all endlessly was not doing myself any favors.
So the movie ended, and I ushered the drifting child to his bed. Now, the house was all to myself until twelve, so I had a good three and a half hours to myself. Immediately, I began texting my friend to tell her all about the weird experience I was having that night. She dismissed it, saying that I was getting spooked by a new place. This annoyed me to no end. I’d been at bigger, way creepier-looking houses but never got weird vibes like this.
Then…I heard it.
“Stephanie…..”
I went instantly still and listened intently.
“You didn’t hear that, Steph. Just keep texting your friend and…”
“Stephanieeeee…”
There was no mistaking it this time. It was definitely coming from the basement.
The acoustics couldn’t have been from Avery upstairs. The voice sounded like a little girl’s. In fact, I’m not even sure he could make his voice like that, anyway.
Slowly, I stood up from the couch and approached the door. Maybe like earlier, I was just hearing things. Maybe being creeped out by the house was starting to mess with my head. That made sense…right?
“Stephanie?”
I jumped back from the door, almost wetting myself in the process. There was no way I could dismiss it as anything else now. There was a little girl’s voice coming from the basement.
“H-hello?” I responded.
I couldn’t keep my voice from shaking.
“Is this Stephanie?”
“Y-yes, it’s Stephanie.”
“Can you help me?”
“Who are you? Why are you locked in the basement?”
“My name is Meredith Rosenberg. They’re kept me locked up for a long time now. The police were almost on to them and that’s why they moved. Can you get me out?”
A cold shock washed over me and made it hard to respond. Was I actually babysitting for a family that kept a little girl prisoner?
“Oh my God…um….how long have you been locked up with them?”
“Ever since I can remember.”
I felt somehow hot and cold at the same time, and wanted to throw up. This all made sense now with what Avery had told me. Of course his father didn’t want him talking about the door…
“I just need to find the keys and I can…”
“They’re hidden in the garage underneath the metal shelf. It’s inside a magnetic key holder.”
“Okay, just hold tight.”
In a panic to free the poor girl, I darted into the garage and began feeling the space underneath the bottom shelf and sure enough, there was a magnetic key holder there. Running back, I popped the key holder open and began to insert the key into the padlock.
“Did you find it?”
“Yes, sweetie. I’m almost there!”
“Oh, please hurry! Sometimes they come home early!”
This sent me into even more of a rush, and I barely managed to fumble the key into the padlock. I finally heard the successful click of the padlock, pulled the chain off, and slid the deadbolt to the right.
“I’m coming, Meredith. Hold on!”
I turned the doorknob and threw open the door, only to be met with darkness. Now full of adrenaline, my hands felt around for the light switch. Finally finding my purchase, I flicked the light on which lit up most of the stairs.
“Meredith?” I called out.
Unless I was remembering it wrong, it sounded like her voice was just on the other side of the door a minute ago. In fact, it was quite strange that she wasn’t waiting for me at the top of the stairs. Wouldn’t you immediately run out of a basement that you were locked in for God knows how long?
“I’m down here!” The little girl’s voice called out.
Judging from the distance, it sounded like she was calling from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs. My brain suddenly began piecing all the details of this interaction together and the idea of going down into the basement became absolutely terrifying.
“Meredith, you can come up now! The door’s open!”
I couldn’t hide the tremor in my voice. Why I was scared of a little girl was beyond me, but much like the house itself, something felt very wrong here.
“I hurt my leg, owww! When you said you were getting the key, I went back down to get some of my things and got hurt. Ahhh….”
Her sounds of pain filled me with sorrow, but an invisible force was holding me back from taking another step into that basement.
“Can you move? Maybe pull yourself up on the railing?”
“I can’t! It hurts too bad!”
“Okay, sweetie umm…”
“What’s wrong? Won’t you help me?”
“I-I it’s just…really dark down there and…and I don’t want to get hurt too. Is there any way you can get to the stairs? Any way at all?”
“I tried to sit up, but my shoulder hurts too much.”
“I thought you said your leg got hurt?”
The words hung in the air like a noose. It was only after I said it that I realized there was several things seriously wrong about all of this. A question popped into my head I didn’t even have time to think about until now.
How did she know where the padlock key was?
A deathly silence took up the space between me and wherever this girl was. It was a standoff, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say. There were questions I could ask her to figure out what was happening, but I felt that her answers weren’t going to be honest. Perhaps at this point, the truth was too frightful to know.
"Meredith? Are you still there?"
It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing my mind could conjure. The additional silence only unnerved me, so I decided to try and get a better look. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I clicked on the flashlight. It didn’t do me any good because of the awful range, so I did the one thing I’d already told myself not to do…
I took a step forward...
Maybe it was the angle of the stairs or the lighting, but that one step gave me more information than I ever wanted to know. I caught a better view of the bottom step, which was essentially a ledge into a black abyss. Something looked different on this step, but it took a second to register what it was.
The step was wet, a pool of some unknown liquid overflowing into the darkness of the basement. I knew for sure that the father hadn’t mentioned any flooding so it would be way too random for that. So I stood there, watching in frozen curiosity as the puddle then suddenly rippled…and I realized the abominable truth.
It wasn’t water.
It was a puddle of saliva…and something was drooling into it from the dark.
A wretched chuckle emanated from the horrid void beyond the step, and it cemented me even further into place. It was a wet chortle, and positively evil.
“How did you like my voices?” The thing said from the dark. “I’ve been practicing."
The epiphany creeped down my spine…it was now talking in Avery’s voice. Everything in my body screamed at me to run. I heard the screams but I couldn’t respond no matter how hard I tried.
"A pity though…almost got you."
At this, the most gruesome face peeled back the shadows and revealed itself, along with its unearthly mandibles and small fountain of saliva. My faculties finally came to and I threw myself into the house and kicked the door closed. In mere seconds, I had the door bolted and chained. Leaning against the door, my chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath.
Just as I felt I was safe, the door shuddered as a terrible blow rocked it. I screamed and ran upstairs to grab Avery.
I practically dragged the poor kid out the door and called the police. It wasn’t until the operator came on that I realized I was about to report a monster in the house. Thinking quickly, I told them that I heard a burglar in the home.
It wasn’t long before the police and Avery’s parents came home. Nothing was found, even in the basement, but I didn’t even care at that point. I just wanted the hell out of that house and away from whatever that….thing was. Avery’s parents kept glancing at me funny the whole time, probably because they knew I had their basement key. I shoved it into their hands before I hugged Avery and got into my car to drive home. That poor kid has to live in that house with that thing, but there was nothing I could do about it.
As long as I am alive, I will never….ever set foot in that house again.
And as for basements go, I can't go into them anymore. I just simply can't...

I naturally fell into babysitting around the age of 14. Through friends and family, I got leads for babysitting to score some cash, which definitely beat having to work at a restaurant. The job had its ups and downs, but overall it wasn’t a bad gig at all.
Yet, as many good experiences as I had, they were all eclipsed by one night.
A new family in town talked to my dad at work and it turned out that they needed a babysitter. I happily took the job and found myself watching their 10-year old boy a couple of weeks later. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the family themselves. They were the model citizens of suburban America, complete with the white picket fence and blue shutters. Nothing about their house was strange or even unique. Their son Avery was very mild-mannered and polite. Even their car was basic. Not that these were bad things, but I expected it to be a very boring night.
What I did not expect was the uncomfortable, inexplicable feeling that I got when I set foot in the house. A chill ran through me, but there was no draft. I rubbed my arms as I gazed at their staircase as we passed. They gave me a brief tour of the house before they left a note of instructions and all the usual information I expected from a job.
While trying to figure out what was making me so uneasy about the place, I noticed something about their basement door when I passed it. A padlock was placed on the door, along with a deadbolt in place.
"Any questions?” The father asked as my mind was pulled out of my curiosity.
"No, sir. Everything looks great!”
So they left and Avery and I played some games before I made dinner. A couple of times, I thought I heard Avery call me into the den. Both times, I found him sitting on the couch in what most recognize as the TV-zombie state. He denied having called me, and I went back to making dinner. After the third time, I told Avery it wasn’t funny and that he should stop.
“I’m not doing anything, I’m just watching TV!”
His voice went to that higher tone of pleading, sounding desperate for me to believe him.
“Avery, I know it’s my first time and sometimes you wanna test things out, but I’m trying to get dinner ready so if you call me again, I’m not checking on you, okay?”
“I didn't say anything.”
The child glared at the TV with a pouting face, and I began to feel bad. As many times as I’ve heard lies, I was starting to sense that he was telling the truth. So what was I hearing?
“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not mad. Promise.”
Avery turned his head back towards me, seeming to test if I was the one fibbing now.
“How about I let you stay up a little later if we forget about it?”
“Do you really promise?”
“Pinky promise.”
With our contractual pinkies interlocked, spirits were raised again and I was able to finish dinner. Although I didn’t finish without hearing Avery’s voice calling me once more. I ignored it, and when Avery didn’t mention it at dinner I figured it was him fooling around again. The whole time we chatted as we ate, I couldn’t help but feel that something was not right about this house.
As hard as I tried to not look, my eyes kept diverting to the heavy padlock and chain on the basement door. Curiosity got the best of me and as we were cleaning up, I couldn’t help but ask.
“So Avery, what’s the deal with the basement door?”
“What do you mean?”
His words did not match his demeanor. It was obvious he didn’t make eye contact as he forced his sentence out.
“C’mon, you know what I mean. The padlock, chain, and deadbolt. Y’all have dangerous chemicals down there?”
Avery’s face grew paler and he stared at the wall for a moment.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to…”
“Dad said no one can talk about it anymore.”
This really threw me off, and I couldn’t possibly finish my sentence now. A thick veil of tension materialized between us.
“So you…you guys aren’t allowed to talk about it?”
Avery shook his head.
“Ah, okay. That’s cool. No big deal.”
It was nothing but a big deal.
Was their dad doing something illegal down there? Or was it something strange that no one could do anything about it? Maybe their dad was in denial about something going on. There were waaaaaay too many questions going through my head now.
“Hey, how about we put on a movie?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“What am I saying? Everyone likes movies, right?!”
Now excited, we decided on a fun movie that quickly pulled our minds away from the mysterious basement door. Well, that’s not entirely true. Maybe Avery was distracted, but it was killing me. As we ate popcorn, I couldn’t help but watch Avery, wondering what was going on in that little head of his.
Was there something awful going on in the house and there was nothing I could do to stop it? Or maybe the dad was just…
“Stop,” I told myself inwardly.
Mulling over it all endlessly was not doing myself any favors.
So the movie ended, and I ushered the drifting child to his bed. Now, the house was all to myself until twelve, so I had a good three and a half hours to myself. Immediately, I began texting my friend to tell her all about the weird experience I was having that night. She dismissed it, saying that I was getting spooked by a new place. This annoyed me to no end. I’d been at bigger, way creepier-looking houses but never got weird vibes like this.
Then…I heard it.
“Stephanie…..”
I went instantly still and listened intently.
“You didn’t hear that, Steph. Just keep texting your friend and…”
“Stephanieeeee…”
There was no mistaking it this time. It was definitely coming from the basement.
The acoustics couldn’t have been from Avery upstairs. The voice sounded like a little girl’s. In fact, I’m not even sure he could make his voice like that, anyway.
Slowly, I stood up from the couch and approached the door. Maybe like earlier, I was just hearing things. Maybe being creeped out by the house was starting to mess with my head. That made sense…right?
“Stephanie?”
I jumped back from the door, almost wetting myself in the process. There was no way I could dismiss it as anything else now. There was a little girl’s voice coming from the basement.
“H-hello?” I responded.
I couldn’t keep my voice from shaking.
“Is this Stephanie?”
“Y-yes, it’s Stephanie.”
“Can you help me?”
“Who are you? Why are you locked in the basement?”
“My name is Meredith Rosenberg. They’re kept me locked up for a long time now. The police were almost on to them and that’s why they moved. Can you get me out?”
A cold shock washed over me and made it hard to respond. Was I actually babysitting for a family that kept a little girl prisoner?
“Oh my God…um….how long have you been locked up with them?”
“Ever since I can remember.”
I felt somehow hot and cold at the same time, and wanted to throw up. This all made sense now with what Avery had told me. Of course his father didn’t want him talking about the door…
“I just need to find the keys and I can…”
“They’re hidden in the garage underneath the metal shelf. It’s inside a magnetic key holder.”
“Okay, just hold tight.”
In a panic to free the poor girl, I darted into the garage and began feeling the space underneath the bottom shelf and sure enough, there was a magnetic key holder there. Running back, I popped the key holder open and began to insert the key into the padlock.
“Did you find it?”
“Yes, sweetie. I’m almost there!”
“Oh, please hurry! Sometimes they come home early!”
This sent me into even more of a rush, and I barely managed to fumble the key into the padlock. I finally heard the successful click of the padlock, pulled the chain off, and slid the deadbolt to the right.
“I’m coming, Meredith. Hold on!”
I turned the doorknob and threw open the door, only to be met with darkness. Now full of adrenaline, my hands felt around for the light switch. Finally finding my purchase, I flicked the light on which lit up most of the stairs.
“Meredith?” I called out.
Unless I was remembering it wrong, it sounded like her voice was just on the other side of the door a minute ago. In fact, it was quite strange that she wasn’t waiting for me at the top of the stairs. Wouldn’t you immediately run out of a basement that you were locked in for God knows how long?
“I’m down here!” The little girl’s voice called out.
Judging from the distance, it sounded like she was calling from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs. My brain suddenly began piecing all the details of this interaction together and the idea of going down into the basement became absolutely terrifying.
“Meredith, you can come up now! The door’s open!”
I couldn’t hide the tremor in my voice. Why I was scared of a little girl was beyond me, but much like the house itself, something felt very wrong here.
“I hurt my leg, owww! When you said you were getting the key, I went back down to get some of my things and got hurt. Ahhh….”
Her sounds of pain filled me with sorrow, but an invisible force was holding me back from taking another step into that basement.
“Can you move? Maybe pull yourself up on the railing?”
“I can’t! It hurts too bad!”
“Okay, sweetie umm…”
“What’s wrong? Won’t you help me?”
“I-I it’s just…really dark down there and…and I don’t want to get hurt too. Is there any way you can get to the stairs? Any way at all?”
“I tried to sit up, but my shoulder hurts too much.”
“I thought you said your leg got hurt?”
The words hung in the air like a noose. It was only after I said it that I realized there was several things seriously wrong about all of this. A question popped into my head I didn’t even have time to think about until now.
How did she know where the padlock key was?
A deathly silence took up the space between me and wherever this girl was. It was a standoff, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say. There were questions I could ask her to figure out what was happening, but I felt that her answers weren’t going to be honest. Perhaps at this point, the truth was too frightful to know.
"Meredith? Are you still there?"
It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing my mind could conjure. The additional silence only unnerved me, so I decided to try and get a better look. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I clicked on the flashlight. It didn’t do me any good because of the awful range, so I did the one thing I’d already told myself not to do…
I took a step forward...
Maybe it was the angle of the stairs or the lighting, but that one step gave me more information than I ever wanted to know. I caught a better view of the bottom step, which was essentially a ledge into a black abyss. Something looked different on this step, but it took a second to register what it was.
The step was wet, a pool of some unknown liquid overflowing into the darkness of the basement. I knew for sure that the father hadn’t mentioned any flooding so it would be way too random for that. So I stood there, watching in frozen curiosity as the puddle then suddenly rippled…and I realized the abominable truth.
It wasn’t water.
It was a puddle of saliva…and something was drooling into it from the dark.
A wretched chuckle emanated from the horrid void beyond the step, and it cemented me even further into place. It was a wet chortle, and positively evil.
“How did you like my voices?” The thing said from the dark. “I’ve been practicing."
The epiphany creeped down my spine…it was now talking in Avery’s voice. Everything in my body screamed at me to run. I heard the screams but I couldn’t respond no matter how hard I tried.
"A pity though…almost got you."
At this, the most gruesome face peeled back the shadows and revealed itself, along with its unearthly mandibles and small fountain of saliva. My faculties finally came to and I threw myself into the house and kicked the door closed. In mere seconds, I had the door bolted and chained. Leaning against the door, my chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath.
Just as I felt I was safe, the door shuddered as a terrible blow rocked it. I screamed and ran upstairs to grab Avery.
I practically dragged the poor kid out the door and called the police. It wasn’t until the operator came on that I realized I was about to report a monster in the house. Thinking quickly, I told them that I heard a burglar in the home.
It wasn’t long before the police and Avery’s parents came home. Nothing was found, even in the basement, but I didn’t even care at that point. I just wanted the hell out of that house and away from whatever that….thing was. Avery’s parents kept glancing at me funny the whole time, probably because they knew I had their basement key. I shoved it into their hands before I hugged Avery and got into my car to drive home. That poor kid has to live in that house with that thing, but there was nothing I could do about it.
As long as I am alive, I will never….ever set foot in that house again.
And as for basements go, I can't go into them anymore. I just simply can't...

My LO is almost 7 weeks old. At 3.5 weeks norovirus hit our home. Our babe had a 101.5 fever and we rushed to the hospital. I was also actively sick at the time but we only admitted her. I threw up in the hospital twice, once at home beforehand, I was miserable but she came first. Then we were transferred to the bigger hospital 45 minutes away because they found bacteria in her blood. It was protocol to look and I thank my lucky stars they did, because she ended up having bacterial sepsis.
Thank the good lord above our daughter fought off the bacteria very quickly and we were there that long just to finish the course of meds. We still need to do one more blood test for a specific immunodeficiency disorder, but otherwise all her other blood work (other disorders, platelets, white blood cell count, liver, kidney) all look normal.
We ended up spending 2 weeks at this hospital that was 45 minutes away from home. I couldn’t just pop home when needed, I felt like a prisoner. I was freshly postpartum sleeping on a hospital chaibed and the baby could never nap properly because of all the commotion at the hospital. Our only saving Grace were the nurses. There were a few that genuinely cared about our well being and I am so grateful to them.
We’ve been home for a week tomorrow, and I’m still not ok. Most days I feel fine, but then there are days like today where she wouldn’t take a nap (away from me at least, she slept on top of me fine lol) until 4:45 in the afternoon. And I become a basket case of anxiety. My body still aches, apparently my tiny little surface level tear hasn’t healed, I’m having weird urethra pain that “she couldn’t see” so it must not be there, and I’m tired.
Sure I’m getting 4-5 hours and my daughter sleeps through the night now (5-6 hour stretches) but I’m still so damn tired. I’ve always been the type of person that needed 8-9 hours a night. I’m also an extremely routined and tidied person. If I’m off my routine and my house is messy I am a ball of anxiety. And with a newborn…y’all know how that goes. Luckily I’m still able to keep the house somewhat tidy, I clean when she naps. And I’m trying to relax while my husband is home and taking care of our baby, but it’s so hard to not be “on mom mode” and just chill.
Not to mention I now know newborns who get sepsis run the risk of cognitive delays and a risk of dying in the next 5 years, I’m fucking terrified.
So yah, that is my extremely long anxiety induced essay that I realllyyyy needed to type out. Thanks for reading.