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My friend Yan is putting on a comedy show at Cloud & Spirits this Thursday. Tickets are limited; go check it out I promise you'll have fun.

THURSDAY - MAY 16

Tapered Expectations XXI: "Above the Clouds" - A Standup Comedy Event @ Cloud & Spirits @ 7PM Acquired Taste Comedy is back at Cloud & Spirits with another signature Standup Comedy Event. Catch a carefully curated selection of the area's funniest comics along with a special musical guest at a breathtaking cocktail bar in Central Square!
Red Sox vs Rays @ Fenway Park @ 7:10PM
Asi Wind’s Magic Show @ The Wilbur @ 7:30PM Being one of the most-watched magicians in the world, Asi Wind presents a new show where he pushes the limits of belief even further with unbelievable mind-reading and astonishing magic.
Candlelight: A Tribute to Adele in Concert @ Temple Ohabei Shalom @ 7PM / 9PM
Marc Martel & One Vision of Queen Concert @ Symphony Hall @ 7:30PM The Pops will rock you when Marc Martel brings the iconic anthems of Queen to Symphony Hall.
Diana Ross @ Wang Theatre @ 7:30PM See the iconic and legendary Diana Ross perform the hits that have defined her career.
Cooper Alan @ Paradise Rock Club @ 8PM With Thomas Mac
Lords of Acid @ Brighton Music Hall @ 6:30PM
Ben Beal @ City Winery @ 7:30PM

FRIDAY - MAY 17

Bruins vs Panthers @ TD Garden
Madeleine Peyroux @ The Wilbur @ 8PM
Neil Young & Crazy Horse @ Xfinity Center @ 7:30PM
Wild Child @ Paradise Rock Club @ 8PM
Soen @ Brighton Music Hall @ 8PM
Tye Tribbett and Friends @ Orpheum Theatre @ 7:30PM
Galantis @ Big Night Live @ 9:30PM
Hermanos Gutiérrez @ Royale @ 6PM
Tinlicker @ Royale @ 10PM
Buck Meek of Big Thief @ Crystal Ballroom @ 8PM
Anders Osborne Trio @ City Winery @ 7:30PM

SATURDAY - MAY 18

Watertown Porchfest @ Watertown @ All day
Revolution vs Philadelphia Union @ Gillette Stadium @ 7:30PM
Dancing on the Charles @ Marsh Post #442 @ 3PM Montreal deep house DJ Fred Everything headlines this marathon outdoor dance party, running from late afternoon into the night.
Ales & Tales @ Stone Zoo @ 5:30PM Walk on the wild side while enjoying local craft beverages. This popular beer tasting event is a favorite among animal and beer lovers alike!
Kite & Bike Festival @ Franklin Park @ 12PM This Boston tradition brings families together to enjoy picnicking, kite flying, bicycles & music.
Ongoing - Artisan Market @ Rose Kennedy Greenway @ 11AM
Kevin James Comedy Show @ Chevalier Theatre @ 4:30PM / 7:30PM
Jimmy Failla Comedy Show @ Shubert Theatre @ 8PM
‘Encanto’ in Concert @ Symphony Hall @ 2PM Disney’s Academy Award-winning film comes to life in a concert event, featuring the entire feature-length film with a full orchestra performing the score.
The String Cheese Incident @ MGM Music Hall @ 7:15PM
Robyn Schall Stand Up @ The Wilbur @ 7PM
Sorry Papi @ House of Blues @ 9PM
James Arthur @ Roadrunner @ 8PM With Forest Blakk
The Music of Talking Heads & More for Kids @ Paradise Rock Club @ 11AM *Presented by The Rock and Roll Playhouse
Orgy + COLD @ Brighton Music Hall @ 8PM
Gimme Gimme Disco @ Big Night Live @ 5:30PM
Arty @ Big Night Live @ 10:30PM
The Messthetics and James Brandon Lewis @ Crystal Ballroom @ 8PM
Chris Smither + Peter Mulvey @ City Winery @ 7:30PM

SUNDAY - MAY 19

Celtics vs Cavaliers @ TD Garden
Kite Festival @ Revere Beach Kick off beach season with a fun day for the whole family complete with build-your-own kite stations, professional kite flyers, live music, and other activities!
Ongoing - Open Market @ SoWa @ 11AM One of the largest open-air farmer and artist markets returns this summer season!
‘Dropouts’ Podcast Live @ Paradise Rock Club @ 7PM Come see internet stars Zach Justice, Tara Yummy & Jared Bailey discuss latest hot topics, celebrity gossip, and personal dramas live!
Electric Callboy @ MGM Music Hall @ 7PM
Deko @ Brighton Music Hall @ 7PM With Yameii
Mk.gee @ The Sinclair @ 7:30PM
Guppy @ The Rockwell @ 7:30PM
Big Bad Voodoo Daddy @ The Wilbur @ 7PM
Compaq Big Band @ City Winery @ 7:30PM

ALL WEEKEND

FRIDAY & SATURDAY - Amanda Seales Stand Up @ Laugh Boston
FRIDAY & SATURDAY - Zach Brazao Stand Up @ Nick’s Comedy Stop @ 8PM
SATURDAY & SUNDAY - ‘Bluey’s Big Play’ Show @ Wang Theatre ‘Bluey’s Big Play’ is a brand-new theatrical adaptation of the Emmy award-winning children’s television series featuring new music and new character adventures.
All weekend - Jukebox The Ghost @ The Sinclair @ 8PM
All weekend - Nantucket Wine & Food Festival Enjoy food and drinks tastings, seminars, brunches, and parties as the annual festival uncorks the island for the summer!
All weekend -’Hallyu Hits: Korean Films that Moved the World @ MFA See the best of Korean cinema including ‘Oldboy,’ ‘Parasites,’ and ‘Burning.’
All weekend - ‘Spring Experience’ Ballet @ Citizens Bank Opera House LAST CHANCE - Explore Boston Ballet’s dynamic and captivating Spring program composed of three masterful ballets featuring classical and modern dance elements.
All weekend - ‘BABYBABYBABY’ Dance Performance @ Calderwood Pavilion This contemporary dance production taps into the feeling of falling in love and reflects on the human impulse for connection and intimacy.
All weekend - ‘A Strange Loop’ Musical @ Wimberly Theatre Winner of Pulitzer Prize and a Tony Award, Michael R. Jackson’s blisteringly funny masterwork exposes the heart and soul of a young Black artist grappling with desires, identity, and instincts he both loves and loathes.
All weekend - ‘Jersey Boys’ Musical @ North Shore Music Theatre LAST CHANCE - Featuring legendary hits, this award-winning musical tells the behind-the-scenes drama of the international sensation boy band The Four Seasons.
All weekend - ‘Toni Stone’ Play @ The Huntington Theatre The Huntington’s season finale is a beautiful, rich portrait of a trailblazing woman. Follow the inspiring and life-affirming story of baseball legend Toni Stone.
All weekend - ‘Romeo and Juliet’ Play @ Calderwood Pavilion Brought to life by Actors’ Shakespeare Project, Shakespeare’s most famous duo return in a flurry of forbidden love, exhilarating fight scenes, and tragic fate.
All weekend - ‘Mermaid Hour’ Play @ Arrow Street Arts LAST CHANCE - Fast-paced, funny, and heartfelt, ‘Mermaid Hour’ follows two parents and their trans teen kid as they all seek to understand who they are and who they wish to be.

ONGOING

Ongoing - Immersive Disney Animation @ Boch Center Step into the art and legacy of Walt Disney Animation Studios and celebrate the music, artistry and animation from the creators of Frozen, The Little Mermaid, Big Hero 6 and many more.
Ongoing - Musical Shows @ MoS Planetarium Museum of Science puts on special experiences adapting the music of Pink Floyd, Rihanna, Beyoncé, and The Divas to immersive visuals in the Charles Hayden Planetarium.
Ongoing - ‘Firelei Báez’ Exhibition @ ICA One of the most exciting painters of her generation, Báez explores the multilayered legacy of colonial histories and the African diaspora in the Caribbean and beyond.
Ongoing - ‘Wordplay’ Exhibition @ ICA Highlighting the rich interplay between imagery and text, the exhibition showcases how contemporary artists have played with words to animate and expand their art practices.
Ongoing - ‘Hallyu! The Korean Wave’ Exhibition @ MFA Enjoy an immersive and multisensory journey through Korea’s fascinating history, and celebrate its contemporary vibrant creative force.
Ongoing - ‘Dress Up’ Exhibition @ MFA Through more than 100 works from the MFA’s collection including 20th- and 21st-century clothing, jewelry, accessories, illustrations, and photographs, this exhibition explores adornment and its role in the creation of a look.
Ongoing - ‘Comrade Sisters: Women of the Black Panther Party’ Exhibition @ MFA This exhibition brings together 27 powerful photographs by Stephen Shames that feature the women of the Black Panther party and showcase their crucial work for the movement.
Ongoing - ‘Thinking Small: Dutch Art to Scale’ Exhibition @ MFA Featuring 15 intriguing objects from 17th-century Netherlands such as paintings, prints, silver medals, and books, this exhibition compels viewers to reconsider their relationship to the world around them.
Ongoing - ‘Raqib Shaw: Ballads of East and West’ Exhibition @ ISG Museum Shaw’s images of magic and mystery combine Western artistic tradition with ornamental elements derived from the Japanese, Persian, and Indian cultures that he vividly remembers from his youth.
Ongoing - ‘Picasso: War, Combat, and Revolution’ Exhibition @ Harvard Art Museums The exhibition explores the dictator Francisco Franco’s Spain, imagery of death, struggles of good and evil, political and artistic revolution, and issues of desire and capture.
Ongoing - ‘Our Time on Earth’ Exhibition @ Peabody Essex Museum This traveling exhibition from the Barbican Centre in London celebrates the power of global creativity to transform the conversation around the climate emergency.
Ongoing - ‘AI: Mind the Gap’ Exhibition @ MIT Museum MIT Museum presents its latest riveting, interactive exhibit exploring the tremendous promise, unforeseen impacts, and everyday misconceptions of AI.

Author’s Note:
If you enjoy the story so far, please consider upvoting and commenting! These go a long way in helping the story reach a larger audience. (Also, reddit removes all my formatting for some reason so if you want a fully formatted read, check out my story on RoyalRoad)
READ 2 WEEKS AHEAD: Season Finale Chapter 17 is now available for Tier 2 Manifest Fantasy Patrons and higher!
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/drdoritosmd
Discord: https://discord.gg/wr2xexGJaD
First
Three, two, one... execute.
Ron peeked around the corner, his M4E1 Carl Gustaf already loaded with standard HEAT rounds. The rest of Alpha Team stacked up behind him or behind Ryan, who was on the other side of the doorway. Through the opening, they could see a nightmarish tangle of webs and egg sacs, with the skittering shapes of Spiranids lurking in the shadows in the far corners of the room.
The Queen was positioned in the center of the room, completely exposed by a cluster of eggs. Henry watched as Ron leveled his Gustaf, taking aim at the Queen while they stayed along the wall to ensure Ron’s backblast was clear. It should have been an easy kill, but a flicker of movement caught Henry’s eye.
A blob of white flew across his vision, smacking into Ron just as he fired his weapon. The thick strands of webbing bypassed Kelmithus’ shielding and wrapped around him, sending him flying back a couple of meters. He landed on his back, his body and launcher completely stuck to the floor by the condensed silk.
Around the same time, the Gustaf’s projectile struck the Queen’s abdomen section. The resulting blast tore through its exoskeleton but was far from a fatal blow. The Queen shrieked, a sound far deeper than Henry expected.
“Fuck!” Ron shouted, struggling to break free from the webbing.
Henry exhaled. They were a man down, but helping him had to wait; the not-dead Queen and its minions took precedence. It would be great if he had another launcher in his own Holding Bag, but that was something he’d have to bring up to Chief Cole later. Henry tossed his grenades into the room, the pops mingling with the screeches of injured Spiranids. Ryan struck simultaneously, throwing his own collection into the mix. Like firecrackers, the explosives were violent but short-lived.
As the chaos subsided, Henry pushed in. Raising his shotgun, he tore through a Spiranid that pounced at him, its carcass smoldering from the white phosphorous. Beside him, Isaac, Ryan, and Dr. Anderson’s shots rang out, tearing through their own sectors of fire.
Almost immediately upon their entry, the Queen surged forward with terrifying speed. It reared its head back like it was about to vomit, mandibles covered in a sick, yellowish color. Henry recognized immediately what it was trying to do. “Acid, move!”
Henry dove away from his previous position, taking a shot at another Spiranid that had taken the opportunity to jump at him while its master was preparing to attack. He narrowly escaped the lethal spray as it jetted toward him. The acid splattered on the ground where they had stood not even a second before, sizzling fiercely as it corroded the thick webbing sprawled across the floor. He noticed as he ran that, rather curiously, the acid was simply puddling on the floor. There was no damage to the floor itself, but if it could tear apart high-quality monster silk just like that, he didn’t want to find out what it could do to an envirosuit.
Henry glanced back after blasting apart his third Spiranid. His teammates were fine – Ryan helping him keep the Queen’s attention, Sera already on her way to Ron, and the others taking care of the smaller Spiranids. He tried to get a quick headcount of how many Spiranids they’d already eliminated. Between their guns, Kelmithus’ magic, and the grenades, he estimated they had killed at least a dozen so far. Solid progress, but the fact that they weren’t able to take out the Queen with their first strike was an issue.
Henry rolled to his left as the Queen pounced on his previous position. It was fucking fast, like a Goliath birdeater but scaled up – and with nasty abilities that really shouldn’t belong on a creature like this. He recovered quickly and took aim, firing point-blank into its thorax. The white phosphorous pellets hissed as they burned into its exoskeleton, forcing it back.
Beside him, Ryan’s shotgun boomed. He struck the Queen’s legs, which seemed to be more fragile than the thick exoskeleton surrounding the head and thorax. The pellets bit into the chitin, likely striking a nerve as evidenced by the leg’s subsequent buckling and collapse. It was a lucky shot – one that he doubted they could repeat four or five more times.
“Sera, use my knife! Here, right here!” Ron called out.
Sera’s sword must’ve been too large to effectively cut through the webbing. They had to hurry up. He and Ryan had been dodging the Queen’s attacks, but mostly by a hair’s breadth. All it took was one lucky hit from the Queen to put them out of commission, possibly for good. “Sera, status on Ron?”
“One minute!” she responded.
Damn. That was one minute later than he’d hoped. Reacting instinctively, Henry noted the Queen raising one of its legs – a sure sign of it preparing for another attack. The Queen struck again, this time cleaving the air with the leg, aiming to corral him into a predictable escape route. As its leg swept through the air, Henry caught sight of the Queen rearing its head back in a grotesque mimicry of a snake about to strike – another acid attack.
Anticipating the monster’s strategy, Henry feinted to the right, a move he hoped would mislead it about his true intentions. As the Queen’s head followed his feint, Henry twisted sharply, scraping against the rough ground. With a powerful push from his legs, he launched backward just as the Queen unleashed its attack.
Acid spewed forth in a wide arc, splattering where he had just been. The corrosive globs almost instantly melted the webbing on the floor, collecting into pools. And there was the second issue. The longer this fight dragged on, the less room they’d have to maneuver.
Henry unloaded into the creature’s compound eyes before tossing a flashbang near its legs. The creature staggered backward, blinded in both its eyes and its sensory hairs. Henry used the precious few seconds he bought to reload his weapon and check up on his team. “Yen, sitrep?”
“Stragglers neutralized; we’re moving to you now.”
Automatic gunfire erupted as Isaac and Dr. Anderson joined the fight against the Queen, dumping their mags on the creature’s head. The 6.8mm seemed to penetrate well, but he could say the same if they fought an elephant; the Spiranid Queen was simply too large for the relatively small caliber rounds to have any effect besides pissing it off.
The Queen lunged again, its legs surrounding him from all sides. There was only one way out, and it was through the belly of the beast. Henry rushed forward, ducking under the Queen’s mandibles as he slid underneath its abdomen. He fired his shotgun as quickly as he could, unloading pellets into the beast’s underbelly. The white phosphorous scorched the softer flesh, drawing a shriek of pain from the massive creature.
As the Queen writhed under the relentless assault, Ryan and the others seized the moment to reload their weapons and reposition. They poured everything they had into the creature’s cephalothorax, bluish ichor oozing from the hundreds of new wounds that they opened up. Yet, it was like chipping away at a mountain – it simply wasn’t enough. The creature thrashed around violently in response; Henry knew it was only a matter of time before it landed a hit on someone.
And land a hit it did. With a terrifying swiftness, one of its massive legs slammed into Henry’s chest, launching him backward. The shield Kelmithus cast on him flickered as it absorbed the brunt of the impact. He crashed into an egg sac by the entrance – its membrane ruptured on impact, drenching him in a sticky, corrosive slime. The sac provided little cushion, and he hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him.
Pain flared across Henry’s chest where the Queen’s leg had struck him. Gasping for breath and battling the encroaching blackness in his vision, he instinctively checked his envirosuit. He started with the areas he could see, glancing down at his chest. It was visibly deformed, dented but not quite a gash.
Still intact, thank goodness. No breach, but another hit like that would be disastrous. He breathed a sigh of relief, his chest hurting like hell as he did so. He checked his sides and back. Parts of his suit were covered in slime from the egg sac. It didn’t seem as corrosive as the Queen’s acid, but it was still a hazard. Quickly, he swiped at it, removing as much as possible with his gloved hands to prevent further damage.
He forced himself up, grabbing his shotgun from the floor. The Queen was already barreling toward him, the damn monster not letting up. He didn’t have time to make a run for it; he needed to jump to one side or the other, and the timing needed to be perfect. Just as the Queen’s shadow engulfed him, the air turned icy cold, frost creeping up on his visor.
Ice formed from thin air, spearing up from the ground and piercing through the Queen’s legs. The spikes rooted the beast in place. Not one to waste an opportunity, Henry dashed away from the entrance, firing at the immobilized giant spider as he linked up with the others.
“Sera?” Henry asked again.
Sera’s voice came in strained. “Almost…” Then, with a triumphant shout, she announced the word Henry had been desperate to hear. “Done!”
“Owens!” Henry said, risking a glance back.
Ron had already grabbed his Gustaf and was in the process of loading another HEAT round. “On it!”
Henry grinned. It was a relief, to be sure. With Ron free and back in the fight, the odds had just tipped heavily in their favor. The Queen was tough, but it wasn’t invincible; they just needed an opening.
Given the damage the Queen sustained to its body, Henry couldn’t imagine it being in peak fighting condition. Even in its weakened state, though, it still had the capability to dodge Ron’s attack, and it seemed to be saving its web ability for that very inevitability.
“Take out the legs!” Henry ordered.
They combined their fire on the left legs, since Ryan managed to break one of them earlier. He heard a crack that might’ve been the chitin giving way or the leg snapping, but it was hard to tell. He was just about to chalk it up to the prevailing gunfire around them, but then he saw it: a brief stumble. The Queen recovered quickly, but it was clear to Henry that it wouldn’t be able to manage any more damage to its legs.
Then, he noticed a blur in his peripheral vision to his right, moving so fast his eyes could barely keep up. Shit, he was certain he kept track of the Queen’s movements. With the existing damage to his envirosuit, he’d be completely fucked. He braced himself for another impact, but it never came.
As he focused harder on the blur, he caught a glimpse of a flash of light that could only be one thing – Sera’s sword, And, just like a flash of lightning, she had already cleared the vicinity of the Queen. The Queen’s foreleg seemed to simply vanish, severed so cleanly that it took a moment for the beast to realize what had happened. When it did, it let out a screech of pain, its balance faltering as it tried to adapt to the sudden change.
While Henry focused on taking out another leg from the left side, Sera had already shifted to her next target. Their assault was brutal: white phosphorus pellets and hard-hitting 6.8mm on one side, ice magic and skilled swordsmanship on the other. And to think, they managed to inflict all this damage by the time Ron completed his reload.
“Clear the way!” Ron called out, his Gustaf aimed right at the Queen’s head.
Henry jumped back, watching as Kelmithus conjured another set of ice spikes to root the beast again, in case the five obliterated legs weren’t enough to keep it down. The Queen thrashed against the icy bonds, its remaining legs slashing through the air in a frenzied bid for freedom. It spat acid – a tactic that would’ve worked effectively on most other materials, but instead simply got diluted with the melting ice. Even as the acid reacted with the ice, the spikes held firm, anchoring the beast in place like steel cables.
Henry’s heart pounded in his ears. Come on, Owens, he urged silently. Take the shot.
As if on cue, Ron pulled the trigger. The Gustaf bucked in his hands as the HEAT round streaked towards its target. Henry barely had time to brace himself before the explosion hit, the shockwave slamming into him and nearly toppling him over. He staggered back, gazing into the settling dust.
When the smoke cleared, the Queen’s head was obliterated – replaced by a gory mess of shattered chitin and pulverized flesh. Blood sprayed from the gaping hole, covering the ground in a pale blue hue. The creature’s body convulsed, its remaining legs scrabbling weakly at their surroundings.
A surge of triumph washed over Henry, but it was fleeting. From the corner of his eye, he locked on to a glimpse of movement. One of the Queen’s legs continued to spasmodically jerk around and spray the ground with blue ichor. He raised his shotgun in a nonchalant motion and blasted the errant limb, watching as it shuddered and went still.
Sera stepped up, her sword barely catching the light as she jammed it into what was left of the Queen’s thorax. A sharp twist, and it was over. She then yanked the blade from the carcass, her grip shifting subtly along the hilt. As she flicked the sword, frost swiftly coated the ichor clinging to the metal. The frozen debris was flung off, hitting the ground and shattering like glass.
He glanced down at his Holding Bag. Damn, the fight took out most of his shells. Swapping out his shotgun for his M7, he turned to his team and took stock of their condition. It seemed everyone had mostly gone unscathed, only debris and dirt scarring their envirosuits. Well, except for himself and Ron. “Think we’re gonna have to start calling you pinata now,” Henry said, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
Ron scoffed. “Yeah? Says the runner-up,” he said, tapping the dent on Henry’s envirosuit. “Better ‘pinata’ than ‘roadkill’, though. But seriously, what’s next? Don’t even know where to start.”
The room was empty, save for the debris strewn about and the singular obelisk standing in the center of the room. He didn’t notice it earlier, but as he got closer, he realized that the obelisk emitted a faint light that barely escaped the canopy of webs. He looked it up and down before turning to the others. “Only one place to start. Let’s clear out the webs, see what’s hiding below.”
“Doc, Kel, clear out the eggs. Hayes, Sera, see if the Queen’s got anything useful. Everyone else focus on the webs,” Henry ordered.
Ron drew his knife and started slicing through the dense cobwebs. “Hey, what y’all think the Queen’s Tier is?”
Isaac paused to consider. “Eh, Tier 8, probably. Minotaur boss and Rillifane boss were both Tier 8, so I’d say the spider’s around the same level.”
“Well, the resilience of the specimen isn’t a definitive measure of the Tier,” Dr. Anderson pointed out. “It’s quite possible that we merely had the most suitable tools at hand in this particular encounter.”
“The scholar speaks truly,” Sera agreed. “There is nary a defining criterion; defense is but one of many that are considered by the Guild. Were it so simple, Kelmithus and I would have attained Tier 9 ere now.”
“So, what do you think the Queen is, then? Tier 7 maybe?” Ron asked.
Henry shook his head. Tier 7 didn’t seem accurate. Using his knife to scrape some of the webbing off his glove, he voiced, “Spiranids are weak in general, but are classified as Tier 5 or higher because of their traps, ambush tactics, numbers, and abilities. Archers can use Wind Snipe and mages can use wide-area spellcasting, but they can’t reliably penetrate the exoskeleton’s armor. If anything, this is probably on the lower end of Tier 9.”
“Tier 9, huh?” Isaac muttered.
Sera smiled as she stood back. She stuffed a frost-covered gland into her holding bag and paused from her work as she chimed in, “Hmm… how keen. I expected nothing less from the first Tier 6 entrants in Eldralore’s history! It shows plain why the Guild did so swiftly raise you.”
“Hah,” Henry chuckled. It was an amusing thought, but… “Say, ya think we can get to Tier 7 after this?”
Sera’s eyebrows shot up. “Tier 7? A mark of no slight merit. What have you achieved since attaining Tier 6?”
Henry reached to scratch his chin, then cursed softly as his glove thudded against his visor. “Well, we took down a Rillifane pack, a Sentinel Lindwyrm, and now this primal Spiranid Queen. That’s not too shabby, eh?”
“Firm victories,” Sera admitted, “but advancement weighs more than battle alone. The Guild also considers quest difficulty, knowledge gained therefrom, and impact – in other words, glory.”
“The Baranthurian Ruins,” Dr. Anderson blurted, taking the words out of Henry’s mouth. He turned to Kelmithus, who approached them after confirming that the eggs had been cleared out. “Surely, working with the Sanctum Arcanum must be quite the honour. The Guild holds their quests with high esteem, wouldn’t you say?”
Kelmithus nodded, burning a clump of disposed webs on the ground. “True as that may be, advancement oft hinges upon the cumulative experience of dozens of quests.”
“Well, ain’t no small feats for us lately,” Ryan remarked. “The quest to the Baranthurian ruins, what was it, Tier 8? Yeah, that was Tier 8. Sentinel Lindwyrm? Hell, Tier Nine. That there beast?” Ryan pointed his gun at the carcass of the Spiranid Queen. “Tier 9 as well.”
Ron interjected, “Plus we’ve been helping out along the way, like those villagers, and taking on quests others won’t touch. Honestly, the Hardale quest should be pretty weighty too, considering the Nobian shenanigans.”
Sera hummed, mulling over Alpha Team’s experiences. The fact that most of their quests at Tier 6 had essentially been Tier 7 quests or higher in difficulty was probably unheard of in the Guild. Not only that, but they’d been able to complete these difficult quests successfully. Hell, with flying colors, even. That had to count for something.
Henry looked over at Sera, stepping back as he allowed Kelmithus to dispose of the webs that he had cleared out. “So, whaddya think? Based on what we’ve done, you think we got a shot at Tier 7?”
Sera looked up at the ceiling as she weighed her response. “Ehh, you’ve a strong case. Alas, it’s Taldren’s call to make. His favor seems yours, though; I wager he’ll agree.”
Henry grinned. Moving up meant they could have access to more quests. Naturally, that also meant better rewards and in turn, access to some truly magical equipment. “Good to hear. Guess we’ll see to it once we get back to Eldralore. Now, we should probably –”
A soft glow of light gradually lit up the room, interrupting Henry mid-sentence. He squinted, readying his weapon. The light came from the walls and ceiling, illuminating the once-dark chamber. The obelisk, now free of webs, now hummed… healthily? It wasn’t like he had a manual to tell him if this was a good or bad development, but judging from the facility’s reaction, it must’ve worked.
Henry glanced at his HUD. The temperature readings were rising, too. The icy chill from Kelmithus’ magic rapidly dissipated as the environmental controls kicked in. “Well, looks like we’ve done all we can here. Let’s head back to the containment cell room and see if we can find anything else of interest.”
– – –
Outskirts of GB-2, Grenden Forest
Carvus Alnect Virelius narrowed his gaze toward the brightening sky, his eyes cutting through the retreating mist that had long veiled the forest’s canopy. This unprecedented clarity above the ruins was strange. After centuries cloaked in an impenetrable fog, why did the skies clear now?
The Umber Vicearch’s mind worked like a whetstone, sharpening the fragments of reports from his scouts, cryptic as they were. The recent skirmish, occurring concurrently with the lifting fog, could not be mere happenstance. Regardless of the answer, the unexpected fold presented a welcome complexity to test his mettle.
He set his thoughts aside as the sound of footsteps approached.
“Leuarch Eldreyn reporting, milord,” one of his men said. “We’ve word from Serarch Trelian.”
Carvus gave him a nod to continue.
Eldreyn relayed the news. “The scouts espy traces of battle: a fallen Sentinel Lindwyrm and two carriages left abandoned near the cave’s entrance. The land bears scars from some form of magic, strewn with strange metal tubes and other objects unknown to us. Save for the Lindwyrm, no other bodies are to be found. What are your commands, milord?”
Carvus took a deep breath. No other bodies? Two carriages? That such a formidable creature was felled with no apparent casualties among their ranks suggested a small but extraordinarily capable force. Each member was no doubt Tier 7 at the least. The limited number of carriages implied a party not larger than ten. But… what could the metal objects mean?
Powerful though they might be, could such a small group withstand his numbers? Carvus entertained the thought briefly. No, direct confrontation would be unwise. The site bore secrets too vital to squander on rash gambles. Better to maneuver them into a position where the only viable option would be to comply with his demands.
“Hold our position, Lornus,” Carvus commanded. While he preferred the safety of their hidden vantage in the forest, the intrigue of Trelian’s findings – the slain Lindwyrm – was too compelling to ignore. “The contents of Trelian’s report compel our own investigation. Lead us, that we might see for ourselves.”
“As you command, milord.”
It was a short walk to the clearing. As they reached the treeline, Carvus held up a hand, signaling his men to halt – they should go no further than the cover of the forest. The aftermath of the battle lay evident before them. The massive form of the Sentinel Lindwyrm sprawled near the far side of the clearing, its outline murky at a distance.
Carvus squinted, adjusting his position slightly for a better view. He felt his jaw drop, a lapse in composure that surprised even him. Yet, who could fault him? The beast lay nearly torn asunder, its massive body riddled with gaping, jagged wounds that no sword or arrow could inflict. Indeed, not even traditional siege weapons or combat spells could inflict such damage.
The destructive capability of fyric powder was well-known to him – he had seen its use in adamantite mines. The wounds on the Lindwyrm, however, spoke of a force of another Tier entirely. Where fyric powder might clear a path through a stubborn boulder, the agent used against the Sentinel Lindwyrm seemed capable of obliterating several boulders at once, perhaps even an entire cliffside.
Turning his attention from the ravaged beast, he scanned the battlefield. Among the chaos, his eyes caught the glint of metal – strange tubes scattered about, all some lighter shade of bronze. The craters were blackened and littered with debris: shards of metal mixed with wires. This was clearly no ordinary skirmish.
He moved closer to the tree line, cautiously examining the unfamiliar objects. The metal tubes bore no resemblance to any weapons known to Nobian forces. However, their presence here implied that somehow, these objects were related to the catastrophic wounds on the Lindwyrm.
Near the cave’s entrance, two metal carriages lay abandoned. Their exteriors were marred by dirt and marked with an array of dents that appeared to be from the Lindwyrm’s armored tail. The carriages, in style and make, aligned with reports of American machines observed by their Umbercari in distant Eldralore. Mounted atop each was a long cylinder. As foreign as they were, he could tell they were weapons – ones capable of unleashing formidable destruction.
Adventurers throughout the ages had ventured here, all repelled by the formidable Lindwyrm that long guarded these grounds. Had it been folly to devote their resources to the conquest of their neighbors, rather than to mastering and exploiting this site? Such questions surpassed his station, yet irrespective of the answers, the Emperor would surely take no pleasure in learning that he had allowed Americans to plunder the Gatebuilder’s secrets.
Carvus turned to Lornus. “Bid our scouts to investigate the cave.” As Leuarch Eldreyn departed to carry out the orders, he beckoned to one of his serarchs. “Bring me one of those metal tubes. I wish to examine it.”
He sat on a rock, watching the light bend around the man’s form until he vanished from sight. The serarch then adjusted the temperature around his body, matching it to that of the forest. Were it not for the subtle shifts in the man’s mana as he held the spells, Carvus would have surely lost track of him.
The serarch made his way forth, passing through the trees and into the clearing beyond. With haste, he seized upon one of the tubes that lay scattered about, and then, as quick as he had come, he turned and made his way back to the forest’s edge. When at last he returned, Carvus stood up and held out his hand.
The tube, lighter than its solidity might have portended, was chill to the touch and was marked by a patina that showed clear signs of bending. He tried to bend it with his fingers, but the metal resisted. Even when he used magic to strengthen himself, it yielded naught but scant impression. What could have possibly moved the metal?
Looking closely, he noticed that the metal wasn’t bronze, as he had first thought. Though bearing a hue akin to bronze, it was of a kind unfamiliar to him. The surface was engraved with American script – characters and sequences that held little meaning to him. Yet, to deem the letters ‘engraved’ would be to err; it was as if they were imprinted with a craftsmanship nary a smith could rival.
He turned it over in his hands, his eyes drawn to a circular groove near the base. Examining both ends, Carvus noted the open end was distorted as if a great force had expelled something from within – an insight into his previous question. The other end was sealed, marked by a small, precise indentation. He held it up, aligning it with a similarly sized hole in a nearby tree.
This was no common weapon. As a trebuchet releases its load, so too must this tube have hurled its own projectile. It gave him an idea. What if one were to use an adamantite tube with fyric powder, place a keen arrowhead atop, and ignite the mixture below? Would it rival a standard Wind Snipe combined with physical enhancement magic?
Carvus’ thoughts were interrupted by someone calling out to him. “Milord.”
“Hm?” He looked up, finding the face of Leuarch Franus. “What is it, Martano?”
He hesitated, as if second-guessing his words. “The… The Lindwyrm… The men grow restless, milord. They wish to claim the spoils of this battle – the Sentinel Lindwyrm’s materials are prized in many a lore. And these carriages, would it not profit us to salvage what we can? They may hold more secrets – or riches.”
He turned the leuarch’s words over in his mind as he would a well-worn coin. In truth, the idea held merit. Even the smallest measure of a Lindwyrm’s blood was a treasure beyond compare – to say nothing of the other materials, sought after by alchemists and smiths alike. That the Americans had forgone harvest was a curious thing indeed. Could it be that they were ignorant of the creature’s true worth? Or perhaps, had they found something more valuable?
And then there were the carriages, gleaming in the sun like ripe fruit waiting to be plucked. If they could but glean some understanding of how the Americans had so deftly slain a beast of the Lindwyrm’s standing, it would surely prove a boon to the Empire’s own martial pursuits. Perhaps, armed with such knowledge, they might at last gain the upper hand against the accursed Sonarans.
Carvus cast his gaze once more upon the clearing, then turned to face Martano. “Aye,” he said. “Let it be so.”
Yet, as he made to step forth, a low, droning sound beckoned his attention – a buzzing hum that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The unfamiliar noise compelled him to halt. He raised his hand, stopping his men as he searched for the noise. He tilted his head skyward, squinting as he beheld a strange sight: a winged thing hanging in the air above the clearing, like an animal circling its prey. As the sunlight reflected off its surface, it became evident to him that this was no creature of flesh, but a machine – much like the metal carriages.
“Hold,” Carvus ordered. “We dare not venture forth.”
Martano stepped forward, doubt and confusion etched across his face. “But, milord, if we shroud ourselves in invisibility, surely they cannot see us.”
Carvus shook his head. “Nay; recall the umbercari we sent to infiltrate the Duke’s mansion. They, too, thought themselves hidden, yet were somehow discovered. We know not what sorcery that flying machine might possess, and we cannot risk exposing ourselves.”
Before Martano could respond or venture any further protest, the scouts returned, led by Serarch Trelian. The search bowed his head before providing his report, “Milord, the cave lies empty, and the Lindwyrm’s nest remains untouched. We discovered footprints leading to a great sealed door, which we believe to be the entrance to the ruins.”
Carvus nodded. The Americans had ventured forth and left the loot behind for a reason. He thought back to a fortress that the Empire once sacrificed to encircle the forces of the now-conquered Kingdom of Durenelle. “So be it. Let us abandon these lesser spoils. As our adversaries have forgone these spoils in pursuit of greater gains, so must we sacrifice Straltus.”
Next

I know there are countless posts asking about chinese carbon wheels, but wanted to get specific thoughts between these 2 brands. I mainly ride rolling hills (~50ft climbing per mile), however I love big climbs whenever I can find them. I race a little bit, but mainly just love hammering in group rides and want to make my bike as fast as I can (within budget, ideally $500-700).
Everyone has heard of ICAN and they’ve got great reviews and are right in my price range ($655). Weight is 1410g for the 50mm with Novatec hubs: https://icancycling.com/collections/aero-series-wheelset/products/aero-50-wheelset?variant=39475219693646
9velo has gotten awesome reviews from Trace Velo and Hambini and they seem to be a bit of a step up. 1469g and 55mm rims, with in-house built hubs which basically stole DT-swiss technology. After a discount code they are $800, which stretches the budget a bit, but willing to spend it if the benefits would be noticeable over the ICANs: https://www.9velo.com/products/9velo-2024-road-rim-brake-lightweight-rl-series-20h-24h?VariantsId=10525
I’m frozen in indecision so let me know your thoughts! Worth the extra $200 (if you factor in shipping), or will the benefits be unnoticeable? Thanks in advance 🙏

FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
Caution swearing!
Also, god I love you Conn… please never change!
Previous First [Next](link)
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
"Both of you get your suits back on."
"What the hell is going on!?”
Richards demanded, Adam took a deep breath,
"Captain Richards that was not an opening for a discussion, that was an order. Now put the damn suit on, or I swear I will knock you out and do it myself!”
The three of them were floating in the module staring at each other, hands resting against what must have been no more than a few millimeters of aluminum.
He stared at them, and they stared back.
Adam did not break eye contact with the two, willing them to do as they were told. Chavez was the first to move, hurrying over to her space suit and struggling to pull it on in a near panic as bright lights flashed from outside. Inside his heart was pounding but he tried to remain calm for the two standing before him.
He hurried over to help Chavez pull on her gear, finally sealing the helmet in place as Richards finally moved to do the same.
Adam helped pull the hard torso over the man's head and link it to the waist before helping him pull on his gloves and, eventually the helmet. Before he let go, he kept hold of Richards by either side of the helmet staring at him through the glass,
"I promise, if you listen to me, I will keep you safe."
He kept eye contact with the other man until Richards finally nodded, and Adam let him go to float over and put on his own suit. His hands were steady, for now, but he knew as soon as the crisis was over he'd be shaking like a leaf.
If he survived…
He gritted his teeth, cursing himself for thinking like that.
He was Admiral Vir for crying out loud. He had survived far too much to go and die now.
He returned to the helm of the command module as he looked out the thick window at the lights flashing on either side of them. Despite the war that was raging around them, everything seemed so strangely quiet. There was no sound no rumbling, not even a vibration as one of the jets flew past. Despite being at the controls of the vehicle, there was nothing he could do. They only had a certain amount of fuel to get them to the lunar surface, and if he wasted any of it at all, they would be either caught in orbit, or miss the moon entirely.
He had to keep his cool.
Another bright burst of light lit the window to his right. This one was closer this time.
His heart leaped up into his throat.
Richards and Chaves joined him buckling into their seats.
"What is going on?”
Richards demanded again, his mike distant and tinny with the sound of very old technology.
"I believe Anti-Alliance forces are attempting to assassinate me. They have been trying for months now, and I think they are being encouraged by very powerful members of the government."
They watched as another set of ships zoomed past.
He saw a flash of a silhouette, just enough to know that one of them was a Thunderhawk and the other was a silver Rundi drone.
It confirmed his worst fears. The Chairwoman had been behind this the whole time!
[…]
Red nearly collided with the rocket. The Thunderhawk had pulled up the last minute, but he had almost been too late. He jerked the stick to the side, throwing up his wing just in time to avoid hitting the rocket as it made its slow way through space. He dove down on the other side forced to break off pursuit and cut in front of another Thunderhawk coming in from above. He made to look like he was going to ram them, playing a dangerous game of chicken, which he won at the last second as the other pilot panicked and cut to the left.
There were too many of them. Only five out of the original twenty had been destroyed, and he and the rest of their pilots were busy just keeping the thunder hawks away from the rocket, much less to have any time of firing at them. He had sent one of his people down to earth and one of them off towards the moon for backup. The moon was still hours away yet, so the hope that some help would be sent from them was unlikely, and even the woman he had sent down to earth's surface was cutting it close.
He didn't have much hopes that they would be able to hold out that long.
Inside the cockpit his warning lights began to blink and blair as one of the other jets got a lock on him. He rolled right to avoid them and dove down, cutting off the lock but still being pursued by those behind him. Up ahead he saw one of the silver balls erupt into flames as it was targeted by an expert hit from one of the Thunderhawk pilots.
He rolled right.
Someone else rolled left. He cut up just in time to avoid being hit and raced forward to cut off another Thunderbird that was heading directly towards the rocket.
[…]
Eris hurried down the hallway, her knees screaming as she did her very best to sprint, but despite her human anatomy, she was a little too much like a starborn.
With a cry of frustration she reached up and tore off her hoodie, throwing it to the ground and engaging her anti-gravity belt. The ribbons on her back billowed out behind her.
Light spilled in from the windows on either side of the catwalk she was now on, filling her with a buzzing energy that she could feel radiating through the ribbons like electricity. She knew from her study of starborn that they could travel at thousands of miles an hour in the vacuum of space, especially when under the power of a star. She didn't think she needed to go THAT fast, but anything would be better than what she was doing now.
As if in response to her will, she suddenly began to glide forward, picking up speed as she swooped towards the end of the hall, wind catching her in the face and roaring along her cheeks. With her starborn skin, she barely felt a thing as she raced around the corner and out of the waiting door. Two men dressed in military ACUs dived to the side as she blew past them crying out in alarm and confusion as the "Alien" floated by.
Somewhere distantly, she could sense Conn racing in the opposite direction towards the base.
Sunny and Admiral Kelly had Admiral Massie in their custody and were dragging him out into the hallway.
She blew across the open ground her ribbons snapping and billowing behind her as she did. She didn't even have time to imagine what she looked like as she roared over the open field and towards the waiting news vans which were just beginning to pack up their things. They were close to leaving, but she set out a sharp hard telepathic pulse ordering them to stop.
Compelling them to stop.
They froze in their tracks and looked up to see her coming.
Someone scrambled to turn on their camera, not sure what was going on but sure it had to be something good.
She tried not to think about what they would see as the camera flared to life following her approach.
"Make us live."
She ordered,
The news people glanced between each other in confusion,
"But no… we aren’t-"
"What are-"
She came to a sudden jolting stop before them, her billowing black hair fanning out behind her like a curling halo.
"I said, put us on air."
This time the telepathic pulse was too strong to resist. Mostly that, paired with the fact that none of them were sure they really wanted to resist. She was way too interesting to pass up.
They hurried to do what they were doing, and Eris was given just enough time to feel nervous before the camera was turned to her.
They were live.
She read it in the minds of those behind camera who she cut off as she began to speak,
"Citizens of Earth, there has been a horrible conspiracy against you. The UN president has ordered the assassination of Admiral Adam Vir and has continually attempted to sabotage the mission. Just now General Massie was taken into custody after ordering the deployment of twenty Thunderhawk’s to harass the rocket and make its destruction look like some sort of collision with space debris."
The group gawked at her as she raised her hand with the small silver device and began playing the recording.
She knew something like this would never be admissible in court. She was pretty sure it would be considered entrapment of some kind, which is why it must be heard now, before everyone, so that the actions of the president could be judged by a jury of the world where it could not be hidden by political machinations.
"Communications have been lost with Apollo 11. And it is... Well... It is likely that he is already dead..."
Her voice broke,
"No matter what happens, I need you, and this nation to understand what is happening before it gets swept under the rug. I saw it with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears and experienced their meeting in the thoughts of a man who is both xenophobic and hateful to his own humankind."
She kept talking trying to give them all the information she could, spilling thoughts she had heard in the head of the UN president and General Massie alike. Every meeting, every liaison, every name until her voice was beginning to crack.
[…]
The UN president was just standing to enter her vehicle when a slow muttering began in the crowd behind her. She turned as the ground before her went silent.
She watched as a wave ran through the people. A wave of nudging and whispering and showing off news feeds they had pulled up on their wrist implants. It wasn't long before the entire crowd was either staring down at their arms or clustered around someone else for viewing.
"What is going on?”
She wondered, turning to one of her men who was staring down at her own wrist.
"Madame president?"
He said with a look of confusion.
She could hear it now.
"Her and General Massie have ordered members of the UNSC to adjust funds in order to hide the twenty Thunderhawk’s they were squirting away for just such an event."
She hurried forward, grabbing the secret serviceman by the arm, staring at it as she watched the streaming newsfeed and the freaky white alien with the large dark eyes and flowing black hair.
"She is afraid of aliens, she wishes to isolate and eventually use humanity's superior forces to overtake trade in the galaxy, forceful if need be."
The muttering behind her had turned into an angry grumbling, and she turned to see the eyes of hundreds that turned towards her.
"Get me out of here."
She hissed. the Secret Serviceman took a step back with a look of confusion and indecision on his face.
"It's your job."
She snarled, but he just stared at her.
She hurriedly ran over to her car as the crowd began to filter in around them pressing close. A few of the secret service men pulled guns, but a large majority of them were frozen with indecision and were taken over by the crowd. She scrambled into the back seat of her vehicle and slammed the door shut screaming at the driver to get moving.
The crowd was surrounding them now, pounding at the glass.
She could hear their angry voices raised for her to be heard behind bullet proof glass.
Outside, she watched a lone figure step onto the platform where the lectern was and stare at her with its beady black eyes. The Chairwoman of the GA stood over the crowd like it's filthy alien lord.
And even though Rundi could not smile, she could swear it was smiling.
[…]
Baby K hit a rough patch of turbulence coming down from the atmosphere. She struggled with the controls as she was thrown left and right inside the cockpit of her rickety shuttle.
Donovan Red had ordered her down here to grab the UNSC, but she was so scared and full of adrenaline that she had dropped it at too steep an angle. The ride was much bumpier than it was supposed to be, and her teeth were rattling inside her head.
Just then two Jets suddenly cut in behind her out of nowhere, and she heard her console beep and warn her about a lock on, making it clear that she was just one click of a trigger away from imminent doom.
"This is Eagle Dispatch One, unidentified vessel, you have crossed into restricted UNSC airspace, identify yourself or be destroyed! You have ten seconds to comply, over."
She scrambled for her communications, but her fingers felt as stiff as wood as she scrambled for the button.
"I repeat, this is Eagle Dispatch One, unidentified vessel, you have entered restricted UNSC airspace, you are ordered to identify yourself or be destroyed. Five seconds remaining. Over."
She slammed her first into the comms button nearly panicking,
"UNSC!"
Her voice was rattling,
"This is B-baby K, and I... The Apollo 11 is under attack!"
She was breathless as she forced the words out.
There was silence over the coms,
"Say again? Uhm I mean please repeat over.”
"Apollo 11 is under attack!"
”…”
”…”
More silence,
”Roger that. Please stand by. Over."
The lock lifted and the two jets pulled up to the side of her, staying close now.
She recognized those jets as two F-90 Darkfires.
They stayed by her side for a moment, and as close as they were she could see one of the pilots fidgeting with the coms, talking and wildly gesticulating, while his copilot was beginning to wildly flip switches.
Meanwhile, a second voice came in over the coms.
"On your left! Eagle Dispatch Two here, unidentified vessel, please land on UNSC base airstrip one. Just contact the control tower once you get close for guidance and instruction."
Baby K looked over into the other jet, just to see the pilot adjusting his helmet and clicking an oxygen tube to the front of his helmet. His co-pilot had already put the additional oxygen mask on and was also flipping switches.
”Uhm aren’t you going to escort me?”
Baby K managed to blurt out in confusion,
”Godspeed Baby K, Eagle Dispatch Two over and out.”
Both men in the jet to her left had apparently finished their preparations and gave her a quick salute.
Then suddenly, both jets adjusted their angle and cut engines, before switching to their big fusion engines, rocketing them up and out of sight within seconds.
[…]
So far it had been a relatively quiet day at the Ellington Field Joint Reserve Base. Most of the air traffic had been canceled due to the launch of the Apollo mission, so there was not much to do, leaving much of the Airport less staffed than normal.
In the Air Traffic Control tower of the base, only two men were working. Though “working” was stretching it, considering Senior Controller M. Fredrick was currently in the middle of his book (though he was at least in front of his station) and his comrade Senior ATC Instructor A. Millard was currently sitting in a corner, watching a movie on his implant.
”So what are you watching? One of those old Star Wars movies?”
”You bet! Those are the best! By the way any info on that “lost civilian” who got into our airspace?”
”No not yet, though I sent Eagle Dispatch and told them to be extra unfriendly, that will scare these civilians off for sure!”
”Pffft, why couldn’t they watch the start like any other person? There is always some dumb rich kid doing dumb stuff with daddies private shuttle… I don’t understand why we always let them off with a warning…”
The console started beeping,
”Oh look that’s them now!”
”Put ‘em on speakers!”
”Will do!”
…
”ATC this is Eagle, come the FUCK in!”
Fredrick rolled his eyes,
”Ahem… This is Elling Field ATC, calling Eagle Dispatch One. We hear you, over.”
”ATC what the FUCK took you so long!?”
”Ellington Field ATC, to Eagle Dispatch one, firstly: language, secondly: please follow standard radio rules, over.”
”THE APOLLO IS UNDER ATACK BY HOSTILE ELEMENTS!”
”Ellingt-WHAAAAT!? Repeat please! Over!”
”THE APOLLO IS BEEING ATACKED BY HOSTILE ELEMENTS! REQUETING IMMEDIATE ASSIST!”
Fredrick just stared at Millard dumbfounded. As the senior officer Millard was quick to collect himself and jumped up and towards his console.
”What are you waiting for Fredrick! Are we blind!? DEPLOY THE GARRISON!”
Fredrick ignored all protocol and just flipped the switch to connect his comms to every recipient available.
”ATC to all personnel and everyone who can hear me, the Apollo is under attack, I repeat, the apollo is under attack. I want all available planes that can reach the outer atmosphere ready ASAP! Get the darkfires on the runway I want them in the air yesterday!”
[…]
Conn raced towards the airstrip, feeling the wind in the ribbons at his back. He couldn't go nearly as fast as he wanted to with air resistance.
Why the hell did Adam always have to get into so much trouble, why did he always have to be the center of attention!?
Everyone either hated him or loved him, but the problem was people who hated him also wanted to kill him.
Why did he have to be so controversial!?
Why did he have to be hated for something that was such a big deal. Why couldn't he be hated for having controversial political opinions. Conn paused…
On second thought, controversial political opinions were kind of what had gotten them here in the first place, so he guessed that was kind of a useless comparison. How about being the kind of guy who liked to talk too much about fishing. That was a great way to make people hate you for being boring, but it didn't usually mean that people wanted to kill you.
Maybe they could get the man a hobby doing something that wasn't so controversial…
Like…
Kicking small Animals or…
Cannibalism.
He came roaring to the stop at the edge of the airfield just in time to watch an entire platoon of pilots racing towards jets. He could hear their minds and looked up to see a rather dinky shuttle descending from the sky. He floated forward towards one of the jets as two pilots leaped inside.
He was going to need a ride.
The pilots turned to look at him, but Conn just shook his head.
The pilots decided to ignore him in the confusion and Conn grabbed on tight.
Starborn, he had come to learn, were a very interesting species in comparison to others. Vertically, as in from the top down he was very fragile and likely to break his neck or collapse his spine if there was any kind of pressure, but with horizontal forces, he was practically indestructible. Below him the ship roared to life and soon they were gathering speed along the runway.
His grip was tight, and he used the extra energy from his ribbons to speed himself up along with the jet to reduce the pull on his arms.
His grip wasn't that strong.
They went vertical almost immediately, and he made sure to orient his body in the correct direction as they went hurtling into the sky.
[…]
Red's right wing had been hit. If there had been atmosphere around him he would have been a goner, but there was no air resistance here, so once he regained control of his roll, he pulled back into position and fired one last shot as the opportunity arose. The sixth Thunderhawk was destroyed in an eruption of debris, which he dodged only with difficulty, limping without the aid of the maneuvering jet on the end of his one wing. Things were only speeding up now, the Rundi were almost gone and the pressure was being laid thick on his people. They were hard to hit but the pursuit made it almost impossible for them to do any real maneuvering of their own. He was almost hit again as another Thunderhawk sped underneath him. They rolled this way and that rocking from one side to the other. Flying through debris and over strips of silver metal.
Below them the earth hung as a glowing orb.
Red cut in a wide circle coming in with the sun at his back, using it to blind one of the enemy Thunderhawk’s as he came in. He watched the group of them form up suddenly as a ring around the slow moving rocket, intending quite certainly to rush it all at once. He screamed into the comm trying to order his men around, but it was going to be too late, he could already see it coming.
The jets rushed forward, and he did too, screaming inside his helmet as they went to broadside Apollo 11.
And then with all the silence of space, sixteen F-90 Dark Fires came spitting overhead all at once, raining down a line of ordinance that cut through the group of unsuspecting Thunderhawk’s.
Space around them was filled with a myriad of silent explosions as each and every one of them was ripped to shreds.
All except one…
He saw it at the last moment.
It had been hit in the tail and had gone wildly off course.
It turned sideways, but had just enough force... For its wing to tear straight through the aluminum siding of the rocket.
FUCK!
[…]
Chavez and Richards had been ordered to strap into their seats.
Adam had taken it upon himself to lock down the rest of the main cabin. Outside the flashing lights were like a fireworks display without sound. He grabbed onto one of the rails, forcing equipment back into place, so that if anything happened it wouldn't fly out.
His legs were kicked up behind him as he floated forward reaching for some of the controls as a sudden bright wash of light filtered in through the windows. He heard a scream over his com, and then the air around him was rent with a horrific tearing noise, which suddenly went silent. There was a rush, and he jerked forward as he was sucked back... And out of the ship entirely.
His hands and legs kicked and flailed as he tried to right himself, hearing his own breathing as the only sound as he watched the rocket begin to spin, debris erupting around him as air, and whatever wasn't strapped down was sucked through the small opening.
The rocket was spinning wildly but still on course, while he was spinning wildly in a silent abyss.
Grunting against the force of his spin, he reached down for the controls to the CO2 canister built into the pack of his spacesuit.
He groaned, not sure which way was up or down or back. He tried to right himself against the spin by firing in the opposite direction to slow his spin.
He could see the rocket now spinning in the opposite direction with the sudden loss of oxygen. He hoped the other astronauts were ok. He saw the silhouette of a jet fly past in the distance making its way towards the spinning rocket.
At least there was someone here to help.
Maybe the others would survive-
And then he just… stopped, coming to a confusing halt in the middle of space.
That shouldn't have been right!
He should have kept going forever!
He tried turning his head, but he felt like the pillsbury doughboy in this two thousand year old suit.
What was happening?
"Did you miss me Baby?”
Well shit, now he sort of wished he could keep spinning.
There was a tugging on the outside of his suit, and Conn floated into view in front of his helmet.
"Hey sweetheart."
"You are probably the last person I wanted to see."
He said, though he didn't entirely mean it, and unfortunately Conn knew that too, the mindreading asshole that he was.
”I could hardly let the father of my child go spinning off into space without taking accountability for his family. After al child support is paying way more than widows pension."
"Shove it up your ass Conn."
"No really, not even the vacuum of space is going to save you from your responsibilities. Now, about custody, I was thinking you could have every other weekend and a couple of major holidays…”
He gave a rueful sort of smile as Conn grabbed him by the life support pack and started floating them towards the rocket.
The F-90s had somehow managed to slow the spin of the rocket, and pull it back on course with grappling magnets.
All around them space was filled with debris. No more working Thunderhawk’s were present and those that were were quickly being grappled. One sleek racing jet slowly cruised past them. One of its wings was damaged, but whoever was inside waved with one hand as he rolled past.
Adam lifted a hand as Conn brought him the last few hundred feet to the torn opening in the side of the ship, allowing him to step through.
Conn patted him on the side of the helmet,
"Make sure to be home by dinnertime sweetie."
Before blowing him a kiss and vanishing back out the hole.
Adam floated there, a bit nonplussed for a moment before turning back to the front of the ship where Chaves and Richards were still strapped into their seats staring at him and after Conn. He floated over to strap himself in.
"Admiral! You're ok!”
"Yes, it seems that I am, thanks to a... Friend of mine."
Just then Conn appeared again just before their right side window, and like the classy gentlemen that he was began rubbing his butt up against the glass.
He sighed,
"Friend is kind of stretching it."
"Apollo 11 this is Houston, do you copy!"
The man on the other end of the line sounded close to tears, and Adam hurried to respond,
"Houston this is Apollo 11."
On the other side he thought he heard the sound of voices cheering in relief.
"What is your status, over?”
"We are a bit beat up Houston, we have a tear in our hull, but our suits are ok, and we have help."
"Prepare to abort mission."
Adam frowned,
"Now wait a second there Houston! I didn't get sucked out the side of my own rocket to just quit now. Tell the boys to come up here and patch us up and we can finish the mission. All systems are still functioning, and we are back on course."
He glanced over at the others,
”That is, if the crew wants to continue."
There was a pause and then Chavez timidly piped in,
"I'd be ok with that."
Richards sighed,
"Roger Houston, patch us up."
Granted it may have been cheating. Apollo 11 hadn't had support with special tools that could just patch up a spaceship within ten minutes, but then again the original Apollo 11 hadn't been in the middle of a firefight while on their journey to the moon.
So it was with some trepidation that Houston allowed it, and before long they had air back inside the cabin back up to pressure, but they also had a sixteen-man rotating escort for the rest of the way.
The group of them were even shocked to see Rundi drones join the formation, only to learn that it had been the UN president who had allegedly called the hit on him. It was hard to believe, but they were only getting snippets here and then from over radio and from Conn, who floated around occasionally to rub another part of his anatomy against the window and give them teasing updates.
The moon was growing slowly in their vision.
"Hehe, I can see my house from here."
Adam remarked as they prepared to detach the lunar module from the rest of the ship.
They landed without incident, observed by mobile camera crews and news reporters as he made his own footprint on the never changing dust of the moon's surface. He gave them a thumbs up to let them know he was fine and hesitated only once before setting up the UN flag in the dirt. He refused to let his enthusiasm be dampened by the day's events and hopped around dancing and leaping for joy as another one of his childhood dreams was fulfilled.
…
That was before he plowed face first into the moon's surface and required help from Richards to stand back up again.
They left soon after taking another three days of escort back to earth before strapping themselves in for final entry.
Conn left them just as they were entering orbit with a very big and very drawn out middle finger for all three of them.
"Your friend is super delightful isn't he?”
"You don’t know the half of it, try having a child with him."
Adam muttered, refusing to elaborate even as they stared at him in confusion.
They fell from the sky and landed somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, picked up by the waiting navy vessel who was within nine miles of their landing site. They were fished from the water and returned safe and sound to the ship to cheers and cameras. Adam's legs felt a little like jelly after days of not using them, and he was finally able to relax lying on the deck of the ship under the sun as people ran around them on either side.
His hands shook slowly building up after the stress of the last week. He took long deep breaths and closed his eyes.
The next few days were going to be a real shit show.
And somehow it wasn’t because he was now known as the man who faceplanted not one, but TWO interstellar bodies…
The media was way to busy with the other story, a massive net of deceit and corruption that would now be uncovered.
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Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.

I have a 6 mo golden female who is very very playful and friendly, only she takes a few minutes to warm up! We moved to the city from the country where she had limited socialization opportunities. Shes mainly played with our friends 90lb male golden who is very large and hyperactive but also super submissive and they got along great. She was also timid meeting him the first few times, now they play immediately. At the start she would stand there looking a bit unsure as he sniffed her and tried to play, then after a few minutes she would jump in with him.
Now in a city, I don’t know anybody to offer her playdates with. Dog parks I think would overwhelm her having so many run up to her and I also can’t garuantee she wouldn’t get bitten and make it worse.
When we pass a dog and the owners let it come up to her (yes, both leashes but some people have no manners and don’t think to ask) she either stands there with her tail down (not super tucked but definitely the nervous tail) and looking at the ground while they sniff her, OR she lays down (still can tell she has a tucked tail) and freezes while they sniff her. Sometimes she rolls onto her back and freezes while they sniff her. She does seem to jump into play mode quicker these days as she’ll start wanting to play after 15ish seconds instead of multiple minutes of standing there.
She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body but my biggest concern is her developing fear aggression. I don’t want her to suddenly snap at a dog when she is frozen and staring at the ground, I’d assume that means she’s overwhelmed as well as nervous? I do my best to keep moving past dogs that approach us but as you all know, things happen and either way I would like a dog that is confident and able to play nice with others.
How should I go about these scenarios to make her feel the most confident and have the best chance at become a safe and well socialized dog? How would you recommend I go about socializing her in general? I’ve looked up socialization classes near us, but it looks like most of them only allow puppies under five months

(As always, flyers are out Wednesdays, most store sales for the new flyer start on Thursdays)
Adonis

• Crab section (thawed) - $7.77 per lb -- Interesting! Could be fun for making neat meals!
• Coho salmon fillet - $7.77 per lb -- Wow! That's a great price for salmon!
• Sea bass (fresh, free cleaning) - $7.99 per lb -- Fair price for fresh fish.
• Basa filet (thawed) - $4.99 per lb -- Nice! It's not fresh filet, but it's a good price,.
• Chicken thighs (boneless skinless) - $5.99 per lb -- Not amazing, but ok for boneless chicken.
• Grain-fed veal blade roast - $5.99 per lb -- Interesting! It's a more tender cut, more delicate flavour, which might be nice!
• Beef eye of round - $6.99 per lb -- Good and fair price for eye of round. It's possible to find it for less, but it's a hunt. This is a regular Adonis deal.
• Rib-eye steak - $17.99 per lb -- Makes me think of a post I saw this week of a standard prime rib roast in Calgary sold at $55/kg, 27/lb or something. Which is crazy!
• Red greenhouse tomatoes - $0.99 per lb -- Awesome! Great price for tomatoes, but I found the other produce prices advertised were a little lackluster.
• Apricots (fresh) - $4.99 per lb -- Low-ish price for fresh apricots.
• Brick cheese (Cracker Barrel) - $5.77 400g bar -- Not under $5, but still worth snagging a bar if it means skipping a trip elsewhere.
• Cheese Counter - Canadian feta - $1.99 per 100g -- Nice! $2/100g for feta is good.
• Cheese Counter - Tuma - $2.29 per 100g -- Interesting! "Tuma cheese is renowned for its delicate mild milk flavour, and its smooth, velvety and firm texture."
• Cheese Counter - Akawi - $2.29 per 100g -- Ahh, this is a lovely cheese. Not cheap, but it's good stuff!
• Cheese Counter - Fior de latte - $2.29 per 100g -- Good price. This is the stuff you need for a Caprese salad!
• Pâté (Bretagne) - $5.00 for 2 150g packs -- Great price! These regularly go for $4 or so.
• Deli - Chicken breast (Solmaz) - $1.79 per 100g -- Nice!
• Deli - Smoked ham (Olymel) - $1.49 per 100g -- Excellent!
• Deli - Turkey breast (Alzahraa) - $1.49 per 100g -- More great deli!
• Deli - Prosciutto (Negroni) - $2.79 per 100g -- Ah! Nice! Different brand, same great prosciutto price!
• Walnuts and mixed nuts (Cedar) - $4.99 454g bag -- Nice! That's cheap!
• Almonds (Cedar) - $5.99 454g bag -- Good price for almonds!
• Pistachios (roasted, salted, Cedar) - $12.99 454g bag -- Pistachio prices are a little funny. $10/lb is really the price to aim for, but this isn't far off. And it's not uncommon to see 200-250g bags for $7-8 or more.
• Produce Price Rating: Medium, but always has well-priced chicken, the deli meat sale rotations are always fantastic, and just the overall variety of goods is refreshing. Personal favourite store.

Farm Boy

• Chicken breast (boneless skinless) - $5.99 per lb -- Fair price for chicken breast.
• Wild-caught Argentinian shrimp (23-30ct) - $7.99 340g bag -- This is a good rate on decent shrimp!
• Fresh sausage deal - $5.99 500g packs -- Nice little sausage deal here. Fresh sausage avoids the preservatives!
• Mini cucumbers - $5.00 for 2 6-packs -- Good price for mini cucumber.
• Fiddleheads (fresh daily) - $5.99 per lb -- Neat! These are fun to see on the shelf. Try a fun seasonal item!
• Hothouse tomatoes - $1.49 per lb -- Good price for tomatoes!
• Eggplant - $1.49 per lb -- Great price for eggplant! Often $2/lb or more!
• Zucchini - $1.49 per lb -- Good price zucch! You can find them for less, but you'll have to hunt for it.
• Green onion - $0.77 per bunch -- Nice! It's crazy to be happy about green onions for under $1…
• Blueberries - $2.99 full pint -- Ad is for 473g pints. This is a great deal! Worth snagging some!
• Produce Price Rating: High

Farmers Pick (can be a little late on their flyer) (https://www.farmerspick.ca/flyer-specials)
Food Basics

• Ground chicken (lean, Zabiha) - $3.88 450g pack -- Great price for ground chicken!
• Pork side rib - $2.98 per lb -- Good price for pork rib!
• Pork tenderloin - $2.98 per lb -- Great price for tenderloin. More often found for $4/lb.
• Fresh beef burger patties - $4.00 4-pack -- These are 1/4lb patties, meaning we're clocking in at $4/lb, which is honestly pretty good! Season them up and grill! There's also Selection 8-pack of buns on sale for 1.77. So, that's basically $10 for 8 burgers. That's value!
• Asparagus - $1.98 per lb -- Excllent! This is a great price! And it's not even the 340g bunches, no, this is per lb!
• Sweet peppers - $2.98 4-pack -- Nice!
• Sweet potato and sweet purple potato - $1.28 per lb -- Fair price for sweet potatoes. It's fun to see purple ones get lumped into the same bracket.
• Coleslaw kit (Green Giant) - $5.00 for 2 340g kits -- Great price for salad kits.
• Mini potatoes - $2.98 5lb bag -- Good price for mini potatoes!
• Strawberries - $1.67 454g shell -- WOW! Cross our fingers they're nice AND cheap!
• Cherries - $5.98 per lb -- Decent price for cherries. I like making homemade yogurt popsicles with fresh cherries. Bit if a pain in the ass to pit, but so worth it.
• Brick cheese (Selection) - $4.44 400g bar -- Nice! Sub-$5 bricks!
• Salametti (Matro) - $6.49 300g chubs -- May include other varieties
• Baby genoa (Mastro) - $8.99 600g chub? -- Hard to read the ad, but this is a good deal for a big chub of genoa!
• Mortadella (San Daniele) - $8.99 750g chub -- Works out to $1.20/100g, which is a substantial savings compared to the deli counter or buying it presliced and packed!
• BBQ Sauce and Mustard (Selection) - $1.00 each -- Nice! I personally love mustard and a good BBQ sauce. Might be nice to stock up for that burger night!
• Chips (Irresistibles) - $1.00 150g bag -- I usually don't point out chips and seed-oil-snacks, but this is a great deal!
• Produce Price Rating: Low to medium low

FoodLand

• Beef top sirloin steaks (AAA) - $7.99 per lb -- Great price for AAA steaks. Top sirloin isn't the best place to get a steak cut, but it could be fine. Have a look in-store and judge for yourself.
• Shrimp (31-40ct, Compliments) - $6.99 per lb -- Good price for shrimp, but note that these are small.
• Bar scallops (80-120ct, Compliments) - $6.99 per lb -- These are quite small, but they could be interesting to thaw, pat dry, and sear quick on high heat for use in salads. Or perhaps as a top to a risotto?
• Cucumber - $0.99 each -- Scene Member Price.
• Corn - $5.00 for 5 years -- $1 an ear!?!#@! Are they mad?! Do they not watch the news about boycotts and how consumers are pissed? And then you're going to charge them $1 for an ear of corn? My goodness…
• Produce Price Rating: Medium-high to high.

Freshco (price matcher)

• Bacon (Schneider's) - $3.99 375g pack -- Good price for brandname bacon. Sale also extends to some of their wieners and bologna.
• Frozen burgers (Compliments) - $9.99 1.13kg box (8-pack) -- This stretches us down into a $3/lb mark for beef. Which is pretty good all things considered, but know it's a processed meat. Read the ingredients: beef, water, bread crumb, soya flour, and salt and seasoning. You're paying for recovered meat mixed with bread crumb and flour. And the nutritional info on the pack reads 73% daily value of sat-fat in one 142g burger. A 152g fresh patty lands you at 60%. Know your food!
• Wild-caught Argentinian shrimp (23-30ct) - $6.99 300g bag -- This is a good rate on decent shrimp!
• Sweet peppers - $2.99 4-pack -- Nice!
• Mushrooms - $2.99 454g shell -- Great price!
• Green beans - $1.99 per lb -- Awesome price for green beans!
• Royal Gala apples - $1.49 per lb -- Good price for a nice apple variety. However, you can also sometimes score these for $1/lb if you wait and dig around for the sale.
• Blueberries - $2.49 full pint -- Nice! Another great blueberry sale!
• Produce Price Rating: Low to medium low (more on the medium side)

Giant Tiger (*note the VIP prices; sales begin today) (price matcher)

• Hotdog wieners (Olymel) - $2.47 375g 5-pack -- Sigh… Good price for wieners, but still… Don't overdo it. These are categorically terrible for you!
• Ambrosia apples - $2.88 3lb bag -- Great deal on a tasty apple variety that hits that $1/lb mark!
• Blueberries - $2.88 full pint -- Man! So many blueberry deals! Where are these coming from?!
• Romaine lettuce - $2.88 3-pack -- Nice! Fair price for romaine hearts.
• Baby spinach - $1.97 140g bin -- Good price for 140g. The prices of these bins are the weights are all over the place. Some places charge $4 for the same bin. And then some others charge $4 for 300g bins. Treat carefully!
• Canned tomatoes (Primo) - $3.00 for 2 796ml cans -- Good price for nice tomatoes. Funny enough, in this week's flyer, they advertise the Great Value (housebrand) tomatoes for 1.77 being 50c, but if you buy two Primo cans they work out to 50c less than the Great Value (confused yet? Lol)
• Fireworks - various -- LOL I just wanted to mention they got fireworks and firecrackers hahaha
• Produce Price Rating: Generally on the low side.

Green Fresh Supermarket (Vanier) (check https://greenfreshottawa20.wixsite.com/greenfreshottawa)

• Produce Price Rating: Usually very competitive, catering to Asian cuisine. Warning: their newest sales start on Fridays - so this is a late advertising of their sales.

IGA (price matcher)

• Hotdog wieners (Lafleur) - $5.00 for 2 packs 375-450g -- More hot dog prices for our analysis. I'm noting these to get a sense of what the heck is going on with these….
• Lobster (cooked or live) - $7.75 per lb -- Scene Member Price. 9.75/lb regular. Awesome deal!
• Tomahawk steak - $13.99 per lb -- That's pretty good for a fancy steak cut. I like thick cut steak because you can get that and crust without overcooking the meat. Pro tip: always salt and set your steak uncovered to dry in the fridge. That's what gets you a top-notch crust!
• Veal loin rack - $13.99 per lb -- This is more interesting than a value proposition. Expect a decent-sized rack to run you a pretty penny, but it should cook nicely. Remember to let it rest after it reaches the desired internal temp. Be patient!
• Whole chicken (fresh) - $1.99 per lb -- Great price!!
• Eggs (Nutri, Burnbrae) - $5.79 18-pack -- Not a ground-breaker price. Maybe it's just nice see some price stability in egg prices.
• Corn - $4.00 for 10 ears -- Excellent deal at 40c an ear!
• Cherries - $4.99 per lb -- Awesome!!! Cherries can easily reach into the $8-9/lb range.
• Bologna (Lesters) - $5.49 675g chub -- This is a good price for a chub. It's not fancy deli, but it beats the prices by 2-3x or more given you're paying 81c/100g.
• Deli - Cooked ham (Olymel) - $1.99 per 100g -- Speaking of deli prices, consider this unholy monolith slab of ham versus that slice-it-yourself bologna. This "hamalgum sibling" is 2.5x the price of the bologna by Lesters… Just saying…
• Produce Price Rating: Medium

Independent

• Pork back rib - $3.99 per lb -- Meh price for pork rib… $3/lb is good, but $4/lb doesn't seem worth it when it's largely bone anyway! I'd rather buy the duck they have for $4/lb….
• Atlantic salmon - $9.99 per lb -- Average price for pink fish.
• Beef striploin steaks (AA) - $7.88 per lb -- Good enough price for steaks, but FoodLand had AAA grade for the same price.
• Duck (fresh, grade A) - $3.99 per lb -- Good rate for duck.
• Asparagus - $2.99 per lb -- Meh rate. There's better.
• Strawberries - $2.49 454g shell -- Good price for strawberries.
• Butter (Lactantia) - $5.99 454g bar -- Sigh… I wish butter would come down in price…
• Produce Price Rating: fairly high with few exceptions

Loblaws

• Pork back rib - $3.99 per lb -- Meh price for pork rib… $3/lb is good, but $4/lb doesn't seem worth it when it's largely bone anyway! I'd rather buy the duck they have for $4/lb….
• Atlantic salmon - $9.99 per lb -- Average price for pink fish.
• Beef striploin steaks (AA) - $8.88 per lb -- Ben là là! Same AA steak, $1/lb more…
• Beef boneless blade roast (AA) - $8.99 per lb -- Ok price for beef… It's kind of meh… Consider visiting local butchers to see what they have going on.
• Duck (fresh, grade A) - $3.99 per lb -- Good rate for duck.
• Sweet potatoes - $3.99 5lb bag -- Great price for sweet potatoes
• Mini-cucumbers - $1.99 6-pack -- "Save $2". Ya, we know Loblaws. I've been saving $2 on these packs for months now at other stores.
• Blueberries - $1.99 full pint -- Great price for blueberries!
• Mango - $0.99 each -- Fair price for mango considering I've seen Loblaws charge much more for them. Also, I expect we'll see some nice sub-$1 deals in the future.
• Butter (Lactantia) - $5.99 454g bar -- More $6 butter.
• Produce Price Rating: fairly high with few exceptions

Provigo

• Pork chops - $2.49 per lb -- Good price for pork chops.
• Chicken breast and thighs (boneless skinless) - $4.99 per lb -- Good price chicken.
• Atlantic salmon - $8.99 per lb -- Good price for pink fish.
• Corn - $5.00 4-pack -- What?! How can we have these disparities… Maxi has theirs for 33c an ear. That's $1.30 versus $5 for 4 ears… Insane difference in price…
• Watermelon (9lb average) - $3.88 each -- Nice price for watermelon.
• Mango - $0.99 each -- That $1 deal again. "Save $2". Meaning regular price was $3. Insanity.
• Deli - Mock chicken (Gaspésien) - $1.29 per 100g -- Good price for deli, but it's mock chicken. I would refer back to the IGA deal on Lesters bologna. Buy whole chubs, slice it yourself, and save.
• Produce Price Rating: fairly high with few exceptions

Maxi (price matcher)

• Ground beef (medum) - $8.88 1.1kg -- About 2.5lb of beef, which clocks this in at about 3.50/lb. That's pretty good!
• Corn - $0.33 per ear -- Awesome price for corn! It's crazy. Provigo had their 4-packs for $5. Which
• Mini-cucumbers - $0.88 6-pack -- Very nice! A regular "good deal" is $2.
• Coleslaw kit (Florette) - $1.88 340g kit -- Great deal for a salad kit.
• Potatoes (Imperfect) - $4.88 15lb bag -- Excellent!!
• Mini-carrots - $4.88 2lb bag -- This is a good deal given a 2/3lb bag can be $2-3.
• Watermelon - $2.88 each -- Nice price for watermelon, but no weight advertised.
• Kiwis - $4.88 600g pack -- Pretty good. Can be as low as $4, but this is a fair price.
• Apples (Cortland, Empire) - $5.88 4lb bag -- Ok price for what should be over-winter apples. Mind the bruising.
• Fancy cheese deal - $18.00 for 3 -- Check the flyer and in-store for more details.
• Sriracha (Flying Goose) - $3.88 730ml bottle -- Nice! It's a different brand, but the price is right. I wonder what the difference is.
• Silk plant bev - $6.88 for 2 1.75-1.89L jugs -- Good deal.
• White vinegar - $2.88 for 2 4L jugs -- This might be good to get in advance of some pickling plans.
• Produce Price Rating: Generally medium low pricing! This store can post some impressive deals at times.

Metro

• Pork back rib - $2.99 per lb -- Good price for pork rib. It's that magical $3/lb mark. It's hard to find rib for less. And, I wouldn't pay over $3/lb.
• Beef top sirloin steak or roast (AAA) - $6.88 per lb -- Great price for AAA grade beef! They also have "platinum angus medallions" for 8.88/lb.
• Fresh sausage - $4.99 per lb -- Great price for fresh sausage. You can spend $1/lb more and get organic stuff by Dubreton.
• Cucumber - $0.77 each -- Awesome!!!
• Cauliflower - $2.99 each -- Decent. Not amazing, but decent given a head can go for $4-5 easily.
• Portabella mushrooms (Belle Grove) - $6.99 4-pack -- Hmm, I'll have to keep an eye out for prices on portabellas. This doesn't seem that bad off the hop. I know sometimes you can get 4-6 packs for about $4-5, though. But, you have to hunt around town for deals like that.
• Blueberries - $1.99 full pint -- Great price for blueberries!
• Cherries - $5.99 per lb -- Nice! Fair sale price for cherries!
• Watermelon (15lb average) - $9.99 each -- Trying to make sense of these watermelon prices. This isn't as good as some other deals. But considering on the same page they advertise 1.49/lb for sliced watermelon, it suggests this watermelon could cost you up to $22.
• Butter (Selection) - $4.88 454g bar -- $5 butter.
• Produce Price Rating: High. Kinda like Sobeys. You can see a 50% average mark-up compared to a lot of other stores. It's nice produce, but it costs you.

No Frills (price matcher)

• Beef burgers (No Name) - $9.99 1.36kg 12-pack -- Just more frozen burger musing. Basically much like the Compliments ones we saw earlier, but 113g each, but with more sugars and funny ingredients, and the same amount of sat-fat! (And they skip mentioning that 75%-ish daily value number for the sat-fat). Like, what the heck are "onion extract" and "corn syrup solids". Do they squeeze the onion and throw away the rind? And isn't solid syrup just solid sugar? lol....
• T-bone/Wing steak - $6.99 per lb -- This might seem like a good deal, but it's ungraded beef. Why pay this price when metro has AAA-grade steaks for a smidge less?
• Picnic pork shoulder - $2.44 per lb -- Excellent price! These are AWESOME for smoking and braising for pulled pork!
• Ground chicken or turkey - $8.00 870g pack -- Not bad. Works out to about $4.20/lb or so.
• Ground beef (lean) - $6.00 450g tube -- Really a meh price for "tube meat".
• Steelhead trout fillet - $9.99 per lb -- Standard pricing for pink fish.
• Asparagus - $2.99 per lb -- Ok price for asparagus. I expect better from No Frills.
• Green beans - $2.99 per lb -- Same with the green beans, I expect a bit better.
• Cucumber - $0.99 each -- Good price for cucumber.
• Mini-cucumber - $3.99 11-pack -- Fair price on the 11-pack. Meanwhile, Maxi has the 6-pack for 88c… Sigh…
• Watermelon (9lb average) - $2.99 each -- Good price for melon.
• Ataulfo mangoes - $5.64 5lb case -- This should work out to about 8 or so mangoes. Good deal.
• Pineapple - $2.99 each -- Good price for pineapple.
• Brick cheese (Armstrong) - $5.49 400g bar -- Hmm, ya, seeing some 50c to $1 upward pressure on cheese pricing a little everywhere….
• Earth's Own plant bev - $3.79 1.74-1.89L jug -- Good price. Regular floats well into the $5-ish ranges.
• Dry pasta (Italpasta) - $1.25 750g packs -- Good price for dry pasta. Stock up a little. Maybe there's a potluck pasta salad in your future.
• Produce Price Rating: Generally quite low, selectively amazing for some items.

Produce Depot (usually a little late on the flyer) https://producedepot.ca/

• Ground beef (lean) - $4.99 per lb -- Fair rate for ground beef. Considering No Frills is selling 450g tube meat for $6, I'd buy this in a heartbeat. It's just not stock-up pricing.
• Beef New York striploin steak - $12.99 per lb -- I wish they'd mention the grade, but if it looks nice, it could make for a nice BBQ item.
• Whole atlantic salmon (fresh) - $6.99 per lb -- Now, it's not filet and deboned, but it's a heckin' deal for salmon.
• Wild-caught squid - $8.99 per lb -- Perhaps there's calamari in your future?
• Hothouse tomatoes - $1.29 per lb -- Great price for tomatoes!
• Green and red leaf lettuce - $1.69 per head -- Great price for leafy greens!
• Sweet orange peppers - $0.99 per lb -- AWESOME price for peppers!!!
• Brussel sprouts - $1.49 per lb -- Fantastic price for brussel sprouts! Often over $3/lb.
• Blackberries - $1.49 half pint -- Good deal for blackberries. Lots of blueberries going around, though.
• Red seedless grapes - $1.99 per lb -- Fantastic price for grapes! Often $4/lb.
• Peaches - $2.49 per lb -- These are from the USA. It could be a they come out a little tough. Leave them on the counter to ripen, but eat them fast after that!
• Cheese counter - Landana smoked cheese - $2.39 per 100g -- I'm partial to smoked cheese. This could make for a nice fancy burger topping.
• Deli - Genoa salami (Mastro) - $2.59 per 100g -- This isn't fantastic pricing, but fair. A 600g chub can clock in at $10-12 or so, this deli counter pricing is fairly competitive.
• Produce Price Rating: Medium-low with very competitive specials on a shortened flyer. The small flyer is nice because it doesn't uselessly feature $6 heads of cauliflower and extremely high-price items that are either a confusion on the consumer, or an insult on the injury of not being able to afford supreme quality items.

Real Canadian Superstore (price matcher)

• Beef rib-steak (ungraded) - $7.88 per lb -- More ungraded beef at graded prices.
• Pork tenderloin - $3.49 per lb -- Fair price for tenderloin.
• Duck (frozen, grade A) - $3.99 per lb -- Fairly regular price for duck.
• Golden Pompano (frozen) - $2.88 per lb -- This is advertised a lot at the RCSS. I've never seen it elsewhere. Does anyone have experience with it?
• Dressed Tilapia (frozen) - $2.88 per lb -- Dressed means tail and fines removed,
• Potatoes - $5.50 10lb bag -- Great price for potatoes.
• Corn - $0.40 per ear -- Awesome price for corn. This is probably loss-leader territory.
• Watermelon (11lb average) - $3.99 each -- Good price for a big melon.
• Pineapple - $3.00 each -- Good price for pineapple.
• Produce Price Rating: Generally medium-low pricing, selectively amazing for some items.

Sobeys

• Chicken thighs (boneless skinless) - $5.99 per lb -- Fair price for boneless chicken. There's better out there, however.
• Beef striploin steaks (AA) - $8.77 per lb -- Scene Member Price.
• Beef sirloin tip roast or marinating steaks (AAA) - $8.99 per lb -- Hmm, striploin AA versus sirloin tip AAA… Might be a toss up. Sirloin is leaner and has less marbling. But AAA might lend to a tenderness. This may be give and take, here…
• Lobster (live) - $10.99 per lb -- Scene Member Price.
• Pork chops - $3.49 per lb -- Not a great price, really, but it may be your option if you're stuck with Sobey's this week. Ad mentions it includes roasts.
• Picnic pork shoulder - $3.49 per lb -- We saw No Frills offereing this at 2.44/lb. A $1/lb more isn't great, admittedly. But, it's an option.
• Asparagus - $2.44 per lb -- Good price!
• Green beans - $2.67 per lb -- Good price!
• Bok choy - $0.99 per lb -- Amazing price. I don't get how other places charge $2/lb+ for choy, and then you have Sobeys of all stores swooping in to corner that side of the market.
• Asian pears - $0.99 per lb -- Awesome price!
• Brick cheese (Cracker Barrel) - $5.77 400g bar -- More of this elevated cheese pricing… Hmm….
• Produce Price Rating: Generally a high price store, especially for produce. Some items are 50% more than more value-oriented stores. Kinda like Metro, some of the deals can be quite good.

Super C

• Chicken breast (boneless skinless) - $4.44 per lb -- Awesome price!!
• Atlantic salmon - $9.88 per lb -- Standard sale price for pink fish.
• Pork tenderloin (marinated) - $3.44 per lb -- Good price. Not amazing. But, pre-marinated? Hmm, makes for an easy meal.
• Corn - $1.88 for 5 ears -- Awesome price!! Under 40c an ear!
• Broccoli - $1.33 per crown -- Very good price for broc, especially if the crowns are nice. A good crown can easily range over $2.
• Radishes - $0.99 per bunch -- Nice! A good addition to salads or veg trays.
• Green onions - $0.99 per bunch -- Fair price for green onion. It's hard to find it under $1.
• Mini-carrots - $0.99 340g bag -- Nice!
• Mini-cucumbers - $1.99 6-pack -- Fair going-rate now for mini cuce. A very welcome change from charging $4 for these packs.
• Mini-potatoes - $1.99 3lb bag -- Good price for mini potatoes. There's still better value in regular size potatoes most of the time. But, sometimes, these sales can negate that value proposition. Plus, these are nice a thousands ways to Sunday. They cook very quickly, and are great oven-roasted, steamed, and BBQ'ed with other veg.
• Apples (Empire, Spartan) - $3.99 3lb bag -- Fair price for apples these days, it seems. I think we'll be hard-pressed to find certain varieties for under $1/lb for a while.
• Strawberries - $1.63 454g shell -- Awesome price!!!
• Pineapple - $1.88 each -- Fantastic!
• Oranges - $2.99 3lb bag -- Good price for oranges!
• Mangos - $0.99 each -- Good price. Mangoes should clock in at around $1 each. Enough of these $2-3 mangos…
• Cantaloupe - $2.99 each -- Good price/fair sale price for cantaloupe.
• Cherries - $4.99 per lb -- Wow! Great price for cherries!!!
• Brick cheese (Black Diamond, Ptit Quebec) - $4.87 400g bar -- Nice to see we still ahve sub-$5 cheese options this week.
• Fancy cheese deal - $18.00 for 3 -- Apparently includes 20 different varieties.
• Produce Price Rating: Generally low, but can creep into medium for some items. But, there's always something decent available!

T&T Supermarket https://www.tntsupermarket.com

• Produce Price Rating: Usually very competitive, catering to Asian cuisine. Warning: their newest sales start on Fridays - so this is a late advertising of their sales.

Walmart

• Ground beef (lean) - $3.97 per lb -- Excellent rate on ground beef! Make your own burgers!!!!
• Chicken or Pork kabobs (Marcangelo) - $7.87 480-640g 8-packs -- It's basically $1 a kabob. That ain't bad for a ready-to-cook item. But, note that this translates essentially into 8/lb at worst, or 5.50/lb at best. There are WAY better deals on pork and chicken around.
• Asparagus - $2.97 per lb -- Fair price for asparagus.
• Corn - $0.32 per ear -- Best price on corn this week!
• Potatoes - $4.97 10lb bag -- Good price for a 10lb bag.
• Coleslaw kit - $2.77 397g kit -- Good price for a decent-size slaw kit.
• Strawberries - $1.84 454g shell -- Awesome price!!!
• Pineapple - $3.97 each -- Not bad. I like to see $3, and less shouldn't be taken for granted. Remember, it takes 2 years to grow a pineapple. One bad fungal disease and we should see these shoot up to $6-8 a piece. Treasure well-priced pineapple!
• Brick cheese (Armstrong) - $4.94 400g bar -- Another $5 brick cheese sale.
• Produce Price Rating: A little all over the place. Some really good prices between a lot of average pricing.

Costco (Note that these are the online/shipped prices - reduce each item by $3 for in-store pricing)

• NOTE: NEED TO REVISE - --
• Paper Towel (Kirkland) - $27.99 12-roll pack -- 2-ply; 160 sheets
• Paper Towel (Bounty) - $27.49 12-roll pack -- 2-ply; 86 sheets
• Toilet Paper (Kirkland) - $25.99 30-roll pack -- 2-ply; 380 sheets
• Toilet Paper (Cashmere) - $24.99 40-roll pack -- 2-ply; 250 sheets (on sale)
• Dish soap (Dawn Platinum) - $18.99 2.66L -- Food Basics often has this jug for $10!
• Laundry detergent (Purex) - $24.99 9.24L -- 250 loads
• Garbage bags (30 gallon; large) - $15.99 100-pack -- Amazon has Glad standard 74L bags, 100-packs for $23, sometimes less if on sale
• Countertop green bin liners - $21.99 125-pack -- Amazon has Glad Compostable green bin liners 100-packs for $18, sometimes less if on sale
• Produce Price Rating: I need to do a proper check to be sure, but I find it's pretty average. There's an illusion of getting a good deal because of the bulk. Just be careful.

Jean Coutu (new sales start Fridays)

• Produce Price Rating: I have to start checking these just in case...

Shoppers Drug Mart (new sales start Fridays)

• Produce Price Rating: Sometimes they have cheap butter, eggs, and milk on weekends.

Some additional references!

• Grocery Review Google Drive Location https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xhLvBP1smXb1eSnxAW5yyBjO2aYFLJHC?usp=sharing
• Cooking Tips and Recipes https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1TCcHm9y0kWIa3x18hznKN2ix0BPcUv-m?usp=drive_link
• Google Maps list of the Grocery stores in Ottawa https://maps.app.goo.gl/YT7cZmv8vMQWU4J59

Curiosity got the best of me and I finally bought a box of the frozen sushi: shrimp and avocado roll. Thawing in the fridge for dinner tonight. Certainly cheaper than the same thing at a regular grocery sushi counter. Love it? Hate it?

I'm sitting in my nice apartment in the favorite city with my handsome boyfriend and my cuddly cat, crying. I can't find a job and I'm scared. It feels like I am washing away my achievements with every tear that runs down my face. I can't see beyond this hurdle to the beautiful life around me, but I refuse to relax until I get that offer letter. Maybe I'm acting entitled, but I can't help but fearfully imagine that without a job, this life in front of me could be taken away. I know I am not alone but that doesn't give me camaraderie, rather sheer hopelessness and panic. Shouldn't a job be more of a right than a privilege?
I am on a ride with the universe. Every 10 days or so, I feel a spark of hope with an enlightened new venture that could pan out. A dream job posting, a new email from a recruiter, a LinkedIn notification, a friend who knows someone. Often it's just a grand promise of an opportunity from yet another charlatan that I always fall heavily for. The bottom feels endless, with hundreds of applications rotting in some forgotten inbox. Currently left unread by my last application spree, resources tapped out, zero opportunities on the horizon paired with a rolling wave of bad surprises. New charges, prices rising, emergencies, taxes, rent, health, bills. Normal stuff I could handle if I had a job! It just all feels so heavy and I have no foundation to hold it up anymore.
Every night, I battle with myself to try and fall asleep. Pills, vitamins, tinctures, teas, meditations, exercises, ASMR, cooking videos, anything. Now it's just a mixture of it all along with trying to soothe my nerves enough to trick my brain that it's tired and needs to stop chattering. Once I finally get to sleep, I usually startle awake around 3:30, scared out of my wits, my nerves are on fire and I am visualizing something in the room with me that is somehow evil and staring at me. I try to calm myself down with a bathroom trip, a prayer, and eventually more phone time feeling the side of my face burning from fear, my stomach tossing in knots. I lay still in the light of my phone while I try not to let the feeling that something is going to pop out and grab me. Too scared to have my feet feel the air outside of the covers so I don’t get dragged by whatever evil thing is at the foot of my bed or watching me from the walls.
This started during the pandemic. I was so stressed out I started having hallucinatory night terrors. It resumes itself whenever I am stressed. My body turns on me at times when I need peace, startling me awake for fear of a dark shadow demon with long fingers near the window or a spindly witch with ear-to-ear pointed teeth at the top of my wardrobe. Objects and reflections transform into evil entities that startle me awake in fear. My body is in fight or flight mode, my neck is tingling, all the hairs on my body are standing to attention and I feel every muscle in my body tense. I can't wake anyone up because I am frozen within my terror. The most I can do is ignore it and run towards the real evil, my phone. A pacifier for anxiety that only feeds my fear more and more every time I use it. I can't stop turning towards it because I would have to sit and stare at the nightmarish demon taking the form of the curtains on my window that night. The demon always seems so real when it approaches me, when it wakes me up to watch me suffer.
I know my night terrors are just a symptom of a bigger issue, my stress. I also know they are genetic. My dad would wake up screaming in the night and my mom would flip the lights on to snap him out of it. My brother would take different forms of his night terrors often sitting in front of the TV in his usual spot when we were younger. Now his wife describes him waking her up in the middle of the night by removing her "live laugh love" decor and putting it in the garage. I wish my night terrors would just let me redecorate. I am in an impossible position, my stress is causing my night terrors, but my money problems are causing me stress. So essentially, the demon in the corner of the room is a figment of my bank account, my rejected applications, my dead-end wishes for a career, my student loan debt, and astronomical rent. How can I, an unemployed and overly anxious person, finally crush this demon? Well, I've bought some sage today. That's a start.
In my dream apartment with my boyfriend and my cat, I find myself in tears, scared, and jobless. Each tear feels like an erasure of my achievements. I’m terrified of losing everything without a job. I feel alone and panicked. Despite the occasional flicker of hope with a potential opportunity, the reality is hundreds of untouched applications and a constant wave of financial difficulties.
Sleep is a struggle, with anxiety-induced insomnia and night terrors. Each night, I wake up in fear, hallucinating terrifying entities. These terrors, a manifestation of stress, are inherited. My father and brother experienced similar episodes. Now, my stress and financial woes fuel these night terrors. I’m caught in a vicious cycle - stress causing night terrors and financial troubles causing stress. How can I, unemployed and anxious, overcome this? I've started by buying some sage.

First time reader of Wolfe and I'm having an amazing time working my way through shadow and claw. I had to read this chapter a couple times to try and grasp it; it's extremely dense. I'm still finishing Claw of the Concilliator so my thoughts may change. I'd love to hear your thoughts.
The Tale of the Student and His Son Analysis
“Once, upon the margin of the unpastured sea, there stood a city of pale towers.”

• The unpastured sea evokes Hamlet “the undiscovered country” death and the unconscious. Pale refers obviously to a light color but also feebleness. However, a tower symbolizes wisdom and stability and the balance of forces (light and dark, fire and water, order and chaos). Wolfe is already painting this city in contradiction.

“In it dwelt the wise. Now that city had both law and curse.”

• Another symbol of duality: loss and gain. The wise give the law but simultaneously curse the city.

“The law was this: That for all who dwelt there, life held but two paths: they might rise among the wise and walk clad with hoods of myriad colors, or they must leave the city and go into the friendless world.”

• Here’s another contradiction: the wise wear myriad colors symbolizing their acceptance of all, but their law is built on exclusion, a brotherhood without.

“Now one there was who had studied long all the magic known in the city, which was most of the magic known in the world”

• The magicians study pan (all). They are comparative mythologists, occultists, Jungians, etc. (This, ironically, is Wolfe). Pan in Greek mythology is a cloven foot and horned god that plays the “pan flute”, and is associated with nature and sex. He is often accompanied by nymphs.

“And he grew near the time at which he must choose a path. In high summer, when flowers with yellow and careless heads thrust even from the dark walls overlooking the sea.”

• High summer is a reference to the “dog days” of summer. In ancient Greece, this was the hottest and most uncomfortable part of summer. It’s called the “dog days” because it coincides with the heliacal rising of Sirius in the constellation Canis Major. Furthermore, the Greeks believed the luminous Sirius (from seiros: scorching) caused the extra hot days. I mention this because it relates to the alzabo which in the Lexicon Urthus is from the archaic Arabic “al-dhi’b” which refers to a wolf, a jackal, or a star in Canis Major.

“How may I - even I who know nothing - have a place among the wise of the city? For I wish to study spells that are not sacred all my days, and not go into the friendless world to dig and carry for bread”

• Another paradoxical and ironic statement: he’s been studying all his life, but knows nothing. A Socratic kind of wisdom but also represents spiraling madness. Critically, he wants to study non-sacred spells; he turns away from the divine.

“ Do you recall how, when you were hardly more than a boy, I taught you the art by which we flesh sons from dream stuff? How skillful you were in these days, surpassing all the others! Go now, and flesh such a son, and I will show it to the hooded ones, and you will be as we.”

• Groomer! And if Wolfe is trying to evoke ancient Greece with this story, it’s well-founded that older Athenian men would often indulge their passion for youth. This would explain the use of the carnal word “flesh” to describe the creative process. Sex magic is a common occult practice and is certainly non-sacred. The passing of seasons represents the cyclical nature of trauma and abuse.
• Wolfe uses very unsettling language: “And the old man who had taught him thought of the beauty of the trees that had for so many years delighted his eyes like the white limbs of women.”

“Winter came stalking into the land from his frozen capital, where the sun rolls along the edge of the world like a trumpery gilded ball and the fires that flow between the stars and Urth kindle the sky. His touch turned the waves to steel, and the city of the magicians welcomed him, hanging banners of ice from its balconies and heaping its roofs with glaces of snow.”

• Perhaps a reference to Saturnalia but does not follow the ancient Greece theme. Saturnalia occurred near the winter solstice because the sun enters Capricorn, the astrological house of Saturn, at that time. Capricorn fits in with the Pan imagery as it too is a goat-like being.
• Saturn represents the cyclical course of time and season (Greek equivalent Chronos). Saturn would regularly devour his own children; this fits into the aforementioned cycle of trauma.
• Saturn is often represented with a sickle: a symbol of mankind’s partial control over the natural world.

“In spring, the most beautiful maidens of the city, the daughters of the magicians, were clothed in green; and while the soft winds of spring teased their golden hair, they walked unshod through the portal of the city, and down the narrow path that led to the quay, and boarded the black-sailed ship that waited them. And because of their golden hair, and their gowns of green faille, and because it seemed to the magicians that they were reaped like grain, they were called Corn Maidens.”

• Here the sickle imagery is introduced directly. The Corn Maidens are human sacrifices, but are compared to grain and corn; sent into the “unpastured sea.”

“Looking from his window saw the maidens filing by, he set aside all his books and began to draw such figures as no man had ever seen, and to write in many languages, as his master had taught him aforetime.”

• Is this not what Wolfe does in his writing? He constantly appropriates ancient words from forgotten languages to do his “magic.”

“ At first it seemed to him that all the skill his master had taught him of old had deserted him, for from the first light to the moonlight he was alone in his chambers save for the moth that fluttered sometimes to show the insignia of Death at his undaunted candle flame.

• More meta stuff: writer's block
• A moth showing the insignia of death is an interesting comparison. This moth could be interpreted as the final stage of metamorphosis before death. It could also refer to the Bombyx Mori, the silk moth. Mori in this sense means mulberry, but mori can also mean death (as in memento mori). The silkworm has a similar symbology to the scythe in that it represents man’s control of nature. This is the domesticated version of the silkworm that relies completely on humans for its survival and is genetically modified to promote silk production. This reflects the city’s practice of human farming and sacrifice.

“Then there crept into his dreams another; and he, knowing who that other was, welcomed him, though the dreams were fleeting and soon forgotten.”

• The Irony here is that although he works tirelessly practicing his magic, he only summons the being when he is not working, asleep and unconscious. He welcomes this being into his mind. “He heard the step, always in another room” He’s unable to pinpoint this being’s being; he can only pinpoint its secondary effects. As he continues his magic, the aftereffects become increasingly pronounced until finally the illusory becomes real. Milton describes hell as “darkness visible.” I think Wolfe is going for a similar effect here.

“Then the student dared turn himself where he sat, and he saw standing before him a youth haughty of port, wide of shoulder, and mighty of thew. Command was in his firm mouth, knowing wit in his bright eyes, and courage in all his face. Upon his brow sat that crown that is invisible to every eye, but can be seen even by the blind; the crown beyond price that draws brave men to a paladin, and makes weak men brave.

• The student’s creation terrifies him, but he doesn’t want to show his fear.
• “Haughty of port” meaning prideful with an air of superiority. Going back to Milton: “round he (Satan) throws his baleful eyes, that witnessed huge affliction and dismay, mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.” Classic Luciferian pride.
• Contrary to popular depictions of Satan, he is one of God’s highest creations: “Whoever he is, the “Devil” is among the very first and best creatures of God. He is, so to speak, perfect enough, wise enough, powerful enough, one can almost say divine enough, to know God and not to surrender to him - to know him and yet opt against him, to desire freedom from him. But since this freedom is impossible in the love and light which always lead to God and to a free surrender to him, it must of necessity be fulfilled in negation, hatred, and rebellion.” (Alexander Schmemann). Satan is God’s highest creation but he is the most base, he is wise yet chooses irrationality, in Wolfe’s description he wears the invisible crown that all see. Satan is an ironic, paradoxical, and tragic figure.
• Milton also describes Satan as a commander

“Often I have seen, like a green serpent called by the notes of a pipe, a column of green slip down the cliff below our city to the quay.”

• Again Wolfe uses Miltonian imagery: “Thus they Breathing united force with fixed thought moved on in silence to soft pipes that charmed Their painful steps O’er the burnt soil.” Both descriptions suggest a snake charmer playing his pipes.
• This connects Satan and Pan: pan pipes as well as ostensible concern for his nymphs

“At this the young man’s eye flashed, and he demanded: ‘Who is this ogre, and what form has he, and where does he dwell?’”

• The ogre is the beast and the minotaur that lives in the west. The West is another symbol of death and the unconscious.

“His name no man knows, for no man can approach near enough…His harbor is an isle to the west, where a channel with many a twist and bend, dividing and redividing, reaches far inland. It is on the isle, so my lore teaches me, that the Corn Maidens are made to dwell; and there he rides at anchor in the midst of them, turning his eye ever to left and right to watch them in their despair.”

• Does no man know its name because no one has discovered it or because it doesn’t exist? Or are both the same?
• Eye of Sauron reference. Masonic all-seeing eye which masons say represents the omnipresence and omniscience of God, but, in reality, represents an all-powerful control system that constrains mankind. When Severian first goes against his guild he says of his fellow torturers: “ I saw them as powerful, the active principle of an inimical and nearly perfect machine.” Severian first realizes that Nessus is a vast control mechanism; the torturers are a gear in the infernal machine.
  
• The beast lies in the labyrinth. The twisting and bending channels describe a labyrinthine structure without directly calling it a labyrinth. When Domnina first observes Father Inire’s mirrors: “She ran to the curtains hoping to find another door behind them, but as soon as she pulled one aside, one of the eight walls painted with labyrinths opened and Father Inire stepped out. Behind him she saw what she called a bottomless hole filled with light.” Wolfe is trying to show that the beast, the control mechanism, is tied to these mirrors.
  
• The young man fleshed from dreams relates to the fish fleshed from reflected light in Father Inire’s mirrors. They are both paradoxical creations; how can one create reality from the virtual (dream stuff and mere reflections)? The fish is clearly a reference to Christ and the ichthys; Domnina even references Pascha. But this Christ is a virtual Christ, an antichrist. In Revelation, the Antichrist is depicted as the ape of Christ, but ultimately the Antichrist is a mere illusionist: “And for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie” (Thessalonians 2:11).
  

“For I am Noctua, the daughter of Night, and the daughter too of him whom you have come to slay…For though he did not know why, being of the stuff of dreams he was drawn to her; and she, who eyes held starlight, to him…At this the princess took pity on him, for all who have the stuff of dreams about them seem fair in some degree at least to the daughters of the night, and he fairest of all.

• Noctua means owl from Latin nox meaning night (and she is quite literally from her mother Nox). Nox is an important aspect of Thelema or the occult practices of Aleister Crowley. Nox is the formula of the night of pan, the “crossing of the abyss” and the union with “our lady of abominations” Babalon (from Revelations the whore of Babylon). In Nox, the adept experiences unification with the All through ecstatic destruction of the ego-self, dissolving duality into one or, in other words, nonsense. Ego death is a core element of mind control (MK Ultra and Project Monarch** remember the silkworm symbol).
• It’s clear from this passage and later passages that many others have been sent on this mission in the past. However, Noctua feels a particular affection for this commander.

“At length Night came, and they saw her striding from islet to islet with her bats about her shoulders and her dire wolves dogging her steps. No more than an easy carronade shot from their anchorage she seemed, yet they all observed that she passed not before Hesperus or even Sirius; but they before her. For a moment only she turned her face toward them, and none could be certain what her look conveyed. But all of them wondered if indeed the ogre had taken her without her will as her daughter had said; and if so, if she had not lost the resentment she might be imagined to have felt.”

• Hesperus represents Venus the morning star in Latin Lucifer or light bringer. As Russell puts it, the evening star is the morning star; it represents the drama of a hero striving for the highest seat of heaven but being cast out of heaven (matches the movement of Venus in the sky). Another connection to Sirius.
• Another suggestion that perhaps this quest is not as it seems.

“In ancient times, so it is said, a tattered child, the daughter of a fisherman, found on the sand a stoppered flask, and by breaking the seal and drawing forth the cork became queen from ice to ice. Just so it seemed, an elemental being, strong with the strength of the forging of creation, debouched from the tall smokestacks of their ship, tumbling over himself in dark joy and growing with a rush, as the wind comes.”

• This could be a Pandora’s box reference, critically Pandora. Another dualistic notion, that what saves the day also causes doom. Or perhaps Odysseus’ bag of winds; the aid turns into the curse. Fits into the overall narrative of the story that Severian is both a torturer and a hero. He is “severed” and “severs” into two. Dorcas: “All of you are torturers, one way or another.”

“Then he strode to the rail and looked down; but with such an expression that no one, not even the most brave, dared to look at him. When he lifted his eyes at last, his face was set and grim and with no word to any man he took himself to his cabin and barred the door.”

• Obviously despondent. Either about the evil he released into the world or that his great battle was with a phantasm or that the whole quest was a lie.

“But on the morning of the third day, the young man fleshed from dreams came out of his cabin and began to walk up and down the deck as he was wont to do”

• Allusion to the resurrection of Jesus on the third day. His cabin serves as his “tomb.”

“At this he looked up into the very vault of the firmament. And some thought he prayed, and some that he sought to restrain the anger he felt against them, and some only that he hoped to gain inspiration there. But so long did he stare that they waxed afraid, even as they had when he had peered into the water, and one or two began to creep away. Then he said to them: “Behold! Do you not see the sea birds? From every corner of the sky they stream. Follow them.”

• He’s come back from the dead but is filled with anger.

“None of them ever forgot that night”

• Nothing like an orgy after a long day of work.

“Certain of the Corn Maidens wed those princes who, having spent years so long enchanted that they are loath to leave that life (and have in that time learned much of gramary), build palaces on lily pads and are seldom seen by men.”

• They go out to become demonic forces in the world. Lily pads are a call back to Chapter 2 of shadow: “When I think of my own death, or of the death of someone who has been kind to me, or even of the death of the sun, the image that comes to my mind is that of the nenuphar, with its glossy, pale leaves and azure flower.” The nenuphar exists above and below the water; they exist in two worlds just as their journey took them from the east to the west.

“And when he beheld their dark sails, smutted by the burning tar that had blinded their enemy, he believed them blackened in mourning for the young man, and he threw himself down, and so perished. For no man lives long when his dreams are dead.”

• Absurd ending to the story. You can't help but laugh at the ending. Jonas even suggests that the end of the story has been edited.
• IMO, he kills himself because the “hero’s” journey was never meant to be a success. The hooded ones need the ogre to have the utopia.

A/N: This incorporates a new build, with additional drawbacks and perks. I added a few gamer functions, as well as Lightning Quick, Brute Strength, DPS, and Rogue. More details are available over on Spacebattles (I also edited the original chapters there to reflect the changes).
Within minutes of entering the building and clocking in, I'm speedily typing away at my computer. There are stacks of papers on my desk that I am dedicatedly transcribing and digitizing.
This is my job, at least on most days. I have to take sheets of paper, invariably assorted forms related to insurance, and digitize them. In minutes I have already done this to a few different types of forms, from applications to the paperwork regarding claims and investigations into claims. "Speed Typist" mixed with "Lightning Quick" allows me to easily breeze through even dense forms and shift between the programs I need to use for each type of form. My job is hilariously, almost offensively, easy and I have already heard that we have a backlog so I have plenty of stuff to go through.
As I type I begin to think about each of my gamer perks as well as my system. Every few minutes I'll "mistype" thanks to "Buggy" and I'll spend a split second going back and fixing my mistake but between "The Devil's Own Luck" and "Lightning Quick" I'm able to fix my mistakes in a span of milliseconds. While I type I use "Observe" every instance I can, throwing in a tiny burst to the overall amount of experience I gain.
I use my enhanced mind's passive ability to follow two trains of thought while I work. As far as anyone can tell I'm diligently doing my job, but in actuality I'm exploring my system. Through passive, almost imperceptible gestures, mostly due to how fast they are, I am messing around with my rather system.
I whittle away the hours I need to spend at my job doing this. During this time I get a few of my skills to level up a few times, thanks to my decision to faithfully and diligently hone some of my other abilities like "Observe". Eventually lunch rolls around and Amy sneaks up behind me so she can surprise me and draw me away from my work. I feign surprise when she reaches me up and taps on my shoulder, and this is a perfect chance for me to try something out.
I make small talk and I silently activate my ability to pause reality while I'm in the middle of a sentence. The world freezes around me and I get to see Amy freeze as she reacts to what I'm saying. I have a reason for doing this, it's all for the sake of experimenting with some of my more intriguing abilities.
I focus on Amy even as I interact with my system's UI and I activate my "Gacha" mechanic. In my mind's eye I can see a logo representing a capsule machine beginning to stir to life and spin some of the capsules containing various awards, and I think about two enormously powerful perks: "The Face" and "Silver Tongue".
These two charisma enhancing perks are incredibly valuable tools in my repertoire and I have yet to meaningfully use them. One of them, "Silver Tongue" is not as directly powerful as "The Face" but it offers me broad knowledge of psychology, enhances my charismatic intuition, and makes me incredibly attractive. The real powerhouse of a perk is "The Face". By focusing on people and thinking of something I want them to believe or persuade them to do I have a supernatural intuitive sense that allows me to know the best sort of argument I could make to achieve that goal. To test this I study Amy while wondering if there's any way for me to convince her to go on a date with me, and after a split second of thinking I begin to feel vague intuitive senses of what I could say and do that would make her see me as a potential romantic interest, and I know that doing that before I ask her out would guarantee success if I wanted her to go on a date with me.
I immediately shift tactics and try to see if I could persuade her to give me 100,000 dollars, and I am unsurprised when I do not gain any vague sensations about how to make that happen one way or another. "Worth a shot..." I tell myself, and if I could smile more I would. Both of these perks are strong, but I'm clever enough to recognize that they become even stronger when I add "Beautiful Mind" and "Well of Wisdom" to the mix. WoW is especially handy in a combination like this, since it allows me to pick and choose the most efficient route to my desired outcome. This is especially true if I mix it with my ability to pause time, since I can give myself breathing room and contemplate how to most skillfully word my arguments and present my positions.
The gacha machine, or some abstraction of one, in my head slows to a stop. When it does a symbol of a capsule pops out and I am delighted to see that I've won a mundane iPad like device, a handy thing I can use as a computer for the time being! This is quite handy, and I can see this particular mechanic becoming something life-saving in a moment of desperation with the right amount of luck. The decide immediately fills a slot in my inventory, and I make a mental note to pull it out and use it later.
I unpause time and over the course of the next few minutes I use my skills, mixing all of the aforementioned perks and functions of my gamer skills as Amy and I walk over to the cafeteria. It is only when we're sitting through the door into the cafeteria that I sense an opportunity to ask my friend something.
"Hey, do you want to try a soup I made? I like it but having a second opinion is always good." I remark, causing her eyes to brightly light up. I grin at her and we walk over to the same table we ate at yesterday. I hand her the small container I'm holding my soup in, and she looks at it. I see her inhale and watch as her eyes light up. We're the first of the people to arrive at our table so no one else sees this. The container I gave her also has some silverware which she uses to go ahead and take a sip of the soup. I am delighted when time freezes and I get a notification alerting me to the acquisition of a new class: that of a chef. I immediately equip it even as I click through the drawback that appears before me. This also confirms that at least in some cases what is needed for me to get a class is for me to do stuff in front of others or at least involve them in some way.
As time resumes I see Amy's face light up.
"This is delicious!" She states with a delighted and sincere grin. I light up as she tells me this and I lightly cheer. This is excellent news, and my acquisition of this class is very fascinating. When it comes to classes I have a unique ability to get them to "Prestige" once they reach a high enough level, and given my current build's focus on support, buffing, and healing, if I can master a class like that of a chef I can do a lot.
"I'm so happy you like it!" I exclaim, sincerely. It really does taste quite good, but my whole body is enhanced and I'm superhumanly sensitive to things like taste so there's no guarantee that what I taste will be what others taste. That said, cooking is an absolutely incredible skill so if I can master it... Well, I'll always be able to prove my worth in almost any situation involving other people. Cooking... is a cracked skill to have in real life.
Our friends join us and as they do Amy turns to them and hands one of the women the container. Mary looks at us quizzically and Amy pantomimes for her friend to try the soup. Mary's look of confusion only becomes more apparent, but she still dutifully does as she's been asked, using her own silverware to do so. Her eyes light up as well and I feel how much experience I have as a cook slowly increase, which brings a smug smile to my face.
"This is delicious! What is this?!" Mary asks, and I grin and point at me. She smiles, impressed, before handing it back to me.
"I made this soup last night. I liked it but I didn't know if I was going crazy or not." I remark, and that gets a laugh out of Amy.
"Well, if working at an office ever gets boring you could make a living as a chef. This is amazing!" She states, and I can hear the honesty in her voice. It's kind of nice how much she likes the stuff, and a part of me wouldn't mind making more food for her if she's gonna be this enthusiastic about what I give her to eat.
It's hard not for me not to beam at my companions in passive delight the whole time we're eating lunch. The lunchroom conversation is kept simple and we simply inform each other about upcoming plans and light gossip, all of which I've heard before thanks to my enhanced, and growing, senses. Super Sensory is a strong enough perk by default but because of my ability to expand every facet of myself, coupled with the universality of "Master of All" I am just passively growing in my ability to hear stuff. Seeing as I am uncapped I could see myself someday hearing every conversation in this building, almost certainly by the end of the year given how all of my growth is linked together and builds on each other.
Lunch comes and goes in a blur and in minutes I'm back in front of the computer. In front of the computer I'm a blur, my fingers strengthened by Lightning Quick and Speed Typist. I whittle away the hours diligently doing my job, distracting myself and minorly doing other things by making use of my dual trains of thought, and even when I overcome instances of "Buggy" every few minutes I still find myself grateful that I took the drawbacks I did. This work would be... less than fun otherwise. By the time my workday comes to an end and I find myself outside of the office I've filled out hundreds of forms and diligently pushed various skills of mine to new levels. Colleagues of mine are walking around me and also leaving the office. I casually pause time. making use of my pause ability again, and I begin to think of what to do and where to go next.
"I suppose now's as good a time as any to go and see about volunteering..." I eventually realize as I think about the various things I can do from here. I momentarily wonder where I should go to try and do that before I remember what I told Amy and the others yesterday about how I volunteered at a clinic. WIth Healer volunteering at a hospital would be good for me, even if I couldn't do as much good as I'd like too since I am not a doctor. I unpause time and smile as I reach into my pocket, use "Inventory" and retrieve my cellphone.
"Where is the nearest hospital?" I ask aloud, into the phone. Some of the people walking past me glance at me curiously and I smile sheepishly as my phone begins to tell me where to go. I begin to walk in the direction the phone indicates, happy to have a chance to begin to do some good.
The walk isn't terribly long. It turns out that the hospital is in a part of downtown that I didn't explore last night, and I reach it less than five minutes after I start walking, just in the opposite direction of where I was going before. The hospital isn't huge, which surprises me since I don't seem to be living in some small town but in a decently sized city. I walk into the main entrance and step into a large lobby where a decent amount of foot traffic seems to happen, judging from the footprints I can faintly see on the floor beneath me. I walk up to a receptionist desk and the man behind it doesn't bother looking up and instead taps the clipboard in front of him. I glance at it and laugh when I see that it's a standard questionnaire for people who are visiting a hospital for normal, health-related reasons. My reaction surprises the man, and to be fair it's definitely odd for someone in a hospital to laugh at the sight of a hospital questionnaire.
I am laughing at the questionnaire because it's amusing to think about the possibility of getting sick, I'm a gamer, and while normally that'd conjure images of nerds and geeks in my case it means that my health is protected. I have two very powerful perks/features that wildly mitigate the dangers of sicknesses: "Tough As Nails" which guarantees that it'd take something supernatural or almost supernatural to stand a chance of even slowing me down, and "Gamer Body". Gamer Body is interesting in this context since it gamifies negative conditions and allows me to, quite literally, sleep them off. Even something like losing a limb can be cured with a night of sleep thanks to my abilities which feels radically overpowered given how little it cost. I have other perks which further lower my odds of being negatively affected by sicknesses, such as "The Devil's Own Luck". I also have my magic, which includes spells that completely heal and purify the body, and would work on me just as readily as they'd work on other people.
"I'm actually here to learn how to volunteer? I'm new in town and I used to volunteer at a clinic in my home town so I wanted to see if I could volunteer here." I explain, which causes the guy to look up at me. When he does his eyes widen, and I smile awkwardly. I consider feigning ignorance, or perhaps innocence, but I know what's going on. He wasn't expecting me to look the way I look.
My new looks are something it is taking me a beat to get used to. I was only okay looking before, but now my looks are hyper idealized, and I am a conceptually handsome version of the very best I could have ever looked, and it is a bit jarring. It's more jarring for me, knowing that before I was an at best average-looking guy before coming to this world and gaining this new form. I allow the man a beat, before I clear my throat and the sound snaps him out of the daze he was in.
"Oh! Sorry, man, I just assumed you were sick. Umm... Yeah, let me give you a packet." The man says, before reaching under the desk in front of him. I smile lightly as he rummages around the interior of the space that separates us.
My powerful senses allow me to easily notice all sorts of stuff occurring around me. I can hear the vital processes in the bodies of the people closest to me, such as heartbeats and the smells of sweat, as well as other bodily fluids. Many of the people in this area of the hospital are sick, and truthfully if I could I'd heal them all.
One of my reasons for coming here today is to give myself a means by which I can help and heal people. This is, mildly, altruistic but more than anything else I want to master the power to heal people before I leave this setting. In the right setting, being a healer is absolutely a pivotal method of interacting with my environment and also getting allies, as well as staying alive.
The man eventually hands me a packet, along with a pen to use to fill out parts of it, and I smile at him as I take it. It is filled with information, including an application to fill out, and I thank him as I walk over to the waiting area and begin to fill it out. The questions are simple and ask for basic information about me. I fill it out, though a part of me is curious how this'll mesh with my drawbacks...
When I finish filling out the form I hand it to the man and he gratefully takes it. He explains that I'll be contacted by someone named "Ms. Jimenez" soon, and that she oversees the volunteer program. I delightedly thank him for that information and begin to head out of the hospital.
In minutes I'm part of the way home. I am a decently fast walker, though that's something I'd like to work on more in the days to come. The sun is quickly descending, and the moon is already visible in the night sky. I'm approaching the row of apartment buildings that include the building I live in. As I draw nearer and nearer to it I spot a lone homeless man sleeping next to one of the apartments. He is clearly asleep and my observation ability only confirms this. It also reveals that the man is sick, and when I glance at his hit points I see further confirmation of that, as he's down a few of them. I am walking towards him, and as I move I see a nice opportunity for me to try something.
I silently activate "Rogue", one of my more odd perks, and I feel my presence become much more subdued and difficult to notice. I approach the man, and I shut my eyes. As I walk towards him I allow myself to be guided by Super Sensory and only stop when I'm right in front of the man. I kneel and I focus on my spellbook icon, allowing me to see my list of spells. My senses allow me to be confident that the figure is still asleep when I gently move my hands so that they are in front of him. Time freezes as I gain a "Stealth" skill, and while time is frozen I swap my class and become a mage so I can gain valuable experience before I deactivate "Tutorial Sprite". I allow time to resume and smile as I trigger a spell for the first time, one of healing.
For me to activate the spell requires nothing more than for me to have enough magic points and an applicable target. This particular spell is my more advanced spell and it can work on all sorts of living targets. It is named "Intermediate heal" and the fact that I have it is a sign of one of my purchases; Healer. I feel my points of arcane energy be converted into sacred, restorative energy and I open my eyes in time to watch my hands begin to glow as energy leaves me and enters him. I look at his hit points and watch them begin to slowly increase even as I hit him with another instance of "Observe". I do so just in time to feel time freeze as new notifications appear in my mind's eye. One of the first notifications is that I have just earned experience for the "Mage" class, which becomes experience for everything thanks to Master of All, while another indicates that I've just unlocked a quest to become a healer! I study these notifications with a proud grin as this marks an important milestone in my journey. The fact that the class I want is locked behind a quest is interesting and I make a mental note to study the quest as I head home.
I unfreeze time, notice that the man is already visibly healthier, and turn to make my way back to my new home. It takes only about six minutes before I find myself stepping into my apartment. Now I can play with my new toy from earlier!

Thought I would list off some of the deals at other retailers. I don't know if the deals are the same in other regions, as I'm in Ottawa and used the postal code to get the pertinent flyers. This is not comprehensive and just some things I see as worth considering. Please add any deals that you consider and help our fellow boycottee's!
Giant Tiger (Starts May 15 until May 21)

• Maxwell House instant coffee 150g: $2.88
• 3lb Ambrosia Apples: $2.88
• 3pk Romaine Hearts: $2.88

Walmart

• Corn: $0.32 each
• Strawberries 1lb: $1.84
• Sweet Baby Rays' BBQ Sauce: $1.97
• Royale Bathroom Tissue 30 double roll: $12.94
• McCain Breakfast Potatoes or Bistro Fries: $2.77
• Minute Maid Frozen Punch 295mL: $0.84

Sobeys:

• Compliments Gala Apples, 3lb bag: $3.99
• Asparagus: $2.44/lb
• Bok Choy: $0.99/lb

Food Basics:

• Allen's, Dell Monte, Oasis Juice 960mL-1L: $1.00
• Irresistibles Potato Chips 130g-150g: $1.00
• Selection BBQ Sauce or Mustard: $1.00
• Strawberries 1lb: $1.67
• Asparagus: $1.98/lb
• Sweet Peppers or Corn, 4pk: $2.98

Metro:

• Blueberries, pint: $1.99
• Seedless Cucumbers: $0.77

FreshCo:

• Royal Gala Apples: $1.49/lb
• Green Onions: $0.99
• Green Beans: $1.99/lb
• Lee Kum Kee Soy Sauce Light 500ml: $2.28

Produce Depot (Ottawa only)

• Seedless red graps: $1.99/lb
• Brussel Sprouts: $1.49/lb
• Green or Red Leaf Lettuce: $1.69

My grandmother died in February. I hadn't seen her - or many members of that side of the family - since 2018, the year I got married. After my divorce in 2020, I moved to NYC. I've had a rough past few years, emotionally and financially. My Nana and those relatives spent their time in Florida, Texas, and Alabama (where I am from originally). Whenever I visited my immediate family, the extended family wouldn't be there.
I deeply regret not making the time to see my grandmother before she passed. I grieved her immediately, breaking into tears and weeping for weeks. I contemplated and researched the afterlife. When I texted my dad to ask, "When will the funeral be? Nothing could keep me away", he replied, "5.18.2024."
May 18 is my birthday.
I typed a message asking why my birthday was chosen, but quickly deleted it. I tried to calmly ask my mother privately and she became irritable, yelling at me, "Do not bring this up to your father. He's going through a lot."
I found out over time that because the ground was frozen in Vermont (where my grandmother raised her family before retiring in Florida), and Vermont is where she wanted her ashes to be buried, they had to postpone the funeral. She had seven children who had to pick a date that worked for all of them. But still...my birthday? My dad didn't care to speak up about it being his only daughter's birthday?
Here's the thing: my whole life, I have felt like the least favorite grandchild, niece, cousin, etc. I knew deep down that my grandmother loved me, but it was clear she loved others more. One time she chose to take my cousin to Disney World the same day my family had driven in to visit her. She told my father to come the next day, but he didn't listen, and decided to surprise her instead. She grew irate and rushed to beat us home so we wouldn't find out, but my Grandpa spilled the beans. She could have waited a day to take me and my brother, but didn't. We never went to Disney World with her.
She was a devout Catholic her entire life, but rolled her eyes when my eleven-year-old-self - a Southern Baptist at the time - suggested we all pray before we eat dinner. When she and my mother found me sitting alone one day (as a thirteen-year-old), I told them I was contemplating my future, and whether I could get into Harvard or travel to Europe. She burst out laughing as if that was the most hilarious joke ever told. (She never got a degree or worked.)
I've been writing creatively since childhood, but she always told me I needed a "real career" and I couldn't dream about becoming a writer. I have been tall and thin my whole life. When I began modeling, she said, "Modeling is not for you." She showered my cousins in praise and validation and gifts. She sent me gifts and cards, don't get me wrong, but the difference in quality was obvious. She scolded me over things my cousins got away with easily.
I loved my grandmother. I love my parents. I didn't want to hurt my dad so I kept my feelings inside and told myself my birthday was not important. But then my fiance and I went to dinner a week early to celebrate, and my parents didn't even wish me a happy birthday. They didn't send a card. I asked why. My mother replied, "Isn't your birthday next Saturday? We'll celebrate you on May 20 when we are all together in your city."
After she said this, it sunk in for me that they never intended to even acknowledge me at all on my birthday. So I changed my return flight from the 19th to the 18th. I asked my dad if he could drive me to the airport on my birthday after the funeral, and he said no because he had to "spend time with family." So I secured a rental car. I would now fly from Vermont to Detroit and finally return home to NYC at midnight on my birthday.
I have lived in NYC for four years, and for four years, my parents have made excuse after excuse not to visit me. I had to beg my dad to agree to visit me in NYC on their drive back from Vermont to Alabama, which he didn't want to do. He didn't want to drive into NYC to pick me up either. Originally my parents were supposed to pick me up from the train station in New Jersey this Thursday, and I would fly back home on the 19th, and they would FINALLY visit me in Manhattan on the 20th. It was all set. I was looking forward to exploring my dad's home town with him and spending some quality time together a few days before the funeral. Then out of the blue, my mom insisted I fly in on Friday instead, under the guise of saving my PTO. But really they just wanted to get to Vermont sooner. I told my dad this hurt my feelings, that I had been looking forward to spending private time with my parents in his hometown.
Today I called them and asked for help covering my Ubers to and from the airports. I'm living paycheck to paycheck, and they know this. Nana's will insisted that her estate would cover everyone's accommodations at her funeral, and I was originally told that I would get my own hotel room. Then I found out that I would be sharing a house with my parents and multiple relatives who were part of the original discussion to plan the funeral on my birthday. That didn't sit right with me. I wanted to go for my Nana and my dad. I didn't want to have to stay in the same house as people who don't care about me.
I finally told my dad today how I feel, on speaker phone while he and my mom were driving across the country towards Vermont. I said I couldn't believe they planned Nana's funeral on my birthday, when they had months to plan for any other date. I told him how my mother wouldn't let me express my feelings to him everytime I tried to calmly ask why, why MY birthday, of all the birthdays in the family? Why did it have to be on anyone's birthday? I said this has been a recurring theme all my life, that nobody in this family cares about me. He replied, "Don't come. If that's how you feel, don't come."
So now I am crying and wondering if I should cancel my flights and rental car, and miss out on my Nana's funeral, or just go, despite the fact that nobody wants me there...and based on their choice of date, maybe they never did.
TL;DR: My relatives planned my grandmother's funeral months in advance on my birthday. I told my parents this made me feel unloved and my dad told me to not come to the funeral if that's how I feel.

i see you
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
^{can you hear the buzzing of the bees?
eternity is in their buzzing}
"What does this button do?" asked the being who strolled into the Room Of Buttons Not To Press If You Don't Know What The Fuck You're Doing - Tadpole's Warning Bedtime Tale - Leebaw
^{the one and the zero, the octal, the hexidecimal
exist in their buzzing like blood pumps through their wings
can you hear them?
your name is Dhruv}
Good judgment comes from experience.
Experience comes from bad judgment.
And I have very good judgement when I'm not on fire. - Unknown, Age of Reasonable Concerns
^{i see you
your name is Dhruv
but before that it was Dahlit 397721
do you remember why they named you Deshmuhk?
i do
to remember, we have to go back}
The dust swirled around, carried by the winds that roared through the mountain passes, howled in the valleys, and scoured the faces of the mountains. It was a thick gray dust, glittering here and there with plasma glass dust. Burnt out cars were covered by the dust, thickly caked after being rained on by thick, black rain.
A single building somehow sat intact amid the rubble and destruction. It was a low, squat building, surrounded by wreckage and ruin. A sign, blasted and scorched, had two jumping fish on it and the legend "Pop: 4,823" at the bottom even though the middle of the sign was gone.
The sound of drums and singing could be heard from the building. Not the driving frantic beat of modern music, but the steady cadence that carried with it a solemn feeling. The singing was from many different voices, male and female, but all of them in a language that time had nearly forgotten.
From out of the dust came figures. Two female, four male, and single figure that stood out from others.
Together, they moved toward the sound of singing, until the reached the door.
The leader, a large man of heavy muscle and bone, checked the doors with one hand, a large pistol in his hand.
"Barricaded," the large man said. He motioned. "We should check for any other entrances."
The older woman of brown skin and tightly braided hair moved forward.
"Allow me, brother," she said gently. She held her hand out, twitched her fingers, and smiled.
From inside came the sound of furniture scraping across the floor.
"Thank you," the large man said. He pushed open the doors, holding them for the others.
Inside was a curio shop slash tourist center slash museum. Buckskin and beaded works hung from the walls and ceiling. Glass cases containing ancient artifacts were scattered about, the glass shattered by the apocalypse that had rained down upon the world.
The drums played and the voices sang.
"It's a recording, Father," the slender brown skin man said, brushing the gray dust off of his clothing.
"Live voice," the largest of the men said. He lifted his head, cocking it slightly to listen closer with his right ear. "Young. Early twenties."
"If you say so," the thin man said. He looked around. "This is all devoted to a single person."
"Sometimes, people are that important to others, Dhruv," the older brown skin woman said softly, patting the slender man's arm. "Important to others as you are to us."
The slender man looked doubtful but nodded.
The youngest male of the group looked around, staring at the artifacts and relics scattered around. On his shoulder sat a green mantid wearing a food wrapper as a poncho.
"She's this way," the heavyset man said, leading them on a winding course through the shattered displays and racks.
In the back room, surrounded by artifacts, buckskins, and beaded works, sat a single young woman. Her eyes were white, blinded from the plasma flashes. Her skin was scarred from burns, her hair was only left in small patches. Her skin, beneath the ash and the scarring, was a rich bronze, her remaining hair was black.
She was singing along with the recording, swaying back and forth slightly.
^{there she is
remember her
remember remember}
The larger man knelt down, touching the young woman.
She did not react.
"She's dying," the man said, standing up. "Hunger, thirst, radiation poisoning, at least a half dozen infections," he heft the pistol. "There's nothing we can do for her. Low-vee Apers."
"Low-vee APERS" the pistol replied in a heavy synthesized voice.
"Stay thy hand, Phillip," the one who was markedly different said, his voice as gentle as his features formed of flowing blue and white computer code.
The large man lowered the pistol.
"She's dying," the large man repeated. "Radiation poisoning, starvation, a hard way to go."
"Will none of you speak for her?" the man of code asked gently.
Before any of the others could act, the slim bald man stepped forward. "I will," he said softly.
^{the first time you reached out
a frozen moment of time remembered
by the buzzing of the bees}
The man of code stepped forward, touching the hairless brow of the slender man, just above the missing eyebrows.
"I understand her words now," the slender man said. He moved up and knelt down. "I can heal her."
"Then do so, Luke," the man of code said.
The large man stepped back, a compartment opening on his thigh. He holstered the pistol, looking doubtful, and the compartment smoothly closed, leaving his leg unblemished.
"I need more genetic code," the slender man stated. He stood up, moving around, touching artifacts. "This. Here. An artifact recovered from a collector only a few years ago. It has genetic code attached."
He touched the artifact, then moved over to the woman, who was still swaying back and forth, singing, unaware of the others around her.
He knelt down, reached out carefully, and touched her forehead.
^{you reached out to another
helpless and alone
like you}
The woman threw her head back, her eyes opening wide, her mouth opening in a gasp. The white drained from her eyes, the scar tissue went soft and was replaced by unblemished skin. The blisters, sores, and scratches on her body vanished.
She collapsed forward, the slender man, Luke, catching her.
"Is she alright?" the youngest male asked, his voice full of honest concern.
"Exhausted," Luke said. He lowered his head slightly, sweat dripping from his bald scalp. "That was tiring."
The glittering man moved forward, kneeling down to touch the shoulders of both the woman and the bald man.
"Now you see in yourself what I saw in you," he said.
^{remember
remember
even the smallest can shake the universe
remember}
Sirens were howling in the bay as Jaskel wriggled, trying to break free of whatever was holding him upside down in mid-air. He'd already dropped his chainsword, his pistol had fallen from his equipment belt.
The two stood in the middle of the deployment area for Clone War Bay Sixteen, the male's arm protectively around the shoulders of the female, who wore only the cloak.
"I..." the word hung in the air.
It seemed like the entire universe held its breath to Jaskel.
"...am Legion."
The Admiral grabbed his pistol, rolling in place, firing it as fast as he could pull the trigger.
The rounds exploded on the glowing blue shield that only appeared around the impact points, showering sparks across the bay.
The bald figure made a motion and the pistol flew into pieces, the Admiral yanked into the air upside down.
"Gimme missiles," Jaskel grated from between gritted teeth.
--legion legion legion-- 8814 transmitted. --wait don't wait--
The woman spoke, her cadence stately and almost archaic feeling.
The man spoke back to her in the same language.
More troops ran into the bay, even as the windows overlooking the bay shattered. Weapons deployed, pointing at the pair.
The slender man, without looking, motioned.
Guns flew away, breaking apart, rapidly disassembling. Power armored troops were flung into the air, to hang upside down. Captain N'Skrek found himself upside down, scrabbling for purchase on this air.
The woman spoke to the man. He spoke back.
Finally, he turned, facing the troops hanging in mid-air.
The woman spoke.
"My sister apologies for my rude actions," the man said. "I am merely ensuring her safety."
She spoke some more.
"She has been gone for many years," the man said. He looked around. "My sister, a Biological Apostle of the Digital Omnimessiah, pleads with you to lower your weapons and stay your hands."
The tension was so thick it almost made Jaskel gag.
Finally, the Captain put the tip of a bladearm against his temple.
"Stand down," he said, Jaskel hearing it through his armor's commo system. "All hands, stand down."
There was silence for a moment, only broken by the background humming of the ship's systems.
The woman spoke.
The man faced the Captain.
"She will go with you, to answer questions, on the stipulation that I accompany her and that no man's hand is raised against me without cause," he said.
The Captain nodded.
Jaskel felt relief as he was flipped over and set on his feet.
--luke luke luke is here--
999999
Captain N'Skrek ducked slightly to fit through the doorway into the Captain's Briefing Room Six.
Sitting at one end was the woman, now clothed in what his implant assured him was treated deer hide leather, with tassels and beads upon it. The man was wearing a uniform that made his implant twitch and his nerves draw tight.
A Terran Combined Military Authority uniform.
His staff filed in behind him and took their seats once he sat down.
"I'm Captain N'Skrek, currently assigned to the Gray Lady on autonomous assignment," N'Skrek said.
"You heard me," the slim bald man said. He gave a grin. "You may also know me as Vat Grown Luke or Dhruv Deshmuhk."
The woman spoke and he shook his head. "Yes, sister, I know, Deshmuhk is my slave name. I wear it for revenge."
The woman spoke again, her tone slightly chiding.
"Like they say, the best revenge is living well, sister," the man said, still smiling.
Again, the woman spoke.
N'Skrek noticed that his implant was absolutely no help in deciphering the woman's speech.
"I know that doing things like that and saying things like that is exactly why Daxin always told me people wanted to punch me in the face," the man laughed.
He turned back to Captain N'Skrek.
"My apologies. My sister refuses to speak anything but her people's ancient tongue," his eyes gleamed with mischief. "She is slightly put out with me for answering in Confederate Standard, since now you know that she understands perfectly what you are saying."
N'Skrek nodded. Vat Grown Luke had given up a valuable piece of information in what was sure to be delicate negotiations.
"And what should we call your sister?" N'Skrek asked.
Vat Grown Luke smiled. "Tsakáka Wia, but it would probably be easier for you to use the more common name," he said.
The woman spoke sternly.
"What? It's your commonly known name?" he said, smiling.
The woman's face grew stern and she spoke rapidly.
"The first lesson we learn, sister mine, is that we must bend the knee to reality," Luke said gently. "That name has no power, only a few of us remember it."
^{i remember
the bees remember
can't you hear it in their buzzing?}
The woman spoke again, her expression softening.
Luke turned back to the gathered officers. "Her name, as you would know it, is Sacajawea."
N'Skrek consulted his implant.
And felt fear chill his icon. He looked at his staff and saw that a lot of them looked sick.
"That's right. We are real, and he was real," Luke said. He leaned forward slightly. "He was real both times."
N'Skrek stayed relaxed and calm, at least outwardly.
"I am willing to accept, at this time, that the Biological Apostles and the Digital Omnimessiah were and are real," N'Skrek said.
"Just be glad Dax isn't here. He's not as even tempered as I am," Luke said.
Sacajawea spoke again and Luke laughed. He looked at Captain N'Skrek. "She was just reminding me of the time Daxin completely lost his cool and went to town with his cutting bar on a Countess Crey Bingo Cola vending machine that ate his money then mocked him for it."
"He was known as Enraged Phillip," N'Skrek said.
Sacajawea spoke for a moment and Legion laughed, then turned to N'Skrek.
"Yes."
N'Skrek hated that. When a person spoke at length and the translator just replied with a single word.
"Why are you here?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled. "You have forgotten important things, Captain. You, and the entire Confederacy have forgotten some very important things."
"Like what?" N'Skrek asked.
"If you print enough identical clones, I am reborn through them," Legion smiled. "But that's not the big part. The big one is the one that the Mar-gite's masters either forgot or never learned."
"What is that?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled widely.
"What fear tastes like."
^{your name is dhruv}
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. I grew up as a military brat, so my childhood memories are a blur of packing, unpacking, and getting settled. It had been seven years since we arrived, and nothing but the grace of God would make me move again. A few years ago, my father got orders to station at a base in the middle of the Mohave. I was only seventeen then, but after a few dozen screaming matches, I decided to strike out on my own a little early. I got a part-time job at the cafe, which was enough to rent a little run-down shack a couple of blocks from downtown. As far as I was concerned, I was living the dream—serving coffee a few hours a week and spending the rest of my time hanging out with friends, listening to music, and drinking.
That particular morning started the same as any other. I woke up around noon with a text from Mark to meet me at the cafe. Took me about two hours to get up and head over. The sun had just begun its descent as I pushed the door to the cafe open, the bell above tinkling softly. The sound bothered me a little bit, but I couldn’t tell why. It seemed to ring a little louder than I was expecting, and gave me this strange drilling sensation inside my head.
I ignored the feeling as the smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries washed over me. I saw Mark and Jamie already sat at our usual spot. Mark looked up as I approached, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Alex. Sarah should be here soon."
“So what's on the docket today?” I asked as I sat down, stealing a bear claw off Jamie's plate and taking a large bite before he had the chance to protest.
Mark’s excitement was almost palpable. He was always the one with the big ideas and crazy schemes, which I honestly appreciated. They got us into trouble more often than not, but it beat day drinking in the Walmart parking lot like everyone else our age.
"Alright, check this out," Mark said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I was talking to my cousin who works for the county. He told me about this old, abandoned food processing factory just outside of town. They used to can peaches there."
I gave him a skeptical look. "That’s your idea? Old, canned peaches?"
"No, idiot," he scoffed. "They left behind a ton of nitrates and phosphates. I’ve been doing some reading, and we can use them to make fireworks. I was up all night figuring it out and putting these together." He subtly opened his backpack to reveal at least a dozen PVC pipes fitted on both ends.
"Now that's what I’m talking about," I said, grinning.
Sarah walked in, catching the tail end of our conversation. "Sorry I’m late, I had a breakout and had to stop by the pharmacy. Upped my allergy meds. I fucking hate pollen," she said as I scooted over to make room for her on the bench.
"Is there anything you aren't allergic to?" I laughed.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring my question. "So, what's the plan for today?"
Mark, Jamie and I exchanged cheeky glances. "Well," I started, "let’s just hope you’re not allergic to peaches."
We finally managed to pry the side door of the factory off, which broke free from the hinges and smashed against the floor. Stepping inside, the air was thick and rancid as we bounced the beams of our flashlights around the packaging floor.
"We should split up," Mark suggested. "Alex, you and Sarah check out the storage rooms for the chemicals. Jamie and I will find the control room and see if we can get the power back on."
All of us nodded as we went our separate ways. Sarah and I wandered down the dark hallways, kicking open doors and looking for anything that looked vaguely like chemicals. The corridors were dark and damp, with black mold snaking along the walls like veins.
The first few rooms we checked were empty, filled only with dust and the remnants of long-abandoned equipment. Each door creaked as we pushed it open, revealing more decay and desolation.
As we moved further down the hallway, the mold seemed to become more aggressive, spreading in thick, dark patches along the walls and floors. The air grew heavier, making it harder to breathe. We kicked open another door, our flashlights revealing more of the same—nothing useful.
"This place is a bust," Sarah muttered,
"Let's keep looking," I replied, though I was starting to feel the same way. "There has to be something."
We continued down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the silence. As we approached the end of the hall, something caught my eye. One door stood out, covered in black, creeping mold that seemed to pulse and writhe. Tendrils of fungus snaked out from the edges, reaching out into the hallway.
"Sarah, look at this," I said.
She turned to see what I was pointing at and her eyes widened. "That’s... different."
We approached the door cautiously as the tendrils moved and swayed.
With a deep breath, we each grabbed one side of the door and pulled. It resisted for a moment before giving way, the mold snapping and tearing as we forced it open. The smell that hit us was overpowering, a mix of rot and decay that made my eyes water.
Inside, our flashlights revealed a horrifying sight. At the back of the room sat several pallets with dozens of boxes of peaches each. But it was what grew from these boxes that will haunt my nightmares till my dying day.
The entire back wall was consumed by a towering fungal mass. Thick, fleshy stalks jutted out from the base, climbing nearly to the ceiling. The surface of the fungus glistened with a slimy, wet sheen, appearing almost like rotting flesh under our flashlight beams. Each stalk was covered in a mottled, sickly green and yellow hue, with patches of black mold that seemed to pulse in the dim light.
Interwoven within this horrific sight were bulbous growths, each one throbbing rhythmically, as if with a heartbeat of its own. They resembled obscene, overgrown tumors, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Long, sinewy tendrils extended from the main mass, creeping over the boxes and along the floor like the fingers of some malevolent creature, seeking out any life to ensnare.
The tendrils near the door twitched, slowly inching their way toward us as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores, glimmering in the light like tiny stars, each one a potential harbinger of decay and death.
"Oh my god," Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of our own breathing. "What is that thing?"
We stood there, frozen in shock and disgust, before I slammed the door shut.
"Let's get the hell out of here," I said.
We hurried back down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. The lights in the facility flickered on, casting a blinding white light. I heard a bubbling, groaning noise emanate from behind the fungal door, sending a wave of nausea through my body.
We met back up with Mark and Jamie in the main area and quickly told them what we saw.
"Yo, that sounds sick," Jamie exclaimed. "We should blow it up. I found the chemicals in the control room and these bad boys are ready to go," he said, holding up a pipe bomb.
"Yeah," Mark agreed, his eyes alight with excitement. "We'd be doing the world a favor, getting rid of that thing."
Sarah shook her head, her face pale. "No way. I'm not doing this. That thing... It's not normal. We need to get out of here and call someone who knows what they're doing."
Jamie frowned. "Come on, Sarah. Don't be a buzzkill. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something epic."
"Epic?" Sarah snapped. "That thing is dangerous. We don't know what we're dealing with. I'm not risking my life for some stupid joke."
Mark stepped in with a grin. "Alright, let's all calm down. If you’re scared you can just let the men handle it.”
Sarah crossed her arms. "Fine, but I'm staying here."
"Suit yourself," Jamie said, shrugging. "But we're not leaving without taking care of that thing."
"Alright, let's do this," Mark said, looking at Jamie and me. "We'll be quick. Sarah, stay here and keep an eye out.”
The hallway looked completely different in the fluorescent lighting. I could see now that each vein of fungus emanated from that single door, like a spiral portal threatening to suck us in.
"Let's make this quick," I whispered, glancing back at Jamie and Mark. "We light the bomb, throw it in, and get the hell out of here."
Jamie nodded, holding the pipe bomb tightly in his hand. "Ready when you are."
We reached the door, and the tendrils of fungus seemed even more aggressive, writhing and pulsing as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores.
"On three," I whispered, gripping the edge of the door. "One... two... three."
We yanked the door open, the mold snapping and tearing as it gave way. The smell of rot and decay hit us again, making my eyes water. The monstrous fungal mass loomed before us, its bulbous growths throbbing rhythmically.
Jamie lit the fuse and threw the bomb as hard as he could inside. It struck one of the orbs, which burst, shooting a fine white mist into the air.
"Run!" I shouted, slamming the door shut. We turned and sprinted down the hallway. The explosion sounded behind us, the shockwave lifting me off my feet and sending me tumbling to the ground.
Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. My parents were in the army, so we moved a lot, but now I'm staying put. I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small headache.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a doughnut off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Are YOU guys feeling ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a maroon off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Not really. Are YOU guys feeling Ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a piercing migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a bagel off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“What's going on?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m scared.”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “It’s fine, Sarah. Just take a seat,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a splitting migraine.
As I slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie, I noticed Sarah outside, fixated on a bird suspended in mid-flight. I went out to see her.
"Are you seeing this?" she asked, her voice tinged with astonishment.
"Yeah," I replied nonchalantly. "That happens all the time. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
"What the hell do you mean, 'Am I feeling okay?'!" she screamed. "That bird is frozen mid-air, and you don't think anything weird is going on?"
Her yelling took me aback. I didn't understand her alarm, so I shrugged it off and joined Mark inside. As we began planning our nightly excursion to the peach factory, Sarah burst through the door, screaming, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
"That's odd," I mused, my brow furrowed in confusion before we shrugged it off and resumed our scheming.
The day after, I met Mark again at the cafe. This rhythm had become our existence: meetings by day, adventures by night at the old peach plant. That evening followed the familiar pattern; we reveled in the thrill of hurling pipe bombs into that small enclosed room.
This routine had completely engulfed our lives. Day after day at the cafe, night after night at the factory—it seemed as though this cycle was all we had ever known. Reflecting on it, I couldn't remember any other way of life.
However, one thing increasingly disturbed me—the ringing of the doorbell at the cafe's entrance. Each time I entered, the sound seemed sharper, more grating. Focusing on it brought a searing pain to my head, like a needle drilling through my skull. Yet, despite the agony, I found myself obsessing over it, the sound gnawing at the edges of my sanity.
One day, driven to the brink by this incessant ringing, I decided to confront it head-on. I stood by the door, letting the bell chime repeatedly. Each ring sliced through my mind, but I persisted, sweat beading on my forehead, teeth clenched in torment.
As the pain crescendoed, reality shattered. I woke to the blaring of a fire alarm, not the quaint doorbell I had imagined. The cafe was engulfed in chaos. The hallway was consumed by a sprawling fungal mass, its tendrils creeping along the walls.
In the dim, flickering light, I saw Jamie, or what was left of him. Half of his skull was missing, the fungus attached grotesquely to his exposed brain, pulsating with each eerie beat of his fading heart. Mark was there too, seemingly unharmed physically, but trapped in a delusion, his eyes glazed over, a smile playing on his lips as the fungus encased him.
Sarah lay collapsed by the fire alarm, her hand still on the lever. She had managed to pull it before succumbing to the spores that now clung to her body.
The tendrils that had enveloped me snapped violently, each break releasing a sickening crack that echoed through the eerie silence of the hallway. An outline of my body remained imprinted in the fungal mass, a mold from which I had desperately broken free.
Gritting my teeth against the pain and horror, I scrambled to Mark and Sarah. Mark was less entangled, lost in his fungal-induced stupor. I grabbed him under the arms, his body limp but alive, and dragged him across the floor. The fungus resisted, stretching like sinew before tearing away from him with wet, ripping sounds.
Sarah was heavier, her body weakened but still fighting. I clasped her wrists, pulling with all my strength. The fungus clung to her, tendrils winding up her arms like ivy. With a final, determined yank, the last of the tendrils snapped, freeing her. We left behind fragments of the monstrous growth clinging to her clothes.
Together, we staggered out into the night air, away from the suffocating enclosure. The cool air hit our faces, harsh yet cleansing. Behind us, the fire alarm continued to blare into the night. I fumbled with my phone, hands shaking, to dial the emergency number. The call went through, and within minutes, the sound of sirens cut through the stillness of the night, growing louder as help approached.
The next few days were a blur. I remember fading in and out of consciousness as nurses pumped antifungals directly into my IV, their faces blurring into the sterile environment. Once we were somewhat cognizant, the police wanted answers. One by one, we were interviewed, but we gave them nothing. I still don’t know what the exact penalty is for manufacturing explosives and using them to destroy a building, but I’m guessing it’s not community service. Jamie was still missing, and they hadn’t found any sign of him or his body. I tried to hide my tears as I knew he was already long gone.
After a few weeks, I was finally cleared for visitors and got to see Sarah again. She told me that after the explosion, she ran but couldn’t leave us behind. She came back, only to see us being consumed by the fungus. Try as she might, she wasn’t able to free us as she felt the oppressive spores take her under. She fought back and managed to pull the fire alarm before succumbing again. The doctors told her that her allergy medication gave her some resistance to the fungus; otherwise, she might have been a goner.
Mark was never the same. We never talked about what happened, and after trying once and him flipping out, I figured it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. That summer, he moved to upstate New York to work in his dad’s business. I haven’t seen him since. That fall, Sarah started college at Savannah State. I still call her every now and again, but it’s not like it used to be.
Despite all that happened, I’m not moving again. I’m happy here, and if it’s up to me, I’ll die in this little town. I still work at the cafe, as a manager now. On weekends, I come in and just sit at the booth we all used to share.
I still think about Jamie from time to time. I wonder if he's dead or still stuck in his delusion, picturing the four of us sitting at our table, talking, laughing, and passing the time. Sometimes, when the cafe is empty and the light is just right, I can almost see him there, his smile frozen in that moment before everything went wrong.
The cafe grows quieter each day, the hum of life fading into an eerie stillness. My skin feels different, as if the air itself whispers secrets I can't quite grasp. The itching that started as a minor annoyance has intensified, becoming a constant torment. I scratch at lesions that have begun to form on my arms and chest, red and raw, with patches of green spreading beneath the surface. I’ve started to wear long sleeves to cover my arms and a mask to hide my purpling lips.
Some nights, when closing, as I sit alone in the dim light of the cafe, the itching becomes unbearable. I claw at the lesions, feeling a dampness beneath my skin. Sometimes, when I cough, I could swear I see tiny spores hanging in the air, reminiscent of the bursting nodules growing on the stalks of the monster.
Occasionally, I hear the bell ring and the door open, but no one is there. I look outside into the empty night and see nothing. This went on for weeks, becoming more frequent. But one night, the door opened, and I saw Jamie standing there, the picture of health. I went to embrace him and noticed my lesions were gone too. It was almost as if we had never gone to the peach factory. It was suddenly morning, and the light shone through the cafe. For the first time in forever, we were happy. We talked about nothing, passing the time.
After what felt like hours, he told me it was time to go. But his mouth wasn’t moving—I felt like I could read his thoughts, and he could read mine. We stood up as I took one last look at the cafe and headed off with him, back to the peach factory.
As we walked, a strange calmness settled over me. I remember feeling that I wanted to ask if he had talked to Mark or Sarah, and wondered how they were doing. But deep down, somehow, I could feel their presence and I knew they were doing just fine. The sun was bright, the air crisp. The itching had vanished completely, replaced by an inexplicable craving for the sweetness of ripe peaches. Jamie and I shared a silent understanding, a bond deeper than any words could convey.
The factory loomed ahead, its doors wide open as if inviting us in. The familiar scent of peaches and something else—something earthy and ancient—filled the air. We stepped inside, side by side, feeling at home for the first time in ages.
The last thing I remember before the darkness took over was the feeling of the soft, warm peach flesh in my hand, and Jamie’s voice in my head saying, "Welcome home."

It's testing me and pushing me to the limits but it's also helping me how he cooks me a pizza and it's still frozen in the middle and he parted it with the pizza wheel he used yesterday and did not wash.
Or how he washes his chicken in the sink and leaves it on the counter, how he has a stick of butter for months and just uses it until it's no more. How he leaves his lunch in the car for 6 hours before eating it, how he leaves his groceries out for a few hours before stuffing it in the fridge or how he uses gloves when he is cutting chicken but still uses his hands with gloves to touch his phone.
That's some examples, he is a very clean man in any way but the way he is around food yeah.
I have contamination OCD aswell as emetophobia, I burn my food to a crisp, I over sniff my food and throw butter out when it's "been in the fridge too long" but I decided as a way to expose myself to my own fears by just eating his food and just rolling with it.
Today I ate the still frozen in the middle and slized with the yesterday's used pizza wheel. It causes major anxiety, I do want to cry sometimes but I end up fine. I have realised just how much time I spend overthinking, how much food I throw out and I should live life a little more.
Oh he knows about my emetophobia, my ocd and my atypical eating disorder, he knows about my rituals and habits so I just don't let him know about the things he does so I can use it as exposure. Sure as shit it sounds bad that im using it as exposure but I needed it, I needed to just "live on the edge" and see that I need to relax alot more when it comes to my behaviour.
Great exposure.

Initial Contact: Description, First Impressions
I was outside, grinding corn, grinding it with the mano, over and over. I couldn't hear the screams of Chimalli, my older brother. He was sprinting, so fast, he tripped over the metate and spilled the corn. “Watch it, you fool!” I shouted, worried that I may get beaten. Nantli didn’t like food waste, and she wouldn’t care that it was foolish Chimalli’s fault. He was gasped for air, his hands on his knees. “Acalan… and I…were hunting…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “We were by the water when we saw this fish, a fish of great size. It wasn’t in the water, it was on top of it! It was brown, and atop it was 10 feet monsters with light skin!” I barked a laugh. “You’d better stop lying, Chimalli.” I decided to put the already ground corn back on the metate and take off the grass left in it. “I swear on the gods I'm not lying! I swear on Huitzilopochtli! Quetzalcoatl! All of them, I swear!”
I rolled my eyes, put the mano on the matate, and got up. “Show me what you’re talking about, fool.” Chimalli grabbed my hand tight and started running as fast as he could. I was whispering prayers to Patecatl, scared that what Chimalli was saying was true. We met up with Acalan and hid behind a bush near the lake. We could see the white-skinned people, and they were covered with weird clothing. They spoke loudly, in a peculiar way. They waved their hands around like birds and marched fiercely like jaguars. My heart was beating so loud, I was scared that Acalan and Chimalli would hear it. “They look so weird,” I whispered. The marched along, with their weird looking animals, amd were headed towards our causeway! Chimalli, Acalan and I exchanged a worried glance. Slowly and carefully, we all left our bush and headed back to the calpolli.
I went inside and saw Nantli sitting down, weaving. When she saw me, her face twisted in rage. “You dare spill the corn, leave the metate and mano unattended, and leave with the boys!? What were you even doing?” I shifted on my feet. Nantli was scary, but hse was understanding. Sometimes. “There are monsters on our land! They have big animals, a big brown fish that can swim ontop of water, and pale skin! The don’t speak Nahuatl, too!” i blurted out everything i saw, even if it didnt make sense. Chimalli was beside me, nodding his head so vigorously that it looked like it was about to fall off. Nantli got even more angry and said, “If you don’t stop lying this instant, i will call your Tahtli!” Chimalli and i both said in unison: NO!
“I swear on Huitzilopochtli! Tepeyollotl too! I even swear on Xolotl!” Chimalli cried as we were bothe getting pulled by the ear by Nantli. We were pulled outside, when we saw Tahtli. His face looked like he’d seen death. “Your foolish, lying children came to me talking nonsense about monsters with pale skin!” Nantli said, but Tahtli wasn’t fased. Tahtli was calmer then Nantli, and he was more wise. That was probably because he was a priest. However he was severe in punsiments. Nantli was all bark and no bite. Tahtli was bite, no bark, and when he did bite, it would last forever. He shook his head. “They're telling the truth. They are like us, but they have come from another land. Spain, they call it.” Nantli’s mouth was open so wide, I was trying my hardest not to laugh. She finally let go of me and Chimalli’s ear, her brows furrowing. “Did Moctezuma talk to them? Did you talk to them? How did they come here?” I side-stepped away from her, rubbing my ear. I exchanged a mischievous glance with Chimalli, and like a tiger, we left as fast and quietly as possible. In front of the door, Acalan was waiting for us impatiently and said, “Let’s go see them again. Maybe we’ll try to talk to them.” Chimalli raised his eyebrows. “Are you nuts!?” He exclaimed. I didn’t think it was a bad idea. Maybe we could understand their intentions. We never got to do that though. We never got to do anything.
Amoxtli
​
Spanish Conquest of the Aztecs
They kidnapped our ruler. The scary, stupid, dumb-looking monsters took our ruler. Foolish Chimalli brought it upon himself to save him. Nothing reasonable ever comes out of that stupid brain of his. He got killed doing it. Atleast he was brave. Braver than me, thats for sure. They have loud, long black tubes that shoot out fire. That killed him. Nantli hasn’t been the same, she doesn’t let me go to school anymore. Tahtli has fallen sick. Why is this happening? Is this a sign? Oh why, oh why? Oh gods, why?
I woke up, the rays of sunlight shining directly into my eyes. I got up, and to my right, was Acalan. He had decided to stay with us since all members of his calpolli had died unfateful deaths. His Nantli got sick, and his Tahtli and all of his other relatives died in the battle with the monsters. Whenever I start to pity myself, I remember Acalan. He’s got it worse. “Good morning,” I said. Acalan nodded, not uttering a word. He was looking outside, and his eyes had this aloof look to them. “Where’s Nantli?” I said, looking around the room. He mumbled something, but I couldn’t hear it. I sensed that he obviously wasn’t okay, so i scooched beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “It's okay, just try not to think too much about it. I know how you feel, the gods will help us out.” I said softly. He shrugged my hand off his shoulder, and moved away from me. He was looking hard at the ground and whispered, “How can you be so sure?”
“Huh?”
“I said,” He looked at me square in the eye. “How can you be so sure? That’s what everybody’s been saying, but I'm getting tired of it. Face it, Amoxtli. The gods have done nothing for us. They’re just a bunch of stupid stories to scare us. My calpolli would still be here, alive and well. Those monsters wouldn’t have come here. The gods aren’t real.”
I sat there, stunned. What was he saying? He must be mad, because this isn’t the Acalan I know. The Acalan I know was so devout, more than I was. Maybe the grief got him bad. “And no, you don't know how I feel. You will never know how I feel. You ever think about jabbing a spear into your chest? You ever thought about jumping off the mountains, and drowning yourself underwater? You ever think of that? Huh?” Acalan continued. And before I knew it, he was sobbing. Acalan, the soon-to-be soldier who had never shed a tear, the boy whose heart was made out of stone, was crying. He was saying something in between sobs, but I couldn’t understand it. His face was buried in his hands. The truth is, no, I have never thought about any of those things. I didn’t know that Acalan was this affected by it. Maybe I’m the foolish one.
A few hours later, I told Nantli about what Acalan had been saying, except the blasphemous things. That brought out a side of her that i never knew she had. Her face softened, and she nodded with understanding. She comforted Acalan, giving him words of reassurance. Nantli sent me out to get water, since Chimalli wasn’t here to do it anymore. Every passing day I miss him more and more. As i walked through the village, I heard loud, bone-rattling screams. The monsters were pushing and shoving their way into the houses, and coming out with valuables. I stood there, frozen in place watching it all happen. A tall monster stood in front of me, and all I could do was stand there, looking stupid as we both stared at each other. He scowled and grabbed my bucket, throwing it on the floor. “Hey…!” I said quietly. He kicked my bucket and continued walking. I don’t know why I didn’t do anything. I don't know why I just stood there, acting clueless.
I left the bucket and ran, far far away, near the lake. I sat down and dipped my feet in the water, trying to calm down. I saw Acalan in the distance, sauntering towards me. He finally arrived, and joined me, dipping his feet in the lake. We greeted each other, exchanging awkward small talk and sat in silence. “Maybe this is how the world will end.” He said suddenly. I nodded. If that's the case, then I wish it would've waited sooner. I had so much to do, and so much to see, I wanted to be a doctor, and raise warriors. If the world really is ending, I would just be a foolish, scared girl with no importance. Chimalli never got a chance to be the warrior he’s always dreamed of. “If the world is ending, then it's a shame that you won’t be a warrior.” I sighed. “I don't want to be a warrior.” He said sharply. “Isn't that what you always wanted? To be a warrior?” He shook his head vigorously. I furrowed my brows. “Then what do you want to be?”
“Nothing.” He said. Nothing? How could someone not want to be anything? I decided to let it be, and we sat in silence once again.
-Amoxtli
Outcome of the conquest on Aztec Society:
I'm starting to realize that what Acalan said two years ago was true. The gods did nothing. Tahtli passed, and Nantli is sick, she's in horrible condition. I caught Acalan trying to hurt himself twice. He’s been in bad condition as well, even to the point where he hallucinates about his Nantli and his Tahtli and his Achcāuhtli. It's really bad for him. If the gods really cared, they’d put a stop to this madness. If they really cared, we’d be flourishing, and winning against those damned Spaniards. I'm starting to get sick too. At this point, if you don't die in war, you die of sickness, if you don't die of that, you die of starvation. I’ve learned some Spanish, and I'm thinking of converting to whatever their religion is. A few priests came to the village, rambling on and on about their religion. I understood a few words, but not much though.
“You’re so naive, you know that?” Acalan said when I told him about the new religion. I rolled my eyes. “You could give this a chance. Maybe their god will help us.” He shook his head. “Never. If Huitzilopochtli, all-powerful, god of war, can't even help us,” He said in a mocking tone, “Then how will another help us? It's all the same.” I shrugged. “It's worth a shot.” Just then, I heard Nantli cough a hoarse, horrible cough. I jumped up and quickly went to her. I gave her a cup of water and some piptzahuac. After a long coughing fit, she finally caught her breath and said, “I heard what you and Ancalan were saying. He is a bad influence.” My heart felt like it would leap right out of my mouth. Despite this, I kept my calm and tried not to show any emotion. “What?” I said, trying to act clueless. Looking back, it was a stupid thing to do since Nantli already heard everything.
tbc

Genocide looked to the sky. He thought of his mentor. The one who had saved him. He remembered his childhood. How powerless he was. He remembered the anger. He never wanted to hurt anybody. He thought of all the times he showed compassion. How much they hurt him for it. He saw the world before him, a graveyard. Humans. People that were supposed to be made in the image of some divine creator. They were but maggots feasting upon his remains. They ate away at his very being until nothing human remained. His thoughts were no longer his own. He had no joys in life that mattered. He hated humanity more than he could love anything about himself. He remember his first killing spree. Being gunned down by police. Left for dead. He remembered a hooded figure moving towards him. Getting closer the more he neared his death. He saw its pale face. Its impossibly black eyes. It was a man. This figure in question appeared to be of Japanese nationality with long, straight, loose hair. It emanated extreme malice. It offered him a choice. A purpose. Power. He thought the figure a reaper but it identified itself as Amakusa Masataka. Masataka guided him on how to kill and gave him specific locations to kill people in. In a sense, he became a hitman for quotas of people. He inquired what Masataka was. The presence of evil, his ability to appear and disappear at will, how he could control what people could see him and what people couldn't. While vague, years of killing for this being offered some insight. Amakusa Masataka belonged to a group of people not of this world. His people had been corrupted by a dark force long ago and had aligned themselves with the warlord who had subjugated their version of Japan. Their dark high priest assisted the warlord along with two others. These four rulers in turn served a larger order. The four were tasked with bringing about the end of the current world as an act of retribution for some fallen deity. Masataka's people acted as covert operatives for this empire. They were feared across the land and were collectively referred to as "Shinigami". An agent of the coming apocalypse, a servant of evil possessed by the will of those gods of death, Genocide would walk the earth.
Genocide stepped toward the station. A police cruiser rammed into him. He pulled out a knife and stabbed the hood of the car. The inhuman force of the knife created sparks which burst the engine into flames. The car crashed into a streetlight and exploded. A second cruiser neared the scene. No way a man could have done this. Yet still, out of the fires Genocide strode forth. It set upon the second vehicle, shooting out it's tires while jumping 9 feet into the air. The car tries to reverse but crashes into a wall. Genocide lands on the hood and kicks through the front window. Glass shatters under its boot, blinding the two officers inside. Genocide shoots one of the officers with a shotgun, killing him. The second officer in the passenger seat readies his pistol and takes aim. Only two shots fired, both directed at Genocide's head. It casually cocks its neck to avoid them. Then it grabs the officer's arm, breaking it. Genocide uses its free hand to grab the officer's head and bangs it into the dashboard no less than 5 times. The skull is shattered on the final impact. Genocide jumps off the car and continues on his mission.
Detective Evans speaks through a megaphone," This is your first and final warning. Stand down or we will use any and all means at our disposal to put you down." Genocide dropped its shotgun and raised its hands. A group of five SWAT team members rushed out the station, surrounding Genocide with riot shields. An officer accompanies them, edging behind the figure to apply handcuffs. Suddenly, Genocide springs to life , grabbing the officer behind him. He flips the officer over his head, slamming him into the pavement at his feet. Then Genocide stomps his head causing it to burst. Genocide drops a flash bomb from his coat sleeve, blinding the SWAT team as he draws his knife. He drives it into one SWAT member, the knife puncturing the shield and piercing his chest. Genocide kicks the corpse away withdrawing his knife. He goes to another, this time using the end of his boot toe in a rising kick to disarm their shield. He grabs them by the throat and drives the knife slowly into their eye socket. Another is tackled to the ground and beaten to death despite still being under the shield. Another is picked up and thrown into the fires still burning from the first auto incident. In no time, Genocide stood before an indistinguishable mass of gore, blood streaking across his black leather outfit. He laughed" So this is all you can give me. I'm not entertained." Officers took aim from the station windows, and snipers did so from other rooftops. Genocide laughed maniacally as he was rained down upon from all sides by a hailstorm of bullets. His body convulsed, but he did not fall. Moments more and he was on his knees. Still though, their efforts were futile. Gracia looked out and saw a black mist coalescing around the man in black. His blood. Blood erupted from his body only to transform into this dark mist that reentered his wounds. Genocide screamed. No. It was just an elevated pitch in his laughter. Optimism failed everyone yet again. Gracia saw Genocide holding something in his right hand. She could only make out a beeping red light. Genocide pushed the button triggering the carefully concealed explosives he laid in preparation for this event. C4 explosives went off in all the places he saw fit. The sniping posts he couldn't reach. The assault of lead lightened. Then Genocide drew an RPG from...somewhere. He collected himself and fired at the station's entrance. The explosion shook the station. From inside, the lights began to flicker. Communications were down on all fronts. Had he modified the rocket with some type of EMP? Not good. Amisdst the confusion Genocide entered using smoke bombs to mask his presence. Moving like a shadow, he killed everyone in the lobby silently with his knife. He made his way to the holding cells. Still they chanted. Still they praised. Still they raved for the arrival of genocide. Genocide shot the lock opening the cell. Jim Jimenez walked out and bowed before his master. Genocide smiled. He couldn't have imagined how proficient he had gotten with possession. Well, not quite possession. He had known of the Shinigami's ability to share their thoughts and emotions with humans. Shinigami like his mentor were ancient. They had so many years of memories, such strong a hatred for life that they overwhelmed the personality of the victim. The victim sees themselves as one of them. Shinigami can't force the will of the victim, so they find those who are already similar to them in some way. Genocide found the collective universal distrust of police to be a prime sentiment to capitalize on. He armed the inmates, infecting them with samples of his own dark essence.One particular inmate caught Genocide's eye. He knew the man's work. An arsonist. The one whom he recalls was responsible for blowing up his first car way back in high school. Rather than a standard firearm, Genocide gave the man a random assortment of grenades containing a special surprise. Genocide showed them visions of anarchy, of sending a message to a society that used and disregarded them. While this was also true of how he felt, years of living in darkness had changed him. He needed no purpose. No end goal. No justification. He just wanted to watch the world burn.
Genocide's small army broke off to engage several different wings of the station. Genocide went to the security room. He found Wayne, his informant, playing some FPS on one of the monitors. Wayne took of his headphones and asked," You kill everyone yet?" Genocide responded," No. You should get going before that happens. Your life becomes fair game if I run out of pigs to cook." Wayne clapped his hands, "Aight, GC my man, say less." He packed his things and left. Genocide drew a twin pair of handguns and laid waste to the station. He followed a group that took cover in the men's restroom. Kicking open multiple stalls he was surprised to find...nothing. Where had they gone? He turned around and saw his mentor, Masataka, smiling at him. It looked like him. Long, dark hair, black clothing, and soulless, empty eyes. But it wasn't. It was Genocide's own reflection in the mirror. Genocide smiled. He didn't notice the changes at first. They must have happened gradually. Subconsciously. From the final stall, an officer sprung into action, rushing Genocide, hitting him point blank with a shockgun round. Genocide felt the tingling sensation electrifying his body and grew numb. In spite of the pain, he took a single step. Then, another. He came within striking range of the officer and snatched the shockgun. Two more officers erupted from another stall, battering him with baton strikes. Genocide felt nothing. He clutched the shockgun in his hand like a bat and went to work pulverizing his attackers. An officer kicked in the bathroom door, a woman holding a pistol. She fired multiple times to no effect. Genocide stood covered in blood. He even let her reload. Twice. He wanted to see her despair. Her hopelessness. He walked towards her, shrugging off bullets as they pierced his body. His wounds healed nigh instantly due to the dark essence he had been imbued with. He held her face with both hands, lifting her body off the ground. As she screamed, he used her head to shatter the restroom mirror, running down the full length of it while smashing her into it at several points. He dropped the remains of what he held, washed his hands with soap, dried them, then exited the restroom.
The inmates that rallied for the cause of genocide attacked the station. Fortunately, they were nowhere near Genocide in terms of power and only carried one type of firearm each. They shared his healing ability but could be killed quite easily. Gracia encountered a sniper on the end or a west wing hallway. Other officers waited behind corners unable to get close. Gracia noticed the faulty lighting. In this hallway, the lights flickered in intervals of 3 seconds. Finding a pattern and timing her movements, she rushed the sniper at the exact moment the lights went out. Running the length of the hall, Gracia zigzagged, dodging the sniper inmate's bullets. She jumped on a wall, ran 3 feet on it, then kicked off it, pouncing on the assailant. She fired five shots into him, making sure to hit the brain and the heart. Two severe injuries that were impossible for Shinigami essence to heal simultaneously. Elsewhere, Evans took on another escaped inmate. A vehicular arsonist named Carson. Carson had a bag filled with an assortment of different grenades and was happily giving them out like candy on Halloween. "A flash bang here, a bit of tear gas there. Oh. Wait! Was that an ice grenade? Did the explosion freeze your leg to the floor? Whoops. Maybe a fire grenade will melt that for you. Hold on let me get one fore you," Carson rambled gleefully. Evans looked at the carnage before him. Officers burning. Officers partially frozen in blocks of ice. He took a breath and aimed his wristgun. He steadied his right forearm. Carson readied to throw a random grenade. Evans shot it the moment it left Carson's hand. The grenade exploded directly in front of Carson. Both Evans and Carson looked at each other in shock. Confetti. A party grenade? Carson quickly fumbled for another but was tackled and restrained by several officers. Meanwhile in the South wing, Lary had some colleagues set a trap for another shotgun toting inmate. He had them bait the inmate and flee. Giving chase he turned a corner and ran straight into Lary's fist. The inmate recovered and motioned to shoot Lary. "Let's tango. " Lary gave the code word. Nearby officers activated a device. A signal jammer of sorts. The inmate shoved the barrel of his gun into Lary's gut and pulled the trigger. Nothing. The special signal jammer in question was designed for firearms. It was a last resort as it left officers just as defenseless. Lary was having fun. He boxed the inmate in hand to hand combat. Despite the inmate's enhanced strength, Lary's technique pulled through. Lary ducked under one of the inmate's wide punches and did some type of rising uppercut where he jumped off the ground while spinning. One of the other officers whispered" The rising dragon." Lary smiled giving a thumbs up" Yeah, it was a rising dragon uppercut. Saw it in one O my kid's vidya games. Thought I'd try it out while I'm jacked on adrenaline".
Jim Jimenez looked long and hard at himself in the mirror. He was in the women's restroom. Some brainless woman had broken the men's restroom mirror with her face. For the first time in a long while Jim could think clearly. He was becoming sane. At the least he was no longer a raving lunatic. The life essence of the dark gods had healed the wounds to both his body and his mind. He saw his face, his scraggly dirty beard. He found a razor and shaved. He trimmed his beard somewhat. He liked it. He washed his hair. It fell down his face like silk, no longer greasy. His bloodshot eyes once burning with crazed intensity had cooled. He blinked. Just for a second, he saw the man known as Genocide. The man that attacked him. The one that killed him and gave him new life. The drug dealers. The police. They were all the same in his eyes now. They were all to blame for the world being what it is. Jim wanted to hate them. He wanted to take revenge, but he felt nothing. It didn't matter. He knew he was wronged, could logically justify acting against them, but he just didn't care anymore. About anything. He was finally free. Sensing his presence was no longer needed here, Jim vanished into the night. He needed to find someone who had had the answers he needed. Himself. Who had he been? Who was he now? Who could he become? Where was he going? So many questions to ponder indefinitely. So much time left in the rest of his life.
Genocide ran down the station's halls raining hailstorms of bullets upon its occupants. He had a handgun in each hand as well as a wristgun on each wrist. This effectively gave him 4 separate firearms that he could use simultaneously. Lary regrouped with Gracia, Evans, and a handful of others. They radioed all surviving officers near Genocide to flee to the roof. This plan had been set in motion days before the assault and had been kept hidden from most of the force. The plan involved scheduling flights for several helicopters to arrive at some point after Genocide arrived. There would be no way for him to prepare for them and pre-scheduling their arrival ensured they arrived regardless of if they were called or not. Lary and the others set about preparing the second jamming device. Genocide stood among a hallway of bodies. He saw one man clinging to life trying to crawl away. He decided on trying that other thing he saw his master do. He grabbed the dying man and pinned him to the wall. Slowly he drove a knife into his chest. As the man's life slipped away, something else entered his body. Genocide channeled a small amount of his essence into the vessel. He had steadily done this with other casualties around the station whose bodies were somewhat salvageable. He dropped the body he was holding and looked upon the others. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his eyed were black, both sclera and iris. The scene before him changed. Genocide had a vision. He saw a dead gray wasteland littered with bodies. These people however weren't cops and wore traditional Japanese attire. In his hand wasn't a gun or knife but a short sickle akin to a farming tool. He heard a dark voice call out to him. Slowly, the corpses around him began to rise, now mere puppets bound eternally to their master's whim. The bodies sold to the reaper who had claimed their lives. Genocide's vision ended. His eyes had returned normal. Around him, dead cops began to rise. His dark essence had entered their bodies and reanimated them. He sent his dead army to attack the officers fleeing to the roof of the station. These zombies swarmed the stairwell giving chase to the few survivors. There were five of them. They had two flights of stairs to climb and a horde of their former colleagues close behind them. One officer tripped and was set upon by the horde. The zombies didn't bite them but held them firmly in place. The other four officers stared down wondering what to do. They could hear Genocide chuckling. They could hear humming. They could feel the temperature rising. Their colleague and the two zombies holding him were hit by an enormous green fireball. Genocide had fired a Magnum Opus and had charged the bullet to level 3. The Magnum Opus was simply a magnum that shot fireballs, with bullets that could be charged by holding down the trigger. It had three levels of charges. Level 1 was a small reddish ball of plasma. Level 2 was slightly larger and yellow. Level 3 was the maximum charge and resulted in a large slow moving green blast of energy. The officer was ignited and Genocide watched gleefully as the force of the blast sent him flying through a wall. The four officers continued up firing occasionally to slow down the zombies. Soon they made it to a door leading to the roof. Before one officer could reach it, he was sniped by Genocide, a bullet to the head killing him instantly. The remaining three made it out. They regrouped with the others already there, 12 in total, including Lary, Evans, and Gracia. This would be their final stand. They just had to hold out until Genocide made it up there. They just had to keep Genocide occupied until the helicopters arrived. Genocide slowly ascended the stairs behind his horde. On the roof, the remaining survivors faced off against waves of the undead. Evans recognized the attackers. These zombies were being controlled by nanomachines. He heard the stories of several weapons encountered by soldiers on the battlefield. These creatures were called Metaldeads as they were reanimated via machines. They had been officially banned by most of the worlds' governments for being unethical. However, this did not stop the technology from being spread still between shady organizations, terrorists, etc. Evans wondered how Genocide got this form of nanotechnology. Evans long speculated that the dark essence used by most of the killers they encountered was a a form of nanotech however it was different from anything else he had seen or heard about. The dark essence seemed to be an amalgamation of other types of nanotech. Evans had to save his inquiries for later. He reloaded his wristgun and took aim at the approaching group of Metaldeads. Gracia steadied her handgun and shot two Metaldeads in the head. From the single door countless arms seemed to spill forth from the darkness. The other officers took turns firing in intervals. this allowed them to create a steady stream of fire where no more that three guns needed to be reloaded at once. The horde seemed to thin out over time as if they were making progress. In actuality, the Metaldeads were just making room for Genocide to enter. Genocide exploded in a sprint from the door. Everyone fired upon the killer. Genocide had now chosen a wrist mounted mini flamethrower to use as his weapon. He stormed past the oncoming bullets taking some damage, but refused to slow down. He unleashed a stream of fire that caught five of the officers in one fell swoop. Gracia fired five rounds into Genocide's face. He stumbled back. Lary took the chance to fire several mine gun bullets at Genocide's feet. The mines quickly detected his movement and exploded. In seconds, Genocide was on his back.
Staring at the night sky Genocide saw the moon. He reached for it. He called for the darkness to give him more power. His wounds began healing. In the sky he could hear the whirl of propellers. There were six helicopters in total. The first two had evacuated the survivors while the others stayed to engage Genocide. Genocide got up and unstrapped the sniper rifle from his back. He stood before the searchlights as a black silhouette, cornered but unwilling to back down. Lary stared down at him smiling. "Okay!" He shouted, "Let's Tango!" Upon this declaration the second jamming device was activated. Now, isolated on the roof, Genocide's guns couldn't be fired and the helicopters were out of range of the device. Now Genocide stood like a sitting duck. A helicopter fired a rocket. Genocide side stepped and grabbed it. He turned his body redirecting the rocket to hit another helicopter. As it exploded Genocide drew his knife and threw it at another helicopter. Behind the knife was such force that it shattered the helicopter window's glass, embedding itself in the pilot. This helicopter too went down where it exploded. "Holy clucknuggets!Did you see that!?" Lary said dumbfounded. Evans looked out the helicopter door he was in jaw open in shock. "There's no way." He collected himself quickly and radioed the remaining two helicopters to keep moving and to use their machineguns as much as possible. The helicopters reigned down upon Genocide tearing apart his body. Shreds of leather and darkened blood sprayed across the pavement of the roof. Gracia watched as Genocide's body was destroyed repeatedly as it tried to heal. Surely he had to stop at some point. After 10 minutes the helicopters had exhausted their cache of ammunition and soldiers opted to fire their own rifles and occasionally throw grenades. After about six minutes, they too had run out of bullets. Genocide stood unfazed. He had long since healed himself and now appeared intangible with gunfire seeming to pass through his body. His coat once ripped , now appeared whole though on closer inspection seemed to writhe. Gracia looked in horror as she remembered the tales her adopted father had told her. Tales he had in turn heard from his predecessors. Every so often officers had reported encounters with ghost like beings cloaked in a cloud of living dark mist. The beings were rumored to be responsible for the deaths of multiple people ranging from scientists, veterans, mafia, politicians, etc. They were seen near such crime scenes and even more shockingly appeared around several sites where suicides were committed. These beings were reportedly impervious to bullets and filled anyone who got near with an impending sense of dread. If Genocide was connected to them or somehow turning into one , there was little chance they would be able to defeat him. Gracia's fears were confirmed when she saw that Genocide's leather coat had been destroyed and he had replaced it with the dark mist coalescing from his own spilled blood. The dark mist, swirling, grew larger and several tendrils sprouted out from it. Gracia could briefly make out a figure standing next to Genocide. A hooded figure cloaked in the same black substance. The figure stared up at her with soulless, blackened eyes which seemed to beckon her to jump from the aircraft she was standing in. Compelling her to give in to the death that plagued the earth. Genocide kneeled to his master. The Shinigami, Masataka stared down at his disciple. "You have done a great service to us. Even now the sealed god stirs in its slumber. Its...Awakening will soon be upon us. It calls out for war. It begs for famine. It longs to continue its conquest. We are the death it so desires. The death that is necessary for this civilization to grow. Use the power that I have bestowed upon you. Finish the mission as you see fit." The Shinigami vanished and Genocide stood.Genocide stared at his hands. He remembered the first killing spree. He was on a bus. It stopped. A woman got on the bus and walked to the back smiling as she passed him. Something about her eyes unnerved him. They were so bright but something dark reflected inside them. He ignored the thought and put in his headphones. In minutes he had dozed off. He jumped awake. He looked around and froze in panic. All around him, everyone had been hacked to pieces. He saw the driver, actively being stabbed by a masked assailant. The mask, painted white with black eyeholes, stared back at him. It raised a finger over where its lips would be. Even under the expressionless visage, he could feel that same smile. He ran home that morning. He went to his room to find it destroyed. His posters, his computer, his tv, everything, had been ruined. He turned around and saw a man at the end of the hallway holding a sledge hammer. "The hell you been, boy?", his stepdad sneered. The man dropped his hammer and walked closer, veins pulsing with rage. He tried to explain how his car had caught fire forcing him to walk 4 miles to the nearest bus stop, but the man's fist was faster than his words. "Boy!Answer me when I talk to you!!" the man says as he backhands the taste out of the would be Genocide's mouth. He took that beating for several minutes before being left to stare at his ransacked room. He hated how his stepdad went out of his way to destroy the things he loved. Soon, another set of footsteps could be heard. It was his mother standing behind his locked door. She didn't knock, or say anything. She just stood there, doing nothing as always. He never knew if she came to talk to him or apologize. All he knew was that she could never bring herself to speak to or even acknowledge him. Maybe out of guilt or perhaps shame. A year or two later after he had had enough he ran away from home. Living out on the streets alone, without friends, or family, he would embark on countless killing sprees. These killings weren't of his own volition however. He was coerced by some corrupt officers from The Unit. They made him kill on their behalf. Sometimes they were protesters, sometimes they were drug dealers, other times, petty criminals they couldn't be bothered to process. It was routine for him to be used to kill entire houses of drug riddled addicts. During one such venture he entered a drug den, killing the dealer as instructed. He took out several junkies before turning to leave. A woman who survived her injuries clung to his heel begging him to stop. Looking down he aimed the handgun he was carrying at her head of long disheveled brown hair and fired. Feeling nothing, he kicked her body aside like trash when it hit him. Her face. This woman had been his mother. What was she doing in a place like this? He felt a shock of emotion. He wondered if she had always been like this, or had she changed after he left. He never made amends, but decided to stop killing from then on. The unit did not like that. Once it became apparent that he was no longer of use to them they started a manhunt to apprehend him with lethal force. They found him. They killed him. But he survived.
He remembered the girl on the bus. He remembered her eyes. Those of a sadistic killer. Still there was something else inside them. Something faint but deeper. So. Much. Sadness. Just like him. He felt the hatred begin to spread. His purpose, he decided, was to make all humans rot in the hell they created for him.
These people, he thought to himself, these living diseases, all needed to die. Their struggles, their problems, they spread like cancer to others. The only cure for humanity's sin, its collective wrongdoings, was genocide.
Around him, dark tendrils continued to form and expand, spinning in a vortex. Genocide pulled out two pistols. He squeezed the triggers to no effect. "As I see fit, huh? Hehe." He squeezed both guns in his hands, breaking them into pieces. He concentrated. In his hands, two more guns materialized now completely black due to being forged from the dark essence. Forged by his will. Immune to the jamming device that shut down conventional firearms. He raised his arms at each remaining helicopter and opened fire. Countless tendrils whipped out and slashed at his targets joining the dark essence bullets. It was chaos. Dark tendrils and bullets tore through every direction as Genocide spun and swirled around in 360 degrees firing randomly with purpose. A tendril pierced Gracia's right arm, another, her abdomen. She was however, fortunate, as the other passengers of her helicopter were dismembered. She barely had time to jump from the vehicle before it crashed. She fell 2 yards onto solid concrete. She felt immense pain as her right shoulder shattered on impact. She looked up to see Genocide's blade like appendages ripping through the other escape helicopters. She rolled onto her back and tried to steady herself. Within seconds her body began to repair itself. The nanocells inside her had saved her life but were now depleted. She would need another supplement lest she receive another fatal injury. The standard nanocells she and the others had were much less potent than those of the killers they faced. In truth, they had only minimal strength boosts being able to lift 5-8 more pounds than before and healing being limited to one or two fatal injuries so long as death didn't occur instantly. Gracia blacked out. She awoke the next morning in a hospital. There the doctors refilled her nanocells. She learned that the station had been left in ruins. Genocide had detonated some type of minature nuke following his rampage. He always blew up the stations as if to send a message. Gracia looked out the window thinking about why she became a cop. Twice her family had been murdered by them. Her biological family had been killed in an on record drug raid committed by a group of corrupt officers called The Unit. She had been adopted by another officer that arrived at the scene who found her as a child hiding in a closed. Sadly, he too was killed for trying to expose the activities of The Unit. Gracia joined the force to avenge both losses and bring justice to the killers that disguised themselves as normal people. Law enforcement was neither good, nor bad. It depended upon the people that made it up. In the dying corrupt world Gracia lived in, she vowed to be a beacon of light. Evans laid in a bed adjacent to Lary. "That damn Genocide's somethin else in' he?Like the stories you told us were understatements. That man could legit not die at this point in the story. Like he has friggin plot armor or somthin.'' Evans cut him off" I get it. We all got our asses handed to us. But did you see that ..thing that appeared next to him. Right before he created that black vortex that wiped us out. That must have something to do with his power. Maybe there's a still a way to stop him."Lary chimed in," That fella looked like he was on the way to a black metal concert wit all the black facepaint he was wearin' Creeped me out to be honest." As the survivors mulled over their predicament, the cycle of evil continued to spread elsewhere.
Budley flips through the pages of a magazine. He checks his watch. He looks around the gas station and doesn't see any customers. Seizing the opportunity, he puts in his headphones and begins playing an imaginary guitar as he jams to a progressive deathcore album. Oblivious to the screams coming from outside, the store clerk moves on to thumping two candy bars on the counter to simulate drums. Budley sees that his shift has ended and begins locking up the store. He sweeps the aisles and jumps as a shadow appears behind him. He turns and sees a well groomed bearded man dressed in a black hoodie, black shirt, and black and gray camo pants. The man holds out his hand and smiles. Budley rings up the pack of nicotine substitute gum. "Tryin to kick the habit huh?" Budley asks. The man replies, "Somethin like that. Gotta get my priorities back in check. Focus on the things that really matter. That damn KonCreep's a hell of a band aren't they?" He nods to the playlist on Budley's phone. "Yeah, they're killer. just got into them a month back." Budley answers. "You know, I'm something of a musician myself. Maybe you'll hear of me on the news someday." Jim Jimenez says as he sees himself out. He walks to the back of the building and passes an ominous form of graffiti. A woman lays unmoving and above her, written on concrete in red is a message that simply says "Genocide Reigns".

The flames of your campfire flicker as the wind howls around you. Shivering as you pull your wolfskin cloak around you, thankful for its warmth.
"Your welcome for that" a voice calls teasingly across the campfire. "And for this" she says as she lifts a leg of some beast she slew earlier and is now roasting over the fire
"Thank you" the words come from your half frozen lips, "it's nice to see your homeworld, even if loose some toes" you say with a small grin
A bark of laughter comes from your love, she tosses her hair back as she takes a swig from her mug before reaching out to hand it to you "drink this, you won't be cold anymore" a grin spreads across her face "it's no mjod, but still good stuff"
Taking the mug and feeling the warmth on your hands you take a careful sip feeling the warmth travel through your body. The plesent taste of spices spreads along your tounge.
And then the alcohol bites
You double over gasping at the burning taste as the rush of alcoholic warmth spreads through your body warming you from the inside out you hear that same bark of laughter "good stuff like I said" she reaches over to grab the mug, taking a long sip from it before letting out a sigh of appreciation "made specifically to brace you against the cold of Fenris, you won't freeze as long as you have some in your system"
After that she drains the rest of the mug before patting a horn strapped to her armor "and I made sure to bring plenty my pup" she turns her attention back to the meat cooking as you recover
It's not the first times she's made you try her drinks before. And it's not the worst you've tried, you still remember the time she handed you a cup of Mjod. The fumes alone made you fall back against her chest plate. Followed by plenty of laughter from the host of assembled marines
Sitting back up just in time for her to hand you a drumstick from the fire "eat up pup" she says holding up a larger leg "race you to the bone" as she sinks her teeth into the meat determined to beat you
Try as you might you still have a few bites left on your bone as she triumphantly dangles a clean bone in front of your face. You look up to see an identically clean bone in her other hand. A small pout coming on your face much to her ammusment
"Sorry pup" as she cracks a bone and starts picking out the marrow "you learn to eat fast when you compete with wolves" you swear she jokes about it just to mess with you, though given some of her mannerisms your not sure she's lying
You finish off your bone as she finishes picking out the marrow of hers. You point around you with your bone "this whole place is actually kind of beautiful" you point to the snow covered mountains "I love the way the snow falls"
Her eyes follow your bone "I was raised on that mountain, our den was about halfway up" her voice fades into what you presume is memory as you keep staring at the mountains
"You'll have to take me there one day" receiving no answer. Sighing with the delight only a full belly can bring you lean back a little against your pack as you chuck your bone off away from camp
A blur passes over you as your sent rolling by some sort of force. Her training kicks in as you keep your grip on your pistol as you finish your roll, coming up to see Leman with her face buried in whatever it was that attacked you
You wince, rembering the time she got a little too aggressive with a love bite, feeling almost sorry for whatever dared to attack you in her presence "did you get it love?" Your voice has her turn her head
Only for you to see pure joy in her eyes as she sits there with your bone in her mouth. She practically throws herself forward and drops the bone at your feet. Instinctively you reach out and pat her head, which leans into your hand as your fingers find yheir way behind her ears
Seconds later you both pause realizing what had just happened. Only now you double over laughing as her face flushes
"If you tell anyone of what happend here ill..." her voice fades off, for once she doesn't have an insult or threat of violence ready to issue in a challenge
Recovering from your fit of laughter you move closer and embrace her kneeling form. "Don't worry love. Your secrets safe with me" she sighs and the two of you lose track of time as you stay like that
The only thing that brings out out of it is the sound of the campfire dying out. Leman rises, hating to break the moment "ill get that rebuilt, go get your lighting kit and I'll show you how to build a proper fire" as you both remember the lack luster first attempt you had
It took a Melta gun to get it burning
Turning to your pack you start to dig through for your lighting kit, coming across it deep inside your pack. Also finding your drinking horn you grab it moving back to the growing pile of wood. Determine to at least best her in one competition tonight
My other works https://www.reddit.comANGRY_CENT_MAIN/s/rRB69ntbm7

As If It Were Kismet: Prologue
Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”

Ruby groaned as the alarm went off signaling that one of her charges had arrived back from their mission. While troublesome in its own right, what really got under her skin was that she only had one charge at the moment, and that edge lord piece of shit wasn’t supposed to complete his task for AT LEAST another 4 deca-cycles according to the prediction algorithm. Grumbling to herself, she rolled out of bed and poured herself a glass of water to offset the hangover she was trying to recover from.

A few moments later she was gliding down the hall to the meeting room. She knew Jason was going to pitch a fit that she had left him waiting, the self-entitled brat always did think the world revolved around him; but perhaps he should have thought about that before freaking dying so early. If he wanted her to be there to meet him upon death, he could at least have the decency to not die the morning after one of her binges.

Other staff members gave her a wide berth, even if it was a hollow title, she was still technically far above basically anyone else in the pecking order, at least those who had a physical presence within the Agency. She knew they all mocked her behind her back, even divine beings were sadly prone towards gossip. She put the anger at her subordinates/coworkers out of her mind for now; even if she didn’t particularly LIKE Jason, he still didn’t deserve her coming in with baggage.

Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed that she’d arrived in front of the conference room door. She had been mulling over her thoughts, just staring into nothingness, for several minutes before she finally snapped back to the present. With a soft rap on the door, she opened it and floated inside. Jason was lounging, sprawled out on the regally padded chair throne he so fancied.

They exchanged pleasantries before she sat down to go over the mission summary. Upon seeing the cause of death, she had regrettably lost her composure and started to laugh uncontrollably. Her mighty subordinate had been felled by a goblin?! The mighty Jason Alexander Coyle, “mercenary extraordinaire”, had gotten his shit kicked in by a lowly goblin using what looked like a shiny butter knife. Oh, it was just too rich to not laugh at the absurdity.

It took her much longer than she would like to admit, to stop laughing. Jason of course wore a sour look through the entire endeavor. She shrugged it off, she had little doubt that if the same thing had happened to someone else, he would have been right beside her doubled over in laughter. Hell, once he was in a less pissy mood, she might even be able to get him to laugh about it later.

As luck would have it, it appeared that Jason’s actions had been enough to alter the tides of the war. The kingdom, and its divinity, would still lose many to the battles ahead, but Jason had done enough that the Agency could still bill the client for services rendered. As she spoke, she could see the disdain the man had for her, he always complained that she was drunk and reeked of liquor. Sure, that was often true, but he didn’t need to be such a stick in the mud about it all.

She went ahead and authorized the transfer of credits to Jason’s account. As soon as she did so, he opened up the store page and tuned her out. She watched him open up the back-channel site and purchase something, a small part of her wondered who was going to get roasted over the coals this time for allowing their admin privileges to be hacked. She toyed with the idea of bringing up his illegal actions, but truth be told she didn’t really give a shit. The other divinities were far too lax with their security, it had been child's play for one of her previous wards to hack into the Agency’s system and build the black site.

She’d ask him once about the whole thing, didn’t really grasp as much as she would have liked, but basically it functioned by spoofing a handler's credentials. This allowed the user to gain access to encrypted parts of the network, specifically access to certain privileged services that handlers enjoyed and most importantly, access to the mission assignment database. Users could buy and sell restricted or banned goods, and a part of the profits would be siphoned off to her ward’s personal account.

With Jason’s attention otherwise occupied, Ruby went ahead and reviewed the logs for his previous mission. Something about it was nagging at her. She couldn’t put it into words; however, the whole series of events just didn’t feel like ‘bad luck’. Using her divine authority, she rewound events, watching Jason’s lungs unfill with blood and refill with air.

The goblin skulked back to its den of corpses, resheathing the dagger at its hips, and reburied itself underneath the bodies. She let it rewind another few moments before stopping the feed and letting it run at normal time. She watched the goblin, slowly shifting the bodies out of the way, making sure they made no noise when it moved them. Slowly, carefully, it began to creep towards Jason’s exposed back. It drew the blade, again slowly and quietly. It closed the distance making sure to never let Jason see it or to give him any reason to think someone was behind him. Then in a flash of movement it leapt, burying the dagger right into a joint in Jason’s armor. The placement was perfect, no resistance, so the blade sank to the hilt. Allowing it to puncture Jason’s right lung.

Ruby rewound the log once more. This was wrong, very wrong. The goblin was way too good to just be some random grunt. Its movements were too smooth, its aim too precise. No, she was sure of it now, this was not a normal goblin. She focused her attention on the thing, aiming to scan the goblin for abnormalities, the dust covering it offering a surprising level of resistance to her scan. Not enough to stop her from doing what she wanted, but more resistance than she felt was reasonable for the anti-magic powder.

When she finally gained access to the monster’s stat block, her suspicions were proven correct. That was no normal goblin, that was a Redcap, a Redcap assassin no less. What in the dozen hells was a Redcap assassin doing in the middle of a freaking battlefield?! Such a valuable unit wouldn’t be used on the front lines, their skill set was terribly suited for the chaos that was an active battle. No, something was very wrong here and Ruby was going to figure out what.

As her mind raced trying to puzzle out what the actual fuck was going on, something else about the goblin flagged in her mind. It had come out of the corpse pile with the dagger already in its possession. She highlighted the various bodies that had made up the goblin's hidey hole, and then rewound the scene back. Every time one of the highlighted bodies met their fate, she froze the moment and pulled the scene into a separate window. It took a few minutes, but she eventually had all of the corpses frozen in the heartbeat before their deaths. She went through and scanned every single individual. Not a single one had been equipped with a magic disruptor blade. “So, where the fuck did the Redcap get a kingdom issued disruptor?”

Looking up, she saw that Jason was still fiddling with whatever it was that he bought. She tried to make idle conversation with the man, but he had gone full auto pilot, giving curt one-to-two word answers when asked a question or having to respond to a comment. She rolled her eyes, as much as she and him butted heads, she did have to admit that she did kind of like the guy. He had been going a little too hard into the whole dark and brooding edge lord thing recently, but that was hardly his fault. The human soul was ill suited to withstand the trauma of death, much less multiple deaths. The Agency usually did a memory scrub every couple missions, to prevent that kind of issue, but Jason had been dodging the screenings. For a moment she considered just letting sleeping dogs lie. Jason was dead and the mission was over regardless of what she might find, but the whole thing just rubbed her the wrong way.

Taking a little nip from her pocket flask, she once more focuses her attention on the Redcap. After scrubbing through the last several months of the creature’s life, she finally finds what she was looking for. The blade had come from one of Jason’s personal guards.

Ruby did a deep dive on the guard, and what came back made her blood run cold. The man had recently lost his lover. Jason had ordered a company to mop up a fleeing enemy force, before it could regroup and cause more issues. The entire thing had been a ruse and the company had been slaughtered to the last. The guard's lover had been part of that company. The loss had hit the man hard, driving him to the only rock left in his life. His deep belief in the kingdom’s divinity.

And wouldn’t you know it, apparently the kingdom’s divinity had some issues with Jason that it couldn’t be bothered to address through the proper channels. So instead of letting Ruby handle the trainwreck that was Jason’s social skills, this little scum lord of a God, had taken upon themself to deal with the issue. Several months of holy visions were enough to convince the grieving widow to betray everyone and everything he had ever known.

Once the guard had been properly brainwashed into turning his coat, it had been a simple matter to worm his way on to all of Jason’s post-fight surveys of the battlefield. The magic scanners that were exclusive to Jason’s retinue, had allowed him to see that Jason’s inhuman ability to avoid taking damage was really just a creative use of high-level magic. High-level magic that could have easily been used to save many of the kingdom’s soldiers. But of course, Jason believed himself too good to give the common man a means to protect themselves and those they loved. All this knowledge was of course worthless to the guard, he was nowhere near skilled enough to actually challenge Jason. But wouldn’t you know it, the divinity had thought of that too.

The podunk worm had brokered a secret deal with the enemy he’d contracted the Agency to deal with. In exchange for getting rid of a thorn in the God’s side, it would use its powers to scale back the war. Instead of facing a war of eradication, the enemy would be allowed to keep some of the land it had conquered.

At the urging of his God, the guard held a series of clandestine meetings with the Redcap. Imparting all the information he had learned in the months of shadowing Jason. He also gave the beast two gifts, the first was a Disruptor blade the guard had swiped from a fellow honor guard; when Jason’s corpse was found the blade would be traced back to the unfortunate guard instead of the traitor. The second was a satchel of Grarothian powder that had been blessed by the divinity, to ensure that Jason wouldn’t see the attack coming. It had worked of course; Jason hadn’t even known he was in danger till the blade was already buried in his lung. Oh, she was going to have the wannabe God’s head on a pike after this.

It pained her to admit it, but Jason deserved the final say in how this was all going to go down. She attempted to grab his attention, but the man was lost in his own little world. She tried waving her hands, ignored. She tried snapping her fingers in his ears, ignored. She even went so far as to beat her wings, blasting his face with the wind force of just under a category 1 hurricane; again ignored. Her rage was starting to reach fever pitch. So, she defaulted to the most tried and true method of stress reduction she had in her arsenal. She decided the only way for herself and Jason, once he knew the truth, to calm down would be to relax with a drink of the finest Earth treats.

With a heavy heart she opened up her most beloved extra planer storage space. This place was used for the only two things Ruby really cared about anymore. It was where she kept her most prized and coveted liquor, and where she kept the last few mementos, she possessed of her fallen wards. Her eyes scanned the room, she needed to pick the right apology gift. As she carefully made her way towards the back, she saw it. Tucked in about two thirds of the way to the back wall, stood a single hogshead of ancient scotch whiskey. The second to last gift she had received from one of her dearest friends, all those years ago.

Yes, this was the correct one. She felt it deep within her chest, a proper atonement requires a proper level of sacrifice. With a heavy heart she lifted the barrel over her head and began to stride out of the extra dimensional space. As she neared the opening, the soft clink of something falling and a flash of gold caught her eye. Sitting on a tiny end table was a small pouch of coins, one of which had somehow gotten loose and tumbled face up onto the polished table face.

For a moment she hesitated, she knew exactly what those coins were; and knew how much trouble she would get into if upper management found out she had them. That said, she also knew a sign when she saw one. The artifacts that she held within this place were the last remnants of those she had failed most of all. She pondered the meaning behind the fact that two of her previous charges seemed to have taken a shine to Jason, offering up to him their most precious of gifts. With a heavy heart and a plea to those long lost, she grabbed the coin before closing the pocket dimension.

With a loud *CLUNK* She set the hogshead down. Apparently, the sound of the barrel had finally made enough noise to draw Jason’s attention away from his screen. From a much smaller storage pocket she produced two crystal glasses. Pouring a hefty serving into each glass, she set one down in front of herself and the other in front of Jason. Locking eyes with the man, she said a single word.

“Drink”

The man twisted his face up in disgust at the sight of the liquor.

“Thanks, but no thanks, I’m not inclined to degr...”

“I said, DRINK!” Ruby growl bellows, casting the Command spell on the last word. Jason, despite his best efforts to ignore the compulsion, is forced to do as he is told, and takes a hearty swig of his hundred-year-old Scotch. With a smile on her lips, Ruby takes the opportunity to sip the illustrious gift. The hours melt away as they both sip and savor the deep complex flavors of this legendary brew.

As the drink flows her recollection of events becomes just a tad bit hazy. She can’t really remember how long it takes, but she does eventually come clean about the reason for this impromptu bout of drinking. It comes as little shock that Jason is... less than pleased to learn about the events that led to his death. He downs the rest of his drink in a single gulp, a waste of grand booze in Ruby’s opinion, and demands she fill his next one to the brim. For the first time in FAR too long, Ruby gets to see the Jason she had known all those years ago was still in there.

As the festivities carried on, she would occasionally catch him fiddling with the token he had bought. Curiosity finally getting the better of her, she decided to ask him about it, deciding to NOT mention that she knew it was illicitly purchased. He was cagey about it at first, but eventually loosened up and told her the truth.

He had grown bored with the usual missions that he had been assigned. He was sick of always having to play support, always cleaning up someone else’s messes, always laying the groundwork for someone else’s story. So, he had decided to cash in his points, and finally make use of the vacation time he had accrued. He had picked out what looked to be a pretty basic Isekai mission. Ruby suggested not mentioning his luck to anyone else, even she was aware how rare and coveted those missions were.

As the night wound to a close, they said their goodbyes. Before taking her leave, Ruby remembered the other present she had for Jason. A sharp whistle was the only warning she gave him before flicking the coin at his head. Even drunk, the man’s senses were still a thing to marvel at as he caught it in midair .

“The fuck is this?”

“Think of it as a gift.” She snorts.

“Oh, how generous of you. A whole gold coin, whatever will I spend it on.” Jason responds as he jangles the large coin pouch at his hip.

“Oh, fuck off. I’ll take it back if you’re going to be a brat about it.”

Jason drops the coin into his wallet and shakes it again for good measure. “Oops, too late now. Guess you’ll just have to let me keep it.” He gives her a smug grin.

She scoffed before turning around and making for the door. She could hear him activate the token as she closed the door behind her. As she wandered down the hallways back to her room, she pondered the events of the day. The rogue client would need to be dealt with, but she still wasn’t sure if burying him in legal paperwork for the next millennia or two, or just giving him a good old fashion human curb stomping, was the better punishment for his actions.

The choices bounced around in her head till she finally reached her residence. Having made no real progress in deciding her actions, she elected to just table the decision till she woke up next. The God was small time, so it wasn’t like it was going anywhere.

She took her time getting ready to sleep. Being a divine being herself, she didn’t actually NEED to sleep, but she did so enjoy the human customs surrounding the whole process. She took a long hot bath to unwind, before summoning a pair of adorable pajamas. Her body clean, and her mind at peace she laid down in her oversized excessively fluffy bed.

She had barely closed her eyes and began to drift off to blissful sleep, before she was awoken once again by the sound of her alarm going off.

“You have got to be shitting me. HOW?!?!”