2024-187 / Zedd MAP: 67.42 / MLZ MAP: 73.84 / Score Gap: 6.42
Wikipedia?wprov=sfti1#) / IMDb / Official Trailer / Our Collection
From IMDb - Adventures of Huck Finn - In Missouri, during the 1840s, young Huck Finn fearful of his drunkard father and yearning for adventure, leaves his foster family and joins with runaway slave Jim in a voyage down the Mississippi River toward slavery free states.
2024-188 / Zedd MAP: 55.68 / MLZ MAP: 40.50 / Score Gap: 15.18
Wikipedia / IMDb / Official Trailer / Our Collection
From IMDB - The Sandlot - In the summer of 1962, a new kid in town is taken under the wing of a young baseball prodigy and his rowdy team, resulting in many adventures.
I rolled out of bed, took a few minutes to wipe the sleep out of my eyes, get that cup of coffee every new sunrise offers, and sat down in my trusted armchair - Mrs. Lady Zedd pushed play and The Adventures of Huck Finn hit the screen. I guess we’re doing this now - Morning Movies, well - I can bring the movie on whenever.
MLZ is a woman possessed - she’s been driving the big numbers we’ve been making this month: these two make #30 and #31 for the month ((damn)), we’re moving right along. If I’m being honest, I always associated movie watching with myself but Mrs. Lady Zedd is a cinephile’s cinephile. You’d have to get up pretty early in the morning to actively engage motion pictures like she does. She’s interested in any genre and I can’t even make that claim.
Neither of us had seen this incarnation of Huck Finn and it’s pretty much a pedestrian look at the life and times of a kid from a very different walk of life and time… but aren’t we just the same? That seems to be the message of any movie pushing Americana at its core. Nothing wrong with that (per se) but my “propaganda” button goes off at times like these.
“I don’t know why,” I say, “but this movie feels like *The Sandlot - the way it’s put together, the syrupy dialog and the clarity of the picture.” MLZ hmms and ya, see thats as I’m talking. It’s not about the story but the way the story is being told. Wide-eyed look back - that overwhelming feeling that the good old days were then, not now. Maybe it’s just me but I suggest we watch The Sandlot next and she readily agrees.
It’s while I’m filling in The Sandlot’s particulars that I spy (with my little eye) both films are from 1993. Ain’t that just the way. I’m filling in my form and am halfway through the cast when I wonder when each were in the theater? If I had to guess, I’d say Sandlot is pure early summer - Huck Finn could be fall?? I check: Sandlot is April 1, 1993 / Huck Finn is April 2, 1993. ((Blink-blink)) I just stare off in space… guess we picked well, from a date standpoint.
I pull up 1993 in the MCC because I wonder - there’s another motion picture I’d throw into a “feels like this” pile, and there it is: Matinee. “Huh” I say out loud - MLZ says, “Sounds about right.” and that’s when all hell broke loose.
The doorbell rang (despite all sorts of signs asking delivery drivers not to) and the dogs straight up go berserk. There are scratch marks above the top of the door - these pups are serious where the doorbell is concerned. The delivery? The very last Disney Movie Club order (this time for real). I’ll post pictures.
As we come to the end of the second film, I have to ask myself - how would either of these movies landed on me if I was 8 in 1993 (instead of 1979). I’m not sure - both movies share an insipid “the way we were” element, a fake history that I’ve always had a mild allergic reaction too. The kids in ‘79 were all hopped up on the future - NASA, and men walking on the moon, and Star Wars, and Tron… everyone I knew couldn’t hardly wait for what the future would hold… if I could broadcast a message from now to then, I’d simply say, “Live for the moment, the future is pretty shit.”
I asked Mrs. Lady Zedd what she thought and she said, “I think you get way too philosophical about everything.” A long blank stare later, I say about the movies. She said both were “fine”. Elijah Wood was more that cute as Huck, you can see he was already developing as an actor.
As for The Soundlot she gave me that fake smile she gives when something didn’t sit well with her. “The over the top of the movie narration just popped my movie bubble - every - damn - time.” She said it was so awkwardly done, so poorly written, so defectively slapped in there, it’s a brown patch in an otherwise “meh” apple.
I’m left to scratch my head. Things can change over time and my MAP dropped significantly since our last viewing in 2021. I normally look up past write ups to make sure I’m not just restating what’s already been said but I know for a fact that won’t be the case. I’d developed some nostalgia for the movie based on our neighborhood’s regular July 4th block party. The guy down the street played The Sandlot on his garage door every year before the fireworks got started.
Our neighborhood had changed a great deal since the pandemic. People moved on, new (less friendly) people moved in. I hate to say it but politics have transformed things as well. I think many of you will recognize what I’m saying. No more 4th of July (or any other) block parties.
What’s the opposite of nostalgia? Sad sentiments, I guess. We’ll be gone from here sooner than later, I hope something positive will come of our time in Texas - some hidden cause to smile, later, when I think back.
Movie on.

SPOILERS FOR THE IMPOSSIBLE QUIZ BOOK!!!!
In his latest video on JSAS, Jack was very confused by the impossible quiz book, so I'm going to explain what he didn't understand:
2) Clint Eastwood is a shooting star because he's a star known for shooting things in films (cowboy) like Jack said
6) There's no question mark, it's a statement. What is the best thing since sliced bread.
11) It's asking how many different letters in assassins (a, s, i, n)
12) Corn flakes because they fall on the floor a lot?? (I'm kind of confused here too icl)
18) The dictionary has the meanings of all words, including 'life'
31) There's 100 pennies in a pound, (pond is pound missing a u, so there's no u)
34) Biased. Bi assed. 2
39) Pigs flying means the pigs flew, like swine flu, which kills people.
46) TIQTIQTTIQ = the impossible quiz, the impossible quiz two, the impossible quiz book, so B
MTWTFS = monday tuesday wednesday thursday friday saturday sunday so S
some tips too:
on the dot to dot if you do 1-7 then the dot with no number, you get a skip, but you do have to then click 1-10 in the same time limit as you have, so you have to do 1-7 and 1-10
on the bubble wrap one there's a slightly blueish purple bubble and if you pop it you get this purple monster guy who freezes the bomb on the time limit ones
I really enjoy this style of video so I hope Jack makes more, and I hope he sees this and understands the game a bit more ahaha.

This is a straight to the point buyers guide for people that are wondering if any of the AL ships are worth buying or not. I am here to give you an idea of what's worth, and what's not. I will rank them in descending order for convenience. Keep in mind that these are from my own opinions on the game: my word is not law. These are just my recommendations from my personal experience and a spur of the moment deal personally.

Best Pick: AL Montpelier

This is a premium version of Cleveland, the USN tier VIII CL. However, unlike the later AL premiums, AL Montpelier was unique in at least, a very minor way: She has tighter shot grouping due to a 2.15 sigma versus the standard 2.0 at the cost of slower reload at 0.5 sec slower (7 sec vs 6.5 sec). The result is overall consistent salvos, at the cost of just a little DPM that can be fixed with Adrenaline Rush and Top Grade Gunner, depending on how you build her.
Besides that, she also has un-nerfed version of radar, at a 30 sec vs 27 sec on Cleveland. That doesn't sound like a big deal, but if you run Consumable Enchantments and or Surveillance Radar Mod 1, you have a larger number that the percent based changes will take affect on. Essentially, with both the commander skill and 2nd slot upgrade, you get 39.6 sec vs 35.6 seconds on duration. So a radar build is not bad compared to Cleveland. Besides that, she doesn't have access to the catapult fighter consumable, but that is super seceded by radar and anyways so who cares.
And above all else, it is a Cleveland, which is IMO, a very competitively viable cruiser at tier VIII, with it's very small citadel, thin profile / narrow beam that leads to a lot of over-penetrations, good DPM, good concealment, and good AA. It really only lacks in the speed, gun range, and shell flight time problems, which can be remedied with skill and positioning.
As far as the commander voice acting, Rie Takahashi voices Montpelier. If you do not know who that is or do not care, and just want to know if the commander's voice is annoying or not, then be happy that she isn't overtly grating compared to some of the other commanders you can get. I find her rather composed, cool, and relaxed, fitting the trope of kuudere, if you even know what that means.
TLDR: Premium Cleveland with higher sigma, slightly lower RoF, Longer lasting radar.

Runner Up: AL Sovetsky Rossiya

This is a premium version of Sovetsky Soyuz, the VMF (Soviet Navy) Tier IX BB. Like Montpelier, she is slightly unique to her tech tree counterpart, bar being premium, by having standard battleship dispersion (USN, Royal Navy, German, etc.) instead of Russian BB dispersion formula that gets way better inside 15km. She does also have 1.8 sigma versus 1.7 sigma, for slightly tighter shot grouping. So, while Soyuz excels at mid range, Rossiya excels at long range, which does reasonably well considering the average high tier meta these days.
Other than that, you retain all the upsides of Fast action Damage Control Parties, the tough hull design of the Sovetsky Soyuz. The only other thing you DO NOT get is the AA, as she has the Hull A of Sovetsky Soyuz, and in turn has worse AA overall. In fact, she has such bad AA that only Musashi beats her out in having worse AA for Tier IX battleships. So yeah, CVs that know their targets will have free reign on you, so stick close to allies in CV matches.
Now a I'll be honest with you, Rossiya is not a super competitive BB at tier IX, so this choice is really just down to being different in few ways instead of blatant copy paste. Really, only AL Montpelier is the only super competitive option here. So above all else, Rossiya is a side grade if anything and you should not fear of having FOMO for not getting her. Besides, she's not an historical ship that is going to get removed because it was OP, so fret not (COUGH COUGH MUSASHI, COUGH COUGH ALASKA, COUGH COUGH MISSOURI).
Lastly, the commander is voiced by Manami Numakura. I can really only characterize her as cool, tough, deep voiced anime woman archetype. I dunno really how to explain it that well, so I apologize for anyone that likes her due to my poor description.
TLDR: Premium Sovetsky Soyuz Hull A with 1.8 sigma and standard battleship dispersion.
OK, with those two out of the way, I want to put a disclaimer here that the next ships are purely optional and not super worth it IMO and really only selected for being different than the rest, I.E. not something that is currently offered in other ships / premium ships already in-game.

Optional 1st Pick: AL Prinz Heinrich

This is a premium version of Prinz Heinrich, the tier VII german battlecruiser of the Ersatz Yorck class. She is a 1 for 1 copy of Prinz Heinrich: no special differences here besides premium benefits.
Now, while she is not unique in any way, she is not a bad battlecruiser for tier VII standards. This mainly comes down to the 50mm deck plating she has in a tier wrought with battleships with just 26mm of plating on their decks. Really, any tier VII battleship that has more than 27mm of plating is really competitive in this tier, simply because they don't get overmatched or full-penned by HE. It's sort of why Scharnhorst '43 is so popular and good, since she doesn't get chunked for 10k when hit by 15 in + guns (380mm guns for ya'll metric nerds).
Besides that, she's not slow as hell, going at a decent 28 knots, has 15in guns herself, has fast acting DCP, and is the first ship in the german battlecruisefast battleship line that gets that sweet improved secondary dispersion formula, which despite the 9km max range, means that she has free DPM to let the game play itself essentially. Combined with torpedoes, she can bum rush many slower and weaker battleships that the german battlecruiser line is famous for. And on top of all that, she also has hydro for better pushing to see torpedoes earlier, or push smoked up ships.
Now for some cons, the guns, while using battlecruiser dispersion have an awful 1.5 sigma, so your shot grouping is... bad. Do not be surprised if a lot of your shells in your salvo get a mind of their own. Besides that, she's on the below average end of HP for tier VII, at 56k. Also, she does have 25mm bow and stern. She does have a 30mm extended belt (colloquially known as an ice breaker), which is followed by 120mm extended belt, that protects the lower portion of the ship from overmatch bar 18in guns that she MIGHT face in the likes of Georgia, Sun Yat Sen, Musashi, and Tsurugi, and Adatara. Still, that doesn't mean she is immune from overmatch, as the odd shell can still get through her bow and stern and chunk you, so do not bet on it 100%.
Now that is for the most part, the review. However, for any true fans out there, they know that Prinz Heinrich from AL is actually a P-Class cruiser, AKA Schill in this game. Since Schill was a limited time ship that required whaling for her, and that wargaming dropped the ball and just did "Oh this ship has the same name! Here ya go!" then you know how much this kind of sucks. If you just like Prinz Heinrich, and want her as a premium, you can ignore this tidbit, but for any true fans that DO NOT have Schill, you're shit outta luck.
As far as commander goes, the voice actor, Hiyori Nitta, does a wonderful job characterizing a carefree and bubbly character. As previously mentioned, I recommend putting her on Schill if you really care about game accuracy, that is, if you even had Schill to begin with.
TLDR: Premium Prinz Heinrich copy-paste. Get it only if you really like Prinz Heinrich (the ship) which is actually pretty good for its tier, and want a premium version of it, or Prinz Heinrich as the character.

Optional 2nd Pick: AL Shimakaze

Hoo boy, this one might be controversial. This is a special ship (NOT a premium ship) of IJN DD, Shimakaze.
Shimakaze really needs no introduction. It is the old school torpedo boat that coined the phrase "Torpedo soup" or at least contributed to that phrase. It can put 3x5 23k damage, 12km Type 93 long lance torpedoes into the water. It has some of the best concealment for her tier, getting down to 5.6km surface detect, and good speed at 39 kts (42 kts when speed boost is active). It has been here since the games launch, and well, admittedly, or at least in my opinion, has seen better days.
Still, while some other DDs might have powercrept her a little, you can't mistake the fact that a well played Shimakaze can terrorize a team that lacks the tools to pin her down. Even if that is seldom the case most of the time (48% win rate on NA out of 8 million battles), the ship still has strong tools when played to it's strengths. 23k damage torpedoes are no joke... if you get hit by them at least, as they have a pretty awful average reaction time of ~9.35 sec (according to wows ship builder). Now, this can be sort of remedied with building for torpedo speed, getting torpedo tubes mod 1 and swift fish to decrease that time to ~8.5 sec, but that's still far above the average of 7.8 sec most torpedoes have in other nations. Still, if you get the right angle, devstriking a full HP battleship is not uncommon if you get a perfectly lined up shot. Thing is, it takes WAY more skill and positioning than you think it does, especially considering that most top tier players sort of know what they're doing, and that a lot of top tier ships can run hydroacoustic search these days.
Combined with the fact that she has some of the worse gun DPM of any tier X DD, and has fairly low HP for the tier, it can be fairly hard to play this ship unless you get just the best matchmaking ever. It's a real feast or famine type ship, which I would say summarizes most of the IJN Shimakaze line in general, bar maybe the mid tiers. All this really means is that Shimakaze is NOT the most competitive DD at tier X, as arguably many other nations have better torpedo boats, or better yet, opt for hybrid boats that can defend themselves fairly well, such as the Pan Euro DDs. Still, as mentioned earlier, if played to her strengths, she can be a good ship, but all I am arguing for is that she is not a meta ship, at least in my opinion.
Now, onto the whole Special Ship thing. Yes, this IS a tier X ship that can be bought for money. And YES, this is like the ARP Yamato deal, allowing noob whales to skip to tier X and forgo all the blood sweat and tears that goes into grinding to top tier. And YES, IT'S A SHIMAKAZE, THE TIER X NOOB MACHINE. I DO NOT HAVE HIGH HOPES FOR MANY AL SHIMAKAZE PLAYERS EITHER. With that out of the way, what benefit do you get for getting a special ship version of Shimakaze?
Well, to start, Special ships essentially have the premium bonus package already baked in, I.E: +50% Credits, +100% Ship XP, +100% Commander XP, +100% Free XP. On top of that, you also have a reduced repair cost compared to a standard tier X. Besides that, you can freely swap commanders onto this ship like a premium ship with no retraining required, making it a good trainer. These are the ONLY 2 reasons that make this ship more economically viable compared to Shimakaze. While the bonus package on Shimakaze can achieve 1 of these 3 effects, the other two, reduced repair cost and free commander swapping, puts this above standard Shimakaze as a result.
So, unfortunately, This is a slightly better Shimakaze. So if you REALLY like Shimakaze, and want a premium version of it, well, here it is, for a lot of goddamn money. Like $100+ expensive. Go figure ya know?
Also, the commander is voiced by Saori Hayami.
TLDR: Special Ship verison of Shimakaze. Take if you are a whale have a lot of expendable income to burn, AND really like Shimakaze (The ship), and or really like Shimakaze (the AL character).

Optional 3rd Pick: AL Yukikaze

AL Yukikaze is a similar version of the IJN DD Kagero, but with F8 torpedoes and no option for torpedo reload booster.
Now, this is the last of the semi-unique AL ships, as every other one has been copy-paste. Yukikaze at the very least is different in that she has F8 torpedoes. These differ than Kagero's choice by having less range, (8km vs 10km), higher damage (21k vs 20k), faster reload (104 sec vs 112 sec), and higher speed (76kts to 67kts) which also leads to a better reaction time of ~8.8 sec vs ~9.45 sec.
Now, does this make Yukikaze better? No, not really, as 8km is rather short range for high tier standards. It does make them almost break past ~8 sec reaction time with a full torpedo speed build, the best of any type 93 torpedo, but combined with the fact that it has no other differences in gun handling, DPM, HP, and consumables, I find this shorter ranged torpedo to be a high risk high reward setup, which already exacerbates high tier IJN DD gameplay further than it already is, being so heavily feast or famine.
I can really only recommend this ship if you really like Kagero for whatever reason and really like the 8km F8 playstyle. That and if you like the history of the ship and or like the character of the ship, voiced by Kana Yuuki, despite how annoying and self aggrandizing her character is made out to be.
TLDR: Kagero but 8km F8 torpedoes.
OK, now for the ships I really do not recommend at all for varying reasons. The reviews are going to be more brief from here on out.

Skip 1: AL Cheshire

Only get this if you really, REALLY want to get Cheshire right now. Currently, regular Cheshire is off sale, and cannot be obtained. For whatever reason you think you might need Cheshire, this is the only way to obtain her at the moment in AL form. Which more than likely means that if you want her, you are more than likely a fan of the AL character, as the ship itself is pretty bad. Kind of polarizing given that Cheshire in AL is pretty meta, and her in WoWs she's pretty solidly in D tier for competitiveness.
She is essentially a worse Albemarle, having no Spotter Plane, and garbage DPM for the tier. Really, the 9.2 in guns really only offer 59mm of pen vs 34mm, and better AP pen with overall flatter flight times, but not by much. The armor is Okayish, but trust me when you will get smacked through your bow and stern often, as you have a stepped citadel that if you get overmatched through either direction, you WILL get citadelled. While you get that 50% cit and hull repair party, it really doesn't matter that much when it happens so often, or you just get straight up dev striked. Combined with the lack of spotter plane, that 16km gun range will feel really short, especially when you are bottom tier.
You can at least be happy that the AA she has is up to par in how she is in AL, as it's best in class for her tier. Well, mostly, but her Flak Count is above average at 6+1, and combined with always having defensive fire, I recommend getting the commander skill Focus Fire Training, so you get that +1 flak cloud for 8 in total, which combined with Defensive fires flak buff, those flak bursts will do 7k a pop, Which is the equivalent to instantly destroying about 7 to 3 planes depending on the type if they run into it while DF is active.
Besides that, the commander is voiced by Shizuka Ishigami, and well, pretends to be a catgirl.
TLDR: Get this if you really really, REALLY want Cheshire and you don't have one, or because you really like the AL character.

Skip 2: AL Hornet

This is just Hornet. You can get her cheaper with a 25% discount coupon. It's also a CV, which I imagine is not everyones cup of tea.
The commander is voiced by Nozomi Yamamoto, and personally, I enjoy the happy go lucky characterization she has. This might be the ONLY reason you want to get Hornet, that or because you like the cool skin the ship has, and or the free 10 point commander.
TLDR: Get regular Hornet with 25% discount. ONLY buy this if you love AL Hornet (the character) to pieces.

Skip 3 & 4: AL Azuma and AL Agir

These two are just Agir and Azuma, coal ships, that you can get absolutely for free. They are also not really the best Tier IX cruisers anyways, as Azuma is super vulnerable to battleships, and Agir doesn't match up to the likes of other large cruisers at this tier.
That said, I can only imagine you getting these ships for the same reasons for Hornet, and that is because you are a fan of the AL characterization of these ships, as Azuma is voiced by Kiyono Yasuno, and Agir, Ayane Sakura. Or you just like the ship skins.
TLDR: Get Azuma and or Agir for free with Coal. ONLY buy this if you love AL Agir / AL Azuma (the characters).

BONUS: Commander Pack

Hahaha no. Unless you really love AL and don't mind by dropping... looks at price... 100$+ USD and getting a ton of fully voiced commanders, then go for it. The only other reason would be because you are a fresh player and need 10 point commanders for most of the nations in this game, which is really only useful if you need say concealment expert on destroyers for example, then sure, go for it if you find that to be an OK option.

EDIT: BONUS BONUS: AL Littorio

I forgot AL Roma, I mean AL Littorio is also a thing, and on an 80% sale.
Anyways, Roma herself sucks.
The guns have so much muzzle velocity that you will overpen targets 50% of the time. Combined with the Italian / french dispersion, which is one of the worst battleship dispersion formulas for battleships. So, they are fairly inconsistent guns as a result. Still, if the guns behave, they are pretty mean, as they have a lot of penetration for 15 in guns, on par with some of the best penetration for tier VIII battleships. They also have the best damage for 15 in guns for the tier as well. The gun handling is at least not total crap, as they have 30 sec 180° rotation time, which is above average for most BBs. The forward gun angles are decent too, at 31°, but her rear angles are worse at 40°.
Speaking off, the armor is fairly good at a first glance, with 45mm deck, 70mm deck sides, and a fairly small superstructure which has extra protection from her 90mm dual purpose guns 40mm barbettes and the conning tower. The citadel is slightly above water, but it is not a turtleback, so you WILL get punished for being broadside, considering the armor is 375mm + 40mm of armor or protection. The 40mm inner plate is not overmatchable at least, which is a small plus. At least, compared to the tech tree Tier IX and Tier X that have 25mm plates under their turtleback.
She also gets points for good concealment for her tier, being among the best, at 13.39km base, 11.7km max.
Overall, she's... a tough and sneaky nut to crack, unless she shows broadside. The guns themselves are a massive dirce roll each time, and kind of suck. When they behave though, usually at range, they are amongst the best 15in guns at tier VIII.
Oh and Roma is voiced by Yui Kondou.
Oh wait. This supposed to be Littorio. Whoops. Then that would be Shizuka Itou that voices her. And Yes, if you didn't know, this is for all intensive purposes SHOULD be AL Roma. The simple version of this is that the Vittorio Veneto class all had striking unique features that set them apart at a glance. There was a controversy a while ago about AL Littorio literally being Roma with a skin, as if you demout the camo, the Roma nameplate is still there. Same goes for our Tech Tree Vittorio Veneto, as it is too, just Roma. In fact, the upcoming Spanish Tier IX premium Victoria will be the first version of Roma that is somewhat different. But honestly, it doesn't count.
TLDR: It's a freaking Tier VIII BB on 80% off. Get it while it's hot I guess. Besides that, she has poor gun handling and accuracy, but strong armor (when angled), and good concealment.

I see that they have options to validate a text input as being an email address, phone number, etc.. but nothing about checking for a valid URL. I've seen some posts on the bubble forums that say to use REGEX, I'm just not sure how to integrate that into Bubble. Any help would be amazing!

I picture the numbers made out of large bubbles and as they interact they merge and form a new bubbles. Subtraction and division always has this satisfying pop feel where the "material" disappears.

Tldr: A critical SYNDE coalition home hole is burned to the ground by HAWKS and hundreds of billions are lost or safelogged.

On Starting Points

One of the more contentious elements of any major conflict is identifying when, precisely, it actually began. In EVE, as IRL, that is particularly challenging given the breadth of metagaming which takes place. Did the Wormhole War begin when SYNDE decided last summer that they wanted to replace HAWKS as the dominant high-class wormhole group and committed to making that a reality? Did it begin when they solidified their alliance with the Initiative? When they build their wormhole coalition? When they seeded HAWKS home with capitals? Any of those, had they been out in the open, would likely have triggered open hostilities. But those plans and the steps towards their ultimate objective were carefully and smartly hidden from view.
The widespread SYNDE coalition assault on HAWKS C5 and C6 holes began on March 24^th. With the information we now have available to us, the real start of the war was likely the eviction of Voidlings during the first week of March 2024. HAWKS and their future allies were almost certainly unaware of the significance of that eviction, but leaked internal SYNDE comms put truth to the notion that SYNDE viewed that as a critical first step in isolating and crippling HAWKS. It was, then, the first overt act of war by SYNDE – though its place in that broader campaign remained shrouded for several weeks.
Voidlings is a small to midsize wormhole group. A few years ago, they were a growing low class wormhole group living in a C2 with HS and C3 statics. In 2022, they moved into a new home, a C5 wormhole with a C5 static. For non-wormholers, nearly every high class PVP group lives in a C5 with a C5 static. C5 space is both where the majority of high class farms are. The abundance of C5 statics means that living on the “C5 Highway” is often the best route to all forms of high class pvp and pve content. Honor brawls also almost exclusively take place in C5 holes.
So Voidlings grew from a low-class group into a high-class group, and they continued recruiting in an effort to become one of the relevant high class PVP groups. Their zkillboard suggests they participated in most traditional high class activities – farming, feeding, fighting, evicting, ganking, skirmishing. It appears they were supported during this period of growth by one or more HAWKS members. As a result of this affiliation they were not approached by SYNDE during their coalition-building period. Instead, they were marked for pre-war eviction both to be a preliminary test of coalition coordination and also to eliminate a potential HAWKS ally. Isolating HAWKS was key to the entire war plan.
SYNDE began seeding the Voidlings home with dreads in Feb 2024, ultimately bringing in 6 to support their eviction. At the appropriate time, a robust joint fleet led by SYNDE but also including key coalition allies TURBO and Stay Feral infiltrated the Voidlings home hole, installed a staging POS and began their eviction. They diligently held hole control, adding another half-dozen capital ships to their arsenal over the next several hours. A Voidlings eviction seemed inevitable, as they simply lacked the manpower and experience needed to prevent a collection of wormhole groups that large from evicting them. As is often the case when a home hole is under threat of eviction, batphones rang out across wormhole space. HAWKS, NOVAC and SL0W answered the call for Voidlings. The future SYNDE coalition was on already on standby to support this eviction if necessary, as well as future neutral LUPUS. SYNDE had also secured a commitment from the Initiative to support should the need arise.
At first, it did not appears that the batphoning was likely to change anything. SYNDE maintained diligent hole control, not permitting either Voidlings or any allies from bringing in ships or pilots via the Voidlings static. HAWKS rage rolled from their home to get into the Voidlings home, but was unsuccessful.
For the non-wormholers, when you rage roll a C5 static in order to connect with a specific C5 wormhole, you have a 1 in 531 chance of getting connected to that specific hole with each rage roll. Rolling into a specific hole requires days of 24/7 rage rolling and even then the odds are against you. Wormhole groups really only engage in this level of commitment for really high-level situations, such as the historical eviction of HK’s home hole Rage back in 2018.
Midway through the eviction, however, a frig hole popped connecting the Voidlings home with Horde space. HAWKS, NOVAC and SL0W immediately burned in shuttles to that frig hole, and SYNDE was unable to stop the vast majority of them from jumping into the hole and docking in the besieged Voidlings fort.
Voidlings leadership distributed their home defense handout Ravens to their comrades and the stage was set for a glorious home eviction defense fight. SYNDE and friends had a large 100-ship Barghest fleet supported by nearly a dozen capitals (dreads/fax) while Voidlings and friends could field 100 cruise Ravens with FAX logi and nearly two dozen long-range dreads. Range control and capital placement was understood by both sides’ FCs to be critical to the outcome of the fight. SYNDE had a fleet advantage, but one that could be overcome. Unbeknownst to the Voidlings side, once the frig hole popped SYNDE leadership had invoked their war alliance with Initiative, The Initative pinged and mobilized a 200-man Tengu fleet, travelling quickly to the wormhole chain’s entrance. Jumping in, the Initiative fleet docked in a nearby SYNDE farm and waited.
As a critical citadel timer approached, SYNDE FC Cyrus Kurush fleet warped dreads to range the full Barghest comp along with them. Bubbles exploded all over the grid, aiming to stop the Voidlings defense fleet from warping to a good position. This was an effective stratagem, as SYNDE knew that the Voidlings defense fleet would rely on FAX logi – so pinging around grid was not a viable option. The Voidlings fleet needed a clean warp-in, to a position favorable for their cruise Ravens. The dreads began bashing the fortizar, forcing the Voidlings fleet to commit the fleet or watch their citadel burn. The Ravens and their FAX logi aligned and warped, accepting a mediocre initial position that would permit the SYNDE dreads to apply well. Once the FAX landed, the HAWKS FC leading the Voidlings fleet called for all dreads to undock, and they were warped in to support this all-in defense effort. Those dreads landed, activated siege modules, and began primarying the SYNDE dreads.
After one SYNDE dread exploded and another started taking damage, the trap was sprung. Reports on both comms noted that a 200-man tengu fleet was on dscan. Confusion turned into delight on SYNDE comms and resigned frustration on Voidlings comms as the Initiative fleet landed on grid and immediately began fragging Ravens. What might have been a closely-fought battle quickly turned into a complete rout. Voidlings was able to extract a small number of dreads – but the butcher’s toll was a heavy one. Voidlings – having supplied all the ships used by the defenders – lost the entire Raven fleet and nearly all the capitals, for a total of 327b lost against 1117b killed. https://br.evetools.org/related/31001880/202403020300
The remainder of the eviction proceeded to plan, and all Voidlings citadels were destroyed. SYNDE celebrated a successful test run of their broader vision and campaign. In recent leaks that cover the aftermath, SYNDE lead Cyrus Kurush noted that although SYNDE had shown they could take on HAWKS alone, they would take advantage of their massive alliance to simply speed the broader war goal of taking all the HAWKS high class farms and taking their rightful place atop a New Wormhole Oder.

On Rallying Cries and Motivations

This leads to another critical element for how the war would unfold. Wars in EVE are won by motivated pilots first, and a war chest second. For some time, SYNDE and their primary allies had planted the seeds of resentment towards HAWKS among their members. This is not a challenging task, as most wormhole groups generally dislike each other to begin with. In casus belli discussions with HAWKS immediately prior to the war, and in coalition and leadership meetings with their side, SYNDE was fairly consistent about their war aims: take all HAWKS C6 farms, take HAWKS C5 farms, and take HAWKS home. Those farms were to be distributed to SYNDE and their allies, although the specifics were studiously avoided in discussions.
The leak of the SYNDE pre-war CTA gives real insight into members motivations going into the war. Typically, pre-war CTA meetings in EVE are full of hype, energy and enthusiasm. The Synde CTA, by contrast, seemed a much more pragmatic event. Members were concerned about their current farms, about the plan to deploy out of home and into a C6 staging, about working with blues, and about their ability to participate in NPSI fleets during the war. SYNDE lead Cyrus Kurush needed to make clear several times that the expectation was that even though many SYNDE members were also members of other LS and NS groups, they were expected to devote their full effort and focus to the upcoming war against HAWKS. It is almost impossible to take away from that CTA meeting anything other than a rather shocking lack of enthusiasm for the war from SYNDE line members.

The War in Heaven

On the other hand, HAWKS motivations were much easier to discern. This War presented an existential threat. In the eyes of the SYNDE coalition, HAWKS farms and home were both forfeit. Everything they had built over the preceding decade was destined for destruction. Isolated and outnumbered, this would be the ultimate test of HAWKS members’ commitment. The sudden and shocking rebirth of Hard Knocks was mirrored by a large number of longterm HAWKS members also resubbing.
Another critical and perhaps overlooked element of motivations on HAWKS side was the war vs peace element. Although “peace” in wormhole space is a decidedly violent affair in general, with pretty much every group killing every other group on a daily basis, it had been many years since there was a major, sustained conflict in wormhole space. Nullsec often differentiates between “Skirmish FCs” and “Strat FCs”, with the former leading normal day-to-day fleets of battlecruiser sized ships or smaller, and the latter leading the heavy fleets, cap fleets, super fleets or the sizeable, complicated fleets deployed in major conflicts. In the cartel world that is wormhole space, it might be more appropriate to differentiate between “Territory FCs” and “War FCs”. The former freely leads the wide range of fleets that fight, gank, camp and brawl throughout wormhole space on a daily basis. The latter wants to lead larger, more complicated fleets in direct support of a broader strategic initiative. In gaming as IRL, it is normal for highly skilled players to want to be challenged – and at some point, the normal day-to-day fights no longer satisfies those urges. In some cases, that leads to corps fading away (HK), in others, it leads to limited participation (many HAWKS members/FCs).
When this Wormhole War kicked off, it was promptly dubbed “The War in Heaven” by the HAWKS/HK side. This name refers directly to the biblical conflict between two rival groups of Angels – that led by Michael, and that led by Satan. Revelation 12:7-10:

7 Then war broke out in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. 8 But he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in heaven. 9 The great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him.

It is not particularly challenging to figure out which side HAWKS was associating themselves with, given that the name of their CEO is Michael1995.
Perhaps more pragmatically, among members in both HAWKS and the reborn HK, this war was indeed a gift from Heaven above – a chance to dive into a massive, complicated campaign against a foe who was willing to violate wormhole norms in order to achieve their goals. During the first two weeks when HAWKS farms were burning, there is a sense that many of the HAWKS and HK leads were genuinely giddy about the opportunity to take the field and leverage all their accumulated skills, knowledge and experience against an increasingly-reviled opponent. Yes, things looked dire from the outside but internally, there was a mixture of enthusiasm and cautious optimism.

Headshots and Flipping

During normal wormhole fights, both brawls and skirmishes, it is generally considered poor form to headshot the other side’s FC. It happens sometimes, but is definitely looked down upon in the wormhole community. This is the sort of norm that disappears in the context of a large war, or any sort of existential threat situation.
At the strategic level, “headshotting” generally refers to destroying or debilitating the other side’s capacity to fight by taking home holes or staging holes. This would be a key element in the HAWKS strategy, and one surprisingly absent from the SYNDE side. From the very first week, HAWKS looked to take advantage of any opportunity, however fleeting, to headshot SYNDE and their allies. The early ATRAX eviction was the first example of this. It would not be the last, not by a long shot.
Another key tactic is flipping. Not flipping as in changing sides, but rather flipping as in unanchoring and then re-anchoring an Upwell citadel. Recall that when a citadel dies in a wormhole, every pilot’s possessions that remain in that citadel drop as loot cans on the grid. 100% loot drop, 100% of the time. Over time, as pilots join and then leave a group, hangar containers accumulate. Over the years, in successful wormhole groups, this frozen hangar trash can reach into the tens or hundreds of billions. This can make evicting a wormhole resident or group an increasingly attractive over time. A hole that has been owned for a year will not have much loot drop. One owned for many years will likely have a great deal more.
Years ago, intrepid wormhole residents realized that a good way to counter this mechanic was to “flip” their citadels: unanchor, get all the AFG/left corp loot for yourself, then re-anchor. There is risk to this, but for a pvp corp that maintains hole control, the risk is quite minimal.
HAWKS had lived in their current home for nearly a decade. A large, successful group like HAWKS accumulates a large amount of hangar wealth over a period like that, much of it frozen as members AFG or leave corp. During the first week of the War, HAWKS recognized this large oversight and unanchored all the structures in their home hole. A neutral observer might have thought that HAWKS were self-evicting. Through their spy, SYNDE knew that they were planning to flip them and stay in the fight. Unwilling to entertain a HAWKS home eviction at this early stage in the war, SYNDE watched as HAWKS unanchored all their citadels and replaced them with a dozen newly anchored fortizars – and clearing their citadel grid of thousands of loot cans. A steady stream of DSTs transiting in and out of HAWKS home confirmed that wealth was quickly transferred out to kspace.
In that first week, by “flipping” their citadels, HAWKS eliminated the majority of the financial incentives that generally come with evicting a pvp corp’s home hole.

Seeding an Apple

During the period where HAWKS farms were burning and SYNDE was soaring, on Tuesday April 2^nd, HAWKS rolled into the SUGAR home hole. Some of SUGAR’s pvp toons were supporting SYNDE, some were farming, others were out participating in NPSI roams in kspace. Few of them were in their home hole. HAWKS sent in a bait RF fleet of a trio of Leshaks while at the same time pinging for a Nighthawk fleet. SUGAR panic pinged as the Leshaks began RFing one of the many citadels in their home. With confusion reigning, SUGAR undocked a kitchen sink fleet including armor and shield, capital and subcapital. Once SUGAR began engaging, HAWKS brought in their heavy shield fleet. HAWKS then began dismantling the haphazard SUGAR home defense fleet, as captured in the first 3 minutes of this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZKgFPbSaLk
After fragging much of the SUGAR defenders, HAWKS proceeded to reinforce every citadel in the SUGAR home. SUGAR lost 35bn in ships in a one-sided fight. SYNDE was dismayed by the poor SUGAR showing. https://br.evetools.org/b66452e6803aec30012694316
Those structures all repaired over the coming week.
On April 12^th , HAWKS returned and again reinforced all SUGAR structures, this time with no opposition. Following that second round of reinforces, SUGAR pinged and directed its members to return to home and adopt a defensive posture with rigorous hole control to prevent a HAWKS return.
Many SUGAR members by this point were now opposing their corp’s direction. They certainly disliked HAWKS, but they had historically disliked SYNDE and their allies just as much. Joining them struck many members as a short-sighted, unwise adventure. They had actively participated in reinforcing and blowing up HAWKS structures, only to discover that SYNDE was most often dropping replacement citadels as they got cleared. SUGAR line members felt they were doing a lot of work for little or no benefit.
On April 13^th, HAWKS rolled into the SUGAR home hole for a third time – this time with amor timers only hours away. SUGAR immediately sought to roll that incoming wormhole, throwing yacht after yacht at it, as well as a lone praxis. They were able to crit the hole despite losing yachts every few passes.
Sigils are a common ship used most often by Nullsec farmers looking to roll wormholes that threaten their peaceful farming, These Sigils are referred to by wormholers almost universally as “suicide sigils”. The SUGAR FC directed his members to get into Sigils, undock, nullify, and warp to the hole. That hole needed to die. It needed to die now. “Even mains?” one member – Scott Appleblade - inquired. “Even mains,” replied the FC.
Scott hopped into the sigil, and warped to the hole, forgetting to nullify. He landed in the bubble, and was immediately fragged by the HAWKS on grid. https://zkillboard.com/kill/116986540/
Scott, now sitting in Jita, asked for a route back into his home. The FC replied they had no kspace entries at the minute. Scott asked if one could be found. The FC replied not now, quiet, we’re still dealing with this hole. Scott logged off, seething.
Scott had not wanted this war from the very start. Scott had recently upgrade from a Class 3 farm to a Class 5 farm of his own. Scott enjoyed farming combat sites in Leshaks and dreaming of a brighter future. Scott had always dreamed he might one day save up enough to afford a faction FAX: the Loggerhead. He knew they didn’t make much sense and were rarely used, but Scott loved the “Poggerhead” meme. Scott prided himself on his memes. He would often meet people and knew right away that they would become a meme. That was just life, but an elite meme could memorialize that. Scott just wanted to undock from his home fort in a Loggerhead and enjoy the moment. That seemed less and less likely now that the SUGAR home was being reinforced weekly. SUGAR leadership was either absent or, frankly, being dicks. Scott was over it. He had worked too hard. He deserved better. His fellow SUGAR members did, too.
Scott waited until later in the day when he was able to get a kspace entry for his main back into SUGAR’s home chain. He flew his inty in, still seething but with a plan for exacting revenge coalescing in Scott’s mind.
For the non-wormholers, it is important to explain that when you are a member of a wormhole corp, you have a lot more access to corp assets than you likely ever would in a Nullsec or Lowsec corp. Due to wormhole mechanics, wormhole corps almost always have a “Shared” corp hangar in each citadel where commonly used ships and modules are available to all members. This usually includes rolling ships, and handout pvp ships, among other things.
Scott docked in their home fort. He hesitated for a minute as he surveyed those familiar surroundings, but then the rage came back. He just wanted to farm, and now he might lose that. All because of SUGAR leadership. He knew his corp mates understood and would appreciate his actions. Scott proceeded to move everything in the SUGAR shared corp hangar to his personal hangar. He did a double take – he had just acquired over 30b of assets. That would go a long way towards a down payment on the Loggerhead if he could get that to a trade hub.
One good idea begets another, and Scott repackaged every assembled ship he had just taken. He then put the most valuable elements into his two DSTs. He shuttled those out to Jita and back, and then repeated the round trip several times. During the monotony of the transits, Scott realized that nobody – not leadership, not his corp mates – had noticed anything. Even though he was now much wealthier, SUGAR was still in need of a wakeup call.
As he warped to the next wormhole, it hit him – the bookmarks! This is another major difference between Nullsec / Lowsec and wormhole groups. In kspace, one can navigate very easily, or at least with confidence about where you’re going. In wormholes, one needs corp mates scanning wormholes and making bookmarks, basically a temporary map that wormhole pilots use to navigate the ever-changing wormhole landscape. All members need access to those bookmarks, and the ability to create, edit and delete them.
Scott deleted them. All of them. No more going to help SYNDE. No more warping your dread to a safe because HAWKS had bubbled the fort. No more finding your way back after getting rolled out. With no bookmarks, SUGAR would need to stop and consider where they were and why. Scott was pleased with the neat metaphor. At least he thought it was a metaphor. Might also be an analogy. He wasn’t sure, but he was sure it was brilliant.
His DSTs landed on the next hole and Scott jumped. It was then that Scott noticed he had no bookmarks in the next wormhole. That knowledge, combined with his decision not to fit probe launchers on either of his DSTs, was not a positive development. Scott, priding himself on his judgment, weighed his current situation against all he had achieved this evening – over 20b of ships and mods in Jita, and a powerful statement to SUGAR leadership. That was worth the loss of two DSTs that only had about 1.5B combined between them. Scott self-destructed the DSTs, returned to Jita, and went to bed contemplating a brighter future.

When Espionage Meets Opportunity

Prior to shutting the doors a few years ago, Hard Knocks had been regarded in the wormhole community as the top wormhole group for espionage. In a world where information is power, they have always had a remarkable abundance of critical information. Unlike HAWKS, HK was aware of the SYNDE plans and coalition building not long after they were conceived. As allies joined the SYNDE effort, HK sought to penetrate those groups. SUGAR accepted a key HK spy in January of this year. Over the next two months, this spy would quickly work his way up the SUGAR hierarchy, demonstrating strong FC and leadership abilities. When the war broke out, he was one of the main FCs. His background in HK and HAWKS affiliated groups was no concern for SUGAR leadership as they committed to the SYNDE coalition.
When Scott pilfered everything from SUGAR shared and deleted all bookmarks, the spy noticed both. He consulted with his HK mates and decided it might be a fantastic opportunity. The spy reached out to SUGAR directors and offered to do his part in resolving the matter – they needed to cut off access to Scott and his alts, they needed to do it 5 minutes ago and they needed to tighten things up. He knew how to do it, and he was happy to help. There was only one SUGAR director online. He was unsure of how to best resolve the Scott situation, so he called up the CEO on his cell. The CEO and director huddled up and agreed that their best FC was the man to fix it. They gave director roles to a spy who’d been in corp less than 3 months. During a war. A war against HAWKS and HK.
SUGAR members woke up the morning of Sunday April 14^th, logged on, and discovered that every one of the structures in their home hole had been transferred to an HK holding corp. Their implant sets were all gone. Every single one. They were unable to dock. Most of their combat pilots were not even in their home hole. What was in the SUGAR home was a massive HAWKS coalition fleet.
And NOVAC was in it.

Stay on the Sidelines and You Will Burn

SYNDE’s diplomatic efforts had been widespread for the months leading up to the Wormhole War. They had enlisted the support of both large wormhole groups and small in building their expansive anti-HAWKS coalition. Two of the biggest pvp groups in wormhole space had consistently declined their overtures: LUPUS and NOVAC. Strong, independent, brawling groups, they did not like HAWKS, but they also didn’t like SYNDE. In proper cartel fashion, they were not interested in helping either of those groups achieve more power or territory. Truth be told they wanted both sides to lose. Better to remain neutral and pick the best course at a later time.
SYNDE did not push much until the first two weeks of the war. During that first week of burning HAWKS farms, according to SYNDE lead Cyrus Kurush, 16 or 17 C6 farms were transferred from HAWKS to NOVAC. LUPUS was the beneficiary of a smaller number of HAWKS farms. It was clear that under the weight of the broad offensive, many HAWKS members had opted to sell their farms to neutral wormhole groups. In most cases, it was HAWKS members selling farms to long-term EVE friends in other wormhole groups.
Cyrus Kurush was livid. He had already earmarked every HAWKS C6, and now many of them seemed to be passing out of the war and into the hands of neutrals who continued to refuse to join his coalition. He directed his lead diplo Zelvig to reengage with NOVAC and clearly relay his message. Zelvig did so, informing NOVAC of two key things: one, further receipt of any HAWKS farm would be viewed as an act of war, and two, while NOVAC was welcome to remain a friendly neutral during this early part of the campaign, the C6s they had already received from HAWKS should be seen as being held in trust for the wormhole community. Following the now-inevitable HAWKS eviction and removal from high class space, NOVAC would have to settle their farm accounts with SYNDE. With his customary enthusiasm, Zelvig gave NOVAC a timeline for their decision to join the coalition: as soon as the last HAWKS C6 farm fell, SYNDE would turn to the NOVAC C6s unless they had already joined. Zelvig estimated that gave NOVAC 2 or 3 more weeks to make a decision.
NOVAC made their decision that night, informing HAWKS leadership that they would be joining the HAWKS side. They asked only that they have a week to get their group organized and prepared. At the end of that week, NOVAC joined HAWKS, HK, Voidlings, and 418 in infiltrating a Vulture fleet into SUGAR’s home hole.

Sugar Free: J104037 Bleeds and Falls

Two things happened from the jump: HAWKS took and held hole control in SUGAR’s home hole while infiltrating additional pilots, and SYNDE pinged hard to get their coalition members to consolidate in Waffle House, the C6 hole that they had made their staging at the start of the war. It was chosen due to its C6 static, which permitted SYNDE to roll into HAWKS C6 farms and reinforce then destroy them at will.
With the HAWKS fleet swelling in numbers with NOVAC’s addition to their alliance, they openly docked in SUGAR’s citadels – now owned by HK. SUGAR members could only watch in horror as the citadel showed more and more reds docking in their fortizar.
SYNDE began rage-rolling in earnest, hoping to connect to SUGAR’s home. Cyrus Kurush was eager to test the new coalition Cyclone Fleet Issue doctrine they had theorycrafted to counter the HAWKS Vuilture doctrine. He preferred their blaster Megathron Navy Issue doctrine, but that had proven ill-suited to deal with the Vultures in the earlier brawl in the HK staging C6.
As would happen often throughout this campaign, luck favored the bold. SYNDE rolled into SUGAR’s home at a high point for SYNDE fleet participation. SYNDE immediately jumped sabres into system and fully bubbled their “in” hole, giving them the time they needed to warp their entire fleet to the hole. They avoided a repeat of the prior fight where they were unable to get their entire fleet in due to poor hole control. The full SYNDE fleet jumped through the hole, rolling it as they sent in the full 3b+ in ship mass. All told, over 150 Cyclone Fleet Issues flooded into the SUGAR home, along with support. The HAWKS fleet undocked to reports of 20 dreads on dscan as the SYNDE fleet warped to the (former) SUGAR main fortizar. SUGAR members had logged on the caps they were still able to pilot – some undocked from that forts, others from deep safes in system. As the CFI fleet connected with the increasing dread bomb, siege modules were engaged and the battle was joined.
The fight was a back and forth affair for a short period before some aggressive FCing by the HAWKS/HK/NOVAC FC team forced the SYNDE fleet to extract. At that point, a dynamic unique to wormhole combat emerged. SYNDE, realizing they could not win on grid, focused on extracting as many SUGAR capitals as possible. They would scan the new static C5 connection – as would HAWKS – and then each would race subcap fleets to that new hole and contest it. If SYNDE was able to get there first and keep the hole clear of sabre bubbles, SUGAR would warp their capitals to that hole and jump 3 of them out. That would kill the hole, causing a new static wormhole to appear one minute later where the two sides could repeat the process. With each new static wormhole, SYNDE continued to feed ships and lose combat capability.
A highly comedic situation occurred on one such hole. HAWKS warped their lone rolling carrier to it blind. In so doing, they hoped to be able to jump the carrier and briefly assert hole control – preventing more than one SUGAR cap from getting out, and also giving the HAWKS fleet time to tackle the others. The carrier landed right after the SUGAR caps did – but in a critical communication gap, the SUGAR caps did not know which 3 were supposed to leave on this hole. SYNDE sabres bubbled up, but the carrier was already on the wormhole. It jumped the hole with its prop on. A clamor erupted on SYNDE comms as they awaited guidance about which cap, if any, should leave. The HAWKS rolling carrier burned untouched back to the hole on the other side. A SUGAR Moros Navy Issue, frustrated at the indecision, jumped anyway. Most of the time, that would have rolled the wormhole, trapping the Moros Navy and rolling carrier on the other side. Luckily for the HAWKS carrier, it was a high-mass hole. The wormhole went critical but did not close. The HAWKS rolling carrier jumped back.
The Moros Navy had extracted, but the remaining SUGAR caps were now sitting around the now-dead hole’s bookmark. Many began burning away and out of the bubbles from the SYNDE sabres who had tried to protect that hole. SYNDE FC Cyrus Kurush ordered his sabres to get off the hole and stop bubbling their dreads, and they did. Forgotten in the chaos and indecision, the HAWKS rolling carrier decloaked, aligned out, cycled prop and initiated wrap. It was immediately primaried by both dreads and the SYNDE CFI fleet. Chaotic calls to bubble the carrier were met with hesitation as those same sabres had only recently been told not to bubble. The carrier entered warp as the bubbles were deployed. The carrier pilot shared this video of the bold carrier roll and escape. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DDgzA8J6j44&t
The carrier escape from a heavily bubbled grid marked the final turning point in the SYNDE extraction efforts. HAWKS sabres flooded the grid, tackling most of the SUGAR caps. After more fighting, the SYNDE coalition CFIs extracted from the grid, leaving the caps to their fate. As the caps began exploding and with the HAWKS fleet committed to their destruction, the SYNDE subcap fleet left via the new static.
The final totals for that fight were 48b lost by the HAWKS side, 144b lost by the SYNDE coalition side. https://br.evetools.org/b6633f295132a2a0012c77eb6
SUGAR had extracted 4 dreads, but at a heavy price.

Blue Balls and Explosions

With the clock ticking on the armor and hull timers of the SUGAR structures, SYNDE tried to reset in their C6 staging. Again, they pinged for their coalition to reassemble in that system. Again, they began rolling. That process continued for many hours.
The following day, on April 15^th, SYNDE would roll into the SUGAR home not once but twice. Both times, SYNDE only had a partial CFI fleet docked in their fortizar while the HAWKS side maintained a full Vulture fleet ready to undock on a moment’s notice. The HAWKS, HK and NOVAC leadership team knew that this was a critical moment in the campaign, and every effort was made to complete the SUGAR eviction.
SYNDE rolled into SUGAR’s home twice on April 15^th. And they immediately rolled the connection both times.
SYNDE lead Cyrus Kurush was personally scanning and rolling. He knew exactly what HAWKS had on hand, knew he could not contest for hole control, and just rolled the connection off quietly. Twice.
Cyrus Kurush knew that the integrity of his coalition required him to make every effort to save a key member’s home hole – but he was also very frustrated by SUGAR’s lack of readiness to defend their home. He had expected a lot more caps, more ships, more support. He felt he had beaten the HAWKS fleet in that large initial brawl, and had been let down by SUGAR. He did not want to risk sacrificing another major loss for a group that could not stand on their own two feet.

The Initiative to Regain the Initiative

The SUGAR Fortizar hull timers were on Tuesday, April 16^th.
A key early-war HAWKS ally, a small EUTZ pvp group called Czarna-Kompania, had infiltrated two dreads overnight. Two other groups had brought in one each. That dread force would give HAWKS the flexibility of hitting concurrent hull timers. There were multiple structures that needed to get hit over a two hour period. The dreads would let the HAWKS side bash those citadels while also keeping their subcap fleet free to fight for and maintain hole control if at all possible.
Hours before those timers, disaster struck the HAWKS effort. An A009 wormhole connection popped into the SUGAR home.
For an eviction, the worst possible wormhole connection is an A009 wormhole. It is a 16-hour frigate-sized wormhole that connects to a shattered wormhole that will also have a number of frig holes connecting outward to kspace systems. Frig holes cannot be rolled.
This meant that for the time leading up to the critical hull timers, there would be an unrollable hole into the eviction target, into SUGAR’s home.
By this time, it was clear to all involved parties that SYNDE had a close partnership with the Initiative. Although this was fraying some of the wormhole groups in the coalition, it still afforded SYNDE a chance to salvage the situation. SYNDE lead Cyrus Kurush formed an attack plan with Initiative leadership. During the hours immediately prior to the hull timers, SYNDE would assemble a heavy fleet in their staging, and rage roll for the SUGAR home. The Initiative would form a full bomber fleet, and travel to the C13 shattered wormhole. The second that SYNDE rolled in, they would execute a lethal 3-pronged attack: the SYNDE fleet would explode into the SUGAR home, all remaining SUGAR capitals and subcapitals would undock, and the Initiative bomber fleet would jump the A009. They would time those 3 critical elements based on the location, strength and composition of the HAWKS fleet. It was a good plan. If they could connect those three prongs, they would have 3 times the number that HAWKS could muster. Pings went out and the fleets assembled. Init travelled with a 300 bomber fleet to the shattered hole. SYNDE began rage rolling. About 50 SUGAR pilots sat on logon screen and waited on SYNDE comms.
HAWKS was aware of all of the above. HAWKS, working closely with HK and NOVAC strategists, devised a counter for the two concerning prongs. The SYNDE rolling threat had two counters. Within the SYNDE staging, there was a small fleet of yachts and a seeded, cloaked rolling carrier. In the SUGAR home, another rolling carrier sat ready to suicide roll if needed. Should SYNDE warp their fleet from the fort to a new wormhole, HAWKS was prepared to simultaneously warp both carrier and yachts to that same hole. They were confident they could stop the majority of the SYNDE fleet from making it through the wormhole.
The real threat was the Initiative, and that damned frig hole. HAWKS placed three sniping fleets around the wormhole and dropped a massive number of anchorable bubbles around it. On the hole itself were a mixture of smartbombing battleships and suicide dictors, each orbiting patiently. When the report came of the 300 Initiative bombers entering the shattered hole on the other side, the HAWKS team was ready and waiting.
The Initiative FC team, with a scout already in SUGAR staging, saw all of this. War-seasoned FCs, there was no scenario where they were jumping their bombers into that future charnal house. Unless SYNDE could pull those fleets away from the hole, it was an impossible standoff. The HAWKS battlecruiser fleet could not jump the hole. The Initiative bombers would not jump the hole. The Initiative bombers sat there and waited for SYNDE to roll in.
Meanwhile, in SUGAR staging, citadels came out of reinforce for hull timers and the allied dreads went to work. And everyone else waited. The SYNDE fleet waited on their fort while their FC rage rolled. The Initiative fleet waited in the shattered. The HAWKS alliance fleet waited on the other side of the shattered. One by one, the citadels began blowing up.
The SYNDE fleet stood down. The Initiative left the shattered wormhole and headed back to Fountain. SYNDE had gotten the full Nullsec batphone allied response, but been unable to take advantage of it.
Unconfirmable reports are that the HAWKS alliance looted nearly 200b from the various structures, including a large number of capital ships, on top of the 150b+ exploded. https://br.evetools.org/b661f2a2eddb48200112d82c5 (The three “friendly” caps that were destroyed were looted SUGAR caps that the allies decided to blow up rather than keep and exfiltrate from the hole.)
Some SUGAR members would still try to participate, but SUGAR was done as a fighting unit in the Wormhole War.
The next part will focus on what would become the most important battlefield in the Wormhole War – Waffle House, the SYNDE coalition staging C6.

I've got one more of these left!
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-VSF 126610LN -"Deep" Crystal -Polished Rehaut -Individual Bezel Scallop Polishing & Re-brush -Genuine Hytrel Ring (better bezel fit/action) -Edge Softening of Case/Clasp -Waterproof'd to 5ATM -Regulated Movement
ALBUM
Price = $899 + shipping (USPS: Priority $13/Express $30/Canada $35) I ship the same day and am based in Boston.
I take all of my photos using an iPhone 15 Pro. I don’t use any filters, or effects and try to get various angles and lighting to most accurately depict the beauty of the watch. Many, many, many satisfied clients and references available.
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Pricing is firm. I accept ZELLE, WISE or BANK WIRE ONLY. If you tell me that you’re “taking it”, I will hold it for you for 15 MINUTES before it goes to the next in line.
I have sold a lot of watches prior on and have an extensive post history on .
Standard disclaimer: I will pack the watch very securely with lots of bubble wrap. Once the package leaves my possession, I will no longer be held responsible for anything that might happen during the shipping and handling process. I also will not take the watch back if you decide you don’t like it, or that your significant other is angry at you (yes, this has happened before). I will however always do my best to ensure that you’re happy with your purchase.

The pain was the worst thing`Dominick Mason had ever known…and he knew what it felt like to die. It felt like his brain was in a blender, being chopped to liquid for a Jeffery Dahmer smoothie and though it seemed melodramatic, he imagined he could feel himself losing brain cells by the minute. The sun, Merrick told him, would not burn him, but it would decay him faster, so sleep or rest during the day. With the sick, throbbing agony in the center of his brain, however, that was impossible. He spent most of the day curled up on his side, hugging his knees, and moaning. He had flashbacks to dying in his apartment, and that made things even worse. The room became too small, too close, the air too stale. His heart, filled with the blood of last night’s meal, pounded in his chest, and he went from slightly chilly to hot and feverish as blood was forced through his circulatory system. It mixed with the embalming fluid and left him feeling full and constipated. He didn’t want to get up, but he also didn’t want to go on lying there. He was the definition of miserable.
Before long, the pain became too great and he got up to pace, pressing his hands to the sides of his head and gritting his teeth. Merrick, who slept very little if at all, sat in his chair and watched, trying his best to talk him through it. “It’ll be over soon,” Merrick said. “The pain receptors in your brain are the first to go. When they burn out, you won’t feel anything.”
“When?” Dom asked, his voice raising with the tide of pain.
“A couple days?”
“A couple days???”
“The pain will lessen gradually,” Merrick said, “this is the worst of it.”
Dom believed that this was, indeed, the worst of it, but he doubted it would lessen gradually. For the rest of the day, the pain got worse and worse until every light blinded him, every sound turned his stomach, and the smell of anything made his gorge rise. The cloying smell of the embalming fluid, the light but unmistakable odor of dead flesh, and the scent of stale blood sitting in decomposing stomachs made him want to vomit, but he was afraid to. He didn’t think he could handle the sight of blood rushing from his mouth and splattering the floor. He still possessed enough of his facilities, he believed, to go insane.
Pain has a way of darkening one’s mood, and by the time the sun began to set, Dom was in the most sour mood possible. Even Merrick’s calm, fatherly voice was beginning to get on his nerves. When he took the oath to him the day before (or was it the day before that?), he turned his faith and trust over to Merrick entirely. He was finally accepted, included, finally had the love and fellowship that, in the pit of his soul, he had always wanted. Merrick understood him, Merrick was kind to him.
But deep down, Dom realized that he didn’t fully trust him. He said that his brain didn’t rot because he was “lucky.” That sounded like some bullshit to Dom. Why wasn’t Joe a blithering idiot too? Was he lucky as well? Did lightning strike in the same place twice? In life, people had done nothing but hurt and lie to Dom. Why would death be any different? He thought back to the strange liquid that always seemed to leak from Merrick’s nose, and Joe’s. He thought it was embalming fluid, but it never leaked from his own nose, or from anyone else’s. He tried to tell himself that it was far too soon to judge, but once he began to doubt something, his mind raced away. He felt a twinge of guilt, as Merrick had done absolutely nothing to deserve his doubt, but goddamn it, his head was on fire and he wanted it to stop. Anything to make it stop.
Just after sundown, the music began as Club Vlad opened for the night. It throbbed in the center of Dom’s head and made him want to claw his eyes out. When it became too much for him, he slipped away and stumbled into the sultry summer night. He came out in the alley running behind the club, clutching his head and breathing through bared teeth. He staggered, bumped into a metal trash can, and roared at the top of his lungs, as if he could purge himself of the pain by screaming.. His voice echoed and came back to him, making the pain worse.
Merrick was lying. He knew it. People always lied to him. His brain was rotting and PEOPLE WERE LYING! Flashing with anger, he slammed his fist into the brick wall of a Chinese restaurant. He barely felt anything so he did it again and again until his hand was lumpy and shaking. He sat heavily on the ground and pressed his hands to his head. It felt like maggots were burrowing into his brain, and he was suddenly terrified that they really were. He needed to stop this awful pain, but how?
An idea came to him.
The funeral home.
Maybe there was something there.
He was on his feet and lumbering there before the thought had even finished reverberating through his mind. It was a long shot, but he was desperate. On the way there, he stuck to the shadows, staying out of the light cast by the streetlamps and avoiding people. When he passed them, he kept his head down. When he reached the funeral home, he went to the back door where he and Jessie had gone the other day. He tried it, and it opened.
Inside, he bounced off the walls like a pinball, knocking over an end table and tearing at the flesh of his head, pulling it away in long, gray strips. He panted like a wild animal, his body a raging tempest of emotions. It was reaching a crescendo, he thought, his brain was about to go supernova. The world dimmed, things got really echoy. The young man he’d picked the embalming fluid up from was there, looking scared.
Flashing, Dom grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, knocking a painting of a flowery field to the carpet. Everything seemed to go in slow mo. “How does Merrick keep his brain from rotting?” Dom heard himself demanding from far away. “How does he keep the pain away?”
The man trembled. “I-I-”
Dom slammed him again. “Tell me or I’ll make you like me.”
“No!” the man wailed. He shook his head from side to side, his eyes wet with fear.
“How?”
“He-He uses a solution,” the man stammered. “Some kind of special thing. It preserves his brain. That’s all I know.”
An idea occurred to Dom.
Holding the man by the back of his neck, Dom dragged him into the embalming room and pushed him against the table. His head felt like it was swelling. Hot, screaming, getting ready to explode. He looked around, found the embalming machine, and grabbed the hose. There was a sharp tip on it so that you could jam it into a body. He held it in his hand, hesitating for just a moment before pressing it to his temple. The man watched in horror as Dom slowly shoved the tip into his head. It tore his flesh, broke through his skull, and sank into his brain. He felt no pain, only pressure, but cried out anyway. His eyes rolled up into his head and a shudder went through his body.
“Turn it on!” he yelled.
“That’s not what he -”
“TURN IT ON!”
Starting, the man turned the machine on. Cold embalming fluid squirted directly into Dom’s brain. Almost at once, the pain began to ebb away, replaced only by a fuzzy sense of numbness. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, looking for all the world like an addict taking a hit of his favorite substance after a long and trying day. Fluid leaked from his nose, ears, and eyes and dripped down the back of his throat.
The man waited for a long time, then turned the machine off.
The pain was gone.
At least for now.
“Tell me again,” Dom said.
The man did. Merrick used a special preserving agent to keep his brain intact. Joe, the man suspected, got it as well. So Merrick had lied to him.
Dom felt betrayed.
And angry.
Leaving the man (Dom realized that he didn’t even know his name), he walked back to Club Vlad, his hands fisted in his pockets. All his life, he had been hurt, lied to, and ignored. All his life, people had done wrong to him. And all those years, he just took it.
He resolved not to be so accepting in death.
At last, he was going to stop being a sniveling little bitch and stand up for himself.
When he reached Club Vlad, he slammed through the back door and took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he called out Merrick’s name. The old man was sitting in his chair, being attended to by Jessie and Matt. He looked startled when Dom came in. “You lied to me,” Dom said, stalking over to his benefactor.
“What are you talking about?” Merrick asked, doing his best to sound innocent.
“You lied to me!” Dom screamed. He bent over and got so close to Merrick’s face that he could have kissed him. “You told me there was no way to save my brain, but that’s not true. You’re pumping your head full of shit and letting the rest of us rot.”
A dark shadow flickered across Merrick’s face. “Watch your tone when you talk to me,” he said. His voice was low, menacing.
“Fuck you,” Dom said. “I should k -”
Suddenly, Dom was being grabbed from behind and yanked back, an arm around his neck. He cried out in alarm as Joe swung him around and slammed him face first into the wall. He heard his nose crunch, felt his teeth shatter. Next, Joe wrestled him to the glitter-sprinkled floor and wedged his knee between his shoulder blades.
Merrick watched with a sneer of disgust, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. He wheeled himself over, Jessie holding his IV stand steady and following behind. “Listen, you son of a bitch,” Merrick said, “you’re lucky to be a part of this family.”
Cold fear filled the pit of Dom’s stomach, yet he wouldn’t back down, couldn’t back down. He had lived his entire life like a mouse in a burrow, he wasn’t about to live his entire death the same way.
“Fuck your family,” he said defiantly. “And fuck you.”
Merrick’s face darkened and he sat back in his chair. He looked at Jessie and nodded. She went away and came back a moment later holding something in her hand. Dom’s eyes widened when he saw what it was.
A wooden stake, one end honed to a razor point.
Why they had one of those lying around, Dom didn’t know; it’d be like Superman keeping a piece of kryptonite on the mantle over the fireplace. Merrick directed Max and Matt to hold Dom’s arms down/ Joe pivoted, kneeling on his head now so that Dom’s back was exposed. Dom’s heart slammed with terror and tremors raced through his body.
“Is this what you want, Dominick?” Merrick asked. “To die? To truly die?”
Dom swallowed hard. No, it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to live, to love, to have a family one day. He wanted a happy, normal life, the life TV and social media had been promising him since he was a little boy.
But all of that went out the window the night he died in his little apartment. There was no life anymore, just a grotesque parody of life. What was there for him other than death? Clinging desperately onto life for decades like Merrick? Stuffing himself full of embalming fluid and moth balls? Grinding for one more minute just so he could sit hooked up to a machine?
Dom spoke.
“What?” Merrick asked, not having heard.
Dom licked his lips. “Just fucking do it.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Expectation hung in the air. Finally, breaking the tension, Merrick nodded to Jessie. Kneeling down, she brought the stake up, and Dom closed his eyes.
This was it.
He braced himself for death.
Jessie brought the stake down just as a shot rang out, deafening in the small space. Her head whipped back, embalming fluid, skull fragments, and gray, sickly pieces of brain showering from the back of her head. She flopped back and landed on the floor with a sickening thud.
A woman cop, her black uniform in stark contrast to the burning white light, stood in the doorway to the hall, her gun drawn. Everyone did, indeed, freeze, more out of surprise than respect for authority. They all looked at her, their dead mouths agape, resembling children who’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Everyone on the ground!” she barked.
No one knew what to do. They hadn’t expected to be raided by the police so had not prepared. She jerked her gun and everyone instinctively flinched. “On the ground!” she repeated. To Max: “You too, bone boy.”
The first one to react was Joe. He sprang at her like a big, undead frog. She brought the gun around and fired, but he was already crashing into her. The shot went wild and struck the IV bag next to Merrick; he ducked and let out a sound of fear. The others rushed her, and Dom got quickly to his feet. Jessie lay on the floor, her mouth open in a silent scream and her bony fingers frantically examining the ragged hole in the center of her forehead. For a moment, he was frozen; everything was happening too fast. Then, when Merrick saw him and cried, “Stop him!, he came alive. Jessie tried to grab at his leg, but he kicked her hand away and stomped on it like it was a giant spider. On the other side of the room, Matt, Joe, and Max had forced the cop to the ground. Perhaps excited by all the action, perhaps just hungry, they began to tear her apart. She howled in pain, and the last thing Dom saw before he fled was her open, blood-filled mouth. Her eyes were filled with pain…with terror.
After that, Dom ran.
***
When the interloper was dead, Merrick directed Joe and Matt to dispose of the body. “Get rid of it,” he said wearily and rubbed his temples, “make sure it isn’t found.”
They rolled her into a carpet from the office, and the way her feet stuck out may have been comical under other circumstances.
Goddamn it, this was bad. Merrick’s entire philosophy rested on avoiding detection. He had done well in that regard. Whereas other vampires had attacked their villages and gotten themselves dug from the ground and staked, he had made it four decades. He never shat where he ate, and there is no bigger turd than killing a cop. They might dawdle on all the boys who’d gone missing - taken because their blood was stronger and more robust than the blood of girls - but they would not take a cop dying lightly at all.
Merrick owned various businesses around the country. He and the others would simply move on. Tomorrow night, they would disappear into the night. They had done it before and they would likely do it again. Once things were settled at their new base of operations, he would have Joe killed for all the trouble he’d caused.
And Dom?
Let him go.
The little rat wouldn’t last a month on his own.
“Jessie?”
Jessie sat against the wall, gazing into space.
“Jessi…start packing. We’re leaving tomorrow.”
She didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear. The shot had all but lobotomized her.
Damn it.
Joe backed the van up to the back door of Club Vlad, and then helped Matt carry the carpet-rolled body down the stairs. They loaded it in and closed the back doors. Together, they drove around looking for a place to dump it. Merrick wanted it to go unfound, but Joe doubted there was anywhere isolated enough in the city. On a whim, he drove to Washington Park, a vast expanse of green trees and shadows. There was a large pond there. It seemed the best option. They were leaving tomorrow anyway, so did it really matter?
Joe backed the van to a railing overlooking the dark water and put it in park. He and Matt got out, fetched the body, and carried it to the railing. They lifted and heaved it over. It splashed. Thus, they rid themselves of Vanessa Rodregiez.
***
Bruce sat anxiously up in his easy chair and waited for his cell to ring.
Parked in front of the TV by warm lamplight, a beer wedged between his legs, he’d been watching the 11’o’clock news when the phone rang. He picked it up and it was Vanessa. “Hey,” she said, “I think I found our body?”
“Which one?” Bruce asked and took a drink. “We have a lot of those these days.”
“Dominick Mason.”
Bruce sat forward in his chair. “Dead Dom? Where?”
“He just came out of a funeral home, ironically enough.”
“That sounds about right,” Bruce said. “Where are you now?”
“I’m following him east on Central.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” Bruce asked.
“I think so, but I’m not sure. I’ll call you back when I’m done.”
Bruce sat the phone aside and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
At some point, he fell asleep sitting up, his head lulled to one side and his mouth open. He snorted himself awake, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. He checked his phone and was perturbed to see that it was past 2am.
Vanessa hadn’t called.
He dialed her number and let the phone ring until it went to voicemail. Sighing, he ended the call, then waited a few minutes and called again.
Still no answer.
It was possible she had forgotten. Maybe the guy turned out to not be Dead Dom after all. She followed some random guy around, realized it, and that was that. Hell, she was probably too embarrassed to call and tell him about it.
Something told him that wasn’t right, however.
There was something else going on here.
Something…darker.
Just before 3am, his phone rang. He snatched it off the end table next to the chair and answered it. It was Burt, the night sargent. “Rodriguez is missing,” he said simply.
Bruce’s heart sank. “Missing?”
“Yeah, she hasn’t checked in for hours and she isn’t answering calls.”
“I’m on my way,”
Bruce tore through the house, pulling on his uniform, socks, and shoes in less time than it took a Daytona 500 pit crew to service a car. In ten minutes he was speeding down 787, the Albany skyline rising in the distance. As he hurried to the station, he thought back to his last conversation with Vanessa. She’d found Dom the Dead Man, the “corpse” who’d scared Ed Harris out of a 20 year career. Despite all their talk about vampires and the living dead, Bruce didn’t believe it, not really. Even so, he was sure that Dominick Mason had done something to Vanessa.
He checked in at the station before doing anything else. They had triangulated Vanessa’s last known location via cell towers. Cops were already out searching the streets for her. Bruce went out as well, intending to start from her last known position and work his way east on Central. The closest funeral home was Tebbutt and Frederick on Central. There was also Lasak & Gigliotti on North Allen Street. Bruce didn’t know which one Vanessa had seen Dom come out of, so he checked both.
Both were deserted at this hour.
Undeterred, Bruce drove up and down Central Ave. At one point, he noticed a shape in an alleyway that looked human. He hit the brakes, jumped out, and pointed his gun at it. “Freeze!”
An old wino stepped out of the darkness. “Alright, you got me,” he said, hands up. “I started COVID. It was an accident, I swear.”
Bruce sighed and put his gun away.
For two more hours, Bruce searched the streets of Albany for Vanessa. At 4am, he spotted a squad car abandoned in the rear parking lot of an abandoned gas station on lower Lark Street. He called it in and the desk sergeant confirmed that it was the one Vanessa had signed out that night.
Still there was no sign of Vanessa herself.
Just after dawn, as the city came alive and CDTA buses began lumbering up and down the streets, Bruce got a call on his cell. “A jogger found a body in Washington Park.”
Bruce was in his personal car. He had no bubble light, no siren. Even so, he sped through the streets like he did, blowing through red lights and stop signs with little care to himself or anyone else. When he got to Washington Park, he found an army cops by the pond, the scene cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. He slammed on the brakes, threw open the door, and jumped out without even turning off the engine.
The body was rolled up in a carpet and lying on the bank. Two beat cops unrolled it at Bruce’s direction. “We should wait for -” one of them started, but Bruce cut him off.
“Do it.”
They compiled, and at the carpet’s center, like a rotten cream filling, was the body of Vanessa Rodregiuez. Her head was tilted to one side, her eyes wide and staring. Her throat had been mangled and ripped away, her head nearly severed. Even in the black and red mess, Bruce could make out the teeth marks and puncture wounds. They may have looked like something else to anyone else who saw them, but he knew, in that moment, what they were dealing with.
A sharp pang of horror sliced through him, and his knees went weak.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the beat cops drew.
Bruce fell to, rather than knelt on, one knee. He bent over the body, a mixture of horror and grief welling his throat. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her in death, but he stayed his hand. Instead, he visually examined the body. She had bruises on her face, defensive wounds on her hands, and her gun was gone. Whoever had attacked her, she put up a fight.
Something glinted on her pants.
“What’s that?” one of the cops asked.
“I dunno,” the other replied, “but it’s all over the carpet.”
Indeed, there were glinty little specks all over it, winking like mocking eyes. Nice work, eh? We really fucked her up, didn’t we? Wink wink.
“It looks like…”
The other cop cut him off. “Glitter.”
Bruce flashed back to his visit to Club Vlad the other day.
There had been glitter everywhere.
Bruce stood up.
He had work to do.
***
Instead of going back to the station to start his shift, Bruce went to Lowes. There, he bought a mallet, a gas can, and a dozen sticks of wood. An employee in a blue vest used a machine to sharpen them to a wicked point and he took his purchases to the car. Next, he drove over to the Mobil station and filled the gas can. He was so hellbent on revenge that he sprang for premium, the good stuff. No expense shall be spared.
His final stop was at a Catholic church. He filled a canteen with holy water from the marble font by the door, then swiped a crucifix from the wall. He stopped by the station, went inside, and grabbed a black duffle bag with POLICE written across the front in yellow. He opened the gun cabinet in his office, took out a shotgun, and loaded it with shells. He grabbed a handful from the box and stuffed them into his pocket.
He was just finishing up when Bertha came in. “There you are,” she spat, “I’ve waited long enough for you to do something. I demand -”
Bruce shoved the duffle bag into her arms. “Make yourself useful.”
“What?” she demanded.
“We’re going to get your granddaughter,” Bruice lied. Kind of.
Bertha’s demeanor changed. “Good. It’s about time. I was starting to think you were a complete incompetent.”
Bruce didn’t answer. Outside, he plucked the bag out of Bertha’s hands and tossed it into the backseat. He slipped behind the wheel and Bertha sat in the passenger seat. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Club Vlad,” Bruce said and started the engine.
“I want all of them arrested.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bruce said.
She barked orders the entire way there. Bruce was so deep in his thoughts that he barely heard her. The image of Vanessa’s ruined throat and terror-twisted face haunted him, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. Hot tears filled his eyes but he blinked them back and forced himself to calm down.
I’ll cry when I’m done killing, he thought.
A few minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of Club Vlad. It was a hot and sunny day and the place seemed even more ominous because of it. The windows were black, the front cast in perpetual shadows by the old marquee from when it used to be a theater. The place was surely closed, but Bruce could hear music still playing from inside, some techno dance bullshit. “Alright,” he said, “let’s go.”
Getting out, he slung the dufflebag over his shoulder and carried the shotgun, the canteen full of holy water clasped to his belt. Bertha carried the gas can, looking confused. “Why do we need this?” she asked.
“We’re burning the place down.”
Bertha blinked in surprise…then an evil grin carved across her face. “That’ll show the bastards.”
Unlike last time, the door was locked. Bruce used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass, then reached inside and unlocked the door, being careful not to cut himself. This was the point of no return. What he had in mind would probably get him kicked off the force or even thrown in jail - and we all know how tough jail can be for a former barnaclehead. The memory of Vanessa’s contorted face pushed him on, however.
He’d suffer any consequences he needed to just so long as he got the sons of bitches who did this to her.
Inside, the club was cool and cave-like. Strobe lights flashed, on and off, black and white, dazzling Bruce’s eyes. The bartender was at his station, cleaning up from the night before. When he saw Bruce and Bertha come in, he started. Bruce pointed the shotgun at him. “Don’t fucking move,” he commanded.
The bartender hesitated, then reached for something under the bar.
The shotgun kicked in Bruce’s hands, and the bartender flew back, turning as he crashed into the barback. Bottles, glasses, and mugs crashed to the floor along with the bartender. Bruce racked the gun, and the shell flew out. He moved low and fast now, expecting to be swarmed by vampires, living thugs who worked for vampires, or vampire thugs who worked for themselves.
Though the shot had been like thunder, no one came.
Bruce had no idea where to go, but he imagined that vampires were naturally gravitate to the lowest part of the building. Was there a basement? Shit, he should have looked up the building plans at city hall. Damn, this is what happens when you go off half-cocked. He searched around a bit, opening doors and sweeping the rooms beyond with the shotgun. He found no basement, only stairs leading up. “Stay close,” he said to Bertha.
In the lead, Bruce crept up the stairs, the flashlight on the shotgun providing a cone of clean, white light. At the top of the stairs, he went right, and came to an office and a store room. Backtracking, and bumping into a bungling Bertha, he went into the next room. It was large and open with a vaulted ceiling, almost like a ballroom. Here the same strobe lights throbbed on and off, making him dizzy. Was this to dazzle prospective vampire hunters?
Either way, this was the place. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some curled up on their sides and others in the classic vampire pose: Flat on their backs with their hands laced over their chests. In the center, like the sun to the planets, Merrick Garvis lay slumped back in his wheelchair, his neck exposed for any potential assassin to come and cut. Not that it would kill him. At least Bruce didn’t think it would.
“They’re all dead,” Bertha whispered. She looked around and gasped. “There’s Jessie.”
Jessie lay on her back, her hands folded on her chest. She had a ragged bullet hole in the center of her forehead. “Oh, God,” Bertha wavered, “someone shot her.”
He hoped it was Vanessa. And he hoped it fucking hurt.
Looking around, Bruce couldn’t find Dominick Mason. Was he the one who killed Vanessa? Was it a group effort? He wanted the little son of a bitch bad, but it looked like he’d have to go on without him. They didn’t have much time.
Unshouldering the duffle bag, he knelt down and rummaged around. “Start splashing that gas on the bodies,” he said.
“But -”
“Just do it,” he snapped.
There must have been a harder edge in his voice than normal, because Bertha jumped and did as she was told. She upended the can and began to splash gasoline onto the sleeping forms, the smell of it acrid and strong.
Taking out a stake and the mallet, Bruce went over to Merrick and knelt down. He gripped the stake in one hand and placed it firmly against Merrick’s chest. He brought the mallet up and hesitated, the gravity of what he was doing finally reaching him. What if he was wrong? What if -
Merrick’s head whipped up and their eyes locked.
Too late.
Bruce brought the mallet down as hard as he could. The stake drove deep into Merrick’s heart, and the vampire let out a howling screech that rang through the chamber like the cry of a banshee. His bony fingers clawed at the stake and his head whipped from side to side, his back arching and his robe coming open. In the quick strobe pattern, Bruce was shocked to see that his body was little more than a wood frame, chicken wire, and cotton balls. His blacked heart was hidden behind a screen of mesh that the stake had easily torn through. It throbbed, seemingly in time with the strobe lights, and Merrick let out another wail.
Bertha screamed, and Bruce jumped to his feet.
The vampires, drawn by their master’s cries of distress, were rising to their feet. Two, four, six of them, pale and ethereal like ghosts in a gothic mansion. They came toward Merrick, and Bruice fell back a step. The old man had gone still and lay slumped to one side, his eyes open and his mouth slack, embalming fluid leaking from the corner of his lips. Jessie bent over him and touched his face. Though she moved like a zombie, with no human emotion, Bruce was crazily sure that it was a touch of tenderness and love. Merrick didn’t stir.
He was dead.
Jessie looked at him. Yellow liquid leaked from her eyes like tears. Instead of attacking him, she turned on her grandmother and slammed her against the wall. Bertha screamed and dropped the can. It landed on its side, its contents sloshing out onto the floor. A man that resembled the pictures Bruce had seen of Joe Rossi only deader rushed him, slamming into him and knocking the shotgun aside. It hit the floor and skidded away. Joe grabbed Bruce around the throat and squeezed. Still the lights flashed, off and on, off and on. The walls thrummed with the mechanized beat of dance music, pierced only by Bertha’s screams as Jessie ripped out her throat.
Joe leaned in, his fangs wicked and glowing in the light. Bruce clawed at the monster’s face, tearing away strips of dead flesh. Joe turned his head to the side, and Bruce kneed him in the groin. Even dead, getting kicked in the balls hurt like hell, apparently. Joe’s grip loosened and Bruce was able to shove him off. Bruce unclasped the canteen and frantically screwed the cap off as Joe recovered. Joe sprang at him again, and Bruce splashed him in the face.
A sound like sizzling meat filled the air, and Joe screamed at the top of his lungs. He pressed his hands to his face and danced around the room, his skin liquifying and oozing between his fingers. The others were coming now, led by a terrible skeletal thing. Bruce scooped the shotgun off the floor, brought it around, and fired. The blast hit the thing dead center, tearing it literally in half. The top half flew back, an all too human look of surprise on its face, and the bottom half fell over with a wet thud. Another vampire came at, and Bruce slammed it across the face with the butt of the gun. He heard its jaw crack, saw teeth flying.
Bertha lay dead on the floor, Jessie bent over her. The smell of Bertha’s blood attracted the others, who seemed to forget about Bruce, Merrick, and everything else. Joe was on his knees, wailing in pain, and the skeletal thing was pulling itself toward Bertha. A feeding frenzy broke out as vampires fought to get a piece of her the way piglets might fight over their mother’s teat. Bruce watched in a mixture of horror and fascination, but recovered himself. He grabbed the gas can from the floor and dumped the rest of its contents on Merrick’s body, the feeding vampires’ backs, and the floor, using the last of it to make a little trail to the door. He tossed the can aside, bent down, and stuck a match.
A huge, fiery whump filled the room, and fire streaked along the trail. The vampires all went up in a huge ball of flames, and fire shot up Merrick’s body, catching his robe, his hair, and the wooden frame that had kept him semi upright for God knows how long. Letting out inhuman screams, the vampires broke from Bertha’s corpse. One stumbled around, bounced off the wall, and fell; another toddled toward Bruce before falling to its knees. The half skeleton kept drinking from Bertha’s neck even as it burned.
The heat was enormous, baking. Bruce backed away, and the last thing he saw before smoke obscured his vision was Merrick Garvis.
He was literally melting.
***
Dominick Mason tried to go home, but he no longer had a home. All of his worldly possessions sat on the sidewalk in front of his building, discarded coldly as easily. His key didn’t work in his door and there was a FOR RENT sign on it. Why would it be any other way? He was dead. Sooner or later, everyone forgets you when you’re dead, and all the things you held so dear wind up in the trash. It was a hard pill to swallow, but most people aren’t around to see it after they die.
He was.
From his building, he walked east toward Washington Park. In the distance, thick, black smoke billowed into the air, and sirens rose. He barely noticed and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. No more rubbernecking for him. That was for the living.
The pain that had plagued him so the previous day came back, only less this time. Maybe he was imagining it, but it was getting harder to think. Not that he cared, really. What was there to think about anyway? How he had no one to mourn or miss him? How he died and not one single person, except for maybe his mother, cared, or even noticed? How he had done nothing with his life? Even to the women he’d slept with, what was he? Just another dating app hookup. They probably didn’t even remember his name.
Merrick had been right about one thing. Death was easy. It was life that was hard…life that hurt.
With that in mind, Dominick made his way to Washington Park. It was a vast and deep place with many small caves and thickets. Kids played on the playground, their cries of laughter scenting the still air. It had grown cloudy and began to rain. Still, smoke poured into the sky in the direction of Club Vlad. Dom didn’t wish ill on Merrick and the others, didn’t hope it was them burning. He didn’t care anymore. Not about them, not about anyone. For better or worse (and he would argue it was worse), his life was over. His time came days ago, he just missed the boat.
Picking out an isolated little area, Dom sat against a tree with his legs splayed out in front of him. He titled his head back and closed his eyes. Yes, thinking was hard now. His mind felt sluggish, cold. He was thirsty…so, so thirsty, but he ignored it.
Slowly, the bugs found him. Flies buzzed around him and laid their eggs in his skin. Beetles scuttled over him, followed by worms.
Next, it was the birds. They ate out his eyes and nibbled at his blue, bloated skin.
The animals came last.
Their appetites were bigger.
And they left little remaining of poor, outcast Dominick Mason.
***
That night, Bruce sat alone in his little trailer, a bottle of whiskey wedged between his legs and unshed tears in his eyes. He stared at his reflection in the darkened TV set and took long swallows from the bottle. He planned to drink until he forgot or passed out, whichever came first. He tried to not think about Vanessa, but in his addled state, he couldn’t control himself, and began to cry. When that storm passed, like the others before it, he chugged from the bottle.
As distant church bells clanged the hour - midnight - a feeble knock came at the door. Bruce took another drink and it came again. Getting up, he stumbled, nearly fell, and gripped the bottle tightly. He didn’t want to lose one precious drop.
Again, the knock.
“I’m coming,” Bruce slurred. He staggered to the door and fought with the lock. He was dizzy and seeing double.
When he got it, he opened the door.
The bottle dropped from his hand and clanked onto the floor.
Vanessa, clad in a puke green hospital gown, stood on the step, her hands pressed to her chest and a look of anguish on her milk white face. Her head tilted to one side, the wounds on her neck cleaned but open, gaping. Her dark eyes shone with tears. “I’m dead,” she said.
Breaking down in tears, she collapsed against him and they sank to the floor. She was cold and smelled. Bruce wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest anyway. “Shhh, it’s alright,” he said drunkenly. “Hey, it’s alright.
“I’m dead,” she repeated, and her voice broke. “I don’t want to die.”
Bruce held her close, trying to warm her icy skin. He didn’t know what to say, so he cried with her.
“You’re safe now,” he said, “it’s going to be okay.”
“I want blood,” she said and sobbed harder, “I want to hurt people.”
“Shhh,” Bruce said again. “It’s okay.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a utility knife. He flicked the blade across his wrist and searing pain shot up his arm. “Here,” he said and offered her his blood, “drink this.”
He did this without care and without thought. She needed him, and one barnaclehead always backs up another.
Vanessa hesitated, looking from his face to the oozing blood, unsure.
“Go ahead,” he told her.
Vanessa brought his wrist to her mouth.
And began to drink.

Hello everyone,
I would like to get your feedback regarding Bubble and its prices. I have slowly started playing around with the tool and it goes without saying that it has the potential to quickly bring applications to the market. Nevertheless, I am wondering about the cost of using the tool. The pricing tiers are clear, but my big question is the concept of WU (work units) that comes directly into play.
For those who have apps in production, could you give me a rough idea of the cost of your applications in relation to the number of users (monthly based)? I am aware that this depends a lot on the structure of the app, its workflows, and functionality. However, it’s more to get an idea in mind of what 50K WU vs. 175K or even 500K represents.
This is particularly important for me to estimate the pricing of an app based on the potential cost per user. Should I go for a one-time payment or SAAS pricing for MRR (Monthly Recurring Revenue)? And at witch level should i price it to not double the price if the APP show attraction.
Thank you in advance,

FIRST CHAPTER
PREVIOUS CHAPTER
This product is a fanfic of the Sexy Space Babes/Between Worlds product of u/Bluefishcake and one I highly suggest you read. It was created with permission, but give the OG works some love.
Imgr gallery of Comissioned and Fan Artworks
I'm Back Bitches! Again!
//////////
Junior Systems Engineer First Class Che’keero knelt before a semi-sparking control panel and sighed. She, and a large band of her fellow Engineers with Marine support, had boarded the pirate frigate with the singular goal of ensuring that the pirates didn’t scuttle their floating hulk and doom the slaves aboard to a, if they were lucky, a swift death in space.
The problem, of course, came with the pirate’s maintenance schedules and decisions to forgo certain… safety measures when it came to repair.
Like the panel before her. Usually a perfectly functional control system for the reverse-magnetic bulkhead doors that ensured void seals in power outages, some pirate at some point in their dumb, dumb life decided to fix the panel blowing a fuse… by ripping the fuse out and replacing it with a high density power cable. Which meant the entire thing was one massive shock hazard and actively sparking as the reactors deep in the ship flickered and surged due to damage.
Che’keero swore as an arc of electricity flashed towards her face after a tool that was not supposed to be magnetized, cheap dick WaDepth requisitions, caught a magnetic field, fusing the entire system shut and turning the formerly barely functional control system into nothing but pretty, decorative wiring and cheap solder. She punched the now utterly unfunctional control box and toggled on her radio. “Three-Two to Three-Lead, this door’s fried. You’ll need to bring in the cutters if we want to get to the rest of the ship. Might as well also bring in an inflatable airlock, I’m not liking how some of the metal strain sensors are flashing at me.”
A semi-synthetic voice replied back to Che’keero, “Three-Lead copies. I’ll be over there shortly with the stuff. Double check those sensors, I’m not getting the same readings, so let’s make sure something isn’t blocking errors from reaching me.”
“Copy that Three-Lead, Three-Two ou-” Something tapped against the back of her helmet and Junior Systems Engineer First Class Che’keero mentally swore.
“Now, now, lassie, how about you sit right there and don’t move.” A nasally, unfamiliar voice called out to her while tapping what a camera she set up to watch her back revealed to be a laser pistol to Che’keero’s helmet. “I think that you’re going to be our new best friend and way off this dead end ship.”
Che’keero paused, letting the situation settle in her mind, “Wait, what? Are… are you taking me hostage?”
“Yes!” The pirate replied.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you taking me hostage? This won’t work, none of the shuttles are jump capable and if you try anything, you’ll just end up jumped by marines. They specifically train to deal with pirates taking their engineers hostage. If you want to survive, you should just surrender and take the penal colony when it’s offered.” Che’keero mentioned, shrugging and continuing her inspection of the door.
The pirate seemed baffled at the sheer nonchalance of this response, the pistol slowly falling to merely point at her upper back instead of her head, “You… you really aren’t taking this seriously. I’m a pirate! I’ve killed people! I’ve killed boys, and you’re just sitting there like this doesn’t mean anything!”
“I mean… I wouldn’t say that.” Che’keero replied.
“THEN WHAT DO YOU MEAN!” The pirate screamed, the pistol moving away from Che’keero’s body by a fraction of an inch during an angry gesture.
It was at that point, a ceramic alloyed, carbon steel blade punched clean through the back of the pirate’s suit, slicing through their central nervous system and striking with enough force to shatter the faceplate of said pirate’s helmet on the way out. Muscles twitching, the laser pistol fired off randomly, missing Che’keero and slagging a chunk of bulkhead.
“I’m just buying time,” Che’keero replied cheekily.
“You really need to remember to check your cameras,” The semi-synthetic voice of Ventures Forth Bravely Into Great Unknowns commented as the ex-pirate fell to the ground and blue blood dripped from the long blade sprouting from her right arm and a toolbox hanging from her left hand. “This isn’t the first time you have been flanked, and this one wasn’t during training.”
“Look, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Che’keero replied a bit testily.
“I’m sorry…” Ventures Forth prodded.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am.”
“Much better. Right, now what do we see in this- yeah you were right on it being fried.” Ventures Forth gently shoved the Junior Systems Engineer aside and took her place at the control panel. “Do a sweep of the strain systems. I don’t want this section of the ship breaking apart. Feel free to call up our hull patches. We’ve got plenty to share and this might have to be a lifeboat.”
“Aye, ma’am aye,” Che’keero replied with a crisp salute before rushing off to her duty.
Deeper inside the ship, Ventures Forth could hear laser fire, clashing of metal on metal, and cries for help.
The pirate ship was doomed, it was shattered and broken, but it was not destroyed. Not yet. \
And if she had her way, Ventures Forth Bravely Into Great Unknowns would keep it that way.
//////////
Roshal stood still as her steward continued to clean the dark blue and rapidly congealing blood off her armored form. “Comms,” She called out, “Do we have any contact with the shuttle we sent to the station?”
“Negative, ma’am.” The comm officer replied. She wasn’t the same one that was present when Roshal left to fend off the boarders. At the unspoken question, the woman continued “Communication’s Mate Second Class Lev’tal, ma’am. My superior got a concussion when the pirate ship rocked our ship during boarding. Strap snapped, prior damage. I took over.”
Roshal nodded approvingly, “Good initiative. Send a message to the station, see if we can’t rai-”
“Ma’am! Contact!” One of her sensor techs called out, “Belay that, two contacts. First contact, nav point 782 spinward, possible bogey, cruiser weight. Unknown movements. Second contact, nav point 102 coreward, aerospace assets inbound. Small flight. Hard to determine numbers due to damage. No less than two, no more than five.”
“Focus on getting a hard contact on that possible cruiser. Weapons, what is the status of our anti-aerospace.” Roshal demanded, holding her sword arm out for the steward to scrub at a particularly clotted chunk of blood splattered over her wrist.
The weapons officer shook her head, “If we’re lucky, then we’ve got 20% coverage on half our sides. If we’re very lucky, I might be able to bump that number up to 35%. Not going to quote doctrine, but that’s not nearly enough to fend off a flight of Aerospace assets on a strike run, and that’s assuming they don’t hit us on an unprotected flank.”
Roshal nodded once more, “Sound general quarters and get weapons and tactical back online. Tell the damage control parties to not be distracted and focus on critical systems first. Engine room, report. Can you give me maneuvering thrust?”
The nearby ship phone chimed in with a staticy hiss, “Negative, ma’am. The shot we made with the spinal mount tripped breakers up and down the reactor room. This isn’t an engine problem, we need to make sure our reactor doesn’t blow up when we siphon power. Before you ask, emergency power is still flowing and none of their circuits tripped, but that means we’re down to life support, basic systems, and dockyard thrusters. It will take at least 20 to get the reactor in a safe state. If you want 10, send the chaplain down so we have someone praying for good luck. The fact most of our structural engineers are doing an EVA boarding to ensure the pirate ship next to us doesn’t go critical and render the entire exercise moot isn’t helping matters at all.” The engine room replied Roshal bit down a bit of annoyance at the snark, but engineers were always a finicky sort with authority. They were the first to remind uptight officers that while the Captain’s word may be iron law, it was their work that truly moved the ship.
“Confirmed, engine room.” Roshal instead replied. “Chaplains will be arriving shortly. Do what you can and inform me when you’re three minutes out from full power.”
The engine room didn’t even bother replying, just sending over the affirmative light as they got to work. Roshal approved of that. Sometimes, you just had to insult someone in order to get it working right.
“Captain, we have confirmation on contact. He’s an Alliance Karcharidon class Heavy Cruiser on intercept course. Energy readings are spiking… they’re charging their guns, ma’am!”
“Issue a hostile challenge and give me a firing solution with any gun still functional.”
“No response, ma’am. Hostile Karcharidon is increasing speed. Hard contact in 15 minutes.”
Roshal snarled, emotion breaking through her mask. “Of course, the pirates had one more vessel. Helm, fire our maneuvering thrusters, use the pirate hulk as cover. Weapons, get whoever’s left of our Interceptor flight to engage the enemy. Comms, get me in contact with the merchant fleet, tell them to evacuate. We’ll provide cover.”
“Aye ma’am.” The Communications Mate Second Class said with a shiver in her voice. “Sending-”
“Update on Aerospace assets!” Her sensor tech called out.
“Deliver!” Roshal demanded, cutting off the comms officer with a slice of her hand.
“Weapons fire. Definitely less than four contacts. Seems to be two grou- negative, only two contacts remaining- weaponsfire- one contac- IFF received, oh goddesses, IT’S RUNOFF THREE! FRIENDLY AEROSPACE INBOUND!”
//////////
Milk gripped her crash harness hard as Cookie slammed the Interceptor’s fusion torch clean past its safe thrust marker and into the red as g forces crushed her chest. “Last target down.” She reported after Cookie’s final laser burst hit something critical inside the final Aerospace fighter’s frame. “That’s 20 for 20. All enemy bogeys down. All standard munitions are in the black. Static drive is 48%, dump core ejected. All we’ve got left is our ASM and front laser.”
Cookie flashed back an affirmative signal.
“We going for that cruiser?”
Another affirmative.
“Well, I’m braced and ready on the release. Ready.”
“Ready.” Cookie spoke, his voice horse.
It’s funny what people think when their lives are on the line. Because charging towards a fresh enemy Heavy Cruiser, nothing but a single anti-shipping missile worth a damn, no allied support but the faint glimmer in IFF screens of their fellow flight doing the same… all Aoibhinn McDermott could think of was a poem she had read at least a decade ago or more at the Naval Academy.
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the Valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
//////////
Ventures Forth Bravely Into Great Unknowns could do nothing but furiously swear as the basic sensor system her engineering team had restored on the thoroughly ventilated secondary command bridge of the pirate hulk revealed an enemy Heavy Cruiser bearing down upon their homeship.
“Weapons are trashed. We cored their reactor, anyway.” One of the tangential engineers reported, “Other teams are calling in. Things are worse where they are. We’ve found the slaves, though, luckily it was one of the few airtight bays. Also, have some more captives, but that really doesn’t matter right now.”
“No shit.” Ventures Forth replied, “Can we do anything?”
The engineer looked back to her, visor depolarizing so the Gearschilde can look into the black and yellow eyes of her Shil coworker.
“Pray.” The woman replied simply.
Ventures Forth Bravely Into Great Unknowns did just that.
//////////
Low chanting filled the engine bay as a small group of priests stood around the engine praying to whichever god that would listen to allow them one more shot. One more fight.
Around them, black handed engineers scurried, ripping out blown fuses and replacing them with soldered in high strength wire. A final measure of desperation. Sparks flew as engineers swore and chaplains prayed, power still remaining in circuits needing to be bled out before bypasses could be installed, turning every bit of solder and every ripped out fuse into a deadly gamble.
Already, someone was lying on the ground, no longer twitching.
They didn’t have time to check on their fallen comrade, the work was too important.
A clock ticked down. Four minutes elapsed.
//////////
Lieutenant Commander Cenywyn swore as she watched Runoff 2 die.
Their single Interceptor had mistimed a maneuver and had been caught dead in the middle of an Anti-Aerospace array, shredded in an instant. The only consolation she could take was that, seeing as the first shot went clean through the cockpit, they didn’t even notice they died.
“Runoff 4, stay in formation.” She ordered over the radio, “We’ll lead you in for the run.”
“Yes ma’am.” The hesitant voice of Junior Flight Lieutenant Griogill replied. She swallowed, “We’re- we’re ready when you are.”
“No fear, Lieutenant,” Cenywyn called back to the child she was leading to her death. “We’re pilots in the Imperial Patrol. We do our duty. No fear.”
A clock ticked down. Six minutes elapsed.
//////////
“Talk to me!” The last remaining senior engineer in the reactor bay called out to anyone who was able to reply.
Someone, she didn’t even bother looking to see who, called back “We’ve bypassed 60% of the fuses. Should be able to give ourselves a burst of combat power. No more than 10 minutes of it before the entire system overheats and we either die, or the reactor shuts off.”
“Any chance we can get more than 10 minutes?”
“Not before that Heavy Cruiser delivers us straight to the stars.”
“Fuck it, good enough.” She slammed her fist on the ship phone’s dialing button resting near the console the engineer had just ripped the last safety override out of. “Captain. We’ve got your power. You give us the word, and we’ll give you ten minutes.”
//////////
Roshal breathed in, breathed out, and nodded. 10 minutes of combat power before the entire ship shut down into uselessness. She’d done more with less. She couldn’t remember when, but she had. Luckily, this was a Patrol Carrier instead of a standard ship, so it was more than capable of combat maneuvers with nothing but RCS thrusters. That should give her some time.
Movement, movement was going to be the key.
“Comms, tell the engineering crews on the hulk that they are ordered to figure out anything that could draw the attention of the Heavy Cruiser,” She began, “Systems, break our mooring lines. We’re going to have to split from the hulk. Helm, prepare for maneuvers. RCS only. We are going to have to do this carefully. Engineroom, prepare for power activation, but hold until my command.”
This needs to be perfect, Roshal thought, A single mistimed action ruins it all.
A clock ticked down. Ten minutes elapsed. The Karcharidon had entered maximum weapon’s range.
//////////
He of Slender Tail shivered where he stood. The secondary command bridge was silent as Roshal began giving orders to fight. This was… this was insane.
They were in a ruined ship with nothing but a merchant fleet beginning to flee and a three thirds dead pirate hulk on their side against a fresh Karcharidon class Heavy Cruiser.
They couldn’t win.
This was suicide.
They would die here.
\ So why didn’t He of Slender Tail feel afraid?
He stood at his post, a secondary bridge console where he would relay orders to other departments, freeing up the other Watchkeeper to collate those orders, there was nothing he could do to help win this impossible battle, and yet…
And yet he felt heat blossoming inside his chest with every single order delivered.
“Mooring teamsss, you are to cut your linesss immediately.” He relayed to a crew of Shil scurrying around the ruined bulkheads, “Damage control, prepare for electrical firesss and arcsss.” He commanded, switching between teams instantly.
He didn’t feel fear. He could see his Watchkeeper shiver every time the sensors reported the enemy contact was still closing, but he didn’t feel the same.
What he felt… was indignation.
How dare this pirate scum threaten his vessel, his crew. How dare they ambush this valiant ship after they had fought so hard to win. How dare they.
He let his fangs fold out as he spat the next order, “Anti-Aerossspace teamsss, prepare your batteriesss for grouped fire. Gunnery calculationsss are on their way.”
How dare they stand up to him.
A clock ticked down. 12 minutes elapsed. Weapons fire.
//////////
Roshal swayed slightly as she could feel the ship beneath her feet move. Movement is life in naval warfare, movement is death. “Right RCS fire, bring us clear of the hulk. Bow thrusters, up twenty.”
“Aye, ma’am, aye, right standard and bow up twenty.” The Helmswoman replied.
“Confirmed. Next maneuver, give us rear thrust-”
“Torpedo!” The sensor operator called out in a shrill voice, “Two marks on intercept course! Range, twelve K and closing fast!”
“Decorum!” Roshal snapped at the panicking sensor technician. “Comms, order Runoff flight to divert and intercept those torpedoes. Rear RCS to full, give us momentum.”
Roshal turned away from the bridge as affirmations were shouted, and the ship began to move, “Engineering, prepare to activate combat power on my mark and prepare for hard maneuvers. Mark in five.”
//////////
Griogill swallowed bile and tried not to feel too thankful that the enemy vessel had fired torpedoes at their home ship. Being diverted from an attack run had a much higher chance of survival than striking through an AA bubble.
“Runoff 4 engaging far torpedo. Moving in for intercept. Bre’kas, give me lock.”
Griogill’s backseater muttered something, and a target lock appeared on the far torpedo as Runoff 1, their previous Drill Sergeants, dashed by in a hard burn and blazed away at their own target.
“Right. We can do this. We can do this. No fear.” The rookie muttered as the sight of her friends in Runoff 3 being turned to vapor echoed in her mind. “I can do this.”
The target locked. She fired. The torpedo detonated.
A clock ticked down.
//////////
“Mark in four.”
//////////
The Heavy Cruiser loomed closer as the comparatively tiny Patrol Carrier spat its defiance in the form of two Interceptors dancing between the stars.
As a pair of torpedoes detonated, four more were launched, the anti-shipping weapons built for this specific purpose. Destroying disabled vessels.
And so the last two remaining Interceptors on CAP dove into the fray, risking themselves against an ever approaching AA bubble in order to save their ship.
A clock ticked down.
//////////
“Mark in three.”
//////////
All Cookie could do was stare and push his meager aerospace fighter further on its nuclear thrusters as shimmering dots of torpedoes lanced out from the Heavy Cruiser attacking his new home.
He pushed his hand forward and felt the throttle once more push back against him, the lever pushed all the way past safe thrust and into the further setting on his console.
The Interceptor was fast. It didn’t feel fast enough.
And so he spoke the words he spoke once before, back when he’d had to listen to his backseater’s screams of pain and the rush of wind after shrapnel pierced his fuselage, and the hospital was so, so far away.
Father, I pray that you will not hide your face from me. Whenever I pray, Lord please hear me and answer me speedily in Jesus' name. God, I pray that you will grant me speed through your help.
A clock ticked down.
//////////
“Mark in two.”
//////////
The Heavy Cruiser shifted, engine flaring and it began to close the range. A single disabled ship on emergency RCS thrusters and a pair of Aerospace fighters was nothing it would have to deal with.
It fired a third spread of torpedoes.
A clock ticked down.
//////////
They took the bait. Roshal thought with a vicious grin.
“Mark in one.” She paused, “Execute.”
In an instant, power flowed through the ship, emergency lights flickered off as the burning red boarding lights returned their fiery glow. The entire ship shook as the main thruster came back online, and capacitors began to charge for maneuvers.
“Hard burn, full thrusters, right, on my mark.” Roshal watched as the Heavy Cruiser began to react to her movements, the enemy ship was alive, you needed to roll to broadsides to begin bombardment, come on come on…
Roshal watched as a torpedo flickered out of existence, Runoff 4 gaining another kill.
Come on, dammit, you don’t get put in charge of a Heavy Cruiser without- THERE!
The Heavy Cruiser flinched, turning her bow away from the no longer stricken vessel, preparing for broadside.
The Captain’s grin showed more teeth than smile. “Execute! Full right thrust!”
“Full right thrust! Aye ma’am aye!” Her helmswoman called out as maneuvering thrusters dead cold roared to life and physically threw the vessel to the side, causing everyone not strapped in on the bridge to rock as a barrage of fire flew past their former location, manual targeting systems in play since the automatic systems would still be getting warmed up.
“Full thrust forward, prepare to divert all power to secondary weapons. Weapons, give me a firing solution.” Roshal commanded, hand raised and pointed at the enemy’s display as if she were commanding from a tall ship.
A chant of “Aye ma’am aye” flowed out across the bridge as the weaponsmistress was silent before calling out. “Port side is up to 45% secondary fires and 32% point defense. That’ll be our best bet.”
Roshal nodded. “Make it so. Target their main weapons. Helm, get us that facing.”
“Ma’am. We’re getting a call from Runoff 3. They are entering the AO and are asking for a target.”
Roshal smiled, “Weapons, shift target. Aim for the anti-aerospace systems. Let’s give Runoff 3 the opening they need.”
A clock ticked down.
//////////
“Cookie, we’ve got a targeting path.” Milk called forward. “Putting it up on your HUD.”
“One second… I’ve got it. Moving to comply. Did the Captain give us a plan?” her front seater replied, causing her stomach to do funny things as the Aerospace Fighter maneuvered while under high thrust.
“Something like that. She asked for a munitions report and specifically about our anti-shipping weapon.”
Cookie paused.
“Ah.” He finally said.
“Yeah.” She replied.
“Well, let’s hope they’re able to open us up to a window of opportunity. Or this will be a short charge.”
“Not our place to question why.”
“Just our place to do and die.”
Time to target… three minutes.
Into the valley of Death, rode the six hundred.
A clock ticked down.
//////////
Two vessels, three Aerospace fighters, one chance.
Six minutes of power remained. All actors took their places on the stage.
One hundred kilometers, close enough to check the weld quality of hull seams, the two ships danced across from each other. Maneuvering.
Five minutes of power remained.
The Karcharidon Heavy Cruiser rolled itself trying to keep the vulnerable top deck away from the Patrol Carrier’s presumably still working main gun as Roshal’s vessel jumped to the side. Thrusters roared.
Four minutes of power remained.
Runoff 1 and 4 shot towards their formerly separated comrade, forming up behind them in a wedge. The trio climbed towards the sun as their captain continued to chase and harass the Karcharidon.
Three minutes of power remained.
Roshal spoke. The lances of her vessel fired. Laser blasts carved across the hull of the enemy ship as it rolled.
The rolling ceased. A helmswoman swore as a full broadside caught the Patrol Carrier in the flank. The port hangar pod was ruined, armor shattered and all inside exposed to hard vacuum. Those who could scream died the fastest. The Interceptors had their opening.
Two minutes of power remained.
Silent wings swept through vacuum as three Interceptors began their dive, their formerly speedy arrowhead shape giving way to an inverted t as their wings swept out for stability, the ASF dove and dove and dove.
Five Kilometers away.
The range was too wide. They had one shot. It had to be perfect.
One minute of power remained.
The Into Harm’s Way spat its defiance into the world, limited power drained to give her pilots a seconds more of time.
30 seconds of power remained.
Three Kilometers.
Hard Lock! Milk shouted from the back seat of Runoff 3. Cookie was silent. The range was still too wide.
15 seconds of power remained.
Two Kilometers.
The Karcharidon seemingly began to roll before the Patrol Carrier once more fired, its last remaining weapons spouting their defiance against the world. Deep in engineering, systems began to blow, wires that replaced fuses sparked power and delicate circuit boards shorted out into useless scrap.
The lights went out.
No power remained.
Roshal, in her head, began to count down as lances of light began to sweep across her ship. Damage control did what they could, but the beams began to cut like an overly enthusiastic shipbreaker.
Five.
One Kilometer.
Four.
Cookie’s thumb depressed the firing stud as the Interceptor screamed at him.
Three.
The ASF launched its deadly payload.
Two.
Three Interceptors pulled back hard on their sticks to avoid colliding with the deck.
One.
The thruster of the anti-shipping missile roared as it rocketed the point blank aerospace distance to target.
Impact.
The armor piercing tip of the missile punched into the upper deck plating of the Heavy Cruiser, classified alloys allowing it to pierce into the armored plating just enough to allow the shaped charge to open up a hole as momentum kept the weapon moving.
Within the frame of a single second, the warhead of the missile had entered the ship and, before the alarms even had time to sound, detonated.
A new sun appeared in the void for a split second as a plasma-fusion warhead detonated inside the Karcharidon heavy cruiser’s hull.
//////////
Roshal allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief inside her head as the emergency power lights flickered overhead and the gravity ever so slightly lightened. What was left of their sensor arrays showed the enemy vessel powering down. “Engineering. Good work, your 10 minutes were just what she needed.” She called out, picking up the ship phone.
There was no answer from engineering.
She signed externally before pointing at one of the marines guarding the bridge, “Find a crewmate in a void suit. I have need of runners.” The marine clasped a fist to her chest before leaving to execute her captain’s commands. “Comms, do we have any contact with the engineering teams on the pirate hulk?”
The Comms officer held up a hand, Roshal waited, “No, ma’am. We aren’t getting- wait. We’ve got visual on flashing lights from the hull. Apparently, something shorted, so they’re having to rebuild broadcast arrays. They can receive just fine, though.”
“Good, once we can maneuver, bring us broadside of them. What’s the status of the merchant fleet?”
Navigation spoke up now, “Still heading for the Jump Point. Should we send the recall order?”
“Not yet, we are still unsure if the area is safe. If we have any sensors remaining, begin sca-”
The mentioned sensor technician interrupted Captain Roshal, “Ma’am, new contact, signature unknown. Just jumped in from outside the starlane!”
“Give me details. Course, range, and speed?” She demanded.
“Signal confused, can’t get a lock!” Navigation called out, “Can’t tell if confusion’s from them or us.”
Not another one… Roshal sighed, “All forces prepa-”
“Ma’am, we’re being hailed.” Communications called out.
“On squawk.”
“This is Captain Al’yosha Cal’rada of Her Imperial Majesty’s Ship Spear of the Knyaginya, responding to Merchant vessel distress calls. Imperial Patrol Carrier, are you in need of assistance at this time?”
Roshal recognized the voice. A junior officer from her days in the Navy and a fellow Sevastutavan. The memory of the fresh faced girl when she’d joined her as an Ensign straight of the Naval Academy flashed before her eyes. “Captain Cal’rada. Your timing is impeccable as always.”
“Admiral?” Roshal could hear the shock in her old protege’s voice.
“That’s Captain, now, Al’yosha. I require your aid in ensuring the disabled vessel still glowing from an ASM strike remains disabled along with Search and Rescue teams for our sister Carrier.
“Whatever you want, you’ll have it, Admiral_… Helm! All ahead flank and plot course to intercept. Launch gunships and prepare to deploy Bluejackets. We’ll test our _Orcas’ teeth today!”
The line cut out a moment later than it should have, and Roshal nodded in approval.
“Captain, I still don’t have a read on new contact. What is it?” Sensors asked.
“A Drep’na inspired vision, come to life.” Roshal watched, feeling an odd sort of parental pride as Al’yosha’s experimental warship began closing the distance towards the Karcharidon at breakneck speeds. “A swift sailing vessel and ten carriage guns…” Roshal murmured the line from an old Vaasconian poem from the ancient Age of Sail. She had heard Cal’rada had succeeded in petitioning the Navy to build her dream-ship, burning every favor and passing out favors to any and everyone to see the program through. Now, there she was, standing on the bridge bearing down on a ship twice her size, but if the rumors were true, only half her guns.
“Ma’am, contact is still not resolving, but IFF confirms Imperial Navy designation. An Akula Class Attack Transport. I’ve… I’ve never even heard of this class.”
“Perhaps we shall hear of them more in the future. Fortune favors the active.”
“Contact is disgorging multiple signals, moving at speeds consistent with aerospace assets.”
“That is our signal we may disengage. Comms, inform the merchant fleet that the area is secure and to begin refueling procedures. Helm, get us alongside the pirate hulk, we have people to recover. Marine, get me a runner to the MP’s, we shall need the port hangar prepared for an old tradition the Navy has regarding pirate prisoners…” Roshal commanded. The fight was over, it was time to begin the cleanup.
//////////
So… that took a while. Sorry about that.
Turns out when a combination of writer’s block, decision paralysis and LIFE hits you over the head, it becomes a touch difficult to get your shit together long enough to write something down.
On the plus side, we are out of the “unplanned bits” and right back into the parts I have brainstormed, so I won’t be staring at a screen trying to think how to make things connect as much anymore. On the other hand, that means we are now entering the epilogue of book 1 of Top Lasgun.
Don’t worry, the story isn’t ending, I’ve got “three” books plotted out in my head, so we’ll see how that shakes out, but for the most part, this is where I start wrapping up plot threads, laying down threads for what comes next, and all that other good stuff.
So yeah, next chapter is going to involve everyone wrapping up what happened here, some fun little Military Justice, and potentially a bunch of plot. Also, I’m planning on starting a “rewrite”/edited version of this to go up on AO3, so keep an eye out for that. Early installment weirdness is a bitch and I’m not proud of what the older stuff looked like.
Well, I hope you have a wonderful morning, afternoon or evening whenever you read this and I will see you next chapter.
[NEXT CHAPTER]

Tideman... the hardest problem in the entire course of CS50x.
I tried to do it... and I could complete it at a relatively faster pace than others, but it was challenging nonetheless. Also, a very important note:
You can take as much time as you want, you can even solve Runoff (though I haven't looked at it till now). Only one thing: please DON'T think that some XYZ guy solving Tideman within 7 hours is implying that you need to do it too. Obviously not. Take your time...
This pset is challenging but it can even open an amateur coder's mind. I understood what Graphs (in CS) exactly are from this very pset.

Preliminaries

I want to say, understand structs very carefully if you have coded in Java and are learning C. For those who are getting to know about these algs recenty (applies to Python coders too), understand it thoroughly first. Also, if possible, write the algs which you are confused about. Like, try to use some website or stuff, or even ChatGPT (what I am about to say is academically reasonable) to understand how the alg works (NO DIRECT CODE), like certain analogies.
Anyway, the things that are hard in various algs are as follows:

• Linear Search: That return false thing which David Sir said in the lecture.
• Binary Search: Understanding how the high and low indexes are adjusted. The way I like to explain binary search (without using recursion) is using some thumb pins attached on a board like an array and keeping a rubberband stretched between the high and low indexes. That way, when you'll try to change the index, you'll just think to yourself, "I'm keeping the high/low index jussst beyond the middle position." Try it/visualize it for yourself.
  
• Selection Sort: The exact thing we use when we did those ascending-descending order problems in the first grade... anyway... understanding why the inner loop starts from the next index is important. Also, people do forget to swap after everything, which shouldn't be forgotten.
  
• Bubble Sort: Bubbble Sort can be done more efficiently by tweaking with the test condition in the inner loop... but we don't need to focus on that for now. Just remember that you need to insert the reverse of the condition you are trying to fulfill. For example, for sorting in ascending order, you need to check if the previous element is, in some way, shape, or form, greater than the next element.
  
• Merge Sort: Ok, I am still confused regarding this one, but one way we can approach that is to understand how merging works. You need to write a program where two arrays are merged in ascending/descending order into one array. The two arrays need to be random. You can find examples for this problem on the internet, but please don't look at the solutions. You CAN USE your loops while merging the two arrays, but merging really doesn't require any other sorting algorithm, just two counters (a hint).
  

Before understanding Tideman, please have a strong grasp in any of the sorting algs. Understand why the conditional is there, because the conditions will be different for this problem. You can even solve the hardest sorts if you know what the conditionals do in your sorting alg.
Also, recursion is really worth learning independently. Solve some problems you are trying to solve using iteration. Try to check whether something is a prime number using recusion. Try to do anything you have solved/can solve using iteration.
Recursion is just mathematical induction (for those who know maths): it's just dominoes falling. You need to check what will happen when the first domino or the last domino will fall (base case), and ensure that if a domino m is falling, ensure that the domino m+1 is falling too (recusive case).
Please watch the shorts and section for this week, in case you don't understand anything. Check for the materials you don't understand.
Also, PLEASE do the additional practice problems of week 3. There's no check50 or submit50 for these problems, you can check the results for yourself. Even if you are a experienced programmer, I'd recommend taking these baby-steps before trying to attempt Tideman. See, even if you did Java or Python before and you feel like finding the max value or making a WHOLE MENU is tiring, these are very easy problems, which are important for solving the later ones. For example, I was thinking, "Why just take the value? Why not take the index?" Then when I was trying to solve the Plurality pset, I realized that they were trying to tell us that there can be multiple winners... anyway...

Tideman

So, you've completed Sort, Plurality and, possibly, even Runoff and all the other psets... and you're trying to attempt this.
1) Open the walkthrough video/the pset page.
2) For newcomers, write (about) all the variables and their functions “in brief”. Or just look at the distribution code or the pset page. These are very essential, and you’ll have to refer to them frequently.
3) When the walkthrough video comes to the functions part, we’ll start focusing on THAT FUNCTION only. As David Sir said throughout the course till now, abstraction is the key. Like, think of only that part of the main method where a particular function has been implemented, how that part has been treated... Just don't think about the other functions you’ll have to do. JUST do that part and return accordingly. Write pseudocode like you’ve done throughout the course.
4) If you want, you can reuse the codes you’ve written…
Let's talk about what we can do in the individual functions:

• For the vote function, you will probably remember the discussion on linear search. Implement that, but do understand what are the uses of those parameters.
• For the record_preferences function, I would recommend you to use a pen-and-paper to understand the situation, visually. Also, understand that you are trying to check who wins between two candidates, AND THEN determine the preference. Also, i over j.
• For the add_pairs function, you will obviously have to run an inner loop and an outer loop for traversing through the array. One more thing: remember the technique you did in your previous functions.
• For the sort_pairs function, you’ll be happy to hear that you can quite literally write abc a[i] = b, where b is a struct of abc. You won't need to write different variables like abc a[i].smile = b.smile and make your code longer (where smile is a variable in struct abc).
• (Before attempting the lock_pairs function, read this thing I’ve got from the Discord server)
• For the lock_pairs function, you are free to make any other recursive function you want in the code. Think of the parameters it will take. You’ll understand the parameters if you understand all the base cases. The return type will obviously be bool or int (you may take anything you want though). One thing to note though: search through the destination part thoroughly, using a loop in the recursive function. If necessary, you can write a recursive call in the loop too. Remember that base case is written first and then your main part of the code: the loop part. In this function, it's very important not to get overwhelmed. Recursion will do the teeny-tiny details for you if you write the base case properly. So, have that “leap of faith,” and search through and step into and through and step into and through and step into… you get the idea right?
• By the way, how will you differentiate between what you’ve already traversed and what you have not traversed? After all, you only have a bool array with true and false as the only acceptable values. Make changes in the lock_pairs and in the recursive function accordingly. Also, lock_pairs function is in itself, also, not unimportant, as it also does some pretty eccentric stuff too.
• For the print_winners function, atleast I would rather use statements like break and continue. Consult the Internet if these are confusing for you. Btw, labelled loops don't exist in C. I’m heavily disappointed. Alternatively, you can use variables declared outside the outer loop to note the index(es). Also, you’ll have to use a flag coupled with those two statements or those variables. “For this problem, we can assume that there is one source.” Therefore, as soon as you print your stuff, just wait no more. (This was just an efficiency rant btw, this function is actually easy if done without any help from this post; just spoiler-tagged it so that you don't get overwhelmed.)

Personal Opinions

If you haven't done the problem, don't read the section, you’ll lose interest/get confused.
This is probably one of the best examples of backtracking I’ve EVER SEEN. I could never do backtracking until now. This feels more like an intermediate-level competitive programming problem… except the fact that the problem is explained a lot. I myself neither implemented graphs nor backtracking before, so I was… confused while doing locked_pairs. Also, I’m very very bad at competitive programming, please don't think like I’m some experienced developer or something,; I’m just an amateur guy doing big projects once in a while…
Anyway, it was an amazing problem. Anyone can learn a lot from this pset.

I was just returning back from another interview. It has been the third one this month.
I failed to make the cut yet again.
Life hasn’t been easy for an ex-soldier with the economic downturn currently underway.
The COVID pandemic had also wiped out all my savings.
So I was open to securing any job that would help me pay my bills.
I hadn’t eaten all day and just passed by a McDonalds. It was crowded and I thought to myself, ‘Let me just order a takeout’.
I could see a few vehicles waiting in front of me.
There was a guy in his motorcycle honking incessantly demanding the customer in front to keep it moving.
He was a tall man with long hair and clearly looked edgy and irritable. Both his arms were heavily tattooed. He stepped down from his bike and started to walk towards the car in front of him.
I couldn’t make out what he way saying but I could see the conversation was getting heated.
I got down from my car and walked towards the biker guy.
As I got closer, the biker banged on the hood of the car and was pointing his finger at the man threateningly.
The guy in the car was looking a little alarmed. He had a young boy seated next to him.
The woman working at the driveway counter appealed to the biker to maintain his cool. He would hear none of it.
She then proceeded to call the police and this made the biker more irate. He snatched the receiver from her and hit her face with it. She fell backwards and started bleeding from the nose.
The biker then proceeded to turn his gaze towards the man in the car. He opened the door and dragged the guy outside.
He drew his hand back to throw a punch at him.
I caught his arm from behind and kicked him hard in the shins. He yelped in pain and let go of the other man.
He then turned back angrily to take a look at me. He was wearing a black jacket with the name Kenny embossed in front.
I said, “Listen Kenny. I have had a really bad day. So you either stop this madness or I am going to break your bones.”
He snarled and threw a punch at me with all his might. I swerved to the right and ducked just in time, causing him to miss completely.
Next, he whipped out a switch blade from his pocket and lunged towards me with it. I side stepped him and counterattacked with a punch to his plexus. He went down on one knee.
I caught hold of his knife arm and ordered him to drop it.
“Drop the knife kenny!! This is your last warning”, I repeated.
He started to fidget with his other arm around his shoe. I realized he had another weapon hidden in his sock.
So before he could attempt anything else, I twisted his forearm and landed a crushing blow to his elbow. It snapped into two and he lay on the floor yelping in pain.
By this point, other people came forward to intervene and help with the situation.
As Kenny was being led away by the police, he kept staring at me with madness in his eyes.
“I am coming back for you. This is going to be the biggest regret of your life”, he yelled.
I didn’t care and started going back to my car.
Then the man who was threatened by Kenny came forward and shook my hand.
“Hi. I am Rupert. That is my son Henry”, he said.
I waved my hand at the boy and he waved back.
“I would like to thank you for what you did for me back there”, he said.
“You not only helped me maintain my dignity but also helped me save face in front of my son”, he continued.
“This means a lot to me as a dad” he said.
I nodded in acknowledgement not sure what I was to add to the conversation.
He then reluctantly asked,” Is there anything I can do to repay the favour? Please feel free to ask . Anything. I would be most grateful.”
I thought for a moment. I could see the man was wealthy.
“If it’s not too much of an ask, I would appreciate a job if available. If you feel that is difficult, no problem. Forget I asked. No worries.” I said.
He smiled back at me warmly. He reached into his pocket and handed me a card.
“Please come to my office tomorrow. We can talk” he signed off.
From that moment on, I became the personal bodyguard and chaperone of his 8 year old son Henry. We immediately hit it off and became pals. I looked after all his son’s travelling arrangements.
We would also go to McDonalds every week for his favourite Burger and fries. I later learnt that his father was a very wealthy man who made most of his money during the dot com bubble.
I also became friends with the female employee at the driveway counter who had earlier been attacked by that biker punk Kenny.
Her name was Stella and it didn’t take very long for the two of us to start dating.
With a fulfilling job and a loving girlfriend by my side, my life was finally back on track. I couldn’t be happier.
And then one day - it all came crashing.
Henry and I as usual visited the McDonalds joint and I was surprised to see Stella missing at the counter.
I asked the staff about her and they said she hadn’t turned up today.
I thought that was weird. She had stayed over at my place and I saw her leave for work in the morning.
I tried calling her number but it was unreachable.
I dropped Henry at home and headed towards Stella’s apartment.
She had given me a spare key and I opened the door with it. Everything was in its place.
I tried her number again. It remained not reachable.
I decided to go back to my apartment to check if she might be there.
When I reached the door, I could see the lock had been smashed. The door was left slightly open.
I took out my side arm and slowly entered the apartment.
I could see a life size figure of Ronald McDonald the clown sitting on my sofa.
The famous mascot was sitting cross legged with one arm resting on the backrest. Just like how he likes to sit on benches outside McDonald outlets all across the world.
I was a little taken aback, but quickly switched on the lights to take a closer look.
As I moved closer, my knees buckled under my own weight.
It was Stella. She was the one who was dressed as the clown.
There were injury marks around her neck. She had been strangled to death.
I managed to call the cops while still reeling from the shock.
I also noticed her right hand which was resting on her thigh, was close fisted. When I pried it open, there was a crumpled piece of paper inside.
It read -
“She was really begging me for mercy.
Where was soldier boy when she needed him huh?
Boo Hoo….I’m Lovin It!!
I’m Lovin it!!
Signed Yours Kenny”
I could feel a surge of anger envelop me. And yet I lay there helpless.
Had it not been for the surveillance cameras at the entrance of my home, I would have been in jail by now.
The police could clearly see Kenny carrying Stella’s body and breaking into my apartment.
They put out a nationwide notice for Kenny and he’s been on the run ever since.
Even after 2 months following Stella’s death, the police were not any closer to catching the culprit.
But I did apprise Henry’s dad of the situation. His life was also at risk after considering what happened to my girlfriend.
But our collective worry was for Henry. We didn’t want to see him suffer for no fault of his.
So I started training Henry to take his own safety seriously. I devised multiple safeguards to keep him protected while being outdoors. Always ensured that I was personally there to drop and pick him up from school.
My boss appreciated all that I was doing for his son. He knew I had taken Stella’s death hard.
He was a generous and compassionate man and I liked working for him.
Although he did notice I wasn’t my usual cheery self anymore.
One day when I was waiting at the office, he tossed the keys of his new car at me.
“This should perk you up. Take her for a spin” he said.
“And also go pick Henry up from school”, he finished as he left for a meeting.
I got down to the parking lot, and there she was … waiting. The new Bugatti Chiron.
I opened the door and took the driver’s seat. The fresh smell of the leather upholstery was already lifting my spirits.
‘Boss was right! I am perking up’, I thought to myself.
I drove around the block and stopped by McDonalds to pick up the usual order for me and Henry.
I felt a tinge of sadness when I could no longer see Stella at the counter.
Anyways, I picked the order and started my way towards school.
As I went past the restaurant, I saw an old jeep parked by the side of the road. I didn’t think much of it at that moment.
When I reached Henry’s school, I parked the car a few feet away from the entrance. A couple of minutes later, I noticed the same jeep I saw at McDonalds go past me and park 20 mts in front.
I would have never given it a second glance had I not spotted it at the restaurant.
The jeep had 3 passengers. They looked like bikers with tattoos, beard and long hair.
And then there was Kenny standing behind a tree to avoid detection. But I spotted him.
He was gesturing towards them to get ready. I could see his Harley parked just a few feet away.
They were planning some kind of ambush.
The school bell rang and the children were already out on the streets.
I could see Henry at a distance in the courtyard. He was slowly making his way towards the gate.
I immediately called him on the phone and told him to go to the Principals office and stay there. I made it clear under no circumstances was he to venture out until I gave him the all clear. He understood.
He was safe as long as he was within the school’s premises.
The next thing to do was move to another location. The children were already pouring onto the streets, and the last thing I wanted was to see a child getting hurt.
I started the car and went past the jeep before taking the next turn. I kept driving.
Few moments later, the jeep caught up with me and the driver violently swerved towards the left causing me to go off course. My car came to halt.
The guys quickly alighted from the jeep and they were all armed to the teeth.
Kenny came in his motorcycle and stopped his bike a few feet ahead of me. He took out his shotgun and had it aimed straight at my chest.
The firing started before I even had the time to react.
I instinctively ducked for cover with my eyes closed.
But in my heart, I knew my time was up!!
As the seconds went by, even with all those bullets being sent my way - my body felt strangely light.
‘Am I in heaven already?’ I thought to myself.
I slowly opened my eyes and tilted my head upwards to take a peak.
And I realized I was sitting in an armoured bullet proof car.
The entire biker gang were mad with rage, doing everything possible to penetrate that thick armour plate.
Kenny was barking orders at his gang to continue the onslaught. He then pointed his finger at me and yelled, “I am coming for you.”
I looked down at the seat next to mine and saw the takeout I had ordered.
Just to piss him off even further, I took out my Big Mac and slowly took a big bite.
I sat there in gastronomic bliss savouring my burger, while being under a continuous hail of bullets.
The firing suddenly stopped. Kenny the psycho was livid as hell - to see me have a good time.
I looked him in the eye while I took a sip of my favourite milkshake.
And then, continued to chomp on my burger.
He looked a little crestfallen at how his plan was misfiring and then frantically gestured his troops to keep at it. The firing started again.
But it didn’t last long. They eventually all ran out of ammo and his buddies began to flee the scene, as we could hear sirens at a distance.
The attack had taken a toll on the car. But it managed to withstand all that damage. All that firing.
A life saver!
I looked at Kenny again. Only one thought was running through my head now.
‘My Turn’.
I switched on the ignition and rammed the car straight into Kenny. He hit the bonnet hard while the car continued to race forward.
He was clinging on to dear life with his outstretched hands desperately clutching at the sides of the car.
Next in the demolition line, was his prized Harley Davidson.
I hit it full steam and watched it smash to smithereens - with parts scattering all across the road.
Then, I hit the brakes and Kenny was sent flying 10 feet forward.
After impact, he slowly staggered to his feet - all bloody and bruised.
His face was swollen like an apple.
He was pleading towards me with folded hands to show him mercy.
‘This is for Stella. And She’s lovin it’, I said out loud.
I hit the accelerator again.

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

There’s a mind-blowing amount of music released each year, making it a thrilling challenge to discover new artists. Here are some effective ways to explore fresh music:

Listen to Music Podcasts

Music podcasts are great for diving into new topics and often lead to discovering music you’ve never heard of. Plus, you get to hear interesting perspectives from like-minded people who are passionate about music.
Start with podcasts that cover a range of music, such as Song Exploder, NPR All Songs Considered, and Rolling Stone Music Now. When you're ready to branch out, listen to podcasts that cover genres you’re less familiar with or focus on those that feature your favorite genres. For example, country music lovers might enjoy Walking the Floor with Chris Shiflett.

Read Music Blogs

Music blogs like Pitchfork and Stereogum are the original online hubs for music news. They cover a variety of topics ranging from new releases to one-on-one artist interviews, offering a front-page glimpse into the hottest trends in music.
Music blogs always have their ears to the ground and rarely miss a beat. Follow their blogs on social media and subscribe to their email lists to get updates on the latest buzz in music. This is an easy way to stay informed about rising artists, collaborative projects, tour schedules, and more.

See Live Music

Sometimes the best place to find new artists is your own backyard. Live music is back, and you never know what sort of talent is waiting to be discovered in your local clubs and dive bars. By checking out live shows, you’ll find new music on a local level and support artists who are carving out their music careers.
There are probably dozens of rising artists in your local community waiting to be heard. Keep an eye out for local festivals, artist showcases, and open-mic nights—you never know what you’ll find.

Study Your Favorite Artists

Musicians don’t live in a bubble—they work with other artists, start side projects, and listen to music just like you. By learning more about your favorite artists, you can discover similar music to add to your library.

Get Recommendations from Friends

Your loyal crew of friends is your number one source for music recommendations. They know what music you’ll like, and if there’s anyone worth sharing earbuds with, it’s your bestie. Whether you trade Spotify playlists or host a listening party for the whole gang, sharing music is something you can do together.

Use Music Platforms

Platforms like sharetopros.com are excellent for discovering new artists. SharePro supports independent music artists and has reignited the social aspects of sharing and discovering music. To find new music, browse SharePro's Top Indie Music Charts and discover today's top-performing submissions across various genres. SharePro brings you closer to finding music that you’ll love.
By exploring these avenues, you can discover a wealth of new music and support up-and-coming artists along the way.
Happy listening!

I know Sigewinne has had it rough (and Clorinde maybe even more so, peace to the ClorindeMains), I'll be honest, Sigewinne is a healer first, and she does a damn good job at it.
I'll be copy-pasting from my comment I made there.
With full Hp, Recurve Bow, double Hydro, 50k Hp is her baseline to max all her passives except that E buff one, not a single sub of Hp needed (just view it as Songs of Days past baked into her kit as an extra, it's not her main feature)
Her bubble now heals regardless of whether it hit or not, that's amazing, she heals 5k baseline per tick each 2 seconds across 10 seconds and only needs to cast hold E once, and heals herself by almost exactly 50% factoring in the BoL.
With a decent 50/100 ratio you can achieve 10k average dmg per tick with only Viridiscent, if you use Furina or Kazuha or other buffs, her dmg will go even higher, with just Furina at 100 stacks it's 10k as well, and her burst only takes 2.5 seconds at C0.
Her bubble applies hydro each 2 seconds in a small AoE where it bounces, so that's nice and it has amazing synergy with Clam, each 2 bounces you immediately max out a bubble at 30k heal, guaranteed, at C0 you get 3 maxed bubbles without doing anything, at C1 4 even.
With her signature you can start building Crit Dmg, making her personal Dmg skyrocket, her early constellation are really good, C1 grants full uptime on her heal and makes the imprisonment consistent for at least 3 bounces/ 6 seconds, her C2 makes her a good anchor with Furina in a mono hydro team, and bakes 35% Res shred directly into her burst.
Now you might say "but Kokomi and Baizhu already exist", well, Baizhu deals approximately 0% of a teams dps, his value lies in being dendro and his heal is a lot more finnicky, having only one team wide tick, and otherwise only single target heal. Kokomi on the other hand is extremely competitive with Sigewinne, her issue is… you need to deal with awkward uptime and specific timing to keep her heal and dmg going, both of which are tied to circle-impact^tm outside her burst mode. Now Xianyun is a good healer too, but she has a whole another issue: as the sole anemo on the team you somehow need to feed 80 energy to her.
Sigewinne is completely freed from all of these issues and her damage is still optional in the end, her main purpose is keeping your teams Hp effortlessly topped off, and as a cute extra, Sigewinne's special charged is adorable as heck!
I went through her numbers the moment her kit dropped, and all of her numbers were too clean when put inside a calculator to be a coincidence, I suppose Sigewinne was never supposed to change a lot, only her E changed greatly during her Beta, and it changed a lot for the better, high interruption res, decent hydro app, and most importantly, she can heal without needing to hit an enemy.
Needless to say I'm really excited for her!
Edit: I don't know how to format the text? Putting escapes doesn't do anything
Edit: nvm fixed it

So, it's just an educated calculation on my part that the Philippine property prices are going to tank within the next 10 years for the following reasons:

1. Unreasonable increase in property values over the past 10 years (ie, it's a bubble). Property prices in the NCR have gone up way higher than wages and other forms of investment.
   
2. Rent vs buying prices show that from an investment perspective, it's cheaper to rent upmarket condo units and homes. If you look at condo and luxury home rentals and sales (I looked at Makati/AAV), you'll see that renting makes way more sense. In AAV, homes that are selling for P120-270 million are renting for only P130-250K. When you factor in maintenance fees, RE fees, reasonable periods of vacancy, etc the CAP rate is sometimes below 1%.
   
3. Many units in BCG and other areas are sold, but units are empty. At night you'll notice the lights are off in many of the higher end residential units, which leads me to believe that they are being bought but not used (ie being held purely for speculation--could be OFW, locals with multiple units, etc).
   
4. The slow demise of call centers and outsourcing: with a) AI as a threat, b) young Chinese and Indians who are learning American English and will be entering the workforce in the next few years becoming competition, c) younger western consumers preferring not to speak with a live customer service or tech agent (it's the boomers--who are dying off slowly--who want to talk to someone "live") etc, the services of locals won't be needed as much.
   
5. The prevalence of WFH: many industries will slowly shift from office based work to WFH, lessening the demand for office space (along with number 4, above).
   
6. Investors growing knowledge base re stocks and other forms of investments. Older investors are not as savvy as younger investors; OFWs and other older investors had no other choice (to them) other than RE. They were not aware of ETFs and stock and the benefits of dividend income, etc.
   

Thoughts?