Someone in DMT asked about combining Syrian rue with moclobemide. My reply was too long to post in the topic, so I figured I'd post it here. I tried to give a balanced view (keep in my mind, I'm still learning and didn't even feel like making the post, I just wanted to use it as an opportunity to prevent the further spread of MAOI hysteria). I referenced posts in this subreddit in the post.
 
I don't recommend it, and I don't even recommend moclobemide on its own, but I've seen people in MAOIs report that they've experimented with combining MAOIs.
I've noticed while experimenting around that Nardil has almost no effect on me when taken alone, but that it works much stronger than even 90MG of Parnate when I take medium (30 & 45) doses of both.
u/extremity4, https://www.reddit.com/MAOIs/comments/w8qyrw/does_maoinhibitorscom_allow_maoi_combining/
I recently started testing adding a low dose of parnate to 30mg of nardil. I have been on Nardil for many months, but I'm still lacking energy, motivation and good mood.
u/konibak, https://www.reddit.com/MAOIs/comments/v79giw/nardil_parnate_fatigue_and_somnolence/
Most people believe that MAOIs are wildly reactant with lots of things, but this is a myth. The foremost person who is working to dispel this myth is Ken Gillman of PsychoTropical.org and some people in MAOIs and socialanxietysupport.com have used his writings to encourage themselves to experiment.
It is, unfortunately, necessary to state clearly from the beginning that much of what is published by doctors in books and journals about MAOIs is either poorly informed, or just plain wrong. As an example, much of the information that comes with MAOIs (the PI, or product information sheet) contains inaccurate material concerning, among other things: serotonin toxicity, drug interactions generally, and dietary tyramine.
MAOIs (Parnate, Nardil): Misconceptions and Questions No. 1. Ken Gillman, MD. PsychoTropical Research. Nov. 14, 2012
To give another controversial example, the last person quoted has also experimented with combining an MAOI with dextroamphetamine:
Dexedrine and Nardil
Indeed, dopaminergics, are not as risky as serotonergics, as implied here:
Drug interactions for the RIMAs [reversible inhibitors of MAO-A] include interaction with SSRI antidepressants, which can cause the 5-HT syndrome (see the discussion of SSRIs). The effect of stimulant drugs, such as methylphenidate and dextroamphetamine (used to treat ADHD), may be increased. Some over-the-counter cold and hay fever decongestants (i.e., sympathomimetic amines) can have increased stimulant effects. Selegiline, a selective MAO-B used for Parkinson disease, should not be used concurrently with the RIMAs. Unlike the irreversible MAOIs, no significant interactions with foods occur because the selective inhibition of MAO-A does not stop the metabolism of tyramine.
Foye's Principles of Medicinal Chemistry, Seventh Edition. Thomas L. Lemke, Ph.D., David A. Williams, Ph.D., Victoria F. Roche, Ph.D., S. William Zito, Ph.D. (2013). (21. Antidepressants. Reversible MAO-A Inhibitor Antidepressants)
And indeed methylphenidate (Ritalin) is safe to combine with MAOIs according to ‘The prescriber’s guide to classic MAO inhibitors for treatment-resistant depression’,[1]
Gillman goes a step further an states 'There is now a lot of accumulated experience of the concurrent administration of MAOIs and amphetamine for therapeutic purposes in depression. It is safe when done carefully.'[2] However, he does point out that there have been deaths from this combo: 'There are various case reports of fatalities with over-doses of MAOIs and Amphetamine [28-34].'[2] And, indeed, numerous people have reported using this combination on the Internet.[3] However, one person reported that after combining Nardil with 'varying amounts of meth, come, crack and Ritalin,' on over 25 occaisons he was diagnosed with 'drug induced congestive heart failure at 27 after having a massive heart attack from combining a grain of rice sized piece of meth with Nardil while mildly drunk and in minor lyrica withdrawal.'[4]
So, getting back to the topic of the post, combing two MAOIs seems like an unnecessary risk, as does mixing drugs that are similar to each other in general (sounds like it would overload the receptors). Just because some people like to be greedy with their medicating doesn't mean they aren't causing subtle damage. I don't even trust the way moclobemide feels, on its own. The mentioned combos, also seem like an unnecessary risk, but what I like about these types of reports is they help to dispel the myth that MAOIs are ridiculously dangerous. B. caapi, itself, contains a serotonin reuptake inhibitor (tetrahydroharmine) in addition to MAOIs, and that's supposedly a taboo combination, and yet ayahuasca is a well-established substance. One tribe was even observed to boost the levels of THH in their brews (there's an herb that contains only THH).[5] THH has been described as weak, so the reason it doesn't react badly with the MAOIs is what Gillman says: ‘the dose makes the poison’ (Paracelsus).[2] Coca has also been added to ayahuasca brews.[6][7] There was even a clinical trial where moclobemide was combined with an SSRI,[8] although, ironically, Ken Gillman is against that study.[9]
[1] The prescriber’s guide to classic MAO inhibitors (phenelzine, tranylcypromine, isocarboxazid) for treatment-resistant depression. Van den Eynde V, Abdelmoemin WR, Abraham MM, et al. CNS Spectrums. 2023;28(4):427-440. doi:10.1017/S1092852922000906
[2] 18. CNS ‘Stimulants’ and MAOIs Part 2. Psychotropical Research. Ken Gillman, MD, 2022, 2023
[3] https://www.reddit.comPA99/s/Epy4BpuLRI
[4] u/No-Tap9133, https://www.reddit.com/MAOIs/comments/1cc8nz9/comment/l17vq64/
[5] https://www.reddit.com/anahuasca/comments/17f16ag/calliandra_pentandra_another_source_of/
[6] Although B. caapi can be the sole ingredient of the tea[7], up to 100 different plants have been described as admixtures to ayahuasca. These plants contain a wide variety of psychotropic substances such as nicotine (from Nicotiana spp.), scopolamine (from Brugmansia spp.), caffeine (from Ilex guayusa and Paullinia yoco), cocaine (from Erythoxylum coca) and N,N-dimethyltryptamine (DMT, from Psychotria viridis and Diplopterys cabrerana)[2, 8.]
The alkaloids of Banisteriopsis caapi, the plant source of the Amazonian hallucinogen Ayahuasca, stimulate adult neurogenesis in vitro. Morales-García JA, de la Fuente Revenga M, Alonso-Gil S, Rodríguez-Franco MI, Feilding A, Perez-Castillo A, Riba J. Sci Rep. 2017 Jul 13;7(1):5309. doi: 10.1038/s41598-017-05407-9
[7] Guillermo: We’re going to take a very strong preparation made of eight plants. Besides ayahuasca and chacruna, there will be toé (datura), bobinsana, chay, coca, marosa, and piñon blanco!
[8] Combining antidepressants: a review of evidence. Palaniyappan L, Insole L, Ferrier N. Advances in Psychiatric Treatment. 2009. 15(2):90-99. doi: 10.1192/apt.bp.107.004820 (See 'SSRI with moclobemide')
[9] One example of a serious mistake is the suggestion that it is OK to combine imipramine with MAOIs, and moclobemide with SSRIs (84) — that has a risk of inducing fatal serotonin toxicity.
84. Palaniyappan, L, Insole, L, and Ferrier, N, Combining antidepressants: a review of evidence. Adv Psychiatr Treat, 2009. 15: p. 90-99.
7. Gillman’s Antidepressants algorithm. Ken Gillman, MD, PsychoTropical Research, Nov 2016, Nov 2023

Collingwood have a recruiting zone the size of Italy. It’s yet to produce a single player
As the AFL confronts a crisis in the recruitment and retention of Indigenous footballers, it is set to tear up the map that allocates recruiting zones to clubs, which at present gives Collingwood a region the size of Italy that has never produced a player for the Magpies.
The league will also review the impact of football scholarships to prestigious private schools, as recruiters worry that young Indigenous players who leave their communities to attend boarding school are “falling through the cracks”.
These are just two elements of an immediate overhaul of the way First Nations Australians are recruited to AFL clubs, following an 18 per cent decline in the number of Indigenous players on club lists over the past five years. As the league celebrates Sir Doug Nicholls Round, The Age has interviewed recruiters, players and administrators, including AFL football boss Laura Kane, to investigate the reasons for the alarming decline in the number of Indigenous players being drafted, and what can be done to reverse the trend.
Already on the table is a revamp of the draft bidding system on Indigenous and multicultural players from Next Generation academies in this year’s national draft.
Previously, most clubs were blocked from free access to academy graduates before pick 40 in the draft, but this is set to be scrapped.
“It’s definitely something on the agenda, I don’t know what it would change to [from pick 40],” Kane told this masthead.
“I think it’s very fair to say we are open to making sure we do not disincentivise or prohibit young kids – multicultural or Indigenous kids – from being picked, so we are definitely open to it. But it is tied into other things, to the [points system] and player movement rules holistically.
“We have signalled to clubs we have an appetite as appropriate to change things as quickly as we can. I am not ruling out change for this year [the national draft] but we are working with all clubs about what does that look like.”
What the numbers say
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people account for 71 of the more than 800 footballers on AFL lists in 2024, which is down from 87 in 2020.
Overall, Indigenous footballers account for 9.2 per cent of players on club lists.
There were four Indigenous players taken in last year’s national draft – Ryley Sanders (Western Bulldogs), Lance Collard (St Kilda), Mitch Edwards (Geelong) and Lawson Humphries (Geelong). In addition, Coen Livingstone and Indhi Kirk went to West Coast and Sydney, respectively, as category B rookies.
In particular, the number of Indigenous players recruited from Western Australia has plummeted, with Malakia Champion this year’s only real draft prospect.
Kane said a range of factors, including the impact of COVID-19, had influenced that decline in numbers, but the league also acknowledged the need for structural changes.
Next Generation academy rules and recruiting zones
Tying Next Generation academy (NGA) zones to AFL clubs was meant to encourage them to invest in their zones in an effort to unearth untapped talent.
Clubs had priority access to Indigenous talent that emerged in their zone. But after the Western Bulldogs landed key forward Jamarra Ugle-Hagan with the first pick in the 2020 national draft, the rules changed. Now clubs don’t have priority access to any player from their academy who other clubs want to select before pick 40 in the national draft.
West Coast missed out on recruiting Collard in the last national draft despite identifying his potential then readying him to play AFL over several years through their academy.
Instead, Collard was taken at pick 28 by St Kilda. The Eagles made a loss on their investment and the 18-year-old’s improvement was rewarded with a move away from his home state.
Kane confirmed the AFL would revisit the academy zones. Under the existing carve-up, some clubs such as Carlton only have access to an urban area in Melbourne (in the Blues’ case, it covers the northern suburbs), but no regional area. Meantime Collingwood’s zone of Barkly in the Northern Territory, which covers an area of about 323,000 square kilometres and takes in Tennant Creek, has not produced a player for the Magpies.
Asked if the AFL was reviewing academy zones and the logic behind them, Kane replied: “Yes and yes”.
“We need to take a broad view, along with the talent concession conversation, around what the map [of zones and NGA regions] looks like,” she said.
“How do we incentivise and then how do we build out the club’s reach and make sure it is connected to their supporter base and schools and community engagement because we know that works?”
As for the decline in WA, which had produced champion Indigenous players such as Lance Franklin and Bobby Hill, Kane said the AFL was reviewing the structure that puts WAFL clubs in charge of identifying and developing Indigenous talent in the state.
“It’s not about us taking it over, it’s about the structure that they have … is it producing Indigenous and multicultural numbers to the level they know they can? We know what the community looks like over there and how rich the (Indigenous) talent is in WA,” she explained.
“What do you [WAFL clubs] do with your top-end talent? In the club-based, decentralised structure the clubs have an appetite to win as well as develop their talent, and we are working with all the clubs and the WA footy commission around what does that look like for the top-end talent, and what does their year look like as compared with a club-based footballer?
“I don’t have any fixed views about what it needs to look like moving forward except that it must produce talent in a sustainable way.”
Private school scholarships
Forty-four of last year’s draft class attended private schools, including the Western Bulldogs’ top pick Ryley Sanders, who relocated from Launceston to accept an Indigenous bursary at Melbourne Grammar.
Sanders told The Age before he was drafted that the chance to receive a top-class education and join the Sandringham Dragons’ football program convinced him to board in Melbourne. Other Indigenous players to have taken this path include Hawks champion Cyril Rioli (from the Tiwi Islands to Scotch College), and Melbourne premiership star Steven May (Darwin to Melbourne Grammar).
However, one recruiter said some players who accepted scholarships were “falling through the cracks” because there was no single body overseeing their development.
Instead, they bounced from school footy to under-18s to state programs. Some schools expected them to train through summer holidays, which was a rare chance to be home with their families.
Kane acknowledged that the AFL was looking at the impact of private school scholarship programs that moved potential draftees interstate.
She also said the league was analysing the number of Indigenous players who have churned through the AFL system recently, and whether a change to rules which gave clubs priority access to academy players had caused a spike in numbers, as clubs recruited players who were unready for AFL and potentially discarded them too quickly.
‘We can’t recruit players who are not there’
An obvious starting point according to veteran AFL recruiters, Sydney’s Kinnear Beatson and Geelong’s Stephen Wells, is to understand the scale of the problem.
“The AFL firstly has to try to find out why players are not playing in the numbers they were before, before they try to come up with answers,” Wells said.
There are plenty of theories, with the list as long as Lewis Jetta’s bouncing run in the 2012 grand final.
They include the depth of the overall talent pool, the effect of COVID-19 cutbacks, the lack of ownership and accountability for Indigenous talent pathways, and the impossible demands on poorly paid talent identification officials in state league clubs. Conversations about whether Hawthorn and Collingwood were safe environments for Indigenous players had harmed the game’s reputation, said one industry figure who wanted to remain anonymously to speak freely.
Then there are the issues the AFL controls. These include reduced list sizes, a slashed soft cap on football department spending, and draft restrictions that have forced clubs to be risk averse as they don’t have the time or resources to develop talent.
“We are judged on wins and losses, so all we want are the best players. If they are there we will pick them whether they are Indigenous, non-Indigenous, African, Asian, European, we just want the best players,” said one recruiter who preferred to remain anonymous because he was not authorised to speak publicly.
“We can’t recruit players who are not there. Whose responsibility is it to make sure the Indigenous players are there?”
Geelong premiership player Mathew Stokes, who hails from Darwin, said the AFL deserved credit for putting the issue on the agenda, even if they initially did so in a hamfisted way at a presentation to recruiters last month by instructing to recruiters to fix the problem by simply picking more Indigenous players.
However, Stokes called for consistency in the way resources are allocated.
“The AFL can only do so much but if they want the game to be in a good state in five or 10 years, and they want the numbers to continue they are going to have to put resources into the states and territories,” Stokes said.
“They have been fumbling around the NGA since the end of COVID and every club is asking: what are we actually doing, how are we doing this, where is the money, where is the allocation?
“The only people being hurt by this are people on the ground in remote areas. [They hear] we are going to invest X amount of money in East Arnhem land, West Arnhem land or Big River or the Kimberleys. As soon as the money dries up [they just disappear]. There has to be a commitment from the AFL.”
Practical solutions
One veteran recruiter who was not authorised to speak publicly said models were in place, but experienced coaches were needed in junior development. In Western Australia alone there are nine WAFL clubs with country and metropolitan zones plus the Eagles and Dockers, which have Next Generation academies. They sit alongside the well-established and respected Clontarf programs.
The recruiter said elite coaches and Indigenous welfare officers should be involved in junior programs connected to state leagues in Western Australia, South Australia, Tasmania and the Territory as well as the Talent League programs in Victoria. He suggested paying recently retired players, particularly Indigenous players, well, to lead football programs for young players.
Former AFL star Michael McLean leads the Northern Territory’s development programs. The former Bulldog and Brisbane player is revered in the Territory. He also has a great football mind and knows what is needed to bridge the gap between playing football and being a professional footballer.
“We need five Michael McLeans in the NT,” said a close observer of football in the Territory.
The challenge is not just finding talent. It is preparing them for what might lie ahead in the AFL during their teenage years.
Geelong midfielder Brandan Parfitt moved from Darwin to North Adelaide at 16 before Geelong drafted him in 2016. His dad, David, was a star in the Territory, but Parfitt admitted those two years in a semi-professional environment were vital in laying the foundation for his football career.
“I needed that semi-professional step up and it is kind of hard when you are in an isolated place like Darwin. There is not too much opportunity. I guess I needed to surround myself with professionalism and other kids in my age group that were wanting to play AFL as well. That definitely made me work harder,” Parfitt said.
Gold Coast recruiter Craig Cameron said players, particularly in WA and NT, “need more exposure to high-level games and close regular connection to elite programs”.
Several recruiters said the Michael Long Centre, which is situated at Darwin’s TIO Stadium, could be repurposed or expanded into a centre of excellence for a pathway program. They said the centre was now primarily an education centre for school groups from communities. Scott Baker, football operations manager for the West Australian Football Commission, said not one Indigenous player had ever been drafted to the AFL directly from their regional communities. All had moved to Perth for at least a year before being drafted, which took a significant financial commitment from the player and those developing them.
He recommended a centre of excellence in Perth where players could live, go to school, and be in an elite football program.
He favoured carving WA up between Fremantle and West Coast and allowing them to invest in identifying talent, developing players and having free access to them.
“That would create and allow a system where more indigenous players would stay in the AFL system for a lot longer,” Baker said.
In central Victoria, change is happening
It took nearly 20 years between Chris Egan being drafted to Collingwood from the Murray Bushrangers in 2004 for another player from the Indigenous-led Rumbalara Football Club to make the Talent League club’s squad.
In that time Rumbalara saw many talented players pass through their system overlooked, president Josh Atkinson said. “We never challenged or questioned their selection process. [We] always felt that we had kids who were talented enough, but they never seemed to make it and then [that] started to inspire a bit of a narrative around our community that if you play at Rumbalara you are not really going to get noticed or get picked up on a list,” Atkinson said.
His cousin Ashtyn Atkinson finally broke that drought in 2022.
“We had the largest population of Aboriginals in Victoria outside a major city but we had no representation in the pathway programs,” Josh Atkinson said.
“The AFL wanted to take some positive steps and the Murray Bushrangers definitely wanted to understand why and we felt like it was a really appropriate time and a safer time to come forward with potential barriers rather than just bury our head [in the sand]. “It’s [led to] a definite improvement.”
As a result, the Murray Bushrangers formed the Dungala talent pathway in 2023 to identify and support Indigenous footballers in the region through elite training, coaching and mentorship.
This year talented Rumbalara youngster Brogan McGee made the Bushrangers’ squad after a trio of Rumbalara prospects trained at the club over summer.
Atkinson says it will take time before the connection between particular parts of the community and clubs nurturing elite talent is cemented.
“The idea of a minority group stepping into an elite circle to compete with children who come from well-supported backgrounds who have been strong and supported for generations is going to take a generation,” he said.

1. Should we all reproduce just because we can?
Obviously not. If someone has hereditary diseases of any kind they ought to abstain from reproduction until they are healed. There are many things which our bodies can do but we offer our lives & bodies in selfless service for a larger society & abstain from using our bodies for selfish reproduction that adds to consumers in society.
1.1. So what if someone has hereditary diseases why should they not reproduce?
If the act of bringing a child compromises the quality of life of the child or the people who are already there in society then bringing an additional child / consumer is a wrong against the rest of society
1.2. What do you mean by hereditary diseases? my Dad/ Mom has a hereditary hai skin issues, should I not reproduce then?
As a society we must have high standards for what we pass onto the next generation.
One too many people in Africa despite having hair & skin issues reproduce even when they are living on a piece of desert land.
If you ask them how they will provide for their children, they say things like "but I feel rich" or if they are more subtle they will say "God will provide".
For e.g. A lady in Africa with a desert land the size of a parking lot and a tin shed said she "felt rich" & had the right to reproduce.
An African gentleman said he found ladies who suffered from hereditary diseases attractive & a suitable companion for reproduction.
We as a people need higher standards so others may imitate/emulate us.
1.3. Is it ok to have children if we say "God will provide" & "Trust in Allah SWT"?
If there are people living in the streets & people without homes, without cars, without the best education, without friends/lovers, without clothing or food (panhandling) & people are suffering then it is incumbent that first as a society we set aside homes, cars, clothing, food, education for life (for the rest of the new born's life) BEFORE we bring life into this world.
People who say "trust in God" as an excuse for reproduction usually are taking the incorrect way out by putting the blame upon God for unplanned reproduction.
2. Can people reproduce if they are entirely healthy & there is no chance of passing a hereditary disease onto another?
Suppose the people of a nation are entirely healthy, but if they compromise the quality of life of another by producing yet another consumer, while members of society are without housing ownership, privacy, life-long transportation, life-long clothing , life-long food supply, education, life-long healthcare, land ownership, life long gainful employment, prosperity & equality, then the act of adding more children becomes something immoral & a wrong done to society.
2.1. What if a society has all the resources & we are not compromising another person's quality of life & we are perfectly healthy, can we reproduce now?
Reproduction should be demand based. This means select people may volunteer their genes for reproduction IF there is a demand in society for additional peoples and there are resources available for additional peoples. If as a society, people do not find a certain phenotype or genotype desirable then it is wrong to encumber the larger society with children (even if you have resources & are perfectly healthy etc.).
2.2. Ok I am perfectly healthy & wealthy, how do I know if my children are going to be a desirable phenotype or genotype?
People who are not considered beautiful/ attractive/ gorgeous / desirable by larger society ought to abstain from reproduction UNTIL they are become beautiful, attractive, gorgeous, desirable. People who are desirable ought to volunteer their sperms & eggs for reproduction in an external womb (so the women are spared the trials of child bearing).
2.2.1 What do you mean by having children in "external wombs"?
As a people we need to spare women the stresses, trauma & pains of child birth. In stead of in-utero births we ought to transition to in-vitro births. This means we use external wombs to fertilize, gestate & birth children instead of exposing women to the trauma of birth. Women are made for loving NOT for use as baby manufacturing factories (childbirth compromises women's health, their bodies, their mood & their availability as lovers).
2.2.2 Did not God ask Adam & Eve to go forth & multiply?
Childbirth & its pains are the result of the fall from Eden (as prophesied by God when Adam was misled by the d-vil in the garden of Eden, a prophecy of the impending curse of childbirth). The injunction was for life then in those days, not the fallen life now with so much race-harm, overcrowding, overpopulation & inequity.
2.3. What if I am swarthy as a result of suffereing race-harm & I have been oppressed & stigmatized (my skin burned & subjected to heat & humidity hence my hair is curly, my eyes have gone from blue to brown / black & the cartilage of my nose has melted so it is larger) am I still allowed to reproduce?
If someone has been oppressed & stigmatized it is all the more important that they first heal themselves & it is incumbent on the larger society to make every good faith effort to heal the ethnic non-white oppressed first BEFORE they reproduce.
2.4. What if I am healthy& fair & still not considered attractive? What do people know? they follow fads & silly trends?
The standards of beauty ought to be set by trained, educated, specialists & aesthetes who are trained in identifying what is a desirable trait , phenotype & genotype. The people should embrace these high standards.
2.5. Is this "eu-genics" (or literally "eu=good , genics = genes")? Is this not what the N-zis tried to do ?
The N-zis also implemented & flew the first jet planes, it does not make everything they did wrong. Some Muslims implement Islam incorrectly this does not make everything about Islam wrong. What is wrong about the N-zis is how they implemented eugenics by hurting & harming our Jewish brothers & sisters. Today Jews are some of the whitest, blondest, blue-eyed peoples (people like Gwenyth Paltrow, Armie Hammer, Zachary Goldsmith the brother Jemima Goldsmith, Bar Rafaeli, Scarlet Johansen, Kate Hudson, Chris Pine (Captain Kirk of Star Trek), Sarah Michelle Gellar, Diana Agron, Evan Rachel Wood, Elizabeth Banks, Goldie Hawn, Lisa Kudrow (Phoebe from Friends), Michael Vartan, Ellen Barkin, Kate Capshaw, Helen Slater etc.)
3. So we are not supposed to reproduce? What are we going to do then?
Make love as selflessly & as much as possible & heal & beautify one another but abstain from reproduction until 1. you are entirely healthy 2. your genotype & phenotype is considered desirable by the highest standards 3. there is a need for replacing people lost due to mortality etc.
4. What about marriage? is not marriage supposed to be about having children?
Marriage is meant so two people may perfect one another (improve one another) & love one another, make love but do not make babies unless in external wombs, approved by aesthetes, the parents are perfectly healthy & without hereditary illnesses & there are resources set aside for life for the expected newborn.
5. Ok I have a tin shed in a shanty town set aside for everyone I dislike. Do I have permission to reproduce now?
Everyone should have everything provided for life: equally good & the highest standards for housing, equally good & the best of transportations, food, clothing, education, perfect health, eternal youth, psychological, mental & physical health & the best of luxuries life has to offer FIRST before additional members are added to society.
6. I don't care about any of the above, I have seen a LOT of Indian Musical Movies & I just want to have black/brown children like the Indians, so who is going to stop me?
If someone reproduces despite being undesirable & having few resources, low standards & or hereditary diseases then they are engaging in a selfish act harming their society & humankind. They may encounter unkindness, exclusion, avoidance & lack of love/ popularity. They are likely to be replaced by a fairer, smarter, more loving peoples as is the case today with the events in the Holy Land where God is obviously favoring the white, blonde, blue eyed Jewish brothers & sisters of ours.
7. I am poor & I feel healthy when I am pregnant, why can't I get pregnant when I want?
Becoming pregnant is not supposed to be a unilateral act but requires the continual consent of atleast one other person (the male biological father) along with that of the larger society which has to then put up with the children. If health is desirable then as a society we may provide free & optimal healthcare that surpasses the health benefits of becoming pregnant. However it is highly immoral to bring another consumer into an already struggling society, particularly if it compromises the quality of life of the child or others in society.
8. why would God give me the ability to get pregnant if I cannot get pregnant whenever I want to?
Just because we have an ability does not mean we may use it without regard for others. For example we may have the ability to sneeze, but it is prudent & ethical to sneeze in a handkerchief or in a sink as opposed to upon other peoples etc.
9. Beauty is "subjective" & in the eye of the beholder, after all the Indians have convinced everyone that their rather unattractive melanochroid women ought to win Ms. World & Ms Universe.
Beauty must have standards. Without standards people end up marrying & making love to what is immoral. For e.g. we have a standard that says, we must find members of the OPPOSITE gender sexually attractive, then we have another standard for beauty where we are attracted to members of the opposite sex who are sweet, kind, nice, rational, abstain from abuse (verbal & physical) etc. If you believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder there is likelihood of immoral sexual behavior like homosexuality & in the case of India one too many villagers are marrying cattle (& engaging in sexual relations with cattle).
What the Indians did in Ms. World & Ms. Universe is typical of what one too many oppressed folk cast spells & delude people into thinking they are "desirable" or beautiful. This is called a kind of a "fever" & is immoral. For e.g. Australoid Africans cast "jungle fever" & Mongoloid Asiatics cast "yellow fever" & Indians cast "brown fever".
10. Why do you say that non-white is NOT beautiful?
Non-white people have the right to be white & beautiful but they are not yet equally beautiful as fortunate, wealthy, healthy white folk. The races emerged as a result of "marking" and "race-harm" where some people were oppressed & stigmatized ("burned skin"). The brown/melanin from the skin is an adaptation to over-exposure to solar radiation & other forms of harm & oppression.
11. Non-whites are products of hot humid & sunlit environs, Whites products of cold & low-light environs, what is wrong with that?
Both environs are meant to detox but they detox or kill bacteria in radically different ways.
Cold decreases bacterial & viral growth & activity until it reaches the freezing point where it may kill the virus or bacteria. It does not leave scars or burn marks (as with heat) & it heals the dweller & preserves the dweller as if the dweller was in a refrigerator. This is preferable as a means of detox or healing a person suffering from physiological & psychological conditions (vices). Heat on the other hand increases bacterial & viral growth & activity (worsening the condition) until it reaches boil point at which point it kills the bacteria. Both heat & cold kill the bacteria in the end however they go about it very differently with heat damaging the patient & scarring them.
Heat literally burns & leaves burn marks & cooks the very human subject. If the heat is combined with water it accelerates disease transmission as humid climes facilitate bacterial / viral infection/ transmission (as the bacteria & virii have an easier time traveling through the water droplets in the air). Heat literally burns & scars the epidermis sometimes permanently (when the burn marks get encoded into the genotype & the darkness is passed to the next generation). Heat also melts the soft cartilage in the nose rendering the nose enlarged & mis-shapen whereas the cold does the opposite (it shapes, constricts & sharpens the features). The heat also literally cooks the hair in the oils of the body & causes it become curly & dark. The heat also burns the iris & turns the blue first into brown and then darker depending on exposure to solar radiation. This damage from solar radiation creates a layer of burned skin on the iris & the epidermis which can be healed.
12. So is it our fault that some of us are non-white? are we non-white folk sinners?
The idolaters wanted to burn the sinners in "heck" or "h-ll". This is race-harm & it is not sanctioned by the Abrahamic faith (Judaism, Christianity & Islam) which advocates mercy, grace, love, healing & heaven for all & an end to man-made heck (& the notion of heck).
13. Who did this "race-harm" to people & make them non-white? Why?
The misguided idolaters created three climate zone after the flood (Hazrath Nuh's time) some 200 years after the flood during the age of Hazrath Nuh (SW)'s descendant Peleg's days. Before Peleg the earth was "pangeastic" (Pangea) : one single landmass with one climate. After the flood the landmass separated into continents & three climate zones were created by the misguided idolaters. The first zone was called the "middle earth" with temperate climes & benign lifeforms (mediterranea or literally middle earth), the next zone was a cold zone called "hyperborea" (or extreme north) which served as purgatory (the cold sterilized or diminished the bacteria & virii & other diseases of body that also create psychological conditions & vices). The third zone was known as "hades" (the ancient name for heck or h_ll). This was where the earth was extremely hot & is the region around the equator , the tropics. Unlike the Mediterranean Hades (hot) & Purgatory (cold) have various functions (as described in point 11).
14. so what should we non-white people do now? should we non-white people just lie down & die?
No, it is important to ask for equality & justice & restoration to whiteness & health. However you cannot do that if you think you are JUST as beautiful & healthy as white peoples who have enjoyed glacially pure waters & snow & clear lakes, flowers, grass etc. If you pretend that you are just as beautiful then you are effectively hiding the crimes done against you by people who made you non-white. If you think white people & non-white people are equally healthy & beautiful you are excusing the wrongs done to non-white folks & covering for the crimes of those who engaged in race harm (this does not mean that people who engaged in race-harm ought to be harmed, they need forgiveness & love & right guidance too). It is possible to be restored to health, beauty, fairness & whiteness at any point and time in a person's life.
TLDR:
1 . we may not reproduce if there is any chance of passing hereditary diseases to the next generation'
1.1. if bringing a child compromises the quality of life of another (including the child) then it is a wrong
1.2. we ought to have high standards before we reproduce.
1.3. we ought to set aside resources BEFORE a child is brought into this world. To say "trust in God" is to excuse the irresponsible reproduction

1. People may not reproduce even if they are healthy but compromise the quality of life of others by reproducing.

2.1. people may not reproduce if they are not the desirable phenotype / genotype
2.2. people who are not considered desirable by the larger society may first become desirable first.
2.2.1 we ought to be having children in external wombs to spare womankind the trials & tribulations of having children.
2.3. if someone has been made non-white they ought to become healthy & white first before reproducing.
2.4. the standards of what is desirable / beautiful ought to be set by trained, educated, specialists & aesthetes
2.5. how you implement an idea is important. Just because someone does not execute an idea well does not mean the idea is wrong or misguided, just the implementation.

1. make love & abstain from having children until you are healthy, desirable & there is a need.
   
2. marriage is so two people may perfect one another.
   
3. everyone should have the highest & best quality of life (equally) before more members are added to society
   
4. if someone has children selfishly with disregard to what is considered desirable & attractive (& or with low standards) then they are likely to encourage unkindness towards themselves & their children.
   
5. becoming pregnant is not a unilateral, bilateral or regional issue, it affects a lot of stakeholders & the good of the stakeholders (the environment, the larger humankind etc.) ought to be considered instead of taking vigilante, self centered action. Taking self-centered or unilateral action results in unkindness & conflict with others.
   
6. just because we have an ability does not mean we may use it as we wish without regard for others
   
7. beauty must have standards for viewing beauty as in the eye of the beholder devolves into aberrant sexuality as with one too many Indians who engage in bestiality. It is immoral to convince people that oppressed non white people are equally beautiful as white folk.
   
8. non-white folk were produced as the result of oppression or overexposure to solar radiation & other environmental stressors.
   
9. it is preferable to detox via cold environs (which preserves) over detoxxing via heat (which burns, mutilates & disfigures).
   
10. it is not the fault of non-white people that they are non-white, they have the right to be healthy & white & must be helped to become so but they need to realize that they need help healing & restoring their health.
    
11. how the climate zones were created & how the misguided engaged in race harm & created the various races
    
12. it is important for all people to realize that race-harm has occurred & to restore & compensate those who have been harmed without harming the criminals who engaged in race-harm & oppressed the other races.
    

━━━━━▼ TWIN 1 ▼━━━━━

BASIC INFO

Name: Thomas Matthew Hartley

• AKA Tommy. Nobody really calls him by his full name, and he's never gone by 'Tom' or anything either.

Age: 16
Gender: Male
D.O.B: 13th April 2023
Birthplace: London, England
Nationality: British
Godrent: Aphrodite
Significant family:
• Adoptive mother: Veronica Hartley, 42
• Adoptive father: Alan Hartley, 44
• Twin brother: Harvey Hartley, 16

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Faceclaim: Art/Picrews
Features: Tommy may not look like a typical macho Hollywood hunk, but his delicately angular and distinctive features endow him instead with a uniquely pretty look. Of particular note are his eyes: big, slightly wide-set, a little downturned, and baby blue. All this, along with the rest of his unconventional style, makes for a rather striking appearance. Tommy is also blessed with a perennial smile that ebbs between relaxed and radiant.
Height: 5'8" — about an inch shorter than his brother, although this gap is often bridged thanks to his taste in shoes.
Build: Slender and lean.
Hair: Tommy's hair is probably one of his favourite things. He dedicates a great amount of care and attention to it. Though naturally brown, he's been dyeing it blond for a few years now, and will on occasion add various other pops of colour. It's currently in a stylishly tousled, layered style that just reaches his shoulders when loose.
Clothes/style: Tommy is nothing if not a fashionista. He will flit artfully between a wide variety of fashion movements, never quite committing to a single one, though he has a particular love for 2000s and 1970s aesthetics (from Y2K to glam rock and disco). He also often takes inspiration from hippie, punk, emo, grunge, and otherwise alt or vintage fashion, but he's adventurous in his style (and only getting more so with time) and he doesn't like to limit himself. Most of his clothes have been thrifted or bought secondhand, with some customised or even constructed by himself.
Accessories: Numbering many and of a great variety. A common one is makeup: frequently eyeliner, sometimes nail polish, and occasionally things like lip gloss or eyeshadow.
Necklaces, chains, scarves, hats, belts, bracelets, rings, and tinted glasses make frequent appearances in his looks. Tommy has his ears pierced and usually wears small hoops or studs, but he also owns a few pairs of more intricate earrings.
Gender expression: Androgynous. While he doesn't seek to present himself as anything but male, he doesn't shy away from incorporating more feminine elements into his appearance.

PERSONALITY

Like many of his godly siblings, Tommy is a vain creature: he's never happier than when he's prettying himself up or achieving a perfect look. This can come hand in hand with a tendency for being self-absorbed, although his selfishness comes more from a habit of forgetting he’s not the only person in the world than having any malicious intent — he's a kind person when he’s not distracted by something shiny or his own self (which is pretty shiny). Getting distracted by something shiny is a common occurrence with Tommy, whose flighty nature means he can struggle with commitment (whether to tasks, plans, interests, or people).
Tommy is admittedly a little ditzy. He's not a fan of academia, nor of thinking too hard about anything in general, tying into his carefree approach to life. He is a remarkably laidback and cheerful person whose tendency to not sweat the little things can lead to irresponsibility. He's got a habit of ignoring problems and responsibilities and shirking hard work in favour of things more enjoyable; he’d rather have a good time now than worry about whatever consequences might come later. He can also sometimes be quite naïve. Overall, he is a friendly social butterfly with a fun-loving streak.

OTHER

Theme(s): TBD
Sexuality: Heterosexual, although he's currently not 100% sure. He's only ever been interested in girls, but the way some people assume he isn't straight (and his general openness to new things) has made him consider experimenting a little.
Voice/accent: A London accent. His voice is typically quite mellow and relaxed.
Mannerisms & habits: Tommy can often be seen playing with his hair, or just idly fidgeting in general. His body language is usually playful and casual. You'll frequently find him chewing gum. Tommy is right-handed.
Interests/hobbies:
Fashion: The way to Tommy's heart is through clothes. He lives for getting new clothes, going thrifting, styling outfits, wearing them, and generally being as fashionable as possible (although his style may skew alternative/unconventional).

• Tommy is also interested in fashion design and creating his own items of clothing. He's pretty talented at sewing and can alter or modify clothes or even construct new ones out of materials.

Music: Tommy has dreams of being a pop and/or rock star. A teen idol. Admittedly, these dreams are more motivated by a desire to be famous than passion for music, but he does genuinely love music and performing it. He mostly sings, which he is quite good at (though not groundbreakingly so).

• Like his taste in clothes, his taste in music also spans genres. Ones he's particularly a fan of include indie pop, glam rock, synth pop, pop punk, new wave, disco music, and hip hop, as well as whatever chart-toppers of the moment.
  
• Music he listens to ranges from David Bowie, ABBA, and Queen to Prince, KISS, and Avril Lavigne, but he’s got a wide variety of artists he listens to and would struggle to pick exact favourites.
  

Misc.:

• Tommy has been gathering a respectably sized following on social media, mostly posting himself and fashion-related posts. Upkeep of these accounts is likely difficult with limited access to the internet, though.
• The more athletic twin, Tommy enjoys activities and sports like skating and football (AKA soccer).

Powers:

• Enhanced Beauty 

Tommy always looks perfect. It could be down to the care he puts into his looks, but it's probably also the passive power that staves off cosmetic flaws and steers his physical state in the best possible direction, no matter whatever other factors in his life: for example, his skin is always clear and glowing; his hair is always beautiful and healthy-looking; his face never looks tired, or blotchy, or puffy — he always looks as flawless and radiant and as best he possibly can.

• Alluring Aura 

When Tommy's alluring aura power is activated, all those within the area of effect will find him remarkably attractive and charming. Any existing feelings of the sort — which are not uncommon anyway, really — are greatly amplified. People within 15 feet will find him more strikingly beautiful than they might otherwise, and may also feel subtly drawn to him, or more generally inclined to like him. Different people may be affected in different ways, and some more than others; the general intensity of the effect can also vary.
This aura effect activates unconsciously, triggered by all manner of situations: feeling certain emotions, meeting someone new, seeing someone attractive, the desire to charm or win someone over, the desire for attention and validation... Tommy is not aware of the power. He thinks he's just naturally like that.

• Flower Manipulation 

Tommy can control and manipulate flowers, including flowering vines, which he can grow from seeds or existing plants and use to wrap around targets to bind, restrain, or grab.

• Glitter Generation 

Tommy has the ability to manifest glitter, including edible glitter and glitter glue but not sequins.

• Persuasion, Cosmetic and Fashion Proficiency 

Tommy is naturally adept with the skills involved in persuasion and beautification, such as cosmetics and fashion.

• Animal Affinity 

All creatures tend to be naturally friendly to Tommy.
Weapons: None yet.
━━━━━▲ TWIN 2 ▲━━━━━

BASIC INFO

Name: Harvey Bruno Hartley

• Most attempts at nicknames will be met with disapproval (as well as jokes about the rhyming nature of his name).

Age: 16
Gender: Male
D.O.B: 13th April 2023
Birthplace: London, England
Nationality: British
Godrent: Aphrodite
Significant family:
• Adoptive mother: Veronica Hartley, 42
• Adoptive father: Alan Hartley, 44
• Twin brother: Thomas Hartley, 16

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Faceclaim: Art/Picrews
Features: Although he and his identical twin should have identical faces, Harvey and Tommy do not look exactly alike. Perhaps this is down to Tommy's beauty-related powers which Harvey lacks, or perhaps it's a result of the accident Harvey had in childhood that broke his nose and jaw. This resulted in a lopsidedness to his chin and a crookedness to his nose that disrupts the symmetry of his face and the natural delicateness of his features. He is also afflicted by acne in a way that has spared his brother, and is insistently growing a terrible moustache, which at this point only amounts to a few wispy wayward hairs.
Height: 5'9" — an inch taller than his twin, which he likes to lord over him.
Build: Less fit than his more athletic brother, although they share the same slight frame.
Hair: Harvey sports his natural hair colour, which is brown. Unlike his brother, he does not devote much energy to his hair; he's stuck with the same style for years (which Tommy has long reviled as unflattering), and it always seems to end up limp, greasy, or scruffy.
Clothes/style: Harvey is not concerned with the trivialities of fashion. His clothes are generally plain and practical, so expect basic t-shirts (usually long-sleeved), hoodies, jeans, and joggers. The most adventurous fashion choice he makes is wearing turtlenecks, because they make him feel like a writer.
Accessories: Numbering few. Harvey doesn't typically accessorise, but he usually wears a watch.
Gender expression: Masculine.

PERSONALITY

Harvey does not fit in with his cabin mates.
While many of his siblings are preoccupied with matters of appearance and fashion, Harvey rejects such frivolities, espousing a strong distaste for shallow, meaningless things and favouring matters of intellectual substance and poetic beauty rather than superficial. This, unfortunately, can make him come across as pretentious. He's secretly (well... he thinks it's secretly) desperate to be seen as an intelligent, profound, and sophisticated individual — both an intellectual and an artist — and his attempts to embody this are not always the smoothest. In fact, he can be quite awkward: socialising does not come to him as effortlessly as it does to his brother.
Harvey is a dedicated person who can be very hard-working and conscientious. He is typically quite responsible and a lot more sensible than his twin, though maturity may sometimes give way to pettiness, especially if he starts to hold a grudge. He can be rather bitter and jealous, with his insecurity and neurotic disposition at times creating a self-sabotaging vicious circle. Harvey can also be moody, with a tendency to wallow in his own feelings, as well as take things too seriously. Despite all this, he is often a thoughtful and considerate person, and remains loyal to those he is close to.

OTHER

Theme(s): Creep by Radiohead TBD
Sexuality: Heterosexual.
Voice/accent: His accent seems to be slightly more 'posh' than his brother's, although this may just be something he's trained himself into.
Mannerisms & habits: Harvey and Tommy share certain mannerisms. They both tend to fidget and fiddle with things, with Harvey typically focusing on his watch or his sleeves. Harvey is also a mouth breather (in the literal sense), and rather stuck in a cycle of chewing, licking, and picking at chapped and scabby lips, which only serves to make the matter worse. Harvey often seems a little tense and this is seen in his posture. He is left-handed.
Interests/hobbies:
Literature: This includes reading and writing. Harvey is an appreciator of classic works of literature, such as those by Shakespeare or the poetry greats over the centuries, as well as classic novels.

• He writes his own poetry and also tries his hand at prose (although his childhood aspiration of being a writer has never been achieved beyond a couple of pages — he can never come up with plots).

Music: Harvey is passionate about music and rather proud of his music taste. He enjoys the genres of experimental music, post-rock, ambient, shoegaze, progressive rock, and noise music, as well as having an appreciation for jazz, especially more avant-garde forms. He's also partial to a spot of classical music, although partly just because it makes him seem cultured.

• His favourite artist is Radiohead, though he had a former obsession with The Beatles. Further musicians include Aphex Twin, Pink Floyd, King Crimson, My Bloody Valentine, Swans, and a variety of artists who nobody has ever heard of. He's a bit of a music snob and tends to look down on mainstream pop music.
  
• Harvey plays the guitar, writes his own songs, and produces his own experimental/ambient music which he posts online.
  

Bird-watching: A self-professed 'birder', Harvey finds great satisfaction in observing birds, recording bird sightings, and learning about the ornithological.
Misc.:

• Harvey considers himself a very cultured individual, one who appreciates things such as fine art and philosophy and possesses a vast library of knowledge. To his credit... well, he definitely tries to be this way.
  
• Harvey and Tommy have always played games together, ranging from childhood inventions to board games to the more 'intellectually stimulating' ones (like chess) Harvey tries to push but for which Tommy has little interest.
  

Powers:

• Dove Transformation 

Harvey can transform into a dove (specifically, a European turtle dove). He can maintain this form for a maximum of two cumulative hours a day. Shifting too rapidly will lead to a feeling of disorientation and eventually exhaustion.

• Heartbreak Inducement 

Harvey has the ability to induce an emotional state within targets similar to the pain of heartbreak. When used, this power will leave a target feeling deeply sorrowful and distressed, as if their heart has just been broken. This can last between two and ten minutes, with shorter times being able to pack more intensity. This could stave off an attacker (including monsters) as the emotional turmoil would be distracting.

• Pathokinesis Immunity 

Harvey is immune to emotional powers and magical attempts of emotional manipulation.

• Animal Affinity 

All creatures tend to be naturally friendly to Harvey.
Weapons: None yet.

HISTORY

Tommy and Harvey were born out of a brief liaison between the goddess Aphrodite and a young man living in London. Said young man was not keen on raising a baby, let alone two, and despite his (vaguely) valiant efforts for a short first part of their lives, he ended up giving the boys up into care. They were eventually adopted by a couple when they were just under 2 years old: Alan and Veronica Hartley.
Despite periods of fluctuating financial insecurity, the boys had a fairly standard and stable childhood. They were never that much alike, as far as identicalness goes, both growing to value and develop their own individuality.
At age 15, a development in employment led to the family moving to America. Strange things started occurring with increasing intensity, and only recently have they been made aware of their true heritage and introduced to their new home: Camp Half-Blood.

NOW

"What d'you wanna do now?" Tommy asks his brother as they leave the dining pavilion, having concluded their first breakfast at Camp Half-Blood since their arrival yesterday.
"I don't know," Harvey says, after an uncertain pause. He has, admittedly, been finding it somewhat harder than his twin to adjust to their new life. It feels like he's been forced into a set of clothes that don't fit, that itch and prickle with the surreal and incomprehensibly immense truth of his and his brother's origins — and, so it has been suggested — their uncomfortably likely monster-y ends. Tommy doesn't seem as bothered by these metaphorical new outfits they've been thrust into wearing, but then again, he's always liked getting new clothes.
"Come explore with me," Tommy suggests. He, for one, finds this strange new world exciting more than anything else. This place is like something out of a movie: a training camp for kids with magical powers? Goat people? Real-life swords? Cute girls living in rivers? He wants to find out more, wants to snoop around and see what else this place has to offer, and he also wants to meet people. Conveniently enough for that last part, the excitement of it all means that, unbeknownst to either twin, Tommy's aura power has been steadily activated; so he happens to be particularly eye-catching and magnetic right now.
Harvey's not so keen on immersing himself even further into the deep end they've been thrown into, at least not until he's had a little more time to adjust. "I don't feel like exploring right now," he says.
"You're so boring. Are you gonna go back to the cabin, then?" his brother asks, gesturing in a direction that is definitely not where the cabins are. Harvey instinctively pulls a face: it would be fair to say that one of the twins has taken to Cabin 10 more than the other.
"Well, what are you gonna do, then?" asks Tommy. "Just sit out here and mope?"
"I'm not going to mope. I don't mope."
"Yeah, you do," Tommy retorts. "You mope all the time. You're so mopey. You're a moped."
"Shut up," Harvey says. "Fine, I'll come explore with you for a bit," he concedes, if only to disprove the moping allegations. He's not sure what he'll do after — maybe break out the binoculars and scope out the local birdlife, something to re-centre himself a little.
"Alright, cool," Tommy says with a grin. "Where d'you wanna go first?"
OOC: You can interact with both of the twins while they explore camp together, Tommy (by himself) exploring camp on his own when Harvey leaves him, or Harvey (by himself) scoping out the local birdlife. You can assume that Tommy's aura power will be active upon meeting your character in whichever case. Thanks for reading :)

Round 1, Pick 2 - Jayden Daniels, QB, LSU:
NFL: It’s rare to find a quarterback prospect with A+ arm talent and rushing ability. Daniels was surrounded by talented playmakers at LSU, but I’d argue he was the biggest playmaker on that offense. He is the prototypical, new-school quarterback as a dynamic athlete who is a refined pocket passer with the touch, accuracy and timing to consistently drop passes in the bucket on deep throws.
CBS Sports: A. I love this pick. It’s a great situation for a rookie. The team has a new owner, coach and now quarterback. They can grow together. He will be the best QB in this class.
ESPN: In Adam Peters' first draft as Commanders' general manager, he opted for Daniels over J.J. McCarthy and Drake Maye. If Peters got the right man then Washington finally will have a solution to a quarterback problem that has plagued them for decades. Peters' pick will always be judged by the success, or failure, of McCarthy and Maye -- though far less so if Daniels thrives in Washington. If Daniels becomes the quarterback they hope, Washington could finally end decades of subpar play on the field. Its .399 winning percentage over the past 10 years is better than only five teams. The organization has not won 10 games since it last had a dual-threat rookie quarterback in 2012 -- Robert Griffin III. He energized the fan base unlike any player in recent memory, and the hope for Washington is that Daniels will do the same. But the Commanders need that fire to burn longer than one year, as it did with Griffin.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Has been able to fart on command since he was 9.
Round 2, Pick 36 - Jer’Zhan Newton, DT, Illinois:
NFL: The Commanders clearly read the comment above this one. They'll happily take Newton, who is a ferocious scheme-wrecker as a 3-technique and probably should have gone higher than this. They might have bypassed offensive tackle for now, with no talent worth taking here, but they interestingly are pretty stocked at defensive tackle.
CBS Sports: A+. Serious talent at DT. Powerful, polished upfield rusher with stellar hand work. Pad level raises at times but that’s nitpicking. Need meets awesome value here for Washington.
ESPN: Washington did not need a defensive tackle, and clearly have some key holes to fill, but the Commanders opted for the best player available in taking Newton. Washington drafted Phidarian Mathis in be the second round two years ago, but he has yet to make an impact playing behind Jonathan Allen and Daron Payne. They also have John Ridgeway, but beyond that they needed more help. Another key: Allen has no more guaranteed money on his contract, which runs through 2025, so the team could move on from him after this season. As a result, Newton can help this season, but take on an even bigger role in the future.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: He once ate cottage cheese on pizza, it wasn’t that bad.
Round 2, Pick 50 - Mike Sainristil, CB, Michigan:
NFL: One day, Sainristil will be your favorite nickel back's favorite nickel back. Scouts love the guy in spite of his smaller, leaner frame and despite switching over from receiver only a few years ago. His football instincts are extremely sound, and his intangibles are off the charts. This is a terrific pick for a franchise bent on completely remaking the football culture in Washington.
CBS Sports: B+. Pesky nickel CB with flexibility, instincts, and a high motor. Can beat some blockers en route to the football. Reasonable twitch and plus zone awareness. Exactly the type of playmaker the Commanders need. Tackling good, not amazing. Maybe a touch early.
ESPN: Washington's cornerbacks struggled last season. The Commanders signed three corners in free agency, but needed more players who could compete for starting roles. Sainristil will do just that, though he would play in the slot, where there also was a need. Quan Martin started in the slot at the end of the season, but the second-year pro can also play safety. Sainristil also showed he can take the ball away in college with seven interceptions. Washington needs more players like that in the secondary.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Has a flask of water that was blessed by an Alaskan Medicine Man.
Round 2, Pick 53 - Ben Sinnott, TE, Kansas State:
NFL: The newfangled Commanders seem to get this draft thing. Their three Day 2 picks so far have all been personal favorites, including Sinnott, whom I appeared to be higher on than some other media draft folks. He's got some Mark Andrews to his game, as Sinnott can find open spaces readily, has reliable hands and will break tackles in the passing game. He also gives good effort as a blocker.
CBS Sports: A+. Love this pick. Athletic, explosive athlete. Clearly the second-best receiving TE in this class. YAC skill is outstanding. Strong hands. Just not a true burner down the seam. Will be a go-to target for Jayden Daniels.
ESPN: Washington needed more versatility at tight end, which is what Sinnott provides. He can help as a tight end, but, at 6-foot-4, 250 pounds, he has the size to help as a blocker from the fullback position as well. He also showed he could catch, with 49 receptions for 676 yards and six touchdowns. The Commanders needed another tight end with pass-catching potential to pair with Zach Ertz. Washington also has John Bates, but he's more of a blocker. Offensive coordinator Kliff Kingsbury likes to use a lot of two tight end sets so adding someone else who can catch was a must.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Applied to be on Survivor, but doesn’t like sand.
Round 3, Pick 67 - Brandon Coleman, OG, TCU:
NFL: He was announced as a guard, interestingly, which is not where Coleman played primarily last year -- and tackle is certainly the biggest worry in Washington. But he did see time at guard, too, and has the athleticism to work in a Kliff Kingsbury offense predicated on OL movement.
CBS Sports: A. Big, girthy OT who probably kicks into guard at next level. Measurables are impressive and he’s a special mover for his size. Weapon at the second level because of that combination. Burst and finishing ability. Can recover and hand work is polished. Lateral quickness a bit slow at times. Love this pick for Washington after Daniels in Round 1.
ESPN: Washington has spent the offseason trying to rebuild and fix its offensive line. The Commanders added two starters via free agency in center Tyler Biadasz and guard Nick Allegretti. Coleman now can help at tackle, though he also started games at guard while at TCU. But the immediate need remains at tackle so the Commanders need him to fill that void. Washington cut former starting left tackle Charles Leno Jr., and does not have a full-time replacement on the roster -- which is why they need Coleman to work out. Also, Washington drafted a tackle in the fourth round last season in Braeden Daniels, but he struggled in training camp and eventually was placed on injured reserve with a rotator cuff injury. He did not show he could be a future starter last summer.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: THIS TRUE FACT BROUGHT TO YOU BY DRAFT KINGS: The crown is yours.
Round 3, Pick 100 - Luke McCaffrey, WR, Rice:
NFL: GM Adam Peters came from San Francisco, where they had another guy with the same last name. This McCaffrey is a converted QB who has settled in nicely at receiver, able to translate his football IQ and athleticism into production. He has good hands, likely will work best in the slot and is regarded as a future coach. Another culture pick for Washington.
CBS Sports: B+. Older wideout with obvious NFL bloodlines. Juice galore and can separate because of his jagged movements in the route. Salesmanship is there at times too. Not a YAC freak but will make cuts without losing speed with the ball in his hands. Length and physicality hurt him. Good hands in traffic. Nice weapon here.
ESPN: McCaffrey provides needed depth at receiver. Beyond Terry McLaurin and Jahan Dotson, Washington had too many questions at this position. And Dotson has not yet ascended to the level the organization hoped when it drafted him in the first round two years ago. At 6-foot-2, McCaffrey gives Daniels a bigger target from the slot -- Peters likes his quickness inside. McCaffrey started his career as a Nebraska quarterback and ended it as a receiver at Rice.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Pick #100. Buckle up. Only 157 more to go.
Round 5, Pick 139 - Jordan Magee, LB, Temple:
NFL: If Magee is protected well up front, he can fly around and make plays with his energetic style. But his slender frame and lack of take-on strength might limit him to passing-down duty and special teams.
CBS Sports: A-. High-cut plus athlete at the off-ball LB spot. Starter athleticism with requisite length. Inconsistent beating blocks. Can avoid them with them at times but not a calling card. Has the frame and athleticism to be a quality coverage ‘backer just doesn’t have much experience doing so to date. Range is there.
ESPN: Washington has spent the offseason rebuilding its linebacker core, adding starters Bobby Wagner and Frankie Luvu as well as backups Anthony Pittman and Mykal Walker. They also still have Jamin Davis. So Magee will have work to do in order to make the roster and contribute -- most likely on special teams. Magee has experience playing special teams. The Commanders have focused in part on adding good leaders and Magee was a two-time team captain at Temple. He started for three seasons and led the team in tackles each of the past two years. Last season he also had a team-high 14 tackles for a loss and was tied for most sacks with 3.5.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Went on a 2 week road trip following the Oscar Meyer Weiner Mobile.
Round 5, Pick 161 - Dominique Hampton, S, Washington:
NFL: Hampton took a longer path to success with the Huskies but developed into a good hitter with experience at multiple spots. Scouts debated where his NFL home might be on defense, but at the very least he carries good special teams experience into the league.
CBS Sports: B-. One of the best overall athletes at the safety spot in this class. Explosive, bend, suddenness, it’s all there. Play ID’ing skill should be sharper given he was at Washington for six years. Wants to be part of the action just very boom-or-bust as a tackler. Will find it in the air but not a man-coverage specialist.
ESPN: Washington has a core of young safeties with Darrick Forrest, Jartavius Martin and Percy Butler, plus veterans in Jeremy Chinn and Jeremy Reaves. The Commanders did not have a need for another safety to provide immediate help, but they could use one to develop, and that's where Hampton enters. His size -- 6-foot-2, 215 pounds -- is a good starting point. Any help in Year 1 would come on special teams -- he was named the most outstanding special teams player at Washington in 2021. He spent six years with the Huskies, starting the last two and led the team in tackles this past season. He also showed versatility, playing some corner for the Huskies.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Keeps a massive scratch and sniff sticker collection.
Round 7, Pick 222 - Javontae Jean-Baptiste, DE, Notre Dame:
NFL: An ideal camp-competition pick, JJB is a middling athlete with some stiffness, but he showed improvement as a super senior and ran back a blocked kick for a touchdown last season.
CBS Sports: A-. Started at Ohio State and plays like an ascending defender because of his athleticism, bend, and glimmer of pass-rush moves around the corner. But is an older prospect already. Plus athlete. Has to get stronger. Plenty of length. Nice roll of the dice.
ESPN: The Commanders signed three edge rushers in the offseason, but only Dorance Armstrong received a multi-year contract. They do have two young holdovers from last year's draft class in KJ Henry and Andre Jones Jr. Jean-Baptiste will challenge those two for a roster spot. Jean-Baptiste spent six years in college football -- the first five at Ohio State and last year at Notre Dame. He was a reserve for the Buckeyes but started for the Irish and led the team with 10.5 tackles for a loss and five sacks. He had the seventh fastest 40-time (4.66 seconds) among defensive ends at the combine.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Actually wanted to be a kicker but that didn’t work out so he’s this position.

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Before I came in for work today, Suzanne texted me that Andrew was recovering well, just as expected, and I mentally breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t slept well, bothered by nightmares that disappeared from my memory but left stress in their wake.
It turned out the animal that had been stolen was a small humanoid creature, something we would label as a cryptid, Suzanne told me. It had claws but wasn’t that strong, and actually she described its appearance as ‘spindly with a large head’, and if the robbers had the right tools for the job, it would have been easy to bind and steal it. My heart went out to the animal, wondering where it had gone, who’d bought it, and where it would be kept. I hadn’t even had the opportunity to see it, but I felt the loss, an endangered animal stolen by someone who cared only for its monetary value.
Then Suzanne told me that Andrew would be recuperating for a week, and informed me of the exciting fact that I’d be getting my first tour group in just a few days. I’ve been studying the animals to get more familiar with them, even the ones I hadn’t seen yet. She had indeed gotten me those glasses that were magically spelled or whatnot and I’d memorized facts along with enclosure numbers, so it seemed I was good to go.
Some fun news today is that Yui’s ginormous ping pong ball arrived, and once I assembled it, it turned out to be just as advertised, which means it’s almost as tall as I am. Needing to be assembled from a bunch of curved pieces wasn’t surprising and it wasn’t difficult to do so. Everything slid into place easily; there were twelve pieces that were held together by screws, some of which I attached while sitting inside it, then a ninth piece to cover the last gap. I had to do it outside the office, obviously, since it wouldn’t have fit through the door. Leila came over to watch, standing a dozen yards away and looking at what I was doing, her expression one of bemusement and interest.
Once I was done, I rolled it gradually forward down the path toward enclosure seven. The material it had been constructed from was almost as lightweight as a ping-pong ball, which made its weight surprising considering its size. Aside from notches here and there for a person to grip to move it, the ball was smooth, which would make it easy for Yui to roll it around. The key to this toy was that it wasn’t easily grabbable, so it would be a challenge to maneuver.
“Knock, knock,” I spoke, bringing the ball to a stop. “Special delivery.”
When I arrived, I considered the fence for a moment before grasping two handholds and pushing the ball slightly against the fence, using that to hoist it up and over. The ball bounced a bit as it landed on the other side and I smiled. “All right. Hope you like your new toy,” I murmured. At that, I took a lap around the zoo, since it was about that time, then headed back toward the security room.
On my way there, though, I slowed to a stop when I saw a man taking the little bag out of a garbage bin that hung from a tree and tying it shut, replacing it with a new one. Suzanne had told me that I’d have company and who to expect, and here he was. There were several bins in the zoo, situated along the typical path guests took, about the size of one you’d put in a small bathroom. It didn’t look that full, but they never really were since they weren’t used often. I guess this one had accumulated a few items.
“Hi,” I said, drawing his attention. “You must be John.”
“And you must be Ripley,” he said, holding out a hand for me, glancing up to meet my gaze only briefly. His handshake was polite but meek. “Pleasure to meet you.”
I would’ve said John’s accent was British also, but it sounded different. Thicker. Honestly, when it comes to the accents on that large collection of islands off the coast of Europe, I can’t say I’m an expert. They all sound the same to my uneducated ears. The man was short and had curly gray hair that tapered at his ears, and looked like his white skin had wrinkled from lots of time in the sun, though it wasn’t that tan.
There was something about him that was a little unsettling, the way he slouched, as if he wanted to turn invisible. Even his clothes seemed drab and shabby, though not quite reaching the rating of being threadbare. He wore an old t-shirt with the Arkansas Razorbacks logo, a pair of blue jeans, worn at the pockets, knees, and bottoms, and light brown sneakers darkened from wear and tear.
Picking up a broom he’d left leaning against the tree, he motioned toward the front of the zoo. “I’ll get back to work now,” he said.
“Doing what?” I asked curiously. There wasn’t much to be done, since zoos usually only needed maintenance because of patrons, and we had very few of those.
“Path needs sweeping,” he called over his shoulder, quickly heading off.
I stared after him and let out a breath. “Not a people person, I guess. Well, I can empathize.”
Back at the security room, I took a seat and pulled up the camera for Yui’s enclosure, sitting up straight and smiling, delighted to see that she’d discovered the ball. The giant tarantula was leaning back and using her front two legs to investigate the texture and weight of it. Then she pushed at it, rolling it across the grass. Obviously, I’m not fluent in tarantula body language, but from the fact that she kept playing with it for the next few minutes, I concluded that she liked it.
I grinned and clapped my hands like an excited child, bouncing once in my chair. It probably seems silly, but enrichment was going so well and it really made me happy. Animals deserve to be able to live wild and free naturally, but short of that, I wanted to be able to give them some fun.
The next lap around the zoo had me stopping at enclosure eight, that green lion creature, where the occupant was lounging across a wide boulder. I checked that her eyes were opened and that I wasn’t waking her before calling, “Thank you for telling me about Andrew.”
The animal lifted her head and got up, slowly descending to the ground. “You’re welcome.”
The animal leaned back to stretch her front legs just like a common housecat, and then leaned forward to stretch the back legs before she shook out her mane and turned to me. “I would like some books.”
My eyebrows went up. “Books? To read?”
“No. Not like you read them. I want to be near them. I’ve seen you giving things to the other animals. Can I have a bookshelf full of books?”
I felt the urge to laugh, but I quashed it. It seemed outlandish, but it must have had something to do with its psychic-ish abilities, so it made sense in a strange sort of way.
“Of course,” I replied. “Can I put the shelf out here on the path, or does it need to be inside your enclosure?”
She lowered herself to the ground, splaying out. “Out there is fine.”
“I’ll cover it with plastic so it doesn’t get wet from rain. Do you know how to read?” I questioned.
“No. It’s too hard,” she said. “But I don’t need to. Having to read a book to learn what it says would take a long time anyway.”
I pursed my lips and nodded my agreement. It was hard to argue with that. And it certainly would’ve been a lot easier for me while I’d been attending college classes. On that note, I wondered if putting a flash drive full of a library’s worth of books at the edge of the animal’s enclosure would do the same trick? I was immediately tempted to try, especially considering it would be much easier than buying, assembling, and water-proofing a bookshelf.
Back at the office, grabbing my purse from the table, I sat down in my chair and fished around inside until I found a flash drive. Then I pulled up archive.org on my computer’s monitor, searching for fiction books. After I’d downloaded a few dozen, I ejected the drive and headed back out to Sun’s enclosure.
She hadn’t moved from where she’d been when I left. “Hello,” she said, her tail whipping in curiosity like a cat’s would.
“Hello again. I have a new device here,” I said, putting the flash drive on the ground just short of the fence. “It has books on it. Can you read them?”
Sitting up a little straighter, Sun blinked languidly and paused for a moment before saying, “Yes, I can.”
I bounced a little bit again in delight. “Awesome. That’s awesome.”
“Is that a book?”
“Oh, no, it’s just got books inside it,” I said.
Sun slowly got to her feet and wandered over, and my muscles tensed as my brain urged me to take a few steps backwards the closer she got. Despite the warding and the fact that she wasn’t looking hungry, my instincts were still determined to protect me from her. “That looks too small to have books inside it.”
“Oh, ah…it’s…complicated,” I said. “But humans found out how to store data on things like this. It’s great that this is just like a bookshelf for you, because I can get so many things for you to read.”
“I’d like that very much.”
“Is there anything specific you like to read? Fiction or nonfiction? Specific genres?”
“I like both information that is true and stories that are made up,” Sun told me. “Humans make things of all kinds and I love all of them.”
At that, Sun wandered back over to the large boulder she’d been on and lay back down on it, as if she were sunbathing in the red light of the lamps. I left the flash drive there so Sun could keep…absorbing the info, or whatever it was she was doing, knowing that I could dig out another from my disorganized, chock-full-of-stuff purse. There was also the possibility of going to Suzanne for permission to buy books, and I wondered if I could use my library card. I could literally get her a different bunch of eBooks every day.
I did indeed find another flash drive floating around, and loaded on as many books as I could find for free. I also found a small old plastic bag, and I put the flash drive in it, to protect it from the elements.
Going back to enclosure eight, I found Sun laying on her back, in that long, upside-down pose cats were fond of. “I have more books for you,” I said with a smile.
“Yes?” She turned over. “I’ve only read one of the books so far from that little thing.”
I blinked and looked down at the flash drive on the ground, picking it up. “You already read one?” I exclaimed. I shouldn’t have been surprised, really. This was learning by osmosis, not actually reading the books.
“I did.”
“Well then it’s a good thing I’ve come with so many more,” I said, putting the other drive in the plastic bag with the new one. I left it on the ground where it had been and stood, my hands on my hips. “I’m taking over for Andrew for a tour. Is there anything you think I should know?”
“There are many things you should know, but you will learn them in time,” she replied.
Apparently when it comes to advice, sometimes Sun is just about as good as a horoscope.
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Sitting here, in this chair, it's hard to believe the view from my window used to be the endless stretch of the city. Now, it's all trees, hills, and the most picturesque town you could ever imagine. They call it Big Sky, right outside Yellowstone, which suits it perfectly. I've been here for six months, and honestly, I've never been happier to be out of the city.
But I don't think I deserve this peace after what happened. Ten years I spent as a cop in LA with little to no incident. That's why they only fired me, I suppose. Ten years and one day, I made a mistake that changed everything.
I responded to a bank robbery call, and half of the force was downtown in seconds. With no clear leadership, chaos ensued. I'm not sure who shot first, but it triggered an eruption of bullets toward the robbers.
We're trained to react in a second to situations like this. So, after only five seconds, every gun was empty. For some reason, I paused. I didn't pull the trigger. When I realized what had happened, I panicked and shot at the first thing I saw move while everyone else was reloading.
It was a mother and her daughter trying to run away from the shots. Everything stopped in my life at that moment. I saw every cop's eyes on me; some were confused, but some who realized what happened had a look of sympathy.
The media frenzy was insane, and I don't think I'll ever fully recover mentally. I've grown my beard, and my hair is longer than usual. I've successfully gone under the radar, except when I tell someone my full name. I can sense their looks of disgust, even though they never say anything.
There's not a night that I don't see the mother and her daughter in my dreams. Their faces haunt me, and their screams echo in my mind.
It's funny how things change, you know? One minute, you're a cop; the next, you're a park ranger. Well, not really a park ranger; more of a forest ranger. The forest's solitude amplifies the guilt that gnaws at me every day. Every rustle in the leaves and every gust of wind feels like a reminder of what I did. And yet, I can't bring myself to leave. It's as though I'm punishing myself, living in this quiet, isolated place where my only company is the ghosts of my past mistakes. Sometimes, I catch myself thinking about what their lives would have been like if I hadn't made that fatal mistake. Would they still be alive, laughing, and enjoying life? The weight of their loss is a burden I cannot shake.
Out here in Big Sky, it's not like dealing with bears and mountain lions; it's mostly just tourists lost in the woods and the occasional poacher. And then there are the kids... God, the kids. They're always sneaking into places they shouldn't be, trying to find a thrill.
The air is clean, the sky is blue, and the trees stretch for miles in every direction. The only time you see a cop around here is when they're escorting a senior citizen across the road.
And then, just like that, everything changed. Two hikers went missing. At first, it was just another day. I went about my rounds and checked in on the usual hotspots. But then I saw their faces. They were young, probably in their early twenties. Their faces were plastered across every news channel and every billboard in town. It was almost as if they were haunting me.
The first few days were chaotic. Search parties were organized, and the entire force was called to help find them. But as time passed, and there was no sign of them, the search began to die. It was as if everyone had accepted the fact that they were gone.
I couldn't help but feel a weight on my chest every time I saw their faces. It was like they were a constant reminder of my own failures. I tried to push the thoughts away to focus on the task, but it was impossible.
The search parties continued, and with every passing day, the hope of finding them alive dwindled. It felt like I was holding my breath, waiting for a miracle. But deep down, I knew that miracle was unlikely to come.
And with each passing day, the guilt weighed heavier, sinking me deeper into despair. Every time I looked at the faces of those missing hikers, it felt like a punch to the gut. Their disappearance was a haunting echo of my failure, a stark reminder of the lives I had unintentionally shattered. The knowledge that my hesitation and mistake led to this tragedy was a burden I could hardly bear. It felt like I was carrying the weight of their absence on my shoulders, and no amount of searching could alleviate the guilt that consumed me.
I decided to go where the hikers were last seen along the trail. They'd passed another group of hikers around the five-mile marker, but who knows how far and in what direction they have gone since their last sighting.
As I get to mile marker 5, I notice a tree that looks freshly fallen. The inside was splintered with fresh, healthy lumber in the middle of the tree like someone or something had pushed or fallen on it. I went to investigate and noticed large footprints leading further into the woods, but I'd never seen anything out in these woods big enough to create something this large. My mind immediately went to dinosaurs, but I quickly shook that off.
The footprint was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Enormous and ominous, it stretched deep into the earth, leaving a chilling impression of what had passed through the forest. Each claw mark was etched deeply into the soil, as though whatever creature had left it had tremendous power behind each step. For a moment, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. It was a footprint like that of a wolf but far larger and more menacing, a stark reminder that things in these woods were far beyond my understanding.
With a shiver, I followed the footprints' trail into the woods, my heart racing. The air seemed to grow heavier with each step, as though some immense weight was pressing down upon me. The trees seemed to close in, forming a menacing canopy overhead, blocking the sunlight and casting the forest into a cold, eerie twilight.
The footprints led me to a small clearing, where I caught sight of movement out of the corner of my eye. My heart leaped into my throat as I whirled around, but there was nothing but a small opening for a cave on the side of the mountain.
I walk closer to peer in, but it's too dark to see anything. I contemplate using my phone light when I hear a huge thud in the trees behind me. I turn quickly, but I can't see anything. Thinking I was too paranoid, I decided to walk back to the path. I walk past the spot where I thought I heard the thud, and it looks like a fresh pair of prints. I have to be going crazy. I return to the path and make it to the station as the sun sets.
I can't stop thinking about those footprints and that cave. As I lay in bed later that night, every time I fall asleep, I dream about the entrance to the cave and the two hikers screaming for help inside. It's like there's an invisible wall preventing them from escaping. I see their faces better as I approach and realize it's the mother and daughter I shot in LA. I wake up covered in sweat every time.
The following day, I asked Lauren, one of my coworkers and the only person who treats me like I'm not an outsider from a secret club.
"You should ask Henry; he can access any record we've ever kept. Maybe he can find something about the cave in that clearing." She told me.
"You think he'll help? Since I've arrived, everyone has been so distant, like they're hiding something from me." I reply, hoping she feels enough sympathy to ask Henry herself.
No luck as she replies, "Yeah! Henry's a good one. Look, you've only been here, what, six months? Give it time; I know people will warm up to you."
"Thanks, Lauren," I say, disappointed, as I head to Henry's office. He's been here longer than anyone, so he must know something. When I knock on his door, he looks up at me over his glasses as wrinkles form inquisitively on his forehead. I wait for a greeting, but it never comes; there is only an awkward silence before I break it.
"Hey Henry, how's it going?" I ask awkwardly
Henry sighs and leans back in his chair as he folds his arms, waiting for me to ask him to do his job.
"Um, yeah, so I found this small cave entrance near the Hart Trail. I saw a tree that must've just been torn down from the middle a few days before I arrived, and I saw these giant, weird-looking footprints. I followed them, and I found the cave entrance. Do you know anything about that cave?" I ask, hoping he'll be more willing to help.
Henry's unamused look faded the more I told the story. He knew exactly what I was talking about.
He leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk, looks up at me, and says, "Nope."
I waited for him to expand, but once again, he left me to marinade in the awkwardness.
"I mean, can you look at least? And even if it's not recorded, don't you think you'd want to put it on record?" I ask, annoyed at his unwillingness to act like he wanted to help.
My frowns and sits back in his chair and says, "Are you telling me how to do my job, rookie? I've been here longer than most of these townsfolks were even conceived," He started to raise his voice the more he talked, "and you come in here after what you did to that poor mother and daughter. Yeah, you didn't think anyone knew?" I knew people were aware, but hearing him say it, it stabbed through my chest like a serrated knife made of ice.
Realizing that he has lost his temper, he calms himself and cleans off his glasses, "Get permission from Forest Supervisor Reggie, and I'll be your personal Google." He looks back down at his computer and continues doing whatever he does.
Still stunned, I stand there, not knowing how to react to this interaction. After a few seconds, I slowly turn around and return to my desk.
The rest of the day is a blur as I try to focus on my other tasks, but Henry's words keep replaying. Every time I close my eyes, I see the footprints and the tree that was torn down. Everyone in this office knows something they aren't telling me.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I muster up the courage to go see Reggie. I knock on his door, and he calls me in. He's an older man with white hair and a kind smile.
"Sir, I-" I say, but before I can continue, Reggie puts his hand up to stop me from talking and chuckles.
"Please, just call me Reg. Sir, sounds like we're in the military." He said as he placed his hand down on his desk.
A little thrown off, I continued telling him about the tree off the hiking trail, footprints, and the cave I found. Just like Henry, Reggie's face dropped as I explained. He stares at me briefly before fixing his face and responding, "Oh, yeah, that sounds like old Grungers Cave. It's probably recorded somewhere."
"Yeah, that's why I'm here. Henry said I needed your permission to get more information about the cave." I reply
He looks at me, puzzled and weary, "What kind of information are you looking for, exactly?"
"Well, I don't really know yet. Something about it gave me a weird feeling, so I thought I'd look into it." I said
Reggie looked at me briefly before changing gears, "With all due respect, you don't have anything else to do?"
I was caught off guard, not expecting him to shut me down like that, "Yeah, you're right. Sorry sir, Uh, Reggie."
I turned around and left the room. As I thought of how to get information without letting anyone at the station know, I decided to try the library.
The library is quiet, with a few people here and there doing their own thing. I asked the librarian if they had anything on Grungers Cave, and she directed me to the local history section. I spend hours pouring over old newspapers, books, and archives, trying to find anything to help me.
One book, written by a local historian, has some information on the cave. According to the author, Grungers Cave was found in 1917 and nothing in particular sticks out except for a short passage that briefly mentions local tales about a giant creature who is said to live near this cave. After about an hour, I gave up and decided to go out there again to see for myself, making sure to bring a flashlight.
As I drive back to the trailhead, I wonder if the stories about the giant creature were just a cover-up for something else. Maybe there was something else in that cave that people didn't want found. Tonight, I'm going to find out.
It's getting dark as I return to the hiking trail and the cave. I can see my breath as I walk, and the air is crisp and cold. The trees loom overhead, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. I can almost feel the presence of whatever has been haunting me since I found that footprint.
I take a deep breath and steady my nerves as I approach the cave entrance. The entrance is narrow and covered in moss, making it appear almost organic. I flick on my flashlight and step inside, bracing myself for what I might find.
The cave's interior is more extensive than I expected, with jagged stalactites hanging from the ceiling like teeth and jutting stalagmites rising from the floor around me like bones. I move further in, feeling a sense of dread creeping up. There's an unsettling silence here, broken only by the echo of my footsteps and the distant sound of water dripping from above.
I shine my flashlight around, searching for anything unusual, and my eyes fall on a large, irregular shape half-hidden in the shadows. As I approach, my heart starts to race. It's a pile of bones, human bones. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. This is a crime scene.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I carefully move around the cave, finding more and more evidence of foul play. The further I go, the more confident I am that something terrible happened here. The bones of at least four people are scattered about, and there are signs of struggle everywhere. I try to remain calm, but I can feel my breath coming faster and faster.
Suddenly, I feel the air get thick as I hear the rumble of big footsteps in the shadows before me. My heart pounds against my ribs as I realize what's about to happen. Before I can react, the creature lunges at me, its massive form filling my vision. Its skin is pale and rough, covered in dirty and matted fur covered in moss and twigs, like it's been living in these caves for centuries. It's a monster, a beast that shouldn't exist in the modern world.
I manage to dodge out of the way, but it's not fast enough to escape its grasp entirely. The creature's claws rake down my arm, tearing through my jacket and leaving long, deep gashes that fill with blood. I stumble backward, feeling the cold, hard stone of the cave floor beneath me. My heart is racing, and all I can hear is the sound of my own panicked breathing.
The creature looms over me, its putrid breath washing over my face as it growls low in its throat. Its eyes are like two burning coals, glinting in the light of my flashlight. It's not human, not anymore. Whatever this creature was once, it's been twisted and warped by whatever horrors it's faced in these caves.
I try to stand, but my legs are weak and shaking. The pain in my arm is excruciating, and I can feel warm blood trickling down my side. The creature circles around me slowly, claws clicking against the stone floor. It seems to be studying me, sizing me up. I can't move, I can't breathe, I can't even scream.
It turns its back, and I take a moment to get on my feet and run out of the cave, hearing the creature's roar echo against the cave walls. I can hear its giant footsteps getting closer and closer until I finally reach the entrance and throw myself out. The creature doesn't follow as I sigh in relief on the floor.
Shaking uncontrollably, I try to catch my breath as I look at my bloody arm. The cut is deep, but I don't think it's life-threatening. I need to get out of here and call for backup, but first, I must find something to use as a tourniquet. I look around and spot a nearby tree, its branches laden with vines. I rip some of the vines off and quickly tie them around my arm, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
Once I'm sure I've done what I can, I return to the station, my heart pounding. My vision is blurry from the pain and shock, but I manage to make it to the front desk. I collapse into a chair, trying to catch my breath. The receptionist looks at me with wide eyes, concerned for my well-being.
"What happened?" she asks, her voice shaking. "Are you okay?"
I try to calm my breathing before responding. "I...I think so. But I need to tell you what I found." I gesture to my bloodied arm, and she jumps to her feet, looking horrified. "No, no, it's not as bad as it looks. Just...get a first aid kit."
She practically runs out of the room, and I lean back in the chair, closing my eyes for a moment. When she returns, she carefully cleans, stitches, and bandages my arm, all the while listening to my story. I told her everything that had happened, but I could tell that she didn't believe me.
"You're sure you didn't imagine this?" she asks, her voice filled with doubt. You should get some rest and reconsider your story in the morning.
I nod, trying to convince myself as much as her. "I know what I saw. It wasn't a dream, and it wasn't a hallucination. That thing...it wasn't an animal. It was some sort of Monster. And it's still out there."
She sighs, looking unconvinced. "Look, I'm sure you've been through a lot tonight. Why don't you just go home and get some rest? We can deal with this in the morning, okay?"
Reluctantly, I agree and head home, hoping word doesn't get around to Reggie that I went back. The rest of the night passes in a blur of nightmares and restless sleep. I can't shake the image of that creature from my mind, and every time I close my eyes, I see its razor-sharp claws and ravenous yellow eyes.
When I finally muster the courage to return to the station the following day, I find that the receptionist didn't report my little expedition after all. Maybe she thought I was crazy too. I feel a strange relief as if admitting my story would make it real.
I make my way to my desk, still shaken from the events of the night before. The station is bustling with activity as usual, but it's difficult for me to focus on anything but the Monster. I try to convince myself that it was just a dream, a hallucination brought on by stress and exhaustion.
I went through my day on autopilot, trying to make it through my shift. When I went home, it was only 8, but I went to sleep as soon as my ass hit the couch. I had dreams of the creature and what it could do to me. I woke up in a cold sweat; looking at the clock, it said 2:03am. I knew I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, so I decided to start my morning early by brewing some coffee.
The Monster still plagued my mind as I showered and groomed for the day. I dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, the injury on my arm itching slightly as I pulled a long-sleeved shirt on to hide them. I didn't want to draw more attention to myself than I already had.
I decided to head to the station since I had nothing else to do. As I drive, I start concocting a plan to get the information from Henry. I knew he wouldn't be in for a few more hours so I could snoop around his office. I park my car and go to his office; I take a deep breath and slowly open the door. The room is just like I remember, messy and full of clues. I sit at his desk, feeling guilty but determined to find what I need to know.
I begin by searching through his files, looking for anything that might have a connection to the secret society. Finding a few files with suspicious names and symbols doesn't take me long. As I flip through them, I notice a hidden drawer in the desk. I pull it open and find a stack of even more incriminating files. They're filled with names, dates, and locations of people who have disappeared, all linked to something called The Covenant of the Hound. I feel a mixture of fear and determination as I slip the files into my bag.
With the evidence in hand, I know I have to do something about this. I can't just ignore it and hope it goes away. I decided to see if I could find anything else on The Covenant of the Hound. I search the dusty shelves and find an old, leather-bound book. The title page reads: "The Covenant of the Hound: Values".
I carefully open the book, expecting to find some twisted code or hidden message. Instead, I'm met with seemingly innocuous paragraphs about loyalty, obedience, and protection. As I read on, however, a darker undertone begins to emerge. The Covenant seems to be less about helping others and more about controlling them. There are mentions of ancient rituals and bloodlines and a monster demanding complete submission from his followers. In return, the Monster provides protection from any threats brought to the members. This had to be the Monster I saw in the cave.
Shaken by what I've read, I quickly close the book and put everything back in place. I can't help but feel a sense of dread as I make it to my desk. I know that I have to do something about this, but at the same time, my mind is running about who exactly is a part of the Covenant.
I decided to start with the files I found earlier and see if I could find any connections between the names on the list and Henry's friends or acquaintances. As I searched through the files, I came across Henry's note that he was meeting someone important early in the morning at a local diner. The time said 4:30am, an hour away. I decide to find the diner and wait for them.
I drive to the diner, parking my car discreetly down the street as I wait until I see them. I watch Henry's car pull up, and another person pulls up behind him. They exchange words before Henry hands something over, and the other man leaves. Henry returned to his car, likely heading to the station, so I did the same.
As I follow him, I can't help but feel a sense of dread in my stomach. I don't know what I will do, but I know I can't let him get away with whatever he's involved in. Maybe if I confront him, he'll tell me the truth. Perhaps he's not part of it, and this was a misunderstanding. But then, why did he have those files on his desk? And why did he meet that man at the diner? I decide to keep the information to myself and act like I know nothing as I park my car at the station.
I walk into the station, trying to act casual and approach the locker room. There's a strange atmosphere in the air today; everyone seems on edge. I quickly change into my uniform and head to my patrol car, hoping to avoid awkward conversations.
As I drive through the forest, I can't help but feel a sense of unease. Every shadow, every movement, every sound makes me jump. I try to push these thoughts away, telling myself that I'm just being paranoid.
When I get to my post, I notice Lauren sitting in her car. Was she waiting for me?
I get out and knock on her window to get her attention, and she rolls it down.
"Hey, you okay?" Lauren asks, noticing the look on my face.
I take a deep breath and try to compose myself before answering. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just... I think I might have made a huge mistake." I tell her about finding the files in Henry's desk and seeing him at the diner earlier, giving something to a mysterious person. I leave out the part about the Covenant, just in case.
Lauren listens intently, her eyes narrowing as I speak. "And you think Henry's involved in something shady?" she asks.
I nod, feeling a mixture of fear and anger. "I don't know what to think, but I know I can't ignore it."
Lauren sighs, her expression softening. "Look, I can't confirm or deny anything, but I can tell you this: if you're worried about Henry, you should stay away from him. He's not who he seems."
I nod, feeling a mix of relief and fear. "What about you? Can I trust you?"
Lauren gives me a small smile. "You can trust me. I've been watching out for you, even before all this. I want to help you, but we need to be careful. The people you're dealing with are dangerous."
I nod, still not entirely sure what to think. "What do I do now?"
Lauren looks around, making sure no one is watching us. "We need to be careful. I can help you, but you need to trust me. And you need to understand that this goes deeper than you think. The people you're dealing with are powerful and dangerous."
"How do you know that?" I ask hesitantly.
"Let's just say I have my sources," Lauren replies cryptically. "Now, listen carefully. You need to keep your guard up at all times. The people you're dealing with are smart, and they're watching you. They'll try to make contact again, probably through someone close to you. You can't trust anyone."
As she says this, I can't help but feel a chill run down my spine. "So, what am I supposed to do? Just wait for them to make the first move?"
Lauren shakes her head. "No, you need to be proactive. You need to find out more about this secret society. You need to find out what they want from you and why they're after you. You need to figure out how to stop them. If my research is correct, we need to kill the Monster."
I take a deep breath, my heart racing. "Kill the Monster? What do you mean?"
"The secret society is called the Covenant," Lauren explains. "It's been around for generations, and it's behind some of the most horrific events in the town's history. They're led by a man called the Master, who you saw at the diner earlier. He has a pet name for the creature: the Dogman."
I don't know what to do with this information. Ironically, I trust her less now that I'm aware she has ties to this Covenant; even if they're loose ties, it still makes me weary. I try to gather my thoughts, but my mind feels like puzzle pieces. "So, what's our plan?" I ask, not seeing any other direction to turn.
Lauren leans in closer, her expression serious. "Our plan is to kill the monster."
I get into her cruiser, and we drive toward the cave, not knowing if I will make it past today alive.
"I don't understand why they're after me," I say as Lauren navigates the narrow path to the cave. "What do they want from me?"
"You know too much, James, and they know it. You've been asking questions about things you shouldn't have. You were getting close to something they've been trying to keep hidden for a long time. They want to control the information, and they can't do that if you keep digging." Lauren says as she parks the car, and we both get out.
She takes a deep breath, steeling herself before continuing. "They're not going to let you go easily. They'll come after you again, and getting away might not be easy next time. We need to be prepared. You need to trust me, and I need you to trust yourself."
I nod, feeling a mixture of fear and determination welling up inside me. "Okay," I say, taking a deep breath. "Then let's do this."
We approached the entrance to the cave, and I quickly set up bear traps that Lauren had stored in her cruiser. Lauren watches me intently, offering advice and suggestions when needed. As I work, I can't help but feel a strange sense of purpose, as if everything in my life has been leading up to this moment.
Once the traps are set, we both step back, our hearts pounding in our chests, "Now, we just wait." Lauren said
Hours have passed as we sit in a bush, out of sight, and still no creature or signs of anything. Lauren, ever so patiently, is chewing on her fingernails, making my stomach turn. I look at her, and she looks back at me, worry etched on her face. We've been sitting here for an eternity, and I'm curious if I've made the wrong choice. I should have run away, hidden somewhere, and tried to forget about this whole mess. But I can't shake the feeling that I'm not supposed to leave this place, that there's something more I need to do.
Hours pass as we tell each other our life stories. I must admit, at some points, I'd forgotten the danger we were in and found myself having fun. Lauren's an interesting person. She's lived a life of adventure. She's seen things that I can't even begin to imagine. And yet, here she is, sitting beside me, waiting for a monster to come out of a cave.
My eyes grow heavy as the sun starts to set. It's completely night when I open my eyes, and I panic, forgetting where I was and why. As it all starts coming back to me, I look for Lauren, but I don't see her anywhere. I get up, trying to stay quiet, to look at the traps. One is closed and has a blood trail leading to the cave entrance. I frantically look for Lauren but still don't see her. As I peer into the cave, I can see light flickering like the cave was lined with torches the further you go in. I continued to follow the torches with my flashlight in hand when I heard an uneven sound of giant footsteps behind me. When I turn around, I see the vast creature limping into the cave, so I find a crevasse to hide in.
As I carefully peer out, I see the creature limping slowly, periodically stopping to lick its wound. I try to shallow my breath and stay as quiet as possible. The light flickers brighter as it draws closer, and I can see it better now. It's massive, with skin like burnt leather and eyes that glow with an eerie yellow light. Its limbs are like a twisted and deformed wolf, moving with a strange, jerky grace.
As I carefully shift my weight, a small pebble, just big enough to make a noise, tumbles. The creature jerks its body in my direction and roars. It sounds like a mixture of a human screaming and a lion roaring. It takes a step closer to me, its yellow eyes piercing the darkness. I try calming my breathing, praying it doesn't hear or smell me. The creature takes another step and another, inching closer with each move. My heart feels like it's going to beat right out of my chest. I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to face this creature in a fair fight.
Just as I'm sure it's close enough to smell me, I hear what I can only assume is Lauren screaming at the top of her lungs. The creature quickly limps away, further into the cave. I'm momentarily relieved but then realize that I have to find her. I carefully follow the creature's trail, hoping it leads to Lauren. The cave winds deeper and deeper into the mountain, the air growing colder and more damp. As I round a bend, I see a flickering light in the distance. My heart pounds in my chest as I cautiously approach, wondering if it's Lauren or the society.
I enter a pitch-black round room. As I swing my flashlight, I can't see anything in the room until I hear Lauren whisper, "Pssst, James."
I go toward the sound, but I can't find anything. When I turn around, my flashlight catches the creature before me as it lunges toward me. I was able to jump out of the way, just in time, but he was able to scratch my cheek a bit, but nothing life-threatening. On the ground, I frantically search for something to defend myself with, and I find a sharp, long rock and pick it up.
I looked up and saw the creature lunging at me again, but this time, I wasn't fast enough to move as it grabbed me with one hand, tightly by my waist. It lifts me up to its face, but before it can do anything, I plunge the rock into its left eye as it drops me onto the floor.
It roars and stumbles around as it runs into the walls, falling to its knees periodically. I slide my body on my butt until I hit a wall. I get to my feet and follow the wall, making sure to avoid the stumbling creature. I finally found an entrance, but it's different from where I came in. Finally gaining composure, the creature sees me leave and stumbles toward me. I run deeper into the new tunnel, praying it leads to safety.
I hear voices further into it, and I sprint as I make my way into a room of about eight individuals dressed in brown cloaks. Some of them have a hood, hiding their faces. Startled by my entrance, they all look up, and I recognize most faces. Reggie, Henry, Freddy the theater owner, Larry the elementary school principal, and the most surprising one, Lauren.
One of the men I didn't recognize, who looked to be the leader, opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the loud footsteps limping is heard echoing toward us. The man smiles wide and relaxes himself, likely confident he controls the creature. As I hear the footsteps, I run toward what I assume was the exit, but I'm tackled to the ground, and everyone cheers and laughs.
I look up and see Lauren on top of me, the one who tackled me. Her smile is horrifying and not at all like the Lauren I know. She leans close, her breath hot on my face as she whispers, "I'm sorry, James. I had to do it." The creature enters the room, still stumbling as it accidentally crushes two members under its foot, not seeing what it is doing. The leader begins screaming mysterious words that I can't remember, which seems like it snapped the creature out of its destructive ways for a second before realizing the pain in its eye again.
It continues destroying everything in its path indiscriminately, killing most of the Covenant members. Lauren was still on top of me, and neither of us was moving in shock about what we saw. I snapped out of it and used the moment to get the advantage, so I grabbed a nearby rock and hit Lauren over the head with it, causing her to fall to the ground, still conscious but unmoving. I run toward the exit, but I look back one more time and see the creature tearing bodies apart as blood and the screams of something I've never heard in my life fill the room.
As I run, I can faintly hear Lauren begging me to help her, but it turns into a blood-curdling scream that echoes in my ears to this day. Finding my way out took about half an hour, as the cave was like a maze. When I make it out, I head to Lauren's cruiser and dig through her stuff, hoping to find something to help destroy the cave entrance. Finally, after too many minutes, I see a pickaxe, which, thinking about it now, looks pretty odd. But then again, Lauren was never the person I thought she was.
I use the pick and attempt to remove enough rock on the sides so the top will cave in and cover the entrance. I was doing this for about 45 minutes when I heard the faded, limping footsteps of that creature heading out of the cave toward me. I hurried my pace, but I'd already done a good amount of work on both sides. My arms are starting to give, but my mind won't let them quit as I hear the footsteps, which are now accompanied by the roar and growl of the creature getting closer. I only have about 5 more minutes until it makes it to me.
As the growl gets louder, I finally remove enough rock, and it all comes tumbling down on top of the entrance, sealing it shut. I fall backward onto the ground, exhausted and out of breath, as the growling gets louder. When it finally reaches the caved entrance, I can hear it howling and roaring in anger.
Looking around, I see I'm now at the forest's edge. I stand up and walk away, still in shock at what had happened, not knowing where to go.
Walking, I feel something warm and sticky dripping down my arm. I look at it in horror and realize that it's blood. I've been wounded, somehow. I try to remember if it was from Lauren or the creature, but my mind is still reeling from the night's events.
I keep walking, figuring out where to go or what to do. The forest around me is eerily quiet, almost as if it's holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. The trees loom overhead, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. I try to remain calm and focus on my surroundings, but the adrenaline from the attack keeps pumping through my veins.
I look down at my arm again and see that the blood is still seeping out, staining my shirt and dripping onto the forest floor. The pain begins to set in, and I realize I have no idea how badly I'm hurt. I can't get to a hospital in time; hell, I don't even know where I am. Feeling weak, I sit with my back against a tree and slowly fall asleep.
When I wake up, I'm in a hospital surrounded by doctors. I feel an immense pain in my arm as they wheel me into the ER. I pass out again and wake up four days later.
Doctors tell me that another ranger found me and brought me in. My heart sank as I thought of the possibility of the Covenant saving me for some reason. I started to panic and asked about discharge, but they told me that they had to do surgery on my arm since it had gotten too infected.
Long story short, I had to be sedated for a month straight, and I lost my arm. Every day, every moment I wasn't sedated was filled with panic. I dreamt of the creature and Lauren. The creature scared me, but Lauren's betrayal hurt me the most. I know I didn't know her for long, but she was the only one there for me. I now realize that she was probably planted to ensure I stayed away, and when she realized I wasn't going to back down, she led me to a trap.
The doctors kept telling me I was lucky to be alive, but I didn't feel lucky. I felt like a failure. A month passed, and I finally fully woke up from the sedation, feeling restless and angry. I demanded a discharge, and after hours of arguing, I was back on the streets.
That was eight years ago, and I still dream of the creature and Lauren every night. Whenever I have trouble with my missing arm, I think of them. At this point in my head, they have become the same Monster.

First Previous Wiki
A group of Sprilnav had entered the room, dragged claws bearing paint across Kashaunta and Penny's faces, and left again. Another group of Sprilnav, this time Elders, had entered the room, leading to a hologram forming around Penny and Kashaunta to hide their faces behind perfect masks.
They carried a long black box on their shoulders. Kashaunta approached their kneeling forms, unlatching the box with her claws. Special sounds chimed from electronic locks, and the box flipped open, revealing a new Soul Blade. It was Azeri's Soul Blade, or the one he'd once owned at least. Given the new information Penny had on them, the sword wasn't truly 'his' in a literal sense.
They had then moved to a more central room on the flagship, complete with a massive kitchen, bedroom, and entertainment room. Kashaunta's quarters were lavish, though they were not as flush with finery and gold as Penny would have expected.
Penny wore Kashaunta's Soul Blade on her hip. The ancient weapon didn't seem to have the mind-altering effects the last one did. But it was beyond powerful, for sure. It also came with a stealth coating that could be activated to hide its presence.
Azeri's Soul Blade, on the other hand, definitely affected her.
Penny could hear the faint sounds of distant voices echoing in her thoughts. She could sense Cardi and Nilnacrawla in her mind more clearly as if she'd finally put on a set of glasses after not having them her entire life. So many things were clearer now, but so many weren't. Kashaunta had made a sacred agreement with her, at least in Sprilnav culture.
Backed by the Progenitors. All of them, apparently. And they were all sworn to silence, which Nilnacrawla and Kashaunta assured her would also include Twilight and Nova. She could understand that, but Nova's actions toward Penny in the past made her wary of relying on him for anything related to her safety.
And it was before the Judgment, now in nine days. Kashaunta's VIs had gathered the data, ordered it, and formulated responses. She'd designed them to sound like real people and real things that would be said, not just decent scripts with odd lexicon and grammatical habits.
"So," Penny said, looking at Kashaunta relaxing beside her. The Elder's carefree stance didn't fool Penny as to what had just happened. It had looked rushed, but she knew there was a larger purpose behind it than she believed. "The Pact. Were you truly this desperate to regain my trust?"
"I was," Kashaunta admitted. "And am. I have a tendency to manipulate people around me. This has made me good at being able to tell when a relationship is falling apart. Were I not to do something this extreme, we would have continued to fall apart, and eventually the rift would have been too large for even this to bridge.
I do not expect forgiveness or for you to understand my viewpoint and ideas. I have destroyed nations and entire civilizations. I have spent my fair share of time in evil, and use the threat of who I was and who I am against those who slight me. Reputation is important among our species, more so than anything but power. But they are linked.
A reputation of weakness will never exist with a person of strength. If it develops, the Elders will pile onto that unfortunate soul to plunder the riches they believe can no longer be protected. And once you fall, it is impossible to rise again. We do need each other, Penny. Perhaps you do not agree, yet, but this goes beyond the Judgment."
Penny wanted to argue. She wanted to listen to the voices demanding her hatred of the Elder before her- wait, what?
Penny frowned. She focused on them, and they appeared. A cacophony of voices, all Sprilnav in origin. They were definitely here and worryingly a part of her psychic energy. It almost seemed like they were the voices of those she'd freed. Which wouldn't make sense unless... her title was actually bearing conceptual power.
She supposed that it was possible then.
"Kashaunta," Penny said.
"Yes?"
"Why do you have faith in me, when, as you say, so many others have failed?"
"Because you possess Cardinality. You possess Humanity. You even have a Progenitor Title, though it is only a budding one. Your approach to this, besides a few mistakes on our part, is remarkably sound. You have moved away from hatred of the Sprilnav to that of Elders. And you have moved away from hatred of Elders and Progenitors to that of certain Elders and Progenitors, which I understand.
Ultimately, you have me convinced that you do not want to carry out a war of vengeance against me and my kin for the actions we did before your species had a name. I know it is difficult to overcome hatred, and more so with a voice in your head telling you to distrust all we Elders say and do. And I believe you can convince the Alliance to restrict its war to methods that are not as destructive."
Penny thought it was odd how much Kashaunta was stressing it. Either the Alliance wasn't considered a threat to the Sprilnav or it was. Kashaunta seemed to suggest it was, perhaps, to flatter Penny somehow. She didn't exactly buy it but would let it play out.
It would be important for Penny to learn more about the Elder's viewpoint before the Judgment to exploit it among other Elders to help win the Judgment. She'd have to portray herself and the Alliance as weak, which meant learning more about Sprilnav technology and power. The briefings from the last meetings before the previous Judgment had been enlightening on that front. But Penny wanted the best shot she could have on this.
"Such as?"
"Culture war."
"That has a certain meaning among my species," Penny said. "I am not sure if it translates correctly."
"I want your Alliance to begin to turn the population against slavery. Just that. Go no further. If you do that, the Elders will fight back. This will escalate, and the list of grievances will grow. We will have rebellions, and they can win with my help."
"And what comes next?"
"I take power, of course. I do not purge the Sprilnav who rose to the top, but reward them. I bind them by respect and loyalty instead of fear and hatred. Objectively, it will be better to have a single unified state than a disparate mess of warring territories. Quality of life, quality of death, and everything in between. We can go further, if you like.
Turning the Collective into literal heaven for those who die, where they can return to real bodies as often as they want for free. I can extend this to other species and, over thousands of years, wear away the animosity between the Sprilnav and the rest of the galaxy. I distribute gifts, I lower taxes, and use android labor to replace slavery entirely. Would you not agree that this is better?"
"I am not sure. How would you maintain the state, when threats come from within and without?"
"Limits on power, separation of branches of government. Police forces, military forces. We have police trained to de-escalate situations, even when they are armed with riot shields or actual guns. There will obviously be some requirement for state violence, but I will lower it as far as possible."
"There will be those who wish to be independent."
"And they can be."
"You are not concerned about that?" Penny asked.
"With even just the Autonomous Peoples' Stars, independence is risky. Dangerous. People do not start those movements because if they succeed, they get invaded by a border power. Earth has seen that happen in its history, particularly with Europe and Asia. Luna would have seen it as well by now, if not for the First Contact. The problem is the power disparity. Going from the passive backing of 500 thousand planets and a central militarized state to that of maybe 4 or 5 planets with disjointed connections and only garrison supplies is a massive drop."
"But with your plan, there would be no border powers."
"There would be, of course," Kashaunta said. "There must be. Nations without a significant outside threat, that is at least somewhat credible, have a more difficult time staying united. Without a 'them' it is more difficult to define an 'us,' as we know very well."
"That is quite a cold way of looking at reality."
"Those who do otherwise are smears of gore amongst the black of space, or rotting in the ground of their home planets. Elders do not remain Elders by stupidity alone. Eventually, a few lessons must be learned."
"Must?"
"Must, even if they are later forgotten."
Kashaunta let out a sigh. "You and I, Penny. We are vastly different people. I admire your idealism, and I envy it. But when it comes to control of societies and curation of national identities, I have a vast array of experience."
"You do," Penny agreed. "The Pact says we should not lie to each other, so I will no longer dance around my reasons for my misgivings. I do not trust you because you are everything that has ruined the fortunes of my species in the past, often promising things like you do. Security before freedom, usually. You are rich. You are very far above most Sprilnav and even most Elders. You are a politician and a state leader. History tells me to be wary of such people, especially when they possess high amounts of power. Authoritarian countries can, with proper management, outpace those which are not by refusing to limit themselves by morals and ethics.
You are a queen, a monarch. This title goes back to the days of barbarity among our kind, when we believed people were superior based on bloodlines and genetics, sometimes to the extreme of actual inbreeding. You are highly experienced with manipulation, having billions of years of experience. I likely would not know whether you are manipulating me, and even Nilnacrawla has billions of years less experience with Elders than you would on account of his separation from Sprilnav society for so long.
I have no other trustworthy sources for what you say and do. I am surrounded only by enemies, neutral people, and you and Lecalicus alone as actual allies. Truth be told, there is nothing that will stop you from going back on all that you say because people like you have made promises not to before. And they did it anyway.
Companies. Nations. People. With a galaxy full of sentient minds all seemingly built on the same energy and manners of thinking, I see just another politician trying to get in good with me because I can get her what she wants. I fear that, Kashaunta. I fear it a lot. More than I have ever said and ever shown. It is a fear so visceral it colors my view of your entire species.
Because if you've lived a billion years, who's to say you haven't done this all before? How many aliens you've offered this honor, only to cast aside when they die fighting impossible enemies? And yes, my fear of you is that you will betray me. That is a deep-seated and personal matter that I will not explore at this time, but betrayal is something I guard against with all my might.
I hate that you have so much power over me, that I know it, and that you know it. You could enslave me for the next ten days, and I'd do it, to save my species. The Judgment trial is another way of showing the powerlessness of the galaxy before the Sprilnav, the powerlessness of the Alliance before the Sprilnav, and me before you, Justicar, and Yasihaut. Because guess what? I can win this. It will be hard, but I can do it because I set my mind to it, and my mind is my will, and my will is my iron fortress, my gauntleted fist, and my beating heart.
I can, I will, I must. But through all of this, guess what happens if I win the Judgment? Yasihaut files another one. I am strong, Kashaunta. Stronger than any human in history. But even now, inside your sanctum, inside the greatest ship I have ever seen, I remain powerless against the might of your people and your laws. I hear you talk of millennia and galaxies and think of how much I have struggled over the mere ten thousand star systems of the Alliance and this single planet's slave problem. There's billions more.
I have fought against odds beyond comprehension, but even now, I have to break bread with my enemy so that I can continue to survive in the system they built. Because with all that you are, it is impossible for me to see you as anything but an enemy. I cannot understand the value of the Pact. I can only guess at it. But the galaxy's weight is resting upon my shoulders, and my back is bowing. My spine... is breaking. How much more? How many more?
I hate what this universe is. I hate how it is structured. I hate the concepts, the Progenitors, the speeding space entities, and whoever else controls it. For a person to even condone the mindless suffering in this universe is an act of utter insanity. When I see you in your ivory castle, perched upon your mountains of gold, I think of the poor. I think of the justice you deserve that I cannot carry out because of the very power you wield. Do you know how angry that makes me? Do you know that my dreams are still sometimes haunted by Yasihaut's torture? I am a broken person, Kashaunta.
Broken by the weight of who I am and all I must do. But you, you get to sit here and eat, oblivious or indifferent to my suffering. Because you cannot stand to look down for fear of seeing the filth in your claws. I dream of your death, Kashaunta. And a thousand more. I want to tear down your civilization and all others like it. I want to kill, and maim, and murder. I want to be that indomitable power which all others fear and respect.
I want to mount Yasihaut's head on a spear and shove another between Nova's eyes for the crime of daring to use their ultimate power against me. And I want to kill you, too, for being the one I am forced to rely on to survive. For your own power being what forces me to bow and scrape to yet another master. This is why I bear my hatred for your kin, Kashaunta. Why I hate the Elders, the Progenitors, all of it. Because of the inherent unfairness of the galaxy you have built and the banal and insidious evil you have built it upon. I hate you, this galaxy, this universe.
Because you all will never get the justice you deserve, because I cannot repay the sheer weight of atrocity hanging from your heads. And to make you feel what you all deserve, would naturally require me to have the same punishment. Because I can't win without sinking to your level, either by being one of you Elders or having to use your ill-gotten power for my own benefit. I am climbing the mountain, the air is cold, the night is dark, the wind is blowing, and the ice is slick. I stand on the precipice of death, as does all I have known and loved.
To save them, I must use you, an Elder buoyed by an ocean of blood, merely so I can float up a little higher, perhaps to the next cliff or perhaps to that mountain peak. I believe I am fighting for the people. For freedom, justice, and the rights of my kind to self-determination. And to do so, I must sacrifice my own freedom. My own justice. And my own self-determination. All for winning a pointless case, against a stupid Elder who I'd press against a block of red-hot metal, just so I could enjoy her screams. I was a woman, once. A simple woman, a good human.
Now I am a monster. I have killed. I have avoided killing when I should not have. Yasihaut is still alive. Ikirshi is still alive. Tiglath is still alive. Nova is still alive. Azeri is still alive, too, even if his name is dead. Look what I am, and what I've had to do to get here. What will I have to do to continue? I am evil now. Because I will compromise my principles, and claim to fight for freedom while happily breaking bread with an Elder who openly espouses galactic domination. And I can't even say no, for fear of what that would mean for those I know and love.
I am broken, but I can still move. I can still think. And I can still hate. None of you have the right to stand against justice, but I do not have the power to make you kneel to it. Instead, I am being forced into this yet again. I deserve to die for what I am and what I have done, but I cannot because of who and what I fight for. I will only descend into worse depravity. When I am free of the Judgment, I will likely kill the slavers and enjoy it. Because that is what I am becoming now. I'm becoming you. Just as you said I would, proving that I'm powerless even against that."
Thick tears fell from Penny's eyes. With no one else but the Elder in the room and a currently fulfilled promise of no cameras, sound recording devices, and not even guards, only Kashaunta would know how much it pained Penny to say all this aloud. The pain doubled her over as the weight of her realization came to her.
Kashaunta let her be, waiting for Penny's tears to finally run dry. It was an ugly thing. All of the past trauma and misery came roaring back, drowning Penny in a sea of torment and suffering. Cardi and Nilncrawla were powerless to stop it. Her soul ached. Her mind shook.
At least, Penny drew a rasping breath. "So. Now you know, Kashaunta."
"I do," the Elder said. "I can tell you have many feelings on the matter. We don't have to continue discussion."
"You're not upset?"
"No," Kashaunta said. "Not at all. Why should I be? You bared your soul to me in this truth, Penny. Knowing the power I do hold over you, you did so anyway. This only proves that I was right to trust you and your strength."
"This isn't strength. I sat here and cried like a little girl."
"It took strength for you to admit how you feel and why, especially to me. To trust that I would listen, and to express exactly why you wish for me and my kin to die."
"You seem... oddly okay with me wanting to kill you."
"Because I have been surrounded by people who wanted to kill me before. Only one of them, in the long history of my life, admitted such to this extent before making their attempts, and that is you. I understand and respect your motive for wanting me dead, actually. I would feel the same way in your position. You are right. The way things are is not fair, and is not just. I also know that you won't kill me if you have the chance."
"Why do you think that?"
"Well, you do not seem the type to kill your allies, unless they directly betray you. I will not pretend that I am innocent. But do you truly think that you will be able to look me in the eyes, your main supporter among all my kind, and stab me in the heart? Because if you do kill me, I would at least request the honor of you doing it with your own hands. Or even the Soul Blade, if you wish to be poetic about it."
"So no lobbing asteroids of antimatter at you, then?" Penny laughed.
"I would think not, though if we are at that point, the future is lost anyway. To grapple with your past, present and future is a part of life, Penny. This right here is the reason I made the Pact with you. Because you are an honest person, with the will to do what is necessary, and the power to carry it out."
"But you'll be preparing contingencies to kill me, won't you?"
"No," Kashaunta said. "We are past that now."
"You act as if your life is already ending. A once in a billion years Pact with a human, acting like you won't protect yourself from a person who wants to murder you, and being uncaring about your legacy. Why?"
"Because it is you or nothing, Penny. I have lived over 13 billion years. I have had more than a full life. I have made my peace with death. Not the man himself, obviously, but the idea of it. We stand at the crossroads. I will wait no longer for the rot to keep spreading."
"So you will back me in the Judgment, then."
"More than that," Kashaunta said. "I am willing to be your lawyer, and represent you in this trial. If you accept, that is."
"I would, but I must ask you one question. Do you even care about the Alliance beyond what we could do to help you?"
"Yes, and no. I care about their idealism, and that they have AIs with high levels of cognitive power. I care that they recognise the value of Sprilnav lives as more than collateral damage, which is why their war plans only blow up our planets if they lose and are about to go extinct. Humanity and the hivemind are mainly valuable to me because they are valuable to you, the same with the rest of the Alliance. But they to have the ability to put a decent bureaucracy in place, through Phoebe and Edu'frec, or even the hivemind if it expands."
"Would you care if we lost?"
"Yes, though I can force myself not to if I must."
It seemed like an honest assessment of the situation. There was one more thing.
"Are you actually a lawyer, then? And are you skilled with Judticar's laws? It's quite touching that you're still willing to vouch for me, but if you don't have any sort of law degree, I can't exactly accept that."
"Yes to both. While I don't have an Eonic degree, I do have several thousand years of legal studies, with about a hundred in Justicar law."
"Would that actually be sufficient?"
"Yes. When we Sprilnav say we have put a hundred years into something, that is a raw time. It does not include sleeping, eating, vacations, and so on. My implant tells me I spent 181 years specifically studying Justicar law."
"How did you have time?"
"Delegation is a valuable skill for the sanity of country leaders."
"I suppose," Penny said. "Do you think that you and I appearing together in court would be detrimental to my case?"
"The only avenue they could pursue is that you've 'turned' me to your side. But seeing as I am extremely powerful and have refused bribes of inconceivable amounts of wealth, that narrative will be poorly accepted by all but the most biased of Judges. Or High Judges, as the case will be. Unfortunately, I do not qualify as either a Judge or High Judge, but my credentials and power are more than sufficient for them to be unable to block my ability to represent you. You have, as Nilnacrawla may have told you, already paid me for your services. Your linear singularities are more stable than I thought."
"So the money finally shows itself again," Penny smiled.
Kashaunta shared her grin. "Yes. That it does. You are surprisingly profitable as a bonus."
"I'm sure everything else I do is the bonus. Like making the other nations end slavery."
"Well, that would actually make them more productive."
"So why..."
"Elders love feeling powerful. They love having power over others, and being able to show it. They are generally insecure, their brains polluted by eons of paranoia and propaganda. The weakness of Elders is something that the powers that be use to exploit them."
"And your ego?"
"They have to prove their superiority to themselves. I live and breathe it with every step I take in this galaxy."
Penny sighed. "That is an impressive level of narcissism."
"That word didn't translate."
"It is a way to say a person admires themself to an unnatural and unhealthy degree."
"Then it would describe me, except the degree is quite healthy and natural. Elders' egos also help to keep us going. Reputation isn't just an external motivation."
Penny nodded. "We still must discuss your approach toward people in general later. But we have other priorities, don't we?"
"The Judgment," Kashaunta agreed. "You and Yasihaut will attend the Fort Court, and will be even better protected than last time. The Underground beneath it is continually pulverized, as it sits on a mostly active volcanic system, with lava outlets designed to ensure tunneling is impossible. The mindscape side fortifications are similarly impressive, and Justicar has spent a considerable amount of money on ensuring the security of this Judgment.
His reputation hinges on it greatly, even more so as he is there in person as a Judge. This makes him more vulnerable than usual. But if you kill his body, he will live. I do not suggest you try it, however. What I aim to do is present an argument that the premise of the Judgment trial is flawed, as there is limited legal proof that you and the Alliance are a threat to the Sprilnav.
To do this, I have already helped to secure two things for you. The treaty with Valisada and the Pact of Blades with me. These items will ensure the common scrutiny and arguments used against aliens will be ineffective. You have proven yourself capable of adhering to and participating in our customs, especially the ones related to trust and binding agreements. You also have wisely avoided killing any Sprilnav for a while. This, especially in the context of the slaves and the 85th Grand Fleet, will be massively beneficial to your argument.
Beyond this, I also have an array of legal evidence to challenge Yasihaut if she brings up your hatred of her, or the previous Judgment's outcome, or the battle that crippled the Progenitors. Indrafabar will be helpful to us, as he will defend the honor of his kin. He will not allow the argument of you being as strong as the Progenitors be seriously considered. No matter what you say or what people think, this will be a question of whether you can convince Indrafabar and Justicar of your ability to be peaceful, and behind that the Alliance.
You will find it harder to defend the rhetoric the Alliance has put out, but I have secured this portion of the Judgment with my defensive agreements with them as well. You both are anchored to me and my reputation too strongly for any of them to ignore, which is yet another reason why I am hoping to help defend you in person."
"So you are staking your own reputation on me, too. Is that another reason you did the Pact?"
"It is. The reputational blow losing this Judgment could have will not be enough to topple me. But it is a catalyst. It is capable of starting a chain of downfall events that lead to my dethroning or even my death. I am aware of this and am doing what I can to stave off that process and shore up all my defenses. I also have a lawyer with an Eonic degree in Justicar law who will be the main defender of your argument.
My presence in the court will be for your protection and as a reminder of the fact that you have a backer, and that backer is me. I expect Yasihaut's counterparts to undertake a similar process, though she will find it easier due to her being an Elder. I will introduce you to him in ten minutes."
"That is very kind of you, Kashaunta. I know that we have had our differences, and that your past is quite a contentious thing. But if I put all of that aside, and look at you as you are here, and now, I am grateful that you are doing all of this for me and my people. I do not know whether I can repay you for the Pact of Blades, but your conviction and intelligence are traits I admire."
"You are welcome, Penny. I know I cannot atone. But I will help you build a better galaxy, just as it should be."
Penny patted her on the hed, and turned her gaze to the opposite wall.
"I'm afraid," she admitted.
"Fear in this situation is natural. There is no shame in it. Your strength will allow you to work through it. Whether it is the strength you carry in your soul, or that which your father and Cardinality bring with them. You can do this, Penny. We can win."
"And if Yasihaut files another Judgment?"
Kashaunta gave her a dark grin. "I have a plan for that, too. When the Pact of Blades is revealed in the court, my abilities to aid you will widen considerably. They will understand, and if not, Indrafabar will teach them. He was there, after all."
"And this isn't witness tampering or whatever?"
"That doesn't exist here," Kashaunta said. "Justicar's laws do not include that. He enforces that by his soft power. It makes things more fair between Elders, but not between Elders and others. As is by design."
"Kashaunta," Penny said. "While you are an okay person, by your current deeds, I can't really say I'm not going to take the guy with a billion years of legal education over your scant hundred."
"I do not need to be your main lawyer, I just need to have the job listed as such in the courtroom. If he requires it, the lawyer will speak over me and you in all matters."
"You and I, you mean?"
"I do not mean," Kashaunta said. "My language does not always follow your grammatical rules."
"Speaking of that, during the Pact, you spoke a language we couldn't translate for a bit."
"Can you repeat it?"
"'Eis nama kaste Penny Balica, sun lanci Dorima Kashaunta. Ko'ri, lanci nupa bes na Dorima'Pecunyanova. Sp'rkial'nova. Homo Sapiens.' And then you said, 'Tol, nopa shikai.'"
"It roughly means: 'This act is between Penny Balica and the Elder Kashaunta. Now, we are in the claws of the Progenitors. Sp'rkial'nova. Homo Sapiens.' And the second part means 'take it or leave it,' or more accurately 'take or leave.' That's about what I said."
"So Dorima means Elder, and Dorima'Pecunyanova means Progenitor?"
"Yes. The specific translation is 'mourning one' and 'mourning god' for those terms. Pecunyanova was the very first Progenitor, and Nova's grandfather, which he took a piece of the name of. Nova took in the powers of his entire family line when he became a Progenitor, including Pecunyanova's title of Everlasting."
"I can sense a deeper meaning beyond the mourning."
"The type of 'mourning' that the ancient language describes is a soul agony, of the type which drives the happiest souls to suicide and the most evil souls to tears. There are many more descriptions given to the agony of remembering the Source war, which is what defines the name. We mourn our species, our empires, our lost galaxies, and even the aliens that once lived with us. Imagine you were on Earth, and you had a nuclear war. No shields, no bunkers.
And all that survived the aftermath, the starvation and the proxy wars over the scraps that remained, was the equivalent of a single village. That is how close we are to extinction, Penny. Progenitors went mad with grief. Entire cities voted to activate nuclear arsenals upon themselves. 70 whole Grand Fleets drove straight into the black hole at the center of the galaxy, never to return. It is a trauma... a trauma difficult to even describe now, with over 99.99% of my memories of that war strictly sealed away.
By the end of it, we were burning reality itself to try and burn the Source to ash. We weaponized linear singularities, sending them deep into the Source's flesh. We opened spatial rifts in that bastard's galaxy-sized body. We live in a false vacuum, Penny. Our scientists learned that, and harnessed that. We sent weapons at the Source capable of writing entire concepts out of reality and capable of changing reality itself to kill. Weapons outright banned between the universal superpowers were thrown like chaff in the wind. The fear and madness of that time... nothing comes close to it.
And it is another reason why we commit so many atrocities. Because we have lost our power, any way of feeling like we still have even a scrap of it is irresistible. Others have fallen to the sweet bliss of drugs, or the digital equivalent. More Sprilnav than are alive now by a million times are stored in databanks, waiting for us to build a new universal empire."
"And... the Source?"
"The cursed thing lived. A mockery to us all, one which we know we are powerless to do anything about. It could come here even now and crush my flagship between its skin cells. It could crush this entire galaxy by wading through it in a few years. And no, it does not know or care about little things like the speed of light. It broke causality in many of its battles without care for those it killed. And what you don't know is that the Source war wasn't the first time people tried to kill it.
Other universal powers did and drove it back with lesser weapons than what we used. But power that could force it away did nothing when it came for us. That burning, blinding hatred. It was hell, Penny. And what is left behind is almost as bad. And let me say that almost as bad in this case is still constant agony. Constant misery. I was one of them once. One of the Elders that hated everyone in the universe for the crime of being happy after such a horrendous fall.
I killed many people. I destroyed planets. I killed children, babies, and smashed eggs with my own claws. In person. The depths of what I sank to are beyond depraved and evil, Penny. I refuse to lose hope again. This is why I am here, now, backing you. I cannot atone, but I can rebuild. The Source will feed you its lies but do not forget what it is. Who it is. And what it has done to us."
"Your retelling is not fully accurate," Exile said.
"I am aware of that, speeding space entity. I told the most complete story I know, and will not bring back millions of years of agony just to give a better one. It is not safe for her."
"How would it be unsafe for me?" Penny asked.
"Because I would go insane and kill you, obviously."
"And the Pact of Blades?"
"Unless the Progenitors got here in time, you'd still die. They'd kill me next, with only a slight difficulty if only one is sent, and that one is not Nova. No bond is truly unbreakable, but that is what it would take for me to break the Pact of Blades. I... my mind is built on a foundation of ash. Turn that ash back to wood, and the center will fall through."
Penny moved closer to Kashaunta. She moved her arm over Kashaunta's back. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you."

Clover

Five humans, missing...

Spoilers for all of Undertale Yellow's main routes below
Undertale Yellow is a fan-made prequel to the hit indie game Undertale. While Undertale follows the story of Frisk, the seventh human child to fall into the monster ruled Underground, Undertale Yellow follows the story of their immediate predecessor. Meet Clover, the sixth human. Unlike the humans that fell before, this gun-toting cowboy is unique in the sense that their journey to the Underground was no accident. Clover entered the Underground voluntarily in order to investigate the disappearances of the previous five humans and, if it turned out they perished at some point after their fall, hoped to avenge their deaths. See, while Frisk possessed a red SOUL that embodied Determination, Clover's SOUL is yellow for the trait of Justice. Clover's journey would lead them all throughout the Underground, meeting some monsters that will be familiar to those who have played Undertale and some brand new faces as well.
Like Undertale before it, Undertale Yellow's story can be altered significantly depending on the player's actions. Perhaps Clover befriends the monsters they meet and determines they were unfairly trapped underground, deciding to sacrifice themselves to bring monster kind closer to freedom. Or maybe Clover will blame the monsters for the deaths of the previous human children, avenging them with swift cruelty. Either way, Clover will act in the way they believe they can best embody Justice.

So How Do the Fights Work Anyway?

Like its predecessor, Undertale Yellow tends to treat RPG mechanics as literal aspects of the game's world. Due to the abstract nature of fights in both Undertale and Undertale Yellow, with enemy monsters targeting Clover's SOUL rather than their physical body, it's understandable that there may be some confusion about how Clover actually scales to certain monsters. Luckily, this is a bit more clear in Undertale Yellow than it was in the original game, as the reveal trailer shows that the attacks of monster are things that Clover physically has to react to and dodge (we even see this same attack utilized in game) even though the battle menu only shows their SOUL.
But this is just for when encounters have already begun, what about before that? And what triggers encounters anyway? There's an area in the Wild East where boulders are falling onto the path that Clover needs to dodge. If they fail to avoid them, this begins an encounter too, where Clover is given the opportunity to avoid the "attacks" in the battle menu to negate damage. Other examples include Clover escaping damage from hot steam after touching it and avoiding damage from Axis' energy balls after they hit them. What this means for standard versus fights is a little vague, but it likely means that any attack that would deal meaningful damage starts an encounter and that it would be impossible to simply kill Clover with a sneak attack. Even if it hit them, Clover would still get the opportunity to dodge before the proper fight begins. That said, there is one example of Clover dying without triggering an encounter at the end of the Neutral Route. It's possible this is because it was an unescapable situation but the mechanics of it are still vague and unclear.
As seen with the previous examples such as the falling boulders and steam, it seems that attacks that hit Clover's SOUL and their physical body are more or less interchangeable. Or rather, it isn't possible to circumvent the SOUL to only hit the physical body because even attacks that hit Clover's physical body will trigger an encounter that can then be dodged or endured by the SOUL.
Finally, it's worth noting that the sizes of objects can vary from their appearances in the battle to what they look like in the overworld. We see Clover's SOUL alongside their physical body a few times throughout the game and it's pretty consistently a little larger than their torso. So this thread will describe feats with that scale in mind.

Other Things To Note

• At the end of certain routes, Clover acquires certain abilities/powerups that don't necessarily apply to the rest of the game. Feats or items that are limited to those routes will be marked with the corresponding route.
  
  • [Pacifist] Feat
• Like your standard RPG's, Undertale Yellow possesses a leveling system that will increase the more enemies that Clover kills, with certain abilities being unlocked after certain levels are achieved. However, in the Genocide route Clover showed off the ability to level up rapidly simply by being filled with enough righteous fury. Abilities that are locked behind certain levels will also be marked accordingly.
  
  • Feat^{LV 19}
• The majority of feats will come from Undertale Yellow, but occasionally clips from trailers and other promotional material on the director of the game's Youtube channel will be used, which will be labeled with a T like so:
  
  • Feat^T

Physicals

Strength

• Breaks a piece of wood that had jammed an elevator door with a pickaxe, which broke the pickaxe despite it being described as sturdy previously
• Pushes aside a cabinet
• While physically holding the lid of a trash can Clover is able to deflect Axis' energy attacks back at him which destroyed portable generators about as tall as Axis himself
  • Clover also uses this lid to deflect Axis' bombs
• [Anti-Feat] Needs Martlet's help moving a table

Speed/Agility

• Runs roughly 2/3rds faster than they walk, traveling the same distance in 1.5 seconds that it took them 2.5 seconds to walk
• Climbs a good distance up a rope, though Flowey resets the timeline before they reach the top
• While fighting Decibat they react and move relatively to various attacks that appear to be sound-based
  • Note that blue attacks don't harm you if you're standing still and orange attacks don't if you're moving
• Passes over a bridge when the boards were constantly elevating and lowering
• Moves out of the way of Dunebud's arrows
  • We see in the game's reveal trailer that these arrows move much faster than their in-game counterparts would suggest
• Avoids the soundwaves produced by Starlo's bell attack
• Escapes Axis during their chase
• Jukes the hell out of Axis
• Moves relatively to the arrows and flintlock pistol shots of a pair of mini robots
• Climbs a laundry chute

Durability
Blunt

• A tumbleweed knocks them onto a lower platform and they don't even flinch
• Even while using the Patch, Clover's starting accessory that offers no extra defense, Clover can withstand several giant boulders smashing into them
  • While using the Steel Buckle or superior defensive items, this damage is totally negligible
• Takes several blows from Ed that launch massive boulders into the air
• Withstands the Guardener's attacks which could smash giant gears that are larger than Clover
• [Genocide] Gets hit by large meteors summoned by Zenith Martlet

Falling

• Jumps down a hole into the Underground and lands on a bed of flowers
• Falls through the floor of the Ruins and lands in a bed of flowers in the Dark Ruins, quickly jumping to their feet afterwards
• Crashes a speeding boat over a ledge, sending them over and into the mines
  • Flowey did comment they seemed pretty hurt by this
• Falls down a trap door

Heat

• Survives in the Steamworks with no issue, which was hot enough to light Moe's clothes and stand on fire over the course of their conversation
• Withstands multiple fire attacks from Asgore before eventually succumbing to them (with Asgore being the strongest non-final boss monster in the original Undertale)

Other

• Gets shocked repeatedly by Dalv's electrical attacks, enduring four before eventually succumbing
• A giant fan produces a sandstorm that pushes them back a considerable distance
• Gets hit by dynamite thrown by Starlo
• Survives multiple shots from Starlo's revolver
• Withstands hits from Axis' energy balls which later destroy Axis' portal generators
  • During Axis' boss fight, Clover takes no damage from this at all
• With the highest defensive accessory they take negligible damage from Ceroba's attacks which shatter stone pillars (they also take a glancing blow from these attacks in a cutscene without damage, though it takes them some time to return to their feet)
  • [Pacifist] Clover later withstands Ceroba's attacks after she had powered up into her Kitsune form, which dealt double damage compared to her previous attacks (2HP with the best defensive item instead of 1HP)
• [Pacifist] Endures for a little over a minute after their soul had been extracted from their body (though they were too weak to do anything but crawl)
• [Genocide] Gets crushed by blocks with enough force to shatter them which are not affected by their SOUL's energy beams
• [Genocide] Here is the top of UG Apartments before Clover's battle with Zenith Martlet compared to after, which assuming Martlet's attacks were responsible for any of this damage means that Clover would scale to it
• [Genocide] Clover grows so powerful that Asgore's trident shatters against their SOUL^{LV 20}

Skill

• Shoots a hat off a dummy
• Beats Starlo in a quickdraw contest
• After being fully lasso'd by Starlo, Clover is still able to effectively avoid his attacks and even tricks him into shooting his own lasso twice
  • Starlo is accurate enough to shoot sticks of dynamite out of the air
  • Clover is still able to fight back as well
• Can shoot something as small as a micro froggit
• Opens a door by shooting its control panel
• Plays a mean harmonica^T
• Holy shit they're so sick with it^T

Justice SOUL

• Flowey talks about how Boss Monsters are stronger than others and that a human SOUL is even more powerful than them
• [Pacifist] During the final boss, Clover is powered up and given a plethora of different abilities (the reason for this isn't explicitly stated, but it's likely because they felt their cause was just, more so than they ever had in the rest of the game)^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] Endures repeated enraged attacks from Ceroba that should have killed them before returning to full HP as the next phase of the boss starts^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] Can fire energy blasts from their SOUL which are strong enough to overpower Ceroba's own charged blasts^{LV 1}
    • They can quickly fire smaller shots on top of the more powerful charge shots^{LV 1}
    • A weaker version of Ceroba's attacks could shatter stone pillars^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] Is able to phase through attacks, including otherwise unavoidable AOE attacks^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] Clover is able to Hope, allowing them to take an extra hit without damage^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] Clover is able to Endure, regenerating health from a range of 5HP to 10HP^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] Clover is able to Remember, granting them a speed buff over the course of that turn^{LV 1}
  • [Pacifist] After cracking Ceroba's Kitsune mask, Clover is able to see a memory of her past talking to her dying husband^{LV 1}
• [Genocide] After hearing that Axis, the penultimate boss, killed a human child, Clover is filled with such rage and a desire for justice that they automatically leveled up and developed the ability to shoot energy blasts from their SOUL. The first blast obliterated the trash can lid Axis was using as a shield and after further leveling up they fired a massive beam that obliterated Axis entirely. Clover also gained an assortment of other abilities at this point^{LV 15/19}
  • [Genocide] Smaller shots can be rapid fired and a brief charge allows Clover to fire the beam^{LV 19}
    • [Genocide] It required two small shots to destroy the meteors Zenith Martlet summons and they're completely obliterated by the beam^{LV 19}
    • [Genocide] With enough shots Clover destroys Martlet's armor that their gun was completely useless against (based on the fact that the Fight button is locked during the phase of the fight that she's wearing the armor)^{LV 19}
    • [Genocide] Clover's beam is strong enough to completely obliterate Asgore as well as his throne and the wall behind him^{LV 20}
  • [Genocide] Like in the Pacifist ending, Clover is able to dash which smashes blocks that their shots and beams couldn't break and allows them to phase through otherwise unavoidable attacks without damage^{LV 19}
  • [Genocide] After destroying Martlet's armor, Clover is able to see into mind and witness her backstory^{LV 19}
  • [Genocide] Clover is able to Endure, automatically recovering anywhere from 20HP to 25HP^{LV 19}
  • [Genocide] Here is the top of UG Apartments before Clover's battle with Zenith Martlet compared to after, with Clover presumably being responsible for at least some of the damage^{LV 19}
• [Genocide] Throughout the game, Clover is able to undo mistakes thanks to the SAVE function. Primarily, this is thanks to Flowey doing so for you, becoming an in-universe stand-in for standard RPG Saving and Loading and ultimately allowing them to revive at the latest SAVE point for standard enemies or directly back into the battle for Boss encounters. However, at the end of the Genocide route Clover levels up enough to steal Flowey's control of the timeline, ultimately taking the SAVE ability for themselves which they can use to SAVE and LOAD in the middle of battle^{LV 20}

Gear

Note that while Clover can store excess items in boxes they find around the Underground, they can only carry eight items in their inventory not including their current Weapon, Ammo, Armor, and Accessory. Later in the game they discovered the Dimensional Satchel which allows them to access the boxes from anywhere, but they still only have eight slots to bring into an encounter.
Weapons
Guns

• Toy Gun - Clover's default weapon is a simple toy gun
• Wild Revolver - A gift from Starlo, purchased from Blackjack's shop
  • While the Toy Gun only fires once per turn, the Wild Revolver is fired six times in a row
  • While the Wild Revolver looks and functions like a typical revolver, note that Blackjack does say that he made it so as not to be lethal (though the following line about how anything could be lethal if used enough times consecutively makes this seem more like a meta joke about RPG fight mechanics, even going so far as to mention the ballet shoes that are a weapon in the original Undertale)

Feats
Note that cutscenes will always play out the same regardless of whether the Toy Gun or Wild Revolver is being used, so while the Revolver is obviously the more powerful of the two the Toy Gun is much more powerful than it's name would suggest and the following feats apply to both weapons.

• Damages machinery
• Critically damages Axis who could withstand his own energy balls being reflected back at him with no physical damage, merely draining his power instead
  • After being rebounded Axis' attacks destroyed portable generators as tall as Axis himself
• Destroys robots with repeated shots
• Executes undamaged monsters in cutscenes/scripted fights in both the Pacifist and Genocide routes
• [Anti-Feat] Was unable to destroy the trash can lid Axis was using as a shield

Ammo
Rather amusingly, Clover will jam whatever odd materials they can find into their weapon which somehow works perfectly^T

• Rubber Ammo (AT 0) - The default ammo that Clover started their journey with
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
• Pebble Ammo (AT 3) - Small rocks that Clover discovered in the Dark Ruins
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
• Ice Ammo (AT 6) - Discovered near the start of Snowdin, these fragments of a shattered ice crystal don't melt and cool Clover's gun upon being loaded
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
• Coffee Ammo (AT 4 + 1 SPEED after perfect attack) - Found in a barrel near the exit of Snowdin
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
  • Compare the increased speed to Clover's normal battle speed
• Flint Ammo (AT 9) - Salvaged from an ore deposit outside the East Mines
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
    • Note that the shots make small explosions upon impact
• Glass Ammo (AT 5 + 2HP) - Taken from a shattered glass in the Dunes Gift Shop
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
• Silver Ammo (AT 3 + Bonus Damage for Perfect Shot) - Purchased from Blackjack's shop
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
• Nails (AT 10) - Found in a box in the Steamworks greenhouse
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver
• [Neutral/Genocide] Friendliness Pellets (AT 11) - A gift from Flowey, acquired outside of the Steamworks
  • Toy Gun Wild Revolver

Armor

• Warn Hat - The default armor that Clover started their journey with
• [Pacifist/Neutral] Nice Hat - Visually identical to Clover's old one and offers no extra defense or benefits, but it is a pretty nice hat

Accessories

• Patch (Armor DF 0) - The default accessory that Clover started their journey with
• Feather (Armor DF 2) - A stray feather located in the tunnels near Dalv's house
• Honeydew Pin (Armor DF 4) - Purchased at the Honeydew Resort shop
• Band Merch Pin (Armor DF 5) - A pin given to Clover by a band's super fan in Honeydew Resort
• Steel Buckle (Armor DF 7) - Found inside a cubby in the East Mines
• Safety Jacket (Armor DF 6) - Found on a hook in the East Mines
• Fancy Holster (Armor DF 8) - Purchased from Blackjack's shop
• Safety Goggles (Armor DF 9) - Acquired from Vendy in the Steamworks
• Silver Scarf (Armor DF 6 and +2HP Every Turn) - Given to Clover by Slurpy in Snowdin after freeing his tongue from a frozen pole
  • Here is the scarf in use
• Delta Run Patch (Armor DF 10) - Purchased from Bits and Bites at UG Apartments
• Golden Bandana (Armor DF 12) - Found in a chest in the Steamworks
  • This did come at the cost of sacrificing the Golden Pear, Golden Coffee, and Golden Cactus

Food/Healing Items
Note that at their weakest (LV 1), Clover has 20HP and at their strongest (LV20), Clover has 100HP
Single Use

• Lemonade - 7HP
• Lukewarm Pop - 8HP
• Candy Corn - 9HP
• Packing Peanuts - 10HP
• Sea Tea - 10HP (+ Temporary Speed Increase)
  • Here is the Sea Tea in use
• Monster Candy - 10HP
• Corn Dog - 12HP
• Cold Pop - 12 HP
• Sponge Cake - 14HP
• Hot Pop -14 HP
• Trail Mix - 14HP
• Corn Chowder - 15HP
• Moss Salad - 17HP
• Ice Tea - 20HP
• Green Tea - 21HP
• Flower Stew - 20HP
• Hot Dog - 20HP
• Fruitcake -25HP
• [Pacifist/Genocide] Adult Soda - ???HP
  • It's actually 20HP
• [Genocide] Oasis Latte - 25HP
• [Neutral] Cake - 30HP
• [Genocide] Cinnamon Cookie - 35HP
• Golden Pear - Invulnerability for two hits
  • Here is the G. Pear in use
• Golden Coffee - Increases Clover's speed for 3 turns
  • Here is the G. Coffee in use (also note that this buff carries on to future encounters if the three turns aren't used)
• Golden Cactus - 15HP for 3 turns (Lose 5HP after first bite)

Two Uses

• Grassy Fries - 14HP
• Beef Jerky - 16HP

Unlimited Supply

• Spider Donut - 12HP
• Popato Chisps - 13HP
• Honeydew Coffee - 14HP
• Honeydew Pancake - 16HP
• Ice Water - 15HP
• Monster Candy+ - 15HP
• Root Beer - 18HP
• G.B. Bear - 20HP
• Dihydrogen Monoxide - 20HP
• Feisty Slider - 30HP
• Gravity Granola - 30HP
• Cinnamon Butterscotch Strudel - 30HP
• Floral Cupcake - 50HP
• Gun Powder - ???HP
  • Completely maxes out Clover's HP
  • Note that Clover can only acquire one of these on the Genocide Route

Misc

• Solves Martlet's extremely complicated lava rock puzzle
• Beats the infamous Shuffler gang at their own game
• Uses flint and a steel buckle to burn a thick stick that was jamming an elevator
• Keeps up with El Bailador during their dance off, who was out of breath after the fact
• [Pacifist/Neutral] The Doc in the Wild East can overcharge Clover's health with a one time extra 15HP (nearly double their health at LV 1)
• Stealthily creeps around the Steamworks factory, figuring out a passcode while staying out of Axis' view
• Clover has incredible willpower, since even after Flowey kills them and attempts to absorb their SOUL, Clover is able to resist him for the entirety of the ensuing boss fight which ends when Flowey realizes they'd be fighting for all eternity if they continued and opts to simply reset the timeline instead
• Breaks it down

Somebody calls for help
You answer the call

Wonder Women

Issue Fifty
Written by u/VoidKiller826
Edited by u/Predaplant
Arc: Revelations
*************************************************************
Greetings, people of Gateway City. This is your new peacekeeper speaking. You might know me as the White Magician, a rather crude name, but I will accept it considering Man’s World's lack of creativity. However, you may also call me Circe, and I am here with an important message that your news station will deliver for all to hear.
SCYTHE is no more: their HQ is under my and the Red Centipedes’ command. The Commander and his soldiers are dead and buried, as you all wished to happen. I was more than happy to oblige you if it meant depriving your stupid President of her next chance for reelection. Any survivors of the prison break are being hunted down by the people they locked in cages, who are more than happy to round them up as they once had been themselves.
But none of that’s important, for this recording is only to be heard by one person: Olympos, Wonder Girl, or whatever the fuck new title name you want to be called. This message is for you: You are to surrender yourself to me here in SCYTHE HQ in the next five hours, and in turn, I will not destroy this piss-end of a city. If you fail, I promise you, I will make Coast City look like a picnic by the time I finish with Gateway.
That cow you call Wonder Woman is dead, and I will make sure everyone else will follow her if you don’t comply with my request.
Your mentor learned a valuable lesson when she tested my patience.
*************************************************************
Spears Apartment - Gateway City:
[...President Cale has announced the complete closure of all access to Gateway City following the prison break that occurred in SCYTHE’s holding facility hours ago,] said Cassandra Arnold from GateNews, the city’s main news station. [We still have an unconfirmed number of escapees following the message sent by the White Magician, but the President has assured GateNews a solution will be found.]
Vanessa Kapatelis watched the TV in dismay. Pacing back and forth in the Spears duplex apartment, she had the TV on to pass the time while Ares worked on helping Helena and Cassandra upstairs.
“Here,” Vanessa turned away from the TV to see Tanya Spears handing her a bottle of water. “Something for you to drink.”
“Thank you,” Vanessa accepted the bottle. “I would prefer a beer, but this will make do.”
“My mom has her wine collection in a locked cabinet,” Tanya noted, pointing at the kitchen. “She doesn’t know that I know that, but I can get you a bottle?”
Vanessa chuckled. “Thanks, but I don’t want a girl your age to be walking around with alcohol or to get you in trouble with your mom.” She twisted the bottle cap and slowly drank. “I needed that… it feels like I’ve been dry for months.”
“It’s actually been 3 hours,” Tanya said, sitting on the sofa and opening her tablet to look over the internet. “I hope what she said wasn’t true… about Wonder Woman not being around…”
Taking a seat by her side, Vanessa saw that Tanya was reading through the report on what happened to SCYTHE. The escaped convicts had taken control of the SCYTHE headquarters and equipment after killing many of the agents that had stood in their way.
Seeing the photo of SCYTHE HQ burning angered her. That place should represent the absolute shield of Gateway. Now, it had come under the control of the convicts that they were supposed to stop because of Aeeta Branwen. A name that had made her happy now belonged to a stranger who had lied to her all this time.
Memories of their most intimate moments came flooding back: their first conversation, their first date, their kiss, and the morning after their date in her apartment. It was a moment when she thought she could finally stop grieving and move on from what happened to Coast City. And now, that had been disintegrated into oblivion.
In anger, she crushed the bottle with her hand, spraying water all over the table and the floor.
“Shit!” Vanessa stood up, finally realizing her mistake. “I am sorry!”
“Oh, it's fine!” Tanya ran to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. “It’s just water.”
“I know it’s just…” Taking the paper towel, the two began wiping the floor and the table. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“I’ll bet with everything that happened,” said Tanya, giving Vanessa a supportive smile. “Your friends are getting hurt, and you can’t do anything but watch. It would piss anyone off. I know it did with me when the RedCent guys invaded EE Tower.”
“Yeah…” Vanessa sat back on the sofa. “But this… I not only possibly lost many friends, but I was betrayed by someone I loved, someone who I thought was the one for me…” she said, distraught, as tears ran down her face.
Tanya, without saying anything more, hugged Vanessa closely. Despite them knowing each other for only a few hours, Tanya knew that Vanessa was in pain. Watching her loved ones being hurt by someone that she trusted must have been a hard truth to accept.
The doors upstairs opening and closing caught the two’s attention. Looking up, they saw Somya Spears descending, looking exhausted, like she had gone ten rounds in the ring. As she reached the ground floor, Tanya ran up to her mother, hugged her close, and guided her to the nearest chair to rest.
“Is everything alright, mom?” Tanya asked, worried.
“Yeah… just felt that I might take that long overdue vacation…” Somya answered, leaning against the soft chair with a tired sigh. “Maybe we’ll go to Paris like you wanted, Tanya…”
More steps followed, and Ares, or Mars as he insisted to be called, followed Somya, pulling his folded-up sleeves back. Unlike Somya, he didn’t seem any different from when he went upstairs to help the Sandsmarks, but the few strands of hair on his face told a different story.
“How are they?” Vanessa asked, walking up to the former God of War. “Are they ok?”
Ares turned to Vanessa. “The girl has a lot of heart, far too stubborn to let a beating keep her down.” He said with praise, impressed with the former Wonder Girl’s willpower. “Her Sumerian blood will help her heal in only a few days, but it won’t help her mental wounds after I told her the news about her mother.”
Vanessa had a lot of questions about what he had said, especially the word Sumerian; perhaps Cassie was not simply half-Olympian. However, she focused on the most important detail in his explanation. “What happened with Helena?” She asked in a worried tone. “Is she-”
“She is alive,” Ares said, but his expression shifted, frowning, making her nervous. “Physically, she will recover, she has only a few cuts and bruises. Even a human like her can heal those.”
“But?”
“But it's the spell Circe struck her with. It is unlike anything I’ve seen because it is of her creation,” Ares explained, and Vanessa ground her teeth together when she heard the name belonging to the stranger who hurt her and her loved ones. “Whatever she used, it is affecting her very soul, slowly killing her.”
“Like a virus?” Vanessa asked, and Ares nodded. “Magic can do that?”
“It does,” Ares answered. “Magic can create a nuclear bomb if the user has the patience for it. And Circe is a master at it, one of the very best and most gifted witches on the planet, so making something like this would be as easy as making a cake for her.”
Magic had never been SCYTHE’s priority, but the Commander still made them study anything related to the subject in case they had to face it. Vanessa had never expected to see it at this scale.
“Can you break it?” Vanessa asked. “Find a way to break the curse from Helena’s soul?”
Ares took a deep breath, pocketing his hands. “It’s too complex to break. I will admit Magic is not my strongest suit, but even if you bring in someone knowledgeable, it would be a while for them to break her creation,” he explained. “You need someone at her level of knowledge when it comes to magic, and I am not the best person to face her in that department.”
“Then we call for a specialist, anyone, really,” Vanessa said in desperation. “If this is like a virus, a curse, then we bring a surgeon to cut it out! Maybe Cassie can use her Justice Legion connection, or maybe you can call someone for a favor.”
Vanessa's desperation was clear. She was willing to call for the Justice Legion, the very people she swore to go against for their vigilantism, if it meant saving Helena Sandsmark, her promise be damned.
“The spell is growing far too rapidly. By the time you find someone, it will be far too late,” Ares said solemnly. “The only person in the world who can break the spell without any problem or fear of failsafe is Hecate, the Goddess of Magic. She was Circe’s mentor, and she taught her everything she could about magic. No matter how complex it is, Hecate would understand it.”
“She can help us?”
Ares shook his head. “No, she has no interest in helping the world unless it is connected to her directly, and even then, dealing with her is the worst-case scenario because there is a chance she’ll side with Circe before she even thinks of helping us.”
“So what now?” Vanessa asked, sounding defeated. “Just let Helena die? Let Cassie suffer? Let Circe win?!” she shouted angrily, finally addressing Circe by name. All of this explanation from Ares told her one thing: that the Witch had them beat, and they couldn’t do anything about it.
Ares didn’t react to her outburst, while the Spears looked worried. Tanya, for her part, tried to walk up to calm Vanessa, but the War God raised his hand to stop her, shaking his head and giving her the silent sign to let Vanessa be.
“There is one way: it will be quicker if we act fast enough, but it would take everything from all of us for it to happen,” Ares said, beginning his explanation. “There is a chain link connecting the spell, from the spell caster to Circe. This means it can be broken if we force Circe to release the chain connecting her to Helena…” he explained, letting his words be understood by the occupants in the room before finishing with one last note. “Killing Circe would also break the binding if she didn’t leave any contingencies.”
Vanessa gritted her teeth. “So we have to make her break the spell, and hopefully she doesn’t screw us over… or we kill her, and hopefully she still doesn’t screw us over even in death?” she asked, and Ares nodded. “What kind of person is willing to put in all that work? Just for revenge? On Diana, who is long gone?”
Ares shrugged and turned to the Spears, his gaze focused on Tanya, his daughter. Someone whom he never thought he would meet again was facing him, without knowledge of their blood relations.
“Possibly,” Ares answered, taking a step back. “But if there is one thing I know for sure, Circe does not put these kinds of bindings without any reason. Whatever that reason is involves Cassandra Sandsmark and whether she will choose to make Circe break the spell or kill her, tainting her forever.”
Silence came to the room, letting Ares’s words sink in for all occupants, which might have been the same words he said to the Sandsmarks.
*************************************************************
The room of Somya Spears was quiet, with the only sound being the breathing of Helena Sandsmark lying on the bed sleeping. The room was spacious, with an expensive queen-sized bed as expected from an interim CEO of one the largest companies in the world.
Seated a few feet away on a chair was Cassandra Sandsmark, dressed in fresh clothes given to her by Somya after throwing off the bloody tattered ones she had arrived in. Watching her mother closely, Cassandra’s mind was racing, especially after what Ares told her about the curse Circe placed on her mother, slowly destroying her soul bit by bit until she was nothing but a husk.
“Dammit!” In anger at their situation, she crushed the armchair, tearing its arm off like it was made of paper. If she was stronger, faster, and had the heart for it, she would have stopped the Witch, stopped her from hurting her city, the people of SCYTHE, and those caught in the crossfire, stopped her from hurting her mother…
She buried her face into her hands, tears running down her eyes as she despaired. Everything she worked on after Coast City evaporated was ground up under a very powerful enemy out for revenge.
Considering Circe’s ultimatum, her city could well be gone by the time this was over.
“Artemis… please be safe…” she whispered. She had nearly had a panic attack when she heard the news of the Amazon heading to SCYTHE HQ to stop the prison break, and then… nothing. No matter how many times she dialed her phone, there was no one answering, and she feared for the worst.
She heard her mother coughing, and Cassandra was quickly by her side. “Mom!” she called for her, holding her hand.
“Cassandra?...” Her mother said her name weakly. Her skin was becoming paler, a clear sign that the curse spell was working. “Are you… ok?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Cassandra answered, covering the bandages hidden inside her clothes. “We’re safe. You’re safe.” she said, tightening both her hands around her mothers.
“Did you… break something?” She asked, looking at the chair behind her. “You shouldn’t be… doing that… we are guests…”
Cassandra laughed, her tears falling away. “Sorry… it’s just… it’s been a hell of a week…”
Helena touched her daughter’s cheek, noticing the bandage on it. “You’re… hurt…”
“It’s alright, Mom. Just a few bruises,” Cassandra assured. “You shouldn’t worry, you know I can take it…”
“I am your… mother, Cassandra,” Helena said, facing her daughter. “Demi-God or not… I will always be worried… scared for my little girl.”
Cassandra’s tears came back. Seeing her mother remain strong despite everything made her happy, and she was terrified of losing her.
“So… my soul is cursed?” Helena asked.
“You heard all that?”
“Can’t not… with all the swearing…” Helena noted, giving her daughter a small smile. “You shouldn’t swear at people, Cassandra, especially those who are trying to help.”
“I know, I know,” Cassandra said. She had gone off on Ares after he explained what happened to her mother, and she might have overreacted when she put all her anger on the former War God. “It’s just… I don’t want to lose you… not while we can fix this.”
Helena sat up on her bed, fully facing her daughter. “Which is why… I don’t want you to make the wrong choice.”
“I won’t,” Cassandra said with a low tone. “I will make Circe free you from this curse-”
“No, Cassandra,” Helena grabbed both of Cassandra’s hands with hers. “That is not what I meant…”
Cassandra raised her brows, confused. “Mom?”
“I heard everything… from Circe’s spell… how it works… and how it can be broken…” Helena said, shocking Cassandra. “I know you already decided what you feel you have to do.”
Cassandra didn’t answer, avoiding her mother’s disapproving gaze accusing her. Ares said the quickest way to break the binding and the spell was either by forcing Circe to break it herself or by killing her, severing the connection.
But if what Circe said was true, that Diana decided to kill her instead of making her surrender like everyone else who faced her, that means there was no chance the Witch would submit willingly. She would rather die than give the satisfaction of admitting defeat.
Which left only one solution where she could save her mother.
Helena sighed, knowing what decision her daughter might have made. She held her hand tightly and changed the subject. “I have to tell you something…”
“No, mom. You’re not giving me the ‘Dying Speech’, not while there is a chance we can save you-”
“It’s about your father,” Helena cut her off, shutting Cassandra up. “Your real father…”
Cassandra remembered Circe calling her Daughter of Enlil, not Zeus. Ares said he was a friend of her father, which confused her because Ares hated Zeus, so it wouldn’t make sense that he would help out even if they were his siblings.
“Enlil…” Cassandra said the name aloud, and Helena’s eyes widened, her breath hitching when she heard the name. “Circe… she called me Daughter of Enlil… Child of the Sky...”
Helena took a deep breath, bringing her daughter closer. “Yes… that is true…” she began. “You are not Zeus’s daughter, Cassandra, nor you are an Olympian in any way… but you are in fact… Sumerian… Mesopotamian,” The elder Sandsmark brought her youngest closer and spoke carefully, as if worried that someone might hear them. “Your father is Enlil, the Sumerian God of Wind… and he was the kindest man I have ever known…”
From then on, Helena explained Cassandra’s origins as carefully as possible, pushing on even while the spell affected her. She explained how she met Enlil, a man with golden hair similar to Cassandra’s, who introduced himself as an expert in Mesopotamian history during an expedition in Iraq. They had become rivals at first due to their clashing personalities, but how that developed into respect, to eventually falling in love after a very lengthy adventure that sounded like the plot of The Mummy.
And that love resulted in Cassandra’s birth. He helped raise her with Helena for the first year and a half before he disappeared because he had Olympian enemies and had to leave them to keep them safe.
While she explained all this, Cassandra’s mind went to another piece of critical information. Her father’s true identity had never been the most important thing for her. But what made it important was what Circe told her about Diana’s true reason for coming to Gateway City. It wasn’t just settling in a ‘piss-end of a city’ the more she taught about it, the more she realized the terrifying truth behind her mentor’s reasoning for coming to the city.
Diana was sent to find Cassandra, a Sumerian Demi-God, the Olympians greatest enemy since the Titans, and eliminate her. The prophecy of the Godkiller that they had feared might have come from Cassandra, but all it did was start a long, personal, and bloody war between two women because of the gods' demands for blood.
And now, she, Artemis, and Gateway City suffered the consequences. Even after Diana’s death, Circe would not let her hatred for what had happened to her go, and if it meant destroying her mentor’s legacy, she would do it.
‘Diana…’ Cassandra thought in sadness.
*************************************************************
SCYTHE Sub Base - Industrial District:
“I am not sure how you were able to do it, but you somehow found an ever more depressing place than that HQ of yours. It makes the cell you put us in look like a five-star hotel room,” said one Pamela Isley, formerly Poison Ivy, seated in the middle of a large room behind a large table. Around her were what was left of the SCYTHE agents they had saved during the escape, all working to get the makeshift base they had hidden up and running.
Alexei Abramovici, the Bloodcrow of SCYTHE, glared at the former supervillain, not happy with her comment. He turned to one of his men and began barking orders, “You! Get the goddamn Black Room working! We are running blind here!”
‘Worker drones even without their Commander.’ Pamela looked on unimpressed at the agents. She had never been that sympathetic to the plight of cops getting killed, especially militarized ones. The once mighty and feared peacekeepers of Gateway, who went to war against all the crime syndicates and the Red Centipedes, were now a mere little squad that won’t be able to protect a mini-mart, let alone every escaped convict under the command of the White Magician.
“Man… the signal here sucks!” complained Miguel Barragan by her side, raising his phone and trying to catch any kind of signal. “Could barely talk to my boyfriend when I called him, and can’t connect to the internet,” he complained. He tried once again to call but he couldn’t find a signal. “Useless brick…”
“We are underground in a bunker previously owned by Neo-Nazis, Barragan,” Pamela noted. From what she had heard, this used to be an old RedCent hideout that SCYTHE took over after the war, using it as a smaller base in case of emergency. “Not receiving any signal is part of the appeal of the place.”
“Bunker, huh…” Miguel chuckled. The name Bunker reminded him of the super name that he picked out; the more time passed, the more convinced he was that it was the right one.
Pamela gave a confused look at his expression and shrugged it off. Turning to her right, she saw the silent Emily Sung staring off into the distance. Unlike Barragan, Emily had other matters on her mind. Whatever she sensed or saw back at SCYTHE HQ freaked her out, like seeing something she shouldn’t.
Just as Pamela was about to ask her how she was feeling, a knock on the large blast doors echoed around the base, loud enough for all to hear. Quickly, everyone felt tense, and the SCYTHE agents covered the door as Alexei signaled them to aim their weapons. After the news of the escaped convicts taking control of SCYTHE HQ and their equipment and weaponry, the agents knew that they were being haunted now by the convicts looking for revenge, so they were not taking any chances.
“Would you mind opening the door!” A familiar voice said behind the door, a voice Pamela recognized right away. “I have a bloody Amazon here, and I would like her off my fur!”
“Barbara?” Pamela realized.
“Minerva? As in the Cheetah?” Alexei asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “She could be working with them, with the White Magician.”
“She isn’t,” Pamela answered, glaring at the SCYTHE soldier for the accusation. “She would never ally with the psychos you had under lock and key.”
Alexei scoffed. “That woman got a cemetery filled with people who say otherwise, and she hurt the mother of someone I know.”
Before the two could argue, Miguel stood up and decided to take action. He extended his hand, forming a large arm construct from it, and grabbed the handle of the blast door. With one pull, he opened it wide. Barbara entered. Her feline form made some of the SCYTHE agents tense, and weapons were still trained on her.
“Quite the welcoming committee…” she noted in sarcasm. “Now, would you be dears and get this woman some help?” She adjusted the unconscious and bloody Artemis on her back. Her blood covered Barbara’s fur.
“Medic!” Alexei called for an agent nearby before turning to Miguel. “And you, don’t use your freaky powers until I order you to do so.”
“Sorry tin man, I don’t speak fascist,” Miguel responded with a smirk, and Alexei glared at him.
The medic quickly came to Barbara and guided her to a nearby makeshift hospital room, which had a bed and various equipment to help the SCYTHE wounded. Barbara went in haste, and gently, with the help of the medic, they placed the injured Amazon on the bed, her blood soaking the white sheets red.
“How the hell did you even find us?” Alexei asked as he and the others entered. “I made sure I covered all our steps.”
“You did,” Barbara noted, stepping back to let the medic check on Artemis. She turned to Alexei and pointed at her nose. “But one of you has a very special pheromone that I can smell for miles,” she said with a smile as she turned her gaze to Pamela. “Still with those rose scents around you.”
The redhead smiled. “Maybe it’s that mark you left on me.”
“More than you think, Pammy.”
“Christ…” the medic gasped, catching everyone’s attention. “How is she still alive? And how long has she been like this?” He asked, examining the injured Amazon.
Her armor was wholly wrecked, beyond repair. Her headpiece was half broken, and the gauntlets and braces on her arms and legs were dented and unusable. Her injuries were severe: open wounds, slash marks, and burn marks were all over her body, and judging from blows on her armor, she might have had a few broken bones as well.
“Didn’t bother to look at the time with some of the grunts that were sent after us,” Barbara answered, leaning on a nearby chair as fatigue finally set in for her. “But these Amazons are too stubborn to die, and I know that from experience…”
The number of times Barbara thought she had beaten Diana only for the Amazon to get back up and beat her back was many, and it frustrated the woman to no end, but now she couldn’t help but be in awe at the resilience of these warriors.
“Her Amazon gifts will heal her,” Barbara noted. “But I am not sure how long it will take…”
“I doubt it will take more than a few days at least…” the medic noted, bringing out some bandages and wrapping them around her arms. “She will need a miracle to even walk out of here on her own two feet.”
“Uhmm…” Everyone in the room turned to Emily Sung, who stood by the doorway. “I… I think I can help her heal faster.”
Barbara and the medic gave her an odd look. To better explain it, Emily brought her hands together, and a small flame began to form from her palm. However, they weren’t bright orange flames; they were blue flames, and they didn’t feel any heat from them.
“I developed this technique while training,” said Emily. “It's a fire spell that doesn’t burn, but it heals people. I first used it on Miguel when he hurt his hands, and it was instantaneous,” she explained, and Miguel showed his fully healed hand as if he was demonstrating it. “But this will be the first time I will heal someone with this severe of injuries…”
Pamela and Barbara looked at the blue flames with wide eyes. In Pamela’s case, she was told that Emily had powers, and from Miguel’s description, she had the power of all the elements. However, seeing it firsthand and feeling it from just that tiny flame made her sense there was power behind it, warmth, like the sun.
“Do it,” Barbara said, taking a step back. “At this point, if we need magic to get her back into the fight, we better get to it before we lose her for real.” She turned to the shocked medic. This was the first time he would ever see magic in play. “And you, guide her in whatever wounds need to be healed.”
The medic nodded. It was better than nothing. With his guidance and Miguel’s support by her side, Emily went to work to heal Wonder Woman, who was in a state of life and death if they didn’t work fast enough, all while Circe and her crew were out there terrorizing the city.
“What’s the news out there?” Alexei asked after the three left the infirmary room. “We are in the dark here, and I couldn’t radio in anyone with the pieces of junk we got. Not even my brother, who was trying to get as many agents as possible.”
“Brother?” Barbara asked before she realized who his brother was. Her expression became solemn. She remembered the Warhammer who stayed behind to slow Circe and her crew, giving Barbara a chance to escape with Artemis on her back. “The guy with the Hammer…”
Alexei furrowed his brows, noticing the change in her expression. “What happened to my brother?”
Barbara took a deep breath and began explaining everything that had happened: the White Magician’s true identity, her taking over SCYTHE HQ, her ultimatum to Wonder Girl, and finally, Anatoly Abromivici’s sacrifice to save them.
*************************************************************
Somewhere in Gateway…
With the loss of SCYTHE and their headquarters, the surviving agents didn’t have the necessary support from the intel agents in the Black Room to fight off against the newly revived Red Centipedes, now grown more powerful with the help of the escaped convicts, more than happy to exact revenge.
With the bridges closed off, SCYTHE’s weakened state, and Wonder Woman being presumed dead, the city had been thrown into chaos. Streets filled with criminals and looters taking full advantage of what had happened, stealing anything from everyone across the island.
Red Centipedes roamed the streets with military trucks, taken from SCYTHE after their HQ had fallen to the White Magician’s control, making full use of their hardware to hunt down any surviving agent, delivering the message that they were the new peacekeepers of Gateway.
“Let me go!”
A woman, a worker from Taco Whiz, was being dragged from the streets by a group of RedCent grunts. Taken into a nearby corner, the RedCent dropped the worker on the dirty ground. Their eyes had terrible intentions behind them.
“Come on, man,” one RedCent grunt said from behind to his buddy. “We are supposed to find those SCYTHE fuckers, not mess around.”
“You’re serious?” The buddy looked at his friend like he was crazy. “We’ve been locked for months in SCYTHE’s cells; we can have a few minutes of fun.”
“Please! Don’t do this!” The woman screamed, tears falling from her eyes, afraid of what they would do to her. She tried to stand up and run away but was quickly pushed back down on the pavement.
The RedCent approached the woman, who crawled away from them in fear. “Come on, girl, I just need to release all this stress after being locked up for so long!” He proclaimed, giving the woman a leery look before turning to his buddy. “Hey man, I can share! Maybe we can get someone else from the street-”
The RedCent stopped speaking, catching his breath for a moment after he saw his buddy lying on the ground face first, knocked out cold. Looking up, his eyes widened in shock when he saw the person standing before him. “You’re… you were supposed to be dead?!”
Covered in heavy bandages and wrecked NIGHT armor, and carrying a mace in his hand and a pissed-off look on his face, Commander Hector Hall stood before the RedCent grunt like a dark spectre coming back to life. Kicking the knocked-out buddy aside, the Commander looked between the grunt and the terrified woman before he hardened his glare at the RedCent.
“Stay back!” The RedCent grunt aimed his weapon, hands shaking in fear. “I said stay the fuck back-”
In a moment, Hall moved at such a speed he looked like a blur, cutting the distance between the two. With one swing of his mace, he smacked him squarely on the head, sending him to the ground.
Hall turned to the woman he saved, who looked at him in horror. “Go… get to safety…”
Without another word, the woman ran toward the exit and into the streets, away from the alley. Now alone with the two RedCents, Hall grabbed the knocked-out buddy and woke him up, making the man see the bandaged-up Hall looking down at him with hateful eyes.
“You… I want you to send your boss a message…” Hall began, making him face the Commander. “Tell the White Magician, Circe, that I am declaring war on her and on anyone who stands by her side.” He turned and walked up to the other grunt, who was crawling away from the Commander in fear, grabbing his bleeding head. He begged for his life, but Hall ignored his pleas. “And this, this is for my men that you Centipedes have killed…”
He lifted his bloody mace and brought it down like a hammer on the begging Red Centipede as his buddy looked on in horror. He lifted it up once more to reveal the man’s head was crushed like a watermelon.
Commander Hector Hall was still alive, and as long as he was still breathing, SCYTHE would remain standing to fight against all threats against Gateway City.
*************************************************************

Wonder Women Vol 3.

Previous Issue <> Next Issue

Cigarettes and rebellion have always gone hand-in-hand, and in an age of cigarette packet-sized health warnings, now more than ever, smoking a fag says: 'I do not give a fuck.' But if Brandon Flowers is hoping to strike a seditious pose by sparking up at the start of the interview, it's not going according to plan. The Killers' frontman is on all fours rooting through the junk that carpets the anteroom at the band's rehearsal space. "Has anyone seen my lighter?" he asks, rocking back on his heels. The question hangs in the air while Brandon cocks his head, waiting for an answer like a meerkat listening for a predator. Twenty-five years old and with a delicate bone structure, there's something almost dainty about him. Receiving no response, he returns to his search. "Oh, Jeez," he sighs. "I had it just a minute ago."
It's a scene that emphatically does not suggest a rebel without a cause. The mess isn't helping. The Killers' HQ - an industrial unit sandwiched between a construction supplier and the offices of a housing development just off Dean Martin Drive in West Las Vegas - is ankle-deep in designer clothing. A Dior Homme suit lies crumpled by the door; there's a pile of shoes topped like a sundae by a pair of Marc Jacobs trainers; and anyone wishing to enter the shoebox room the band use as an office must negotiate a mountain of discarded jeans. Many items are identifiable as coming from the wardrobe of Hot Fuss, The Killers' hugely successful 2004 debut album - triple platinum in the UK with two weeks at Number One and five million sold worldwide. Look! There are the shirts, ties and suit jackets they wore when they thrilled Glastonbury 2005 with indie rock anthems Mr Brightside and Somebody Told Me. That was the crowning moment of a two-and-a-half year tour that finally concluded in October of last year. It seems that after playing that final date in Miami, they returned to Vegas and shrugged off their image onto the floor of this bland white box.
Now a fine layer of dust covers the dead clothes. The Killers have no further use for white tuxedos on their second album, Sam's Town. Today, Brandon wears a black polo shirt, black pin-stripe waistcoat, black jeans and black boots. Where there used to be a layer of foundation, there is now a beard - an untrimmed beard at that. Dave Keuning (30, guitar), Mark Stoermer (29, bass) and Ronnie Vannucci (29, drums) all echo Brandon's black ensemble. Ronnie has added Aviator shades and a handlebar moustache for a dash of motorcycle cop, Dave's frizzy bubble of hair gives him a Marc Bolan-ish air, and there's something very teenage about Mark's scuffed Vans.
Short of walking around wearing sandwich boards saying, "Our new record is a bit heavier than the last one," The Killers couldn't hope to communicate that message more effectively. And they have gained some musical girth on Sam's Town. The pop hooks that made Hot Fuss so irresistible survive intact - see the ringing guitar riffs on first single When You Were Young - but there's a newfound punchiness, coupled with an epic sweep. The minor-to-major uplifts on Bones are fabulously dramatic, the coda to Why Do I Keep Counting? thrillingly intense. Comparisons to Bruce Springsteen have been made. If they overstate the case a little, they are at leaset qualitatively accurate. The Killers are back and this time it's serious - they've got the bootlace ties to prove it.
"Hey, it says here that Springsteen's headlining Glastonbury next year," shouts Ronnie, who's flicking through the NME. He nods sagely at the page without looking up.
"Really?" asks Dave, nicknamed Crazy Dave on account of his alledgedly volatile nature.
"The Boss is headlining one night, we're playing second on the bill the next night and Kylie's headlining the Sunday," says Brandon, charging like a bull through Michael Eavis' as-yet-unannounced line-up with what subsequently proves to be a characteristic gaucheness.
But that lighter is proving elusive. This being America, none of the people hurrying to-and-fro prepping the world for the release of Sam's Town smokes. Manager Robert Reynolds - Bobby Rey to the band - barks into his mobile, booking his band onto eye-wateringly demanding tours. "We're going to make a lot of money," he cackles to himself before switching calls to make a series of stern pronouncements on legal matters. Dave, Mark and Ronnie disappear for a jam session. Artwork is approved, B-sides are decided on and schedules are hammered out.
"I can't find it," Brandon says, finally. But he's not going to be denied the opportunity to underline The Killers reinvention with a puff of smoke. "Let's go to the gas station. I'll have to buy one. It's too busy to talk here anyway."
+
Brandon's black (of course) Volkswagen Touraeg four-wheel drive is barrelling down West Flamingo Road into town. "I was a bell boy there," he says, pointing out of the driver's window at the stucco facade of the Gold Coast casino. "I was working there when we were signed."
Coming from Las Vegas, it is perhaps inevitable that casinos play a big part in The Killers' story; not only is Sam's Town named after one, it was recorded in one, too.
The band began writing songs while on the road with Hot Fuss, turning up early for soundchecks to run through new ideas. On a trip home to Vegas, George Maloof, a hotelier known for cultivating famous friends, invited them to record the album in the new studio he'd built at The Palms, his flagship hotel-cum-gambling den. When the tour finished in October 2005, they returned to Vegas and spent five month finessing the songs they'd sketched out on the road. Then, in February, they decampled to the third floor studio at The Palms and recorded Sam's Town over 11 weeks.
Producer Flood (U2, Depeche Mode) encouraged them to experiment. They overdubbed, fiddled with synthesizers and played with new equipment. It took them five weeks to get the backing vocals right. The band sang the harmonies, then double-tracked them four times. The end result recalls Queen wondering, "Is this is the real life? Is this just fantasy?" When Ronnie, a trained classical percussionist, brought some kettledrums down, eyebrows were raised; but the fabulously bombastic coda on Why Do I Keep Counting? vindicates his indulgence.
"That's kind of the Ben Hur of the album," he says. He's not wrong. Sam's Town is a record on an epic scale. "Yeah, it has drama," he continues. "But, at the same time, I think it's a little more exposed than Hot Fuss. It's a little more naked. Last time it was about a lot of fictional things." By "fictional", Ronnie means that Hot Fuss wore its predominantly British influences for all to see. Brandon's taste in music is rabidly Anglophile - he constantly references The Smiths, The Cure and Joy Division - and it showed. By contrast, Sam's Town is an unequivocally American record. The lyrical imagery is pure American dream - cars, girls, wide-open spaces and escaping to a better life. "We're burning down the highway skyline/On the back of a hurricane that started turning/When you were young," sings Brandon on When You Were Young. That's the basis of the Springsteen comparisons then, though the lack of pathos more closely recalls another blue-collar rocker from New Jersey - Jon Bon Jovi.
The phrase "this town" recurs throughout the album, and it's always receding into the distance as The Killers escape to a new life. "This town was made for passing through/I never did get along with everybody else," sings Brandon on This River Is Wild. On Read My Mind he "never really gave up on breaking out of this two-star town", while on the title track he offers something of an explanation: "Nobody ever had a dream round here."
"With the first record, there was this feeling that there was this world out there that we didn't know," says Mark later in the day. Before The Killers, he studied philosophy: now he's their quiet one. "We wanted to get out and away from this and be somewhere else. We hadn't had a lot of experience - hadn't travelled much - then we were gone for three years. We didn't sit down and say that we wanted to make a record about how we're glad to be home, but that's what happened naturally."
It's not an angsty record. The Killers have already escaped with Hot Fuss, and, having done so, they view the experience fondly now they're back. There's a mistiness to Brandon's eyes as he explains how the album got it's name.
"Sam's Town is a casino on the edge of Vegas," he says. "I grew up in Henderson, which is out on the way to the Hoover Dam. My mom and dad lived in a trailer park, and my dad used to hitchhike up and down Boulder Highway, which is the only way you could get to Vegas. Sam's Town was the first thing you saw on your way in to town. So, when you're driving down Boulder Highway from Henderson, I always thought you finally knew you were getting somewhere when you saw Sam's Town. It was kind of like a beacon."
"It's not a completely American album," contines Brandon. "We still have our English influence, but we're also from the Wild West. Somehow we've managed to unify all that on this album. it's just such a perfect resemblence of what we are."
At the petrol station, Brandon rummages through the glove box looking for change to buy a lighter. "This is a great album," he says, pointing at Highway Companion, the latest from iconic American rocker Tom Petty. "I've always been a big fan of his. He's such a great American artist."
Yes, Brandon: we get the point.
+
When Brandon finally lights his cigarette, he smokes it awkwardly, like a child mimicking something he's seen the grown-ups doing. However, when he cheerfully admits that, "I feel the same mentally as I did when I was 12," it's not a knowing nod to the fact that he sometimes behaves like a loveably precocious child, but a reference to an unusually comprehensive grounding in pop music at an early age.
When Brandon sings about "this town", he doesn't mean Las Vegas. He means Nephi, Utah or Henderson, Nevada, where he spent his childhood. His parents are Mormon and he is the youngest of six children. "I was a surprise," he says. "I've got a 42-year-old sister." If he was issues about his "surprise" status, he chooses to gloss over them. "It turned out perfect because my brother was a teenager when I was a kid," he says. "He would bring home things like Rattle And Hum by U2 and I would watch it. I remember he bought Live In Dallas by Morrissey. It was always him watching these things, or his door was shut and you'd hear The Head On The Door by The Cure blasting through the house and rattling the walls."
The Killers were formed when Brandon answered an advert Dave had placed in a local paper in late 2002. Dave cited Oasis as a big influence; Brandon had seen them play recently and responded; and, as Dave has said in previous interviews: "He was the only person to reply to my ad who wasn't a complete freak." However, the band was born in Brandon's brothers bedroom.
"His room was like a shrine," enthuses Brandon. "It was a holy place. I wish I could show you a picture of it. It was covered in posters. There'd be a big picture of Elvis wearing a bow tie that just said 'The Smiths' [the artwork for The Smiths 1987 single Shoplifters Of The World Unite]. You had The Cure wearing face paint [the artwork to The Cure's 1985 single In Between Days] - all that kind of stuff. I remember Morrissey being on the cover of the NME, with the halo [from 1985] - stuff like that. You just wanted to know about these people 'cause they were so cool. My brother seemed like such a cool person. But he was a teenager, so he wasn't going to be that nice to me, a kid."
Brandon was fascinated by his brother's collection of music, magazines and posters, but he was denied access to them - officially, at least. "I would sneak in," he says. "I knew he'd be angry if he found out, but I would go in as soon as he left the house." For a long time Brandon was too scared to actually play anything. "That didn't come 'til later. I just used to go in there because I liked it. Then I got to the point where I'd actually take a tape out and put it in. It took more guts to do that."
It was a life-changing moment. "I was ten and the first song I played was Sing Your Life by Morrissey. I remember dancing about to it."
The lyrics to Sing Your Life include the lines, "Sing your life/Just walk right up to the microphone/And name all the things that you love/All the things that you loathe." It's intriguing to wonder what Morrissey makes of the neophyte he inspired with these lines.
Eventually, Brandon inherited his brother's tape collection. "It was around the same time CDs started coming out in a big way. He started buying CDs and gave me his tapes. And that was it: it took off from there. I got a hundred of the best albums - all the New Order, all the Morrissey, all The Smiths, The Beatles. I started buying posters. I went to see The Cure in concert. It was just kind of a continuation of my brother. And it was nice because, though my parents were strict, they were already used to it from him. There was no, 'My dad doesn't understand me,' or any of that kind of stuff. My mum likes The Smiths."
Brandon was 13 and his favourite band was late-'70s/early-'80s American new wavers The Cars, and particularly their jaw-droppingly catchy 1979 single Just What I Needed.
"I wouldn't exist without that song," he says. "That was the one. I remember driving around with my mum when I was 13, and we're living in Nephi - a really small town - and I felt so cool when I put that song on. Like: 'I have something that none of these kids I'm going to middle school with tomorrow have.' That excitement is what music's about, isn't it? That's why I understand the mentality of people that don't like us because we've sold so many records. I used to like it when no one else knew about a band. So I get that - I do."
+
Brandon's first band was called Blush Response. It was never going to work out. Not because he refused to move to Los Angeles with them, but because he is utterly - comically - shameless. He's given to making outrageously boastful statements like: "It's not like the '60s, '70s and '80s now. There are only a few bands around that are really good, that just do it. I mean, there's what, five or six of us?"
For the record, in Brandon's estimation, those bands are Franz Ferdinand, Razorlight, The Strokes, The White Stripes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs and, of course, The Killers.
"I don't want people to think I'm lumping myself with other people just to make us sound cool," he says. Really? It sort of sounds like you are. But he just steamrolls through it. "Yeah, but you know what I mean," he says, grinning at his own cheekiness. He's so disgracefully forward you can't help but laugh along with him - Oh you are awful, Brandon! But joking aside, The Killers are the most commercially successful of all the bands he mentions.
Later, back at the rehearsal space, the band run through Sam's Town at deafening volume in preparation for the forthcoming tour - first the US, then the world. The infectious, almost contagious, chorus of When You Were Young sounds fabulous, as do the U2-like guitars and Twin Peaks synths of Read My Mind. Meanwhile, Smile Like You Mean It and Somebody Told Me benefit from the newfound harder edge.
They somewhat heavy-handedly underline the new direction by playing Paranoid by Black Sabbath and Get It On by T Rex. That's the thing: The Killers are not a subtle band. Their songs are like a wet kiss from a girl who's a bit too drunk. They are big and brash, and not everyone loves them for it. Mr Brightside and Somebody Told Me might go down as well at hip nightclubs as they do on the festival circuit, but the DJs play them with the same guilty look they wear when playing a pop record.
"I hate that," says Brandon. "Like writing a song you can hum somehow cheapens it? It makes me think of this quote by Morrissey. Everybody knows how he read Oscar Wilde, Keats and Yates when he was growing up and that he wanted to be a writer. He was talking to this journalist who asked why he hadn't become a writer, and Morrissey said: 'What I do is more powerful than what you do because I can write down these words and you get it to a melody. How can you beat that?' I'm of the same opinion. I don't understand why a good melody that's memorable is a bad thing."
Being dismissed as pop particular aggrieves Ronnie. "When we first came out we got compared to Duran Duran all the time. Jesus Christ! We got a keyboard player now all of a sudden he's Nick Rhodes! Come on!"
"The people who criticise us for being too poppy don't get it," agrees Mark. "I think that's the problem with a lot of rock music. People are afraid to write a song any more. Either that or they can't. And that attitude hurts music in general. The best bands ever have all written great songs. You can still do it and do it intelligently and it can be original. This isn't a studio creation with a producer writing these songs for us. We're not Avril Lavigne, or something like that. We're a real band writing real songs, just like a punk band would do, except that we write pop songs."
You get the impression that The Killers knack for showboating pop hooks that border on vulgar is inextricably tied up with the brazen side of Brandon's personality. But while his ebullient charisma, not to mention the songs themselves, mitigates his outrageousness, there is a less attractive side to his ego. He has a combative streak. He can't resist taking pot shots at emo bands, notably Fall Out Boy, whith whom The Killers share an A&R man.
Has he heard how many emo kids it takes to change a light bulb? "No." None. They just sit in the dark and cry. It's a full 30 seconds before he stops laughing. When he does he admits: "Yeah, we've had problems with other bands. You know, when you walk in the room it's like..." He whistles the theme to The Good, The Bad And The Ugly. "We're like gangs."
And while the other members of the band are diplomatic on the subject of Brandon, you don't have to read too deeply between the lines to conclude that there have been internal issues, too.
"Some people will think Brandon's the big genius," says Dave, visibly bridling. "There are songs, such as Why Do I Keep Counting?, where he's written every note. But there are others, like When You Were Young, that were more of a collaboration - like Mr Brightside, where I had some of the music and Brandon came up with the lyrics. We always have arguments about who wrote what. The truth is that we all help in that process."
When asked how success affected them, Ronnie says: "There were certain things that needed adjusting. When you're on tour for two years, people can get a little needy. It doesn't help that you're surrounded by yes men and everybody's working for you. At times we've had to say, 'Who do you think you are?' to people. No one wears the trousers, but some people would like to. I think if it wasn't for the people in the band kicking each other in the ass... Let's just say there was some ass-kickin'."
It doesn't take a genius to work out whose ass needed kicking most often.
+
It's the following day and The Killers are back at their rehearsal space. The topic of discussion is what to wear in the video for Bones, the second single. It's a big deal: the director is Tim Burton. "I feel like Frank Sinatra when I sing it," announces Brandon. "With maybe a little bit of Morrissey and a little bit of Elvis, too."
Of course he does. But if securing the services of Tim Burton tells you one thing, it's that The Killers are about to get even bigger, perhaps even make the leap to the same level as Coldplay et al. Already stars, they are about to become superstars. Brandon can hardly wait.
"Do you know that Rolling Stone didn't want to put us on the cover last time," he says indignantly. "They didn't think we were stars. We sold five million albums! What more do they want from a band?"
Whatever was required, Brandon would be happy to do most things. "I'll do stuff that some people don't want to do, 'cause I want people to hear the music," he says. However, even he has limits. "The Rolling Stone thing made the record label think: 'What can we do to make them stars?' If I go on vacation with my wife, do they have to send somebody to be there to take pictures of me? Is that how you become a star? I don't want that. I walked down the red carpet one time and I realised I don't like it. But you don't have to walk down the red carpet for people to hear your music. We do still have some of that indie blood running through our veins."
He heads off at a tangent: "When you walk around Liverpool, you think of The Beatles, or you go to Manchester and you think of The Smiths or Oasis. I want you to come to Las Vegas and think of Sam's Town. And I think we've started to capture that, which is a truer version of The Killers, 'cause that's where we're from."
He pauses.
"I used to live across the street from Sam's Town. Maybe it'll be like our Abbey Road where people go to take pictures."
Is that what he'd like?
"I wouldn't mind it," he says, desperately hoping it will come true.
He puts a cigarette between his lips, looks down at his trouser pockets and pats them in search of the lighter he bought yesterday.
"Hey, I don't suppose you've got one?"

Not shared, nor my shade; but something to be weaved; just as the measure of disappointment became it's own solution. But I talked my way through things forbidden, just to find myself blind in bed with those who are dead. Clumsy, but altogether natural of course, because it's consciousness what you refer in the description, yet that's what we don't get a lot about. See your deeds the way you are seen, and then return to a restless place: and the question in-between sheets will be why. Well, I just can't motivate myself to work without hot bitches staring. And that's the truth. Sad but True
— Hearfelt comment for an instagram witch.
Del desprecio a ese descarte, no he visto muchas cosas. Así se pasa una más para las cuentas, y aquí otro más para los versos, por qué aquí no hemos sido vistos. Cuánto más querría uno, que sino lo cuentas ni mucho menos piensas: << lo de este pibe que cosa más horrible>>, haciendo eso lamentable, por qué en decirlo nadie ha mentido. ¡Es horrible! Que cara es entonces la cuenta de lo que le sale a uno vivir sin más complejos; mejor seria cobrarmelo, para así saber que de algo ha valido. Bloqueame.
— Heartfelt comment for a random supermodel-to-be.
The Spirit of Fire
Flames begone, flames in spite: their warmth I felt - so I closed my fist until I could feel the warmth of my blood in my hand. And in dreams Fire came up to me and said: who am I? And I said unto him: you are bound to my bidding, thus your name misery will be. But fire wretched as he was, got closer and asked: and who are you?
And I said unto him that the blood of David ran through my veins, as I was his heir; for the mother of God claim me from death as a son. So Fire tried me, and figured it out.
You are son of woman —said Fire unto me— but as Fire acknowledged the name, I extended my left hand, and took Fire by the neck throwing him into the gound. — You are going to lace yourself to the right hand of the beast, and you'll keep him steady, so I can cleanly take him down. And Fire stayed down, and with his forehead kissing the ground asked unto me —why would the heir of David do so to earthly man?
And I said unto Fire that the beast from the abyss had left no mother for God, so I was to leave none of his body left for his head; as I was going to make it bleed until the end of the end of times.
The Spirit of Earth
Shapeless and without body, but keen within her many numbers, Earth came up to me in dreams, and said: who am I? And posessed in spirit as I was, I said unto her, that God had made her maiden again, and that she shall become the coins that Judas never received, which were to become the due payment of man and women for the body of Christ. Then I extended my right hand, and grabbed Earth by her hair —which descended deep into the abysses of hell— and cut it short so the demons of Lilith would no longer had her gripped by her back.
You are now a woman, and I'm going to rise you from the grounds. You'll lace yourself to the left hand of the beast, and keep it steady so with one shot I can cleanly take him down.
The Spirit of Air
A dream shaped by written words, whispered down for years by the currents of this Montain, and it's requiem witnessed but by a few — the end of dreams. But from where I standed at the peak, I called upon the distant currents that went down, and asked them: who am I?
And Air came unto me as bird, which had thousands of letters for feathers, and in the tongue of dead men answered.
"Somebody who only a few will remember by strange deeds; as the burden on your back, is a past tainted by impossible dreams. You were a lunatic giving new names to folk, and folk never bothered to remember —so your name must be freak, as you died in a forgotten shack some short time ago."
And as Air said these things upon me, I called Misery —as I had dubbed Fire — and told him to get inside my shot. The burden as Air had said, became lesser as i took the shot from my quiver. And I said upon Misery; that he was to set ablaze this arrow, as I was taking down the bird of Britain, and that I would do so, so God would give the deeds of Earth some better names.
The Lord is making a bridge between the empire of strength, and the last empire of men. Now by God's grace, I'm making the tongue of free men, the tongue of Spain. You will be eventually bound to my bidding, and if not me, it will be to the one I'm preceding; for I'm giving you twenty years to attone your wrongdoing. Alas, now because of your wretchedness, my shot on earthly men won't be clean, for his left leg won't stay steady.
Your old name was apathy, now I'm calling you Cisma, which in the tongue of dead men means schism. So now by the will of God lay unto the ground and say the words you've been teached. And as the arrow blazed forward, it's bending motion pierced the veil hiding the secret ladder of men. The bird of Britain catched on Fire, and it's hollering resounded throught the ladders of the mountain until the depths of the abyss. A column of air turned into fire, then violenty erupted from the vowels of the bird, and the wild fire spread as a storm from west to east all throughout the five kingdoms of men away from its own fiery wings, with a gift of misery and a few words to say.
"The name of your woman or the name of your man, will no longer explain their purpose to a man, a woman, or God. Charred words written by thunder will now be the new ladder of men — but until then, darkness upon thee."
The House of Water
I head into the coasts, and the beautiful beaches in-between, to find the stranger who burns images in the skin of men. He is the stranger, and has adopted the body of a monster, and he is one who cannot be understood, so he went on to only go out home in stunts, for the burdens in his heart have become too great to bear. Through terrible pains he has given all he once was for an identity, and as I pick up on his past, i found familiarity in the feelings of his heart. Oh dear friend how we found looking in sadness to ourselves, after doing same but with different means, carrying into our shoulders the loneliness of this world. As you have in-skin the garments of the strange doctrine that I preach — I shall congrate you, for you truly have fought the world entire, for my doctrine is the words of those who shall defeat the world entire.
I may not have your strangeness in-body, but I have it in these words, and in the true feelings of my heart. And I say in admiration that there's no higher form of art, philosophy or religion: than those who perform the highest thing they can give a name about.
Now even within solitude, and at odds with what old dead men call God, I see you and I found strength in you, as I can see you are within me, and in that, you are within everything as it should be - as is meant in everyone who does something that touches the heart of another man. I call this the kingdom of God. Yet blind men and women will wonder how can the kingdom of God possibly be within two outcasts such as you and me.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Upong giving my regards and waiting for response, I found my way into a bench. It was a warm afternoon, and the wind carried the water of the sea. The bird of Britain came about down from the wind of north, and layed on the bench were I was sitting.
The bird asked: why hast thou become this?
And I said back to bird, scorched he was and nearing death, that it was me someone who was supposed to give names, yet for years I couldn't figure out one for myself. Then on went to being given a name, Alas all the wrong ones. Did Adan gave himself a name? - I asked the bird back. And there was no response from bird. Then I continued.
A man has the essence of his soul retained by what he is seen doing. Yet I did things nobody saw, so my soul wasn't with God but with something just as ancient, and nonetheless unknown by men in its true nature — then Satan as the better known devil, came about and pushed me into a hole. It was my own doing. Yet the things I did, I thought were seen. But nonetheless what I did was without contemplation on a posible return. Just as somebody who prints an image on their own skin. It's permanent. This is the essence of a memory in the soul of the man who's seen by others. But in the familiarity of a man who picked every irreversible decision like the Alien, I find myself feeling sympathy, for the man is still not what he has been seen doing, he shall redeem himself by what he decides to turn himself into.
Is this a way of saying that you want to get yourself a tattoo? Get a new look? - the bird mockingly asked.
And I gave the scorched bird no answer.
Then the bird said unto me: what about your career as a prophet, uh? And the things you said about returning with substance? Do you actually think this is substance?
And i considered what the Bird said, then I negated with a movement of my own head. It is not i answered, but i find the memories of me not making sense unbearable. For those mean the memories of a fool, un pendejo, an insane person, or both. And I will always try to amend what I don't do well. But now I wish for only one thing, and it is to be remembered as someone who makes sense, and who out of that sense, made good upon the world. I don't expect anything in return for what I do now, as it is merely an outlet to keep me sane while I finish editing my work. It's clear I'm too incompetent to be a competent influencer. As for once, I don't care about influencing anyone into what I think; but to perform what I think it's important.
Then every proverbial student is free to take classes so as they see fit, and to interpret such classes as their comprehension gives them grasp of what it's said. In such regard, this is what I offer now, while I make the journey to Madrid. And the bird tilted it's head so as to observe me with his left eye, then after a long impasse, it made a loud and painful caw, and finally flew away. Soon after the bird flew, I looked upon the stars in the nascent night, and confessed to them, that it was the memories of who we were, what often stumps us into wrong beliefs of who we should be, maybe even wasting an entire lifetime retained by that which other people remembered us as being. But we are not the owners of our own names, the place we go, and our destiny. That's the biggest lie the western world of hollywood heros tell you, as in truth is collective agreement what determines what we look like doing and thus the meaning we should comfort to, recalling that names are practical mechanisms to remember the purpose of things, their meaning, and how their motion is described in the world.
But making the task of beating that collective belief, akin to the Nietzschean ideal of the camel turning into the lion, so as to transform it's spirit and become something else. But if it's the golden dragon of all the huamn values which judges you insane, will you be prepared to wrestle with the entire culture so as to have your way?
As I layed my eyes upon each star counting up to the number seventeen, I confessed of being scared of those beliefs, as revisiting the past, became a painful deed — and as I prepared to leave, I uttered one wish on the seventeenth point in the sky.
Lord please grant me strength, the way you have given my friend strenght.
2.
The night deepen, while the sea tide sang its own song of breathing. Some time passed, and then on the stranger showed himself approaching at the distance. I waved my hand at him, and after the instant, he found his way into my bench while I welcomed him with an extended fist which he casually bumped - after the short acknowledgement the dark alien looked at my face in between it's cover of dark, and looking at it undiscernable in its true features, with suspicion asked.
— What is it that you want?
I acknowledged him as a friend, then mentioned my brief research, as I had come to know him as man looking for a job, yet nobody would hire for things mundane due to his appearance. I listened closely to the news, and came to understand that this was a man looking for a second chance.Then I saw the intent behind his doing, and two words came to stick to my own thoughts. The first one was <> and the second one was <>. I was admired.
In analytical psychology I figured this man was the ESFP —the personality archetype related to the performer and the entertainer—, possessed in an abnormal way by the spirit by which a person submits to it's contrary nature, seeking to integrate and find fulfillment through the chase of what's perceived absent. If he was the ESFP then doing the flip by following the radial axis of each Jungian function in the stack towards their opposite resulted in the INTJ. The mastermind. The architect. The genius yet awfully complex individual. That was the elusive spirit he was chasing.
But a spirit and a character that at its most pronounced embodiment in a person, would experience life as an eternal foreigner hiding from the light of other men. Such made sense to me, for I myself was the INTJ, and had at spirit the ESFP. Him. So where as this man chased the spiritual fulfillment of being a complex and deep individual, I chased the fulfillment of becoming simpler, so I could demonstrate with action the deepest desires of my heart. One who was born plentiful in means to be liked, becomes complex, mysterious and uncomprehended, meeting one who will be seen trying to make sense becoming simpler. For Carl Jung portrayed the anima and animus of individuals, as the sense of what its absent, yet deeply cherished an valued. So I said these things to the alien, while he silently listened to me.
— All of that sounds like bullshit to me. -Said the alien after some contemplation .— Sorry but the things you say, don't mean anything to me.
And alas for I expected such response, as if one thing was true about this journey, was that explaining the journey in and of itself would become it's grimmest task. I affirmated what he just said with a slight nod of head.
— These things I say and how they relate to each other, in its excercise are similar to doing stecheometric balance with equations in the head, but simpler I'm afraid. - Then I paused, looked back into the sea, and continued. — That's high school chemistry, but I don't expect everybody to pick up on it, nor like it, nor understand it.
— Now i have called you a friend, and where I came from we dub with this title the people we share destiny with. As far as I'm concerned, we are chasing the same thing, which is the hardest posible thing. We both innately understand that we are not home, as we want our spirit to return to us, and that's not what a lot of people ever honestly try to attempt in a lifetime; as such is anyone's call to feel complete.
— And very few people ever reach true individuality, beyond the name they are imposed at birth.
Then I looked into the black alien, and in-between his foreign facial features, I interpreted something familiar. Disturbance. And I continued.
— We have given ourselves hell as we lived chasing something hard, so we can avoid the same hell later on when we are finally back to our own house. This is a christian precept, altought a rundimentary one. Does that makes sense to you?
And after listening such, the black alien calmly looked at the veil in my face in silence. Trying to discern what my face actually looked like, but the night was dark. Then turned his stare back to the reflection of the moon over the waters, giving some thought to what I just said. I opened up my backpack, and drawed two cans of beer from it. Offered one to him, and he silently refused with a gesture of hand. I popped my can and gave it a sip, while I myself stared at the tides coming in and out of the shore.
— If you wan't a tattoo, we can work that out. But this sounds annoyingly familiar, and my interest is not religious. Are you religious?
I nodded in affirmation, and complemented saying. — But my doctrine is something nobody has heard nor seen. For its aim, is doing as Christ said, in perfect means. Yet its true that the teaching fits you, as it's the teaching of the future man; and there's nothing in common between the current man and the future man, as they may very well be different species. This is the precept of evolution.
The alien seemed surprised.
— These two men don't know each other, for the current man doesn't know where the future man comes from, for he himself doesn't know where he is going. Yet in deep realization of your own artistic concept, I think you might want new ideas to meet with your appearance. So tell me, are you curious about what truly happens to a man after he dies? Do you want to learn how to read someone's mind? Do you want to blast with words of fire the hearts of an amazed crowd?
But the black alien broke his calm contemplation of what I was saying, and slighty disturbed, aggressively rebuked after hearing such.
— But you mentioned 'Christ', so you must be christian. How can a christian even say anything interesting in this current time? Last time I asked, their sayings were dreaded by restriction - so why would anyone condemn themselves to a life of bore? Are you a christian?
And I nodded after the question, in silence. Admittedly, for I knew what the problem was with being what I was, and my new companion was bang on identifying it. Made a pause, then raised my sight to where it met with the sky and the stars in it, and I said back to him.
— I am, but not one of a type you have ever seen, for the Christ that comes, is a Christ of art.
2.
The riptide sang, in its secret dialect of earth and sea. I looked upon the coast, turned an eye blind, and saw the ocean as the scorpio, and the land as the taurus; as it was the struggle between two lovers, never meant to consume each other. Ideal love then - yet not to confuse with this partnership as it was whimsilcally tied by the means in which i arranged my current conversation; for my lady somewhere waited for me. Then i allowed my eyes to rest still.
The alien looked upon me, undiscernable in my intentions, and again figured for himself that my interest towards him wasn’t clear. In suspicion, and after the moment he collected his thoughts asked “In your weird words you dubbed me performer, so what is it exactly that you wan’t from me. To me it seems like you are gathering people for some form of religious clown show. When you forced this meeting upon me, was this a proposal you thought i would find amusement in?”. And after the statement my own stare wandered in my conversation partner. While as he had his say, i returned to my can of beer, and finished it with a long gulp. Tempered in an unwillingness to fall to my new found friend irritation, i said within my own thoughts: “The alien looks easy going, but he is barbed in wit”.
Then i opened the can of beer that the stranger rejected; the loud pop resounded in the relative silence, interrupting for a moment the steady chorus of the sea. Gave it a long sip, and said.
– Theres no proposal in place yet. But im certain of something, and that is that both of us are messed individuals which reached the bottom doing the same thing - but the way my understandment of the human soul goes: two people can act by mere interaction as reactives to each other, creating a new chemical compound after the fact.
– This new psychology is very much like chemistry. But it is not my intention to draw you into something, but to pull myself out of this «something» by doing right on another person and maybe that person reflecting the good back on me. I just need a conversation partner, thats all. And i will do this with you, and with many people more. Presidents included.
The alien reflected on it, and after the hiatus of a long standing position of suspicion he finally gave in, and eased up with a slight smile. A strange smile of relief. But the smile, was all too familiar for me, as i realized the man was a tortured individual: a person in long standing pain. I smiled back the way he did, and continued.
– Our pain has a common name, and is a name that can be written with words unfortunately. It’s the devilish mother of all spiritual ills and its foundation, rests at the concept of a past that wasnt solved. It’s called «inadequeacy», and for people like you and me, understanding one day that such inadecuacy had to be solved by our own means, lead us into an act where our name changed as the changes in our cover up act to solve our inadequacy did.
– We never honored the past or the present in our pursuit, as we desired in passion to find solution to the present, by matching it into the idealization of some future without ever realizing that the old or present essence of ones being would be crushed into non existance by said future.
– Then we found the realization of that new name, only to understand that its demands became a tyranny on the other faces of our soul: as our soul is not something that can be undestood in unity, but something that conceives in the beginning in multiple things which try to give shape to one thing. Theres many people in a village, and our minds, are no exception.
— But happiness is only achieved by those who have their soul entire - or those who are the same person regardless of the context and scenario. And we gave to much to somebody that wasn't us, as our spirit took possession and lead us down.
– This is this the essence by which someone goes to hell, only to do one thing over again, getting an ever lasting pain for all the things that were given up chasing that which was absent. The more someone is forced into being shaped by the thing that was concevied in lust, the more the individual misses the place they used to call home, for that is no longer within ones reach. Does this makes sense to you?
The alien left me with no answer, and as he contemplated the sea, a tear travelled through his strange face.
– In this state of anguish, affliction rarely ever feels company, as the very individual condition that was pursued, became a full suit and persona to be forced upon and wear. Hell, is one lonely place man because we only learn to speak a language, that only makes sense to ourselves. But i think we can find a way out of it. This is why I'm here.
“Look, what you’ve done, it’s not something i can see the way you can see my own doing on me.” The alien replied. “Besides the way in which i canno’t see your face in this night, you seem ordinary — but what you talk and the way you say it, evokes in every word regret. What is it that you’ve done that has you regret like this?”
As the alien finished speaking, I emptied the can of beer, layed my eyes on the irregular grooves that my feet had left on the sand, and then replied back to him, after making a recap of the story i had repeatedly told myself after falling down.
“My story, is the fairy tale of a guy who makes way for the new coming of a new man; a better man for the world, while he casts disarray upon the earth: much to his dismay, at the expense of his own soul as the people who become victims of disasters, were ones who this man deemed unfair; cruel, evil, despicable in past. That was at the beginning."
"Theres a pile of corpses behind that character — even in covid time, people as close as the local priest of the small town he lived in, would break their neck after falling in the shower, as he had the slightest suspicion of their secret deeds. All clean deads for that matter. Untraceable to nothing but sheer randomness. Magic as it seeems. But were this folk truly evil people or even guilty of anything? You may ask - the man never knew it for sure, as he never had faculties such as godly omniscience to actually know it; which has taken a toll on him, as the burden of justice is an unberable one for anything but a god."
"Which leads to another point: spontaneously picturing random numbers in the head, associating them with psychological compounds by angular momentum, and actually being bang on the suspicion. Truth friend, in its stochastic presentation: it's unberable.”
“Consequential of such attempts to rationalize his own story in the eyes of people such as close family, my dude became clinically diagnosed with referenced thinking. Which are fancy words for schizophrenia. Nobody believed the story as it was uttered."
"Yet the consequences are there for everyone to see, altought not visible in their cause and effect by anybody but this guy, which lead him first into regret over ever starting his quest as a reformer; and then repent.”
“Now before he realized of this lets call it «curse», he preached for years over the internet as the disasters started to slowly creep up. He preached in a fashion parallel to Niestzches Zarathustra; Zarathustra meaning a famous philosophical device artificied by the philosopher Niestzche, who’s aim was to portray the best posible man, as something he dubbed the <<Übermensch>> ”.
“Such concept being the seemingly more elegant brand of a humanist ideal for a not so distant future: today - albeit a wrong one, for this guy was not dyonisian himself. The backbone of his framework, is analytical psycholgy becoming a chariot for a true understandment of human nature: and ultimately a facilitator for love within light: not within ignorance; not within darkness. Most philosophers today though would mock anything analytical in it's aim."
"Then on the guy preached and dwelved further into the relative hole of his own doctrine: and became imprisoned by what he didn’t got right at first attempt, making him in the process the character that Nietzsche from the comfort of his own writers seat, never attempted to actually embody within realistic means: eventually figuring out within himself the ultimate Nietzschean aristocrat: a magic pen granted by being capetian by mother: from judah by father."
"But Alas, you have no idea how common suicide is within philosophers after they finish their best work. As language, becomes the ultimate barrier for understandment, and then to ones capacity to feel love. Difference — true saliency in ones individual destiny— leads to the gravest posible pain. Ironic isn’t it?”
“Besides technical work with a new form of psychology inspired by analytical chemistry, as that drawed from his efforts during the light of day, five years ago, once he felt the urge to try to reach out to the world from a position of what he deemed was greater understandment: he primitively preached during night his new set of ideas for people to behave beyond the limitations of manipulative psychology, albeit a harsh doctrine meant to clear the way for a better product: Christ himself."
"This is not a doctrine a human being can actually perform, as such its christianity at its highest capacity to bear fruit. It’s an impossible doctrine, yet solves the oldest problem posed in the bible. All which sounds very sci-fi bullshit-y but actual problems started for the protagonist in this tale, when the preaching matched with terrible consequences. Not figurative, but within tangible reality.”
“So just as we talk, theres a small legion of hackers pretending to be doing internet social experiments while talking in an artsy matter: much in my own style, entertaining the exact same concepts - a legion of dangerous monkeys, i have no control over."
"One of the many unexpected consequences being this, yet prompted by something evil; ancient: essentially replicating what my protagonist developed and then preached over the years, while these "hacktivists" lay their attention on things and people, as they select them and enforce upon them strict surveillance, to behave properly. Then to destroy them, as they did in 2020 with many corporations and institutions.A bizarre combination of theater actors to my own liking, and then cyber-security demigods: omniscient in their claims to surveill, and they are - derivative such of another device of what I've done; which is to build a theater so people can make-believe that they are infact performing within themselves something greater - but that's matter for another story."
“Most of the corpses piling up flat out dead, have no relation to him whatsoever; they became victims as my protagonist took measures to fight back the monster he found at the foundation of the known world. This is not an elaborate analogy for one's own unseen capacity for evil, as i mean this: a monster as literally as it can be. For these things friend, im doomed as in true strenght, i have nothing but the pen i use to write down what i think albeit always at danger of it’s eventual inversion. I have no real friends left. Not one who can understand, or help bear the pain: as friendship and love are all gated by understandment."
"The full story has many more vertients, but i think i’ve done it enough justice. This is the predicament of an insane man chased by his own shadow as he builds a better man: one who delivers heavenly things, and then a shadow stringed to deliver tyranny as the very strings behind him make the better man stumble while he tries to keep a grasp of his own spirit, and then of his own soul."
"That monster behind, is wicked smart — and cannot be outwitted nor overpowered but anything but divine smite."
“I’m heading now to a new country, to try to get friends from the only institution in the world who knows and adresses the current times being, and who by extension, might believe me. And to clarify, these being the end of times; but not the end of the world. Yet now i myself have a damocles sword pending over my own head, and i need to do something about it before it falls.”
And as i said these things, i reached out to my backpack drawing a third can of beer from it — besides my own super laptop, thats what my backpack had: an infinite supply of beer. Corona, Indio, Victoria, Dos Equis, Heineken; you name it. I popped the can, and gave it a long and definite sip as i emptied it complete.
The alien didn't try to show that he understood, but stood still in silence, with his sight in the sand below and pressing lips, knowing by my demeanor; that these things as I've said them was something that I needed to do. Then he said: "I don't follow man. You say you preach and then disasters occur. Like a prophet from the bible?"
"Yes. Then I preached to get rid of the things that are actually making the world worse, and something awoke soon after, and since then; everything I do is subject to being misinterpreted due to the diffamatory action of this thing. Now everytime I do something, it can be twisted and turned against my original intent. Right now the hackers are my worst problem: I may have a degree in computers but I have no fucking idea whatsoever of hacking. I earn my living as an A.I engineer.".
The alien raised his sight to meet with mine, and after doing some contemplation on the fact, quite simply said: "You are insane". Then lowered his own sight, and raised it again to meet with the sea and continued. "If you want a tattoo, we can work that out. But either way and whatever parts of your story are true and even worse; the ones you may be lying about: you sound dangerous in a delusional kind of sense, and my life is hard enough as is."
I pressed my fists, knowing then the old same thing had happened again. For I had never forced anything upon anybody, and I was willing to respect that until the bitter end. Then I released the build up of frustration with a loud sigh, and after this amend, I replied back.
"I understand and respect it. But let me just propose you that if you ever want to figure what is beyond life as it's lived by person who has never seen what is like to be someone you write a great story about; you can pin me, and I'll show you what's beyond that door. Give it some thought."
The alien; The Black Alien Project stayed there sitting, spechless but calm, almost expecting something else to be convinced about. But pointless, for i knew that nobody can be forced into anything without bringing a transgression into play – and i wasn’t one to taint myself in sin if it could be avoided. Not anymore.
3.
I made the distance at steady pace walking along the shore, until i found a small group of pines in-between the liminal space of the beach and the land. I sat with one of the pines trunk behind my back, and drawed the Schizo Pills from my eternal supply of traveller goodies.
Quetiapine 100 mg, and Olanzapine 10 mg, i made a smaller fragment from the olanzapine pill, and swallowed both complete. As their side effects were concerned, they would soon knock me out of conscience, as this little ritual was my own way of calling the day complete – then i layed there, vigilant, waiting for my own drowsiness to claim me into sleep - but the Bird of Britan came flying from above, and stood besides me.
\Chirp, Chirp, Chirp**
I watched the bird, annoyed, as its presence had become an omen for contempt. For me and the death people of my past. I frowned upon the little shit, and said nothing. The bird made a little nod, while tilting its head in excentricity the way birds do, and replied. — Hey Andrew!, do you remember when you tried to penetrate your own computer to make a universe grow inside of it? I just wan’t to know something: did your computer moan? Did it finally learnt how to scream your name?
\Chirp Chirp**
Ignoring the bird, i closed my eyes and stayed like that for a long moment, hoping to make the bird think i was asleep. Maybe that would make him leave.
— Can’t bullshit me like that Sweetheart. So please tell me something; why don’t you command one of your supermodels; these muses, to come here and warm the bed for you. It's a cold night and you seem lonely brah
. \Chirp Chirp**
I opened my eyes, and irritated, pointed menacingly at the bird turning my left hand into an imaginary gun. I had already failed at something today, and wasn’t convinced i needed the memory of the things i failed at before. Not now.

• Hol’ up cowboy ! you wan’t to bang my bird ass when you should be banging a bitch ass. What happened with Tyrone huckleberry? Did you managed to make him as impotent as you are right now? —I held steady my hand; and tired, the tempation to pull again the trigger on the bird was growing larger. I saw red roses in my own sight, making a terrible omen for a migraine forthcoming. Said nothing.

— The glowniggers are out there brah. You may not be a hacker – and its true, but i took notice of your last words: so now the glowies are going to instead dreambooth* people into every posible kind of scenario of extorsion, while they surveil like a motherfucker. Like you dream boothed yourself for your little ahem "art project". Then we will use Suno*, then Sora* when it open sources. Are you going to protect your hoes?
Said nothing.

• Alright cowboy, i will give meaning to that revelations verse. What was it? Ah yes. Revelations 9:6. Every single person with an internet history will be as paranoid as you were in 2020. Everyone will be diffamated into acts of political terrorism! Aren’t you am-

And as i pulled the imaginary trigger from the imaginary pistol, an imaginary arrow in the sky descended with a blaze of not so imaginary flames on the Bird of Britain, engulfing the little shit in heat, and making it’s body explode into a gore of scorched viscera. As if the bird was in a microwave oven. I inmediately gasped as the explosion was too close from where i was sitting - after the conmotion, stared at the red and burned stain in the floor, and left my sight rest there, as sleep finally found its way into my restless thoughts.
"No longer care for love unless it's between good friends”. Said to myself. There was certainly a migraine coming, but maybe my dreams would help convince it otherwise. And as far as the hoes were concerned, Furious Angels would be there for them. Like the Rob Dougan song.
4.
Found my own mind after the slumber – asleep, then awake. I realized several hours passed - at least enough to wake up and witness the sun rise above the sea. But as for dreams, the light veil of their memories wasn't something to rely upon. But i did remember something, and it was some overtone in dread; an atmosphere of fear – and a kind of dread sustained in it’s inevitability by the urgency that builds upon dearth.
Now what exactly was it though? I couldn’t remember from my dreams, but ever since i falled to my own death i had always present in mind the future succesion of events that would follow when things started to go very wrong. Iran, the U.S, Israel - now whatever was it in the news; the outcome would be the same. A thousand more cuts to an already languishing economy. Make that corpse bleed, and then fall off a cliff.
As such things would be cooked, just as the bird of britain. The bird was still there though: just in pieces and roasted like the contents of a dropped KFC bucket would. But the little shit would return - as it always did. The economy? Not so much.
Yet i digress. None of the world circumstances mattered as far i was concerned – i had built a small and portable solar system to power my laptop, and my beer supply was well, infinite - i made myself sure that i had my needs covered whatever happened around me. Not tied to even a house for that matter. I incorporated myself and gave my back a stretch. The morning breeze coming from the sea evocated in my memories some time that had long passed – late childhood. I rejected those memories as they beared with them things i didnt wan’t to remember - then wen’t on as usual in my morning routine scrolling through my instagram feed, figuring if there were any new hoes to maybe motivate me into doing my God imposed labour.
Labour which was to either write, or to finish the House of Water — then after scrolling i did in fact saw a new hoe; i dropped a Faux Pas comment. Maybe she would play along, maybe not. Whatever. Sometimes I would put in a lot of effort to do a rhyme. But the effort depended on the insta-hoe in question. I know. Not the best of habits, but back in elementary school i was the kind of kid that would only get motivation when the girls in the classroom were present in physEd. And then i would run faster: whole lotta faster. Run Forrest! Run! Women love used to fuel me; and the habit sticked — and at the moment, i was kinda done with the idea of female trascendence. Would rely on their love, but not on their validation. Not like a simp. Fuck that.
Furthermore, what results did i demonstrably mustered after pursuing true egalitarianism and sharing it? Exactly. A bitch gonna do what a bitch gonna do, and so does the human female. After publishing the comment, I locked my phone and walked towards the highway, as i was planning to pay a visit to somebody long forgotten - I had kind of a schedule that i was going to follow, before taking the plane to Madrid and become hispanic Jon Snow from the walgreens Nightwatch.

Club Vlad sat near the confluence of Central Avenue and Washington Avenue, Albany’s two main thoroughfares. Two stories with blackout windows and a box office from when it used to be a movie theater, it was swarmed with people when Dom first spotted it ahead. He was somewhat familiar with it: He passed it every day on his way to work, and it was always busy around his time of evening, even on weeknights. Part of him always wanted to go inside and be a part of the scene, but he never did.
The man in sunglasses - his name was Joe - led Dom toward the club, and even before Joe spoke, Dom somehow knew that it was their destination. “There,” Joe said. “We’ll go around back.”
Dom and Joe had been walking for what seemed like an hour but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. Dom stuck as close to Joe as possible as if for protection, and had become accustomed to his pungent smell. It was noticeable only at extremely close range, part sickly sweet and part…something else, something Dom could not place but still somehow recognized. They were two blocks from the club, maybe three, and Dom could hear the pulsing techo/house/whatever music as clearly as if he were standing in the middle of the dancefloor. He could hear the chatter of the people inside, or at least he imagined he could. He could smell them too: Beneath the odors of perfume, desperation, and spiritual rot was something richer, something blissful. Dom realized for the first time that he was parched - so parched - and drool filled his mouth.
A crowd of people waited outside Club Vlad, talking and laughing; some vaped, some stared down at their cellphones like Gollum with his precious ring. Dom’s first reaction was to avoid them. Perhaps sensing this…or perhaps feeling it himself…Joe ducked into an alleyway two doors down from the club. “We’ll go in the back,” Joe explained.
The back entrance to Club Vlad was a single door underneath a bare bulb. The music was so loud that Dom’s head began to throb. Inside, a dark hallway terminated in an archway filled with throbbing white light. Dread filled Dom as they approached it - he didn’t want to be around people - but thankfully they went into a room off the hall instead. An office. A cramped desk, a filing cabinet. A set of stairs disappeared into shadows.
“Sit,” Joe said.
Dom obeyed, sitting in the swivel chair.
Joe went up the stairs and Dom was alone. The deep coldness that had long settled into his bones made itself known again, and Dom leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his chest for warmth. The muffled music vibrated in his skull, setting his teeth on edge, and the various smells wafting in from the main room assaulted his senses. He was alternately repulsed and aroused by the crashing din of scents: The good, the bad, and the mouth watering. A sharp pain cut through his stomach like the killing edge of a knife, and Dom hugged himself tighter. Had his throat always been this dry? His throat felt like sandpaper; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and getting it unstuck hurt so badly that tears sprang to his eyes.
Dom rubbed his arms with his hands and tried to still his chattering teeth. He looked around for a blanket, a discarded jacket, something to cover himself with, but there was nothing. Only drifts of glitter on the floor and walls. He supposed it came from a party or something. He’d never been to a night club but it seemed fitting.
A sound drew his attention to the door leading back into the hall. A woman - no older than a girl - stood there, looking confused and unsteady. She was dressed in black, wore glow sticks around her wrists and neck, and held a red solo cup. “I have to pee,” she said drunkenly and laughed. “I thought this was the bathroom.”
A cold wind washed over Dom, and Joe was standing next to him. “The bathroom’s up here,” he said.
“Oh, good,” the girl laughed, “I thought it was here but I didn’t know. This is my first time here.” She held her cup aloft. “Take me to it.”
Joe glanced at Dom. “Come on.”
They formed a party as they climbed the stairs, Dom in the tear and Joe at the head. The girl stumbled and held onto the railing, talking incessantly. Her voice hurt Dom’s head, but the hot smell wafting from her was intoxicating. Drool coursed down his chin and his breathing came in short, hot bursts. Another sharp pain rent his stomach, and he winced.
At the top of the stairs, where the lights were cold and white, a woman in black stood by a doorway, her back ramrod straight and her eyes vacant. Her face was gaunt, her white flesh pulled tight across her skull. She wore a black dress and her black hair long and straight. Dom only caught a glance at her before looking away again.
She looked like a ghost.
“Show her the bathroom,” Joe said.
The woman’s eyes slowly, ponderles, went from Joe to the drunk girl. Her expression, like Joe’s, was dead. She had no expression. “This way.”
She and the drunk girl disappeared down the hall, and Joe led Dom into a room. Though it was pitch black, Dom could still see; not very well…but he could see. Suddenly, a blinding white light flicked on in front of him, causing him to stop and fall back a step. Ahead, through an archway, sat a vaulted chamber, at the center of which sat a man. To Dom’s light dazzled eyes, he seemed a proud king perched upon a throne, the skulls of his many enemies piled around him. Dom blinked and turned his head slightly to the side. His eyes began to adjust, and the world came into focus.
The man was not, as it had first seemed, sitting on a throne. Instead, he was esconded in a motorized wheelchair. The piles of skulls were actually various pieces of machinery, the kind you’d find in a hospital room. A clear tube extended from one of them to the side of the man’s neck: Yellow liquid flowed from the machine and into the man. Another tube, this one in the other side of his neck, filtered out a mixture of what looked like yellow pus and black sludge. An infected malodor filled the air, and the machines whirred softly as they worked.
As for the man himself, his appearance was normal at first glance, Dressed in a flowing red velvet robe, a blue and green blanket with a plaid pattern draped over his shoulders, he was portly, about fifty, and had shoulder length grayish hair with a bald spot in the middle. If the local theater put on a production of Hamilton, they could cast a worse Ben Franklin than him.
On closer inspection, he was not normal at all. His complexion was yellow and waxy, like a statue, and his body was lumpy, misshapen, resembling an overfilled trash bag stuffed with cotton. His eyes were sick and yellow, and something about his posture seemed…off. It didn’t make sense, but the only thing Dom could think was: He looks impossible.
Joe stopped at the edge of the shadows, where the line between light and darkness lay. He seemed to stand up a little straighter, a general greeting his king. “Here he is,” Joe said.
The man squinted slightly against the glare of the light and motioned with one gnarled hand. “Step into the light,” he said. His voice was soft and kind, that of a senile though loving grandmother. Dom imagined he felt a pull toward the man, and did as he was bidden, wincing as the light stung his eyes.
For a moment, the man stared at him, his waxen features frozen fast as stone. Then, a subtle look of compassion flickered across his face. Dom did not believe in God, but he suddenly felt like a man standing before God, his every thought, feeling, and transgression laid bare. He had never felt so naked in his life, so exposed. He had the sense that the man before him could see everything, knew everything.
“You’ve been through a lot,” the man said. It was not a question, but a statement.
Everything Dom had been through over the past couple of days came back to him in a rush, and hot tears filled his eyes. He nodded.
The man nodded slightly, more to himself than to Dom. “Kneel down,” he said, “I want to look at you.”
Dom knelt without question.
The man lifted one hand and touched Dom’s face, tilting Dom’s head from one side to the other like a farmer appraising a horse. His fingers were long and bony, his nails ragged and unkempt; his touch was like ice. He brushed his knuckles over the purple bruise on Dom’s cheek, and there was such gentleness in that one act that Dom broke down sobbing. He leaned into the man’s touch like a cat and gave voice to his misery.
“Shhh,” the man said, “it’s all over now.”
“W-What’s happening to me?” Dom asked.
In his heart of hearts, however, he already knew.
“You died,” the man said patiently. “And you came back.”
Hearing it stated so plainly, Dom cried even harder.
“Only a handful of people throughout history can claim to have defeated death,” the man said, stroking Dom’s hair, “and you’re one of them. You should be proud.”
“How?” Dom asked between sobs. “What am I?”
The man stroked Dom’s cheek. “You’re the same thing I am.”
At that, Dom looked up at the man. “What are you?” he asked.
A little, knowing smile touched the man’s lips, and when he spoke, his canine teeth were longer and sharper than before. “I’m a vampire.”
“No,” Dom moaned and shook his head, “no, no, no.” He grabbed the man’s hand and held tight, his tears coming faster. He trembled like a frightened animal and squeezed his eyes closed, as if by doing so he could escape the hell his life had become.
But there was no escape.
“You have a lot of questions,” the man said, monologuing now rather than speaking directly to Dom, “I had the same questions when I was your age. I have spent the last forty-two years of my life trying to answer them, but every answer I find leads me to still more questions. There’s one thing I’m certain of, though.”
Dom blinked the tears from his eyes. The last of them had been squeezed from his dead tear ducts and he had no more to give. He simply stared into space, trying to come to grips with his situation.
“There is freedom in death,” the man said. “Death is easy. It’s simple. Once it’s over, you feel no pain, no sadness, no grief. It’s living that’s hard.”
As he spoke, he brushed his long nails across Dom’s scalp. It was a soothing feeling, and served to calm him. “People have so many troubles.” A note of revulsion crept into his voice. “So many needs, so many desires. People are complex but we’re not. We’re easy to please. A vampire wants only two things: A little blood and one more night.”
The combination of his touch and his voice had pacified Dom to the point of almost tranquility. “I’m scared,” Dom heard himself mumble.
Nodding almost reluctantly, the man said, “Fear is one of the only emotions a vampire can’t escape. Everything feels fear. Do you want to know a secret?”
Dom nodded.
“I’m afraid too,” the man confessed. “I’m afraid of death. Well…death as it were. I’m terrified that my body will rot away and leave me a pile of bones somewhere, unable to move but still aware”
A shudder went through Dom.
“As I’m sure you’ve seen yourself, the movies lied. We rot just like any other dead thing. Our flesh decays, our organs turn to sludge, and we go from rational men to monsters whose only thought is feeding.”
Now it was his turn to shiver.
“But…you’re not like that,: Dom said.’
The man smiled. “I’m lucky, I guess” A thin yellow fluid began to drip from his nostrils. He did not seem to notice. “What is your name?”
“Dominick,” Dom said.
“I’m Merrick,” the man said, “and this is my family.”
Dom realized that they were now surrounded by others, ten in all. They stood ramrod straight, their eyes vacant and their faces devoid of humanity. They were mainly men, though one was a woman. Some were pale, others were blue or black, and one was little more than a skeleton clad in withered brown skin, a white button up and jeans hanging from its frame.
A thought occurred to Dom. “You said my brain was going to rot…”
“Not necessarily,” Merrick cautioned, “though it’s possible.”
“Am I going to be…?”
“Like them?” Merrick asked. “Braindead and staring?”
Sheepishly, Dom nodded.
“Maybe,” Merrick allowed. “But these people are free of everything that troubles humanity. You were human just a short time ago. I’m sure you remember all too well what it was like. The constant politics, the moral quandaries, the philosophical pontificating. Human beings - and make no mistake, we are humans - were not meant for all of that. We’re animals. We were made to hunt, fuck, and sleep. Somewhere along the way, we got pretentious and started complicating things.” He looked at Dom, sizing him up, seeming to read him. “Things that animals take for granted, people work their entire lives to achieve. If an animal wants to fornicate, it fornicates. If a man wants to fornicate, he needs to be tall, handsome, rich, funny, progressive when it suits women but traditional when it doesn’t. If a man wants a home, he has to work thirty years for it. An animal has only to dig a hole in the ground.”
Every word struck a chord with Dom.
Because every word was true.
“Unfortunately, the living won’t allow us to live that freely, so we have to hide. These people here - my children - need a guiding hand, a protector, someone who can lead them. And I, an old man, need help.” Here he smiled playfully and patted his bulging stomach. “My body is mostly sawdust and cotton balls at this point, so I can’t do much. I share my wisdom and my knowledge with them, and they take care of me.”
“Why haven’t you…rotted?” Dom asked.
“Embalming fluid,” Merrick said. “Blood doesn’t sustain you. Embalming fluid does.” He smiled at Dom. “It can sustain you as well. If you’ll stay with us. We’re not the most attractive bunch, but we’re a family, and we really wish you’d join us.”
A family.
Dom’s parents had broken up and he lived with his mother. He had never had a family before, and had always wanted one, a real one, like in the movies. Even as a grown man, he sought the love, acceptance, and belonging that a family brings. He sought it in the wrong ways, but that - and not sex, not romantic love - is what he had really wanted all along.
This is what he had wanted all along.
“I want to,” Dom said.
Working quickly, Merrick slashed his wrist open with his thumbnail. An ugly mixture of stale blood, siphoned from someone else, and embalming fluid leaked out. “If you choose to drink, my blood will be in you. You will be my son and I will be your father. You will obey me as your father. You will do whatever is asked of you for this family, as this family will do for you. You will not reveal the secrets of this family to anyone outside of it. You will protect this family from all threats, both inside and out. Do you accept?”
He held his bleeding wrist out to Dom.
Dom did not question, nor did he hesitate. He grabbed the hand of his father, brought it to his mouth, and drank from the seeping wound. The fluid was cold, thick, and vile.
It tasted like belonging.
“Have you fed yet?”
“No,” Dom said.
“Before you do, I have a question for you. Who did this to you? Who made you?”
Dom thought. Everything was hazy. “Was it someone in this room?” Merrick asked.
Dom shook his head. “Her name is…” he wracked his brain. “Heather.”
Merrick nodded. “So there’s another out there.” He looked at Joe. “Did you turn her?”
“Yes,” Joe said.
Merrick looked annoyed. “I’ve told you not to go out and feed on your own. You have no self-control. You drink too much and create others, which creates headaches for the family. Tomorrow night, I want you and Dom to find her and bring her here.” “Okay,” Joe said.
Merrick looked over Dom’s shoulder. “Jess? Can you come here?”
The black haired woman from earlier came out of the shadows, the drunk girl with her, arms tied behind her back. The girl looked dazed. “Max,” Merrick said to the skeletal corpse-thing, “help her.”
Max, Jessie, and another vampire named Matt tied chains around the girl’s ankles and hoisted her aloft via a pulley system. Upside down, she swung back and forth. Merrick instructed the others to leave the room. “Max,” he said.
On his way out, the corpse-thing produced a knife and dragged it across the girl’s throat, slicing her skin; blood spurted out. Max leaned in to taste it, but Merrick shooed him away. When he and Dom were alone, Merrick told Dom, “Go to her.”
But Dom was already on his feet, his eyes transfixed by the crimson life flowing from her pumping throat. The hot, rich smell filled his nostrils and tantalized his senses. Saliva filled his mouth and his stomach panged with hunger. Some small, human part of his decaying brain screamed at him to stop, but he did not listen to it. He had been human for almost thirty years, and he had been miserable. Now, in this chamber of the undead, he gave himself over to his dark thirst. Like a man in a dream, he shuffled to her, inhaled the sweet scent of her blood, and shivered. He was so lost in lust that he hardly noticed the strange, cumbersome feeling of his descended fangs.
“Drink,” Merrick said.
Opening his mouth wide, Dom sank his teeth into the girl’s neck. Her blood filled his mouth and splashed down his throat. Warmth thawed the ice in his marrow and spread through him. His dead heart began to flutter, then to pound. His knees shook, his body trembled, and his mind rolled away on a tide of ecstasy.
As it was his first meal, he couldn’t drink much. Before long, his stomach was hard and distended and his body burned with fire. He collapsed to a heap on the floor and twitched as random nerve endings, stimulated by the blood, began to misfire. He felt full, warm, and drunk. He closed his eyes and let himself drift.
Dominick Mason had died.
And this…
This was heaven.
***
With all that was happening in the city of Albany, the last thing Bruce Kenner needed on Thursday morning was a visit from Bertha the bitch, but that’s exactly what he got. She flew into his office like she owned the place and instantly started in on him. Young man this and have you talked to Joe Rossi that. You’d think she was his boss. And if she were his boss, he’d quit and find another line of work. He heard McDonald’s was hiring.
Bruce almost snapped at her. He’d been up most of last night riding around Albany and looking for Dominick Mason. He and Vanessa expected him to drop dead somewhere close to the medical examiner’s office, but if he had, he’d done so in a super secret location.
“I’ve been busy,” Bruce said, “but I’m going to go by his place of work today.”
Tired and still confused over that bullshit from last night, he had no energy to argue with the old crone. He could spare a few minutes to talk to Joe Rossi, he figured. He assumed that Jessie was safe but he owed it to her to check. If he found the girl, he’d take her back to her grandmother (sorry, kid, really) and try to avoid arresting the guy. Unless he came off as a creep, then he’d bust his ass. See, people assumed that an older guy with a younger girlfriend was some master manipulator hell bent on evil deeds. Sometimes they were, but hell, his grandparents married when his grandpa was twenty-one and his grandma sixteen. They were married for fifty-five years and loved each other to the end. Maybe it was innocent, maybe not. It wasn’t his job to judge either way. Just gimme the girl so I can get her grandma off my back and no one gets hurt.
“It’s about time you started doing your job,” Bertha said, “I heard on the police scanner last night that you people lost a body. What kind of town is this? Your coroner is a drunk who makes up stories about bodies walking away. He probably sold it to black people.”
Bruce couldn’t help it; he snorted laughter.
“Now what would black people want with a dead body?”
“Probably to use it as a prop in one of their rap videos.”
Bruce didn’t know much about music videos, but he was pretty sure that the people who made them didn’t like the smell of corpse any more than the rest of us. “I’ll be sure to round up all the local rappers for questioning. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Luckily for him, there was not, and Bertha left shortly thereafter. Alone and able to hear himself think, Bruce sat back in his chair and went over his mental checklist for the day. First order of business, go to Club Vlad. Second, find Dominick Mason. There were others, but that was the most important. He wanted the body found so someone could get to work explaining this whole weird thing. There had to be an explanation. The thought that there wasn’t, that a dead guy literally rose from the grave and disappeared into the night, deeply disturbed Bruce, and the more this whole thing remained ongoing, the more disturbed he would become.
Needing some fresh air, he decided to hit up Club Vlad.
Outside, the day was hot and sunny. Waves of heat shimmered from the pavement and not a single breath of air stirred in the whole world. Bruce slipped on a pair of sunglasses and drove over to Club Vlad. It occurred to him that the place might be closed during the day; it was the only place Joe Rossi was associated with. His address in the computer system was Glens Falls, far to the north. The messages he sent Jessie indicated that he lived onsite at Club Vlad.
The build, wedged between a corner store and a check cashing place, was as grimy and dumpy looking as it had always been. The front windows were blacked out and covered with posters and fliers for punk concerts, house bands, and far left political organizations: The Albany Social Justice Center, something called Bash the Fash 2025, and Bruce’s favorite. ACAB. He caught some kid spraying that on the side of the police station once, and under extreme police torture (ie, a good tongue lashing), the kid told him it meant All Cops Are Barnacleheads.
Bruce shot the kid on the spot and planted a gun on him.
How's that for barnaclehead?
Calm down, he didn’t really do that. He made him clean the graffiti off with a toothbrush. LOL he was out there for hours.
The sidewalk in front of the former theater was empty save for some little. The box office was abandoned. There was no open sigh, but then again, there was no closed sign either. He parked his cruiser at the curb, killed the engine, and got out, sweat instantly springing to his brow.
To his surprise, the door opened. Inside, a couple steps led down to a dance floor. A bar lined the wall to his right, and a couple more sets led up to a railed platform filled with tables. Above, a huge balcony looked down on him. A giant disco ball hung from the ceiling like a pair of glittery nuts and there were cages here and there. Presumably where girls danced go-go style. Oh yeah, nothing hotter than a woman behind bars. Why do you think Bruce became a cop in the first place?
Speaking of glittery nuts, there was glitter everywhere. On the floor, on the tables, on the bar. It twinkled like flecks of diamond and swirled around your feet when you walked. Bruce imagined big buckets of the stuff raining down on the dance floor at midnight and he shuddered. Imagine having glitter stuck in your hair. That shit would never come out.
Music played from the sound system, not as loud as it would be during operating hours. It sounded like ‘80s metal, not exactly what he expected from a place like this.
Some say life she's a lady
Kinda soft, kinda shady
I can tell you life is rich
She's no lady, she's a bitch
Being morning, the place was deserted except for a man behind the bar, busy at cleaning the countertop in anticipation for the night’s events. He was tall, Hispanic or Italian, and feminine, with a single earring and a tank top.
Bruce moseyed over to the bar and the barkeep looked up, missing a beat when he realized the fuzz was here. He sat down his rag and walked over. “Can I help you?” he asked in a whispy voice.
“Yeah,” Bruce said, “I’m looking for Joe Rossi. Is he here?”
“I don’t know,” the bartender said. He looked nervous. “I can check.”
Before Bruce could answer, he scurried off, leaving him alone.
They suck my body out
But friend there is no doubt
I'm gonna pay the devil his dues
Cause I'm sick of being abused
Bruce looked around, his fingers absently drumming on the countertop. Club Vlad was a clashing mix of grunge and glam that made his head hurt. He imagined what the place must be like at midnight, packed and noisy, and nodded to himself. Yeah, this was the spot, he guessed, the place all the cool kids went, if they went anywhere anymore. Hell, if he was thirty years younger, he might come here.
He had been waiting for almost twenty minutes when a voice spoke behind him. He turned with a start, and beheld the strangest man he had ever seen in his life. Short and plump - lumpy, even - he sat in a wheelchair, a red blanket draped over his shoulders and his hands resting on his knees. He was about fifty with sparse gray hair falling to his shoulders and a plastic-looking face. He looked like a wax statue of Ben Franklin come to life, and a deep sense of disquiet stirred in the pit of Bruce’s stomach.
Just can't fight the temptation
It's become my inspiration
Gonna get myself an axe
Break some heads, break some backs
It was only then that Bruce noticed the sickly sweet smell of death.
It seemed to come from the man in waves.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” the man said, “my name is Merrick Garvis and I own Club Vlad. Maybe I can be of assistance.”
Bruce grew up in the south where manners and saving face were paramount. His mother and his grandmother both taught him that it was impolite to stare. Maybe he'd been in New York so long that he’d forgotten himself, or maybe Merrick Garvis was just the strangest looking man in the world. Either way, Bruce couldn’t help gaping at his strange appearance. Recovering, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I -”
Merrick smiled and waved one hand. Why was it so goddamn skeletal? “Don’t worry. I was injured in a fire a long time ago and this is the best they could do for me. To be honest, I’d stare too. What can I help you with, officer?”
“I’d like to talk to Joe Rossi,” Bruce said. “I understand he works for you.”
“He did,” Merrick said, “but I had to let him go. Did he do something wrong?”
Bruce sighed. “Well, yeah, he’s shacked up with a sixteen year old runaway.”
A look of concern crossed Merrick’s features, such as they were. “Oh, my, that is concerning. I haven’t seen him in several days. I assume he went home. He lives in Glens Falls.”
Bruce nodded, his mind working. If Rossi really was in Glens Falls, that meant the whole mess was someone else’s problem. He could send Bertha up there to bother some other poor barnacle head and be rid of her. Yet…he didn’t think Rossi was in Glens Falls. Bruce had a knack for knowing when people were lying, and he was certain that Merrick Garvis was doing just that. It couldn’t be a facial tick, as his features were largely unmoving, like clay. Maybe it was something in his cloudy eyes. Maybe it was the tone of his voice. Or maybe Bruce had the shining and knew things just for the hell of it. In any event, the certainty that Merrick Garvis was lying grew stronger with each passing second.
“Why’d you fire him?”
“He got drunk and hit one of the customers.”
“What did he do?” Bruce asked. “What was his position?”
“He was a bouncer.”
“Aren’t bouncers supposed to hit people?”
Merrick fumbled. “Well…not to punch them in the face for bumping into them.”
“How long did he work for you?”
“Six months.”
“Did you ever see him with an underage girl?”
“Of course not,” Merrick said, “you have to be twenty-one to get in. I make sure everyone’s ID is checked at the door.”
“What if she had a fake ID?”
“Then I guess she’d get in, but I’d assume she was of legal age.”
“You said he shoved someone, when did this happen?”
“Last week,” Merrick said.
“I thought you said he hit someone.”
Merrick again fumbled. “I did.” Now his face seemed to darken a little. A strange yellowish liquid, too thin to be snot, began to drip from his nostrils. Bruce barely suppressed a smear of disgust. “I understand you have a job to do but playing mind games with me isn’t going to solve anything. I can give you his address. Other than that, I can’t help you further.”
“Fair enough,” Bruce said. “But I’d like to see your ID please.”
Merrick glared at him. “I suppose you want my name, rank, and serial number as well.”
“Actually, yeah, I’d love that.”
Merrick drew a deep sigh. “Okay.”
In five minutes, Bruce had Merrick’s ID, social, and all other relevant information. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have bothered, even though he was well within his rights to ask for this information from someone he was questioning. But something about Merrick Garvis was off, and not just his weird face or strangely bulbous body. Bruce was just smart enough to realize that something was going on here, but not quite smart enough to even begin to imagine what.
When he had everything he needed and saw no reason to stick around, Bruce bid Merrick farewell and left the club. Before he could do anything else, he got a call from dispatch: Officer needed assistance in Pine Hills. Bruce slipped behind the wheel and went forth to help, momentarily putting Merrick Garvis out of his mind.
But soon or later, he would get back to him.
Oh yes he would.

Before I start does anyone know where I can buy just a space bar? I don’t like the yellow but the rest is nice.
So I have used “Mechanical” keyboards for a while now and I thought that was it. I used the big name brands like Razer and Logitech because I didn’t trust names I didn’t know. I just assumed that the bigger the name and the higher the price tag the better the quality would be. I’ve been using the MX Mechanical Mini pretty much since it released and I thought it was amazing. It has the clicky switches, which I have come to realize that I hate.
This would have gone unnoticed but we recently got a projector for our bedroom so me and my wife have been spending a lot more time in there and I like to game. I was typing in chat one night and my wife woke up as if there were explosions in the house. This happened multiple times and I figured getting a quieter keyboard would be a good idea….
Enter the custom Mechanical keyboard community. I hate regular sized keyboards and keycaps since I have to take this with me to work and use it at home. I also travel with it and would prefer not to have anything too large. I got the nuphy air75 v2. This thing feels NICE! Specifically with the red switches, though after testing the moss switches from the box I may order those. This thing feels powdery soft to type on. Coming from the MX Mechanical line I didn’t think it would be so vastly different, especially when you consider I paid maybe $40 more for that than the air75.
If the nuphy feels this good to type on I can only imagine what the lofted flow feels like. But the customization options of this keyboard kind of made it a no brainer. I will say that the videos with sound tests don’t really do it justice. It just sounds so nice in person. This being my first and only experience with a mechanical keyboard outside of the “Gaming or office brands I could just be scratching the surface.
I love the idea that I can change out the switched, and mod it to change the sound. It all looks really cool. I will say, however, that taking that first switch out and putting one back in was the most nerve wracking thing I have experienced since I started building with the AMD CPUs. (The pins)
All that is to say, holy crap I freaking love this thing. Why have I not thought about customizing my keyboards sooner?
I also needed an excuse to type on it so here I am.

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

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

Farm Boy

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

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

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

FoodLand

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

Freshco (price matcher)

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

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

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

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

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

IGA (price matcher)

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

Independent

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

Loblaws

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

Provigo

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

Maxi (price matcher)

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

Metro

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

No Frills (price matcher)

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

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

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

Real Canadian Superstore (price matcher)

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

Sobeys

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

Super C

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

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

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

Walmart

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

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

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

Jean Coutu (new sales start Fridays)

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

Shoppers Drug Mart (new sales start Fridays)

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

Some additional references!

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

I have created a ton of tools that help writers that are struggling, one of which is a spreadsheet full of world-building questions for those who write fantasysci fi. I will be picking some parts to publish, but if you think that there would be interest in the spreadsheet, I can post that, too.
First part is this section of questions about the species on your unique world/planet
General Species Information:

1. How many distinct species exist on your planet?
2. What are the criteria for classifying a group as a separate species?
3. Are there recognized taxonomic categories for different species?
4. How do species interact within ecosystems?
5. Are there dominant or keystone species that heavily influence ecosystems?
6. What is the typical lifespan of various species?
7. Are there seasonal variations in the behavior of different species?
8. Do species exhibit migratory patterns or movements?
9. Are there endangered or protected species on your planet?
10. How do different species contribute to the planet's biodiversity?

Physical Characteristics:

1. What are the physical sizes of various species?
2. Do species exhibit sexual dimorphism in physical characteristics?
3. Are there species with unique adaptations to specific environments?
4. How do different species reproduce and care for their offspring?
5. Are there species with extraordinary strength or speed?
6. What sensory abilities do various species possess?
7. Do species have unique markings or colors for identification?
8. Are there species with specialized limbs or appendages?
9. How do species adapt to changes in their environments?
10. Are there species with unique anatomical features?

Behavioral Traits:

1. How do different species communicate with each other?
2. Are there recognized mating rituals or courtship behaviors?
3. What role does social behavior play in different species?
4. Do species exhibit hierarchical structures within their groups?
5. How do species handle conflicts or disputes?
6. Are there migratory patterns or seasonal behaviors?
7. Do different species form alliances or cooperate for survival?
8. Are there nocturnal or diurnal behaviors among species?
9. What role does play or recreation play in various species' lives?
10. Are there species with unique learning abilities or intelligence?

Habitats and Environments:

1. Where do different species predominantly inhabit on the planet?
2. Are there species adapted to extreme climates or conditions?
3. How do various species interact with their specific environments?
4. Are there migratory patterns or movements between habitats?
5. What is the impact of human activities on different species' habitats?
6. Do certain species exhibit territorial behaviors?
7. Are there recognized nesting or denning behaviors among species?
8. How do species contribute to the overall health of their ecosystems?
9. Are there symbiotic or mutually beneficial relationships between species?
10. How do species adapt to changes in their natural habitats?

Diet and Feeding Patterns:

1. What types of diets do various species have?
2. Are there herbivorous, carnivorous, and omnivorous species?
3. How do different species hunt or gather food?
4. Are there species with unique feeding adaptations?
5. Do certain species play specific roles in balancing ecosystems through their diets?
6. Are there seasonal variations in feeding patterns?
7. How do species handle competition for food resources?
8. Are there recognized migration patterns related to food availability?
9. What impact do human activities have on different species' diets?
10. Are there species with specialized digestive systems?

Reproductive Strategies:

1. How do various species reproduce, and are there different reproductive strategies?
2. Are there recognized mating seasons or reproductive cycles?
3. How many offspring do different species typically have?
4. Do species invest heavily in parental care or exhibit more independent offspring?
5. What role do environmental factors play in reproductive success?
6. Are there recognized courtship rituals or displays?
7. How do different species attract mates?
8. Are there recognized gestation or incubation periods for offspring?
9. Do certain species exhibit monogamous or polygamous mating systems?
10. How do species ensure the survival of their offspring?

Cultural and Societal Aspects:

1. Do different species have cultural practices or traditions?
2. How are knowledge and traditions passed down among species?
3. Are there recognized leaders or influencers within species groups?
4. What role does cooperation play in species societies?
5. How do different species handle conflicts or disputes within their communities?
6. Are there recognized ceremonies or rituals among species?
7. How do species handle changes or introductions of new elements into their societies?
8. Do different species have ways of expressing emotions or social bonds?
9. Are there recognized forms of art or creative expression among species?
10. How do different species address issues of justice or societal norms?

Interspecies Interactions:

1. How do different species interact with each other?
2. Are there alliances or conflicts between certain species?
3. Do species engage in trade or exchange of resources?
4. Are there recognized communication methods between species?
5. What role do interspecies collaborations play in survival?
6. How do different species contribute to each other's well-being?
7. Are there recognized instances of cooperation during times of crisis?
8. How do different species navigate shared territories or resources?
9. Are there cultural exchanges between species?
10. How do different species handle misunderstandings or conflicts?

Evolutionary Histories:

1. What are the evolutionary origins of different species?
2. Are there recognized evolutionary milestones or adaptations?
3. How have different species evolved to coexist on the planet?
4. Are there species with shared ancestors or common evolutionary paths?
5. What impact do environmental changes have on species evolution?
6. Are there recognized extinction events in your planet's history?
7. How do different species contribute to the planet's overall evolutionary trajectory?
8. Are there recognized periods of speciation or diversification?
9. How do different species adapt to changes in ecosystems over time?
10. What role does genetic diversity play in species survival?

Human-Species Interactions:

1. How do humans interact with different species on the planet?
2. Are there recognized conservation efforts to protect specific species?
3. How do human activities impact the habitats and survival of different species?
4. Are there conflicts or collaborations between humans and certain species?
5. Do different species play roles in human cultures or traditions?
6. What role do different species play in human economies?
7. Are there ethical considerations in human interactions with different species?
8. How do humans contribute to the well-being of other species?
9. Are there recognized efforts to study and understand different species?
10. How do humans contribute to the preservation of biodiversity on the planet?

These questions explore the diversity and intricacies of various species on your planet, covering aspects ranging from physical characteristics to cultural and societal dynamics, and their interactions with humans and each other.

It was late November 2015. I was 51 and one year past my divorce (which was not related to cheating) when I became so disgusted with myself that I knew I had to pick myself up. I was alone for the long holiday, and although I wasn't really sad or lonely, I felt empty. However, I had some extra time to consider how does one picks oneself up.
I made a list of potential New Year resolutions that were individually realistic. Some were really easy and stupid like “have your chipped front tooth fixed” and “take & post a selfie”. These smaller tasks fueled my confidence and provided the energy boosts needed to tackle the more challenging resolutions, like starting a weight loss challenge at work.
Skip ahead to March 4th 2016. I had a Friday lunch date with a married client that I met two weeks prior. Of course, it was not a real date, as I wouldn't impose myself on a married woman, nor would I risk my career or my ego, especially if the signals she seemed to be sending were just a product of my wishful thinking, stimulated by checking off some boxes on the list on the fridge dated 1/1/16.
The following is my thank you note to her for a great date as well as for helping me check a lot of boxes over the past few weeks. I sent her a link to it as it is in the form of my first ever online post (one more check box, YAY!).
************************************** We were only 1 minute in the hotel room; her jeans in a ball on the floor. She sat at the foot of the king sized bed and backed her way into the stack of oversized pillows lining the headboard. I followed as If attached by a leash. I landed somewhat awkwardly on my elbows between her legs finding myself squarely face to face with the tattoo. This tattoo, that she so shamelessly revealed just a week ago, the same tattoo that has been scorching my thoughts and the same tattoo that she promised me complete and unlimited access.
It’s been a long time since I have been here or anywhere near as nice as here, between the legs of a beautiful woman 20 years younger and far out of my league....even when I was her age. I took a second to drink in my fortunate situation. I admired her panties. All day I was so hoping she would wear those same panties as before. She didn’t. These were different but similar enough. The delicate lace and silk perfectly framed the tattoo on her hip. She did not disappoint. There is a fruity jasmine scent, intoxicatingly pleasant, and oh so subtle. It is not here. I’ll need to find its source. I want more of that. (I remember being thoroughly impressed and thinking to myself “This girl is good”.)
I briefly forgot that there was someone else here besides myself and the tattoo. How long have I been down here perving out on her? I wondered. I hesitated, and then apologetically looked up half expecting a well-deserved snarky glare. What I found instead was an ear to ear compassionate smile followed by a tilt of her head and an arch of her eyebrow that said “I like that you like that, carry on”.
With confidence restored that we were still in sync, I adjusted myself so that I was in a good position to thoroughly enjoy what I came to do. I kissed the tattoo hard and gave it a good lick. The challenge for today was “Taste the Tattoo” and I won. I did a small celebration gesture that she rolled her eyes to. I continued to kiss and taste all around until every freckle got some personal attention. As I got to the upper most reaches of her inner thighs, I looked up to check in as I was about to cross a new line. For the first time she was not looking back at me but had laid her head back deep into the pillows, her eyes closed. I took that as a yes!
I marveled at the softness of her inner thighs on my cheeks as I gently placed kisses up one and down the other. As I kissed her through her panties, her hips responded by arching her up in anticipation of each next kiss. Before long, those wonderful panties were just getting in the way. I stopped and pondered whether to just slide them aside or remove them or to risk interrupting the mood and attempt a complete wardrobe removal as we were both still fully dressed except for her jeans.
I didn’t have to ponder long as she knew what she wanted and it was not any of the options I was considering. Still lying back with her head semi submerged within the pillows, she held out her arms as if gesturing for a hug. I moved up her body and when I got close enough she pulled me in for a kiss.
Unbelievably, this was our first kiss. I found it odd that we had not kissed yet and was grateful she thought to stop for a moment to have a kiss. We kissed some and then I settled in to thoroughly enjoy it. However, the kiss to come was not the kiss I was expecting or a kiss I was ready for. It was a kiss that could ruin everything.
Technically, there was one kiss before. It was an awkward kiss 5-10 minutes earlier just after we entered the room. All in about the time it took for the hotel door to close behind us, she tossed her bag on the sofa, had her jewelry off and set on the nightstand while I emptied my pockets and silenced my phone.
We approached each other, and as we met I was looking at the place where the tattoo would be under her shirt and behind her jeans. They were higher cut and could not be pulled down that far to get to the tattoo. They would have to come off. To just reach in and do that would be an uncharacteristically bold move for me. But I did have unquestionable permission to have the tattoo in any way that I desired. I reached down with both hands and took hold of the waistband on each side of the button. I didn’t see her simultaneous move in at me at first. Just as I felt the metal of the button, I felt her reaching her arms around my neck and realized that she was tip toeing up for a kiss. It caught me unexpectedly and I think it showed on my face that it did. I tried to recover and moved back in to accept her lips on to mine but it turned into an awkward peck.
I scolded myself for the selfish moment and just as I was trying to formulate a recovery gesture, she, without missing a beat, gently dismissed my fumble and gracefully restored the momentum. “Oh” she said with surprise in her tone, while looking down at my fingers ready to release her button. Then, in a more playfully quizzical tone, she followed with “I guess you want to get right to THAT then” and she stepped back away from me where I lost grip of her jeans. She replaced my fingers on the button with hers, paused, maybe waiting for me to look up to her eyes, which I finally did, then flashed me a devilishly naughty smile and pulled her jeans down to the top of her boots. She then proudly announced, mostly to herself, “You really are going to let me have fun with you, aren’t you!” seemingly shedding any doubts in her mind that I would go through with this. She then sat at the foot of the all white linen king sized bed, removed her boots and jeans and backed her way into the stack of oversized pillows lining the headboard.
Back to our kiss. The kiss that from now on I will reflect on as our first kiss
Responding to her hug gesture, I moved up her body and when I got close enough she pulled me in for a kiss. I didn’t flub it this time, but again, I didn’t know it was coming, and prolly I should have. It took only ten seconds to adjust and synchronize to each other’s kissing form. It was warm and succulent and sweet and was wonderful. I really was surprised at how nice this felt. I don’t recall married kissing being this enjoyable. I remember saying to myself “Damn, this girl can kiss”.
I was on top, in a position that wasn’t going to be comfortable for as long as I wanted this to last, so I backed away to reposition but she held tight indicating she didn’t want me to move. I gestured at the space next to her and she relented. We then settled in facing one another side by side; her smile confirming that this was a nice place. We were hugging and kissing, pulling each other closer and looking into each other’s eyes. Our legs intertwined and our hands were roaming, but not really in a sexual way, more like trying to make as much body contact as possible. I couldn’t get over how I felt so much more familiarity than there was. What I did not recognize at the time was that this was the physical intimacy catching up to match the virtual intimacy we have been sharing online.
Soon the intensity escalated and it was getting very hot very quickly. The intensity and passion that was building was not something I ever expected or planned for. This was the rare kind of making out where accidental hickeys happen and inadvertent “Oh god I love you’s” slip out. Not that either of those was going to happen but my safe, non-committal no emotional strings encounter was getting too hot to not risk introducing emotions into the situation. And that could happen.
At some point I was no longer kissing her lips and mouth but was kissing her.
I broke contact to catch a breath and maybe get some control of the fire. We stopped for a moment to breathe and cool off. She slid herself on top and I rolled over on to my back to accommodate her. She looked at me with eyes that appeared to agree that it was a good time to slow it down. She closed her eyes and she seemed to enjoy that I was rubbing her back with both hands that I slipped up under her shirt. She presented her lips for me to kiss and then her cheek for the same, then neck and ear and lips again. Her long hair had fallen down around us, surrounding our faces like a vail creating a tiny private and even more intimate space. Inside here it was darker and the temperature and humidity rose quickly. We were breathing each other’s breath between kisses. All of a sudden I noticed that Jasmine was back. Not subtle this time, but deep and fulfilling. I loved it.
This fragrance stuff really works. The next morning just after waking up, I caught an unexpected subtle whiff on my skin under my watch and my heart jumped by 20 beats. Who’d a thunk it possible?
The passion was building again but since I was aware and cautious now, I wanted to enjoy and go with it. I thought I could keep it measured and I did for a while as it does take two. The kissing slowed to half and so did the passion. However, the rest of our bodies started to make up for it and the touching evolved into the sexual. She was still on top of me and my hands were exploring and squeezing on her panty covered butt, then under and in those panties. Her body contact became more targeted as she was now very deliberately mashing her fun stuff all over my fun stuff. The kissing subsided but replaced with the audible accompaniment of her squeaks, moans and quicker breathing timed with her mashing I was no longer in control. The passion was under control but being replaced with something intimately erotic.
I abruptly escaped by gently rolling her over on to her back then getting up and knelling between her legs. I took a moment to catch my breath and wanted to say “That is getting WAY too intimate. Can we get naked and have sex now?” However, I tugged at her panties and said something dorky like “can we take these off now?” Yes, we were still both fully dressed except for her jeans
Since I am the kind of guy who doesn’t kiss and tell, (well, only tells about the kisses) and this is not the forum for it, I am not going to talk about the sexy part over the next 30 minutes. I will tell you that we did finally each get ourselves unceremoniously naked and then the sexy part finishes where it started, with me finishing all over that beautiful tattoo. Of course I did a small celebration gesture that she rolled her eyes to.
*************************************************
Cuddle time. Our snapchats leading up to this encounter were heavy on the anticipation and buildup but didn’t contain a lot of detail about or define what stuff would happen during our “fun” time together.
Me: “Ok then, tomorrow lunchtime, I’m in.”
Her: “OMG Are you saying that you are REALLY going to come here and let me have fun with you?
Me: “I’m REALLY going to come there. I am REALLY going to fully inspect that tattoo, as well as the neighborhood where the tattoo lives.
Her: “I so can’t wait to get my hands on you.”
Me: “WOW….Now that this is real and going to happen, my heart is beating so hard that I am afraid that people can see it through my shirt.”
Her: “You have to tell me, are you being SERIOUS right now? You can’t say this and not show up. It’s OK if you are teasing, but you have to say so that you are now….not tomorrow!!!”
Me: “I am SERIOUS and I PROMISE I will be there. You have gotten to me, BAD. All week with the way we have been talking..err..I mean snapchatting; I can’t get you out of my head. Then today with those tattoo snaps you sent; I can’t get up from my desk. LOL…..NOT kidding NOT teasing.”
Her: “I am BAD, and I like having FUN. I am going to have so much fun with you!!!”
************************************************
The only specific things I recall us acknowledging we would do with our “fun” was tattoo inspection and cuddle time. So as soon as cleanup from sexy time was done we both knew what time it was. For me, as good as the inspection was the cuddle was better. Just as during the sexy time we changed things up and we got to cuddle many ways. We started face to face full contact hugging just like our kissing time with some but less kissing and more being in the moment.
We were still hot (temperature hot now) and sweaty so that didn’t last long. She turned over and we spooned some. I was still craving full body contact but it was still so hot that we had to separate a bit. No contact spooning if you will, with just my one hand caressing her exposed shoulder and arm and hip with an occasional butt cheek squeeze.
It was about that time that we had our first ever personal conversation. On the project there were lots of flirty banter and some personal stories but almost always as part of a group. We had many phone calls and a few project meetings with just us two but never did the conversation get personal. Until now the only personal talks (Chats) we have had have been via Snapchat. I don’t recall who asked the first question of the other, but it was like a dam broke and we started filling in the details of our lives, our feelings and all the things we chatted about.
There was a lot to tell and we were giddy like children (child) best friends re-meeting on the first day of school catching each other up on our summer vacations. At one point she had something compelling to say and faster than a fish out of water she flipped back to facing me so she could gesture with her hand and punctuate through her expression. She landed close. Closer that I think she meant to at first and just a bit awkward I felt. But I was wrong. She didn’t back up an inch. I really couldn’t see her hand but I could feel that she was using it in the 2 to 4 inches of space between our chests. Her face was right into mine. She would lean back or up just an inch when she wanted me to see her eyes or smile or frown for emphasis, then settle back into the pillows with our foreheads or noses or cheeks touching. It was the farthest thing in the world from awkward.
If there was a recurring theme for the day it would be HOT; in every sense and synonym of the word. Again, it was getting too sweaty to remain that close. This time she broke contact to catch a breath and escape the heat. We stopped talking for a moment to breathe and cool off. She sat up, crawled to, and grabbed the (sexy time) clean-up towel that was at the far foot of the bed. She turned around so that she was kneeling facing me as she brought the towel up to her chest to absorb the beads and drips of sweat that had accumulated. As I watched, I again thought of my great fortune to be right here right now feeing what I feel and seeing the beauty before me. She pushed the towel down across her belly button and it fell into her lap.
I observed the soft sunlight reflecting off the white sheets, the white towel, and the white pillows bathed her in perfect light creating just a hint of subtle shadows in all of the right places on her angelic white skin. I started consciously taking photos with my mind. I wanted to capture every nuance and note every detail. I don’t know if I will ever be here again.
I don't recall if my next realization was comprehended in a split second, or if it took ten seconds to develop, but a terrible fear washed over me that for the first time in forever, she was beyond my touch and her next action might be to look for her panties or go jump in the shower. We were after all, deep into the second hour of her hour long lunch.
As I was preparing myself for the pain soon to come, I couldn't understand where it was coming from. I had the BEST DAY EVER, but I felt like an exhausted child who just watched the Disney fireworks finally and knows what that means.
What the hell? What is happening in my head? I don't even know this girl, let alone have feelings for her beyond she made my dick feel good at lunchtime.....and, I guess my ego is healthier since I met her. I have not cheated on my diet since she turned on the flattery the week before. I was sure it had to be somehow manipulative, but I hoped that if only a 5% chance it wasn't AND she liked me AND her mom was single, made it easy to keep my snacking to peas & carrots.
My self esteem has been skyrocketing too, as I have been checking a lot of boxes on my refrigerator. LOL, so many in fact, that I have been adding things to the list after they happened that I didn't dare put on it as they seemed pretty unobtainable just two months before. "Get sent a nude selfie, check. Have the confidence to send one back, check. Take a hottie 32 year old client out to lunch and fuck her brains out, check.
Did I just discover that I like girls who make my self esteem feel good more than I like girls who make my dick feel good?
Shit, that wasn't even on my top ten list. Smart, funny, pretty, Kind, whatever is the opposite of bitchy, fun in bed, boobs and/or an age appropriate figure is always nice, curious, someone you can trust to see you at your worst. Before today, "genuinely being a boost & support of my self esteem" was 10th.
Then BAM. I was hit in the face with the towel. Damn girl, I hope you can handle a spanking because I was just on the verge of making an interpersonal discovery of some importance over here, I thought to myself. I noticed the slightest or possibly mock look of concern on her face as she asks "you're not having any regrets or second thoughts over there are you?". I reflexively replied "Oh god no". Then with some emphasys, I continued "today was incredible. I REALLY needed this and you were PERFECT, thank you".
Again she did not disappoint. She crawled to the top of the bed on the far side and then to me over the pillows and laid down at a 90 angle to me on her stomach parallel to the headboard with her head nearly right on top of mine. She propped herself up a bit on her elbows and we kissed deeply. It was nice.
I made a few attempts to shake my internal drama, get out of my head and get back to my goal of picking my self up after my divorce. Oops, I mean back to pleasing a beautiful woman who clearly was not yet done having her fun with me. The emotional rollercoaster ride over the last hours, days & weeks completely blew out my brains ability to generate or absorb endorphins or whatever happens in a situation like this. Shortly after we had joked around while showering together, kissing goodbye (just like when I kissed my endorphin killing ex wife) and going on back to our separate lives.
I drove the hour or so home, brought my dog to the park and had healthiest and happiest cry I ever had. I don't know what I was feeling or why, but I was feeling again and it brought me much relief and contentedness.
We texted a bit that evening confirming that we each enjoyed our time together and agreeing that we should do that again sometime. The next day, Saturday, her husband took their 5 & 8 year old sons somewhere for the day. We checked in with each other again over text and chatted some about our lunch but the spark or excitement we usually had was not the same.
I reached out again that evening and asked if she was in a place that we could talk on the phone. She resisted but did call me (our first personal phone call). It took her 24 hours to let her cry bubble up. It turns out that our emotional experiences were remarkably similar, albeit from different perspectives.
She much later reveals that she felt emotionally dead for her hubby. She evolved to a bad place where she wanted fuck anyone but her hubby but still fucked him twice a week and had to appear happy to do it, killing her brain chemistry.
We rode the best and worst roller coaster in the world for 6 or 8 months....until the the Cocaine eventually wore off or the unobtainable became obtainable and it wasn't the the same rush for either of us any longer. She was the closest thing to a drug addiction that I ever felt. I never wanted anyone or anything like I wanted her.
My hope is that this story helps one person answer the question "Why the hell would he/she risk giving up their wonderful & loving family for an hour with a douchebag or a skank?"

First Previous Wiki
Ezeonwha was walking down a long hallway. The dry and plain painted walls and the pure white lighting of the lower levels of the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office helped to frame the dingy realities of those who could only afford these floors. Not even capable of having windows, these were for those who were the cheapest of the cheap or those who mingled with them. He'd passed several Guides on the way in, their claws echoing in the halls as a sign of authority in this lawless land.
Here, mediocrity was king, and he was a loyal servant. He drew his cloak closer about his neck, unwilling to reveal himself to those who weren't already equipped to see through it all. He was famous enough to be an abduction target if he let his guard down. This place was no exception, though Justicar tried to make them such. Too much security on the higher levels and too little on the lower levels. That was the way of things.
Another hallway, this one marked with bullet holes. Two contractors and a Guide were discussing the pricing of the fix project when he turned the corner. Their voices quieted to nothing, the stillness pressing down upon them with the same intensity as the false lighting. Ezeonwha clacked his jaws, giving them a low bow before continuing on his way. He saw the Guide's eyes light up with the sign of his implants getting a reading. It was another impromptu way of tracking via facial recognition, but it was an ancient practice.
Nothing was new about what the Guides did; only how many of them seemed to be on general patrol. Had Justicar hired more of them or actually done full conversions for all of them? Those arm cannons surely weren't cheap or ethical to insert into unwilling participants. And giving a victim a gun they couldn't be disarmed of was a very bad idea, even for Elders. And Justicar was better than most Elders when it came to abject stupidity. He'd likely only been dropped a few hundred times as a child versus the more likely Elder average of a few thousand.
Ezeonwha chuckled at his internal joke, heading deeper underground into the complex. He was going to a certain meeting, and it would be best not to be late. Even if the Guides tracked him, it wouldn't be negative. The group he had been approached by a few days ago wasn't a terror group. He'd looked them up. They dealt in 'freedom and liberation from all chains.'
The Eyes Of Liberty had focused upon Penny as their latest propaganda target and perhaps as a valuable ally in their fight against all tyranny. Though such a flowery message was likely steeped in idealism for the lower ranks, with more pragmatic and likely richer inner circle elites and leaders ensuring the pot would always simmer but never boil or grow cold. That was the way movements such as these managed to skirt the line between inaction and terrorism.
It was a dangerous thing to do. But these were dangerous times. If Penny left, he'd die. Someone with a grudge would kill him. It was a given, and he'd made peace with it now. He needed to get to work, to help others like him and those worse off, with just a small piece of the meager time he had left.
He was in the system as a friend of Penny, so little scrutiny would fall on him as he came and went. He had a new friend, one who was very interested in connecting to Penny.
The offer had come through his communicator, and he'd answered it given its interesting title. After a lengthy discussion about their goals for him and Penny, he'd agreed to at least have a meeting. He didn't tell them that he had a tracker from Phoebe, which would 'be impossible to miss' if things went badly. He knew the value he had, which was why one of the androids was also accompanying him under the guise of being a Sprilnav.
The android was 'walking' on all fours, its mechanical motion entirely silent. It was obscured by a wave of holograms and hard light holograms that would ensure that it wouldn't be considered suspicious beside him. His only guard was a capable one, and Phoebe had all the confidence of an AI who knew that the destruction of her android would only be an inconvenience for her.
Ezeonwha came to an unmarked door with a well-worn door frame. One knock. One pause. Two knocks. Another pause. Four knocks. He waited, and the door swung open. Eight Sprilnav greeted him warily but warmly, their eyes shifting to Phoebe.
The inside of the room was a dull red, coming from a pair of lights in the center of the ceiling that cast dark shadows near the edges. The whole room felt dark and dangerous, and the walls were lined with guns, computers, and several drones. Shelves and drawers were neatly stacked against the wall, as well as five couches and four double beds with ladder access to the top portions.
Bags of food rested atop a trash compactor unit, and the room service button on the inner side of the wall that Ezeonwha could see in the mirror was worn down to the raw metal. No paint jobs here, only grit and business. The room faintly smelled of body odor and assorted foods. Not entirely unpleasant, but also not what he'd expected from a group with sich a flamboyant name. Perhaps they worked in cell-based units. And that was another thing.
Minds were visible in the distance of the mindscape, but the people here were huddled together mentally. They appeared to be haphazard, but Ezeonwha recognized an old army-type defensive formation a mere step from each of their positions. They were more than they appeared. Though based on how their room looked, they probably weren't veterans, just decently trained.
As they walked through the doorway, a scanner activated. One of the Sprilnav, wearing a headset with numbers and letters swirling on the inner side of the visor, called out: "Phoebe android. Commando variant. Risk assessment: Certain Death. Ezeonwha. Carrying two pistols, one hidden in the pack on his left, and the other tucked inside a strap near the lower bottom of his chest."
That made them all pause, sizing each other up. Ezeonwha smiled nervously, failing terribly to break the building tension once again. His nerves started to get to him, but finally, Phoebe spoke. "Well, friends. I, for one, am happy to talk of the business of liberty. Tell us, what do you have in mind for my friend Ezeonwha?"
"It is not about him, AI. It is about the freedom all sentient beings deserve, and which we shall bring to the galaxy no matter if we are alive or dead."
"An honorable goal to strive toward," Phoebe said.
"Thank you. Your words are quite kind for your type."
"I didn't know I had one," Phoebe replied. "But thank you."
Ezeonwha turned his head toward the Sprilnav with all the fancy equipment.
"What is the best way for me and Penny to help in the fight?"
"The best way would be for you to start killing the gang leaders you come across. Barring that, have Penny ignore the graveyards, and continue freeing the slaves as she ought to. The dead have their freedom; the living need her work more."
"I agree with my companion," another of them said. "So far, Penny has done more for the fight for justice than any other on Justicar in generations, so it is a terrible thing to ask more, but we must ask. Even knowing the terrible toll it would have if she loses the Judgment, Sprilnav are at stake."
"People are at stake, you mean," Ezeonwha said. "There is no need to bring species into this."
"There would not be, but it is still a clear factor," another of them said, a female who looked more shifty in her gaze and demeanor. The Eyes of Liberty seemed like one of those groups with too much division.
"Do you disagree with each other often?" Ezeonwha asked innocently.
"Here and there," the tech guy said. "Not often enough to be a problem, and not when what matters is at stake."
"But that is the thing. How can you agree on when something that matters is a stake?"
"Is this a test?"
"Why would it be? Think of it as a genuine concern," Ezeonwha said. "To associate with your group, I have to be certain it will be resilient to change and risks escalating in the future. If the gangs cannot strike at Penny, they will pick the next best targets. Currently, that is me. If I associate with you in a way they can find out, and I assure you they will find out eventually, you all may be at risk as well. And your group's seemingly cell-based design also means large scale mobilization is difficult, ineffective, and risks severe coordination issues which cannot be quickly or safely remedied without changing core security features of it."
"You deduced all of that from context? You are smart, Ezeonwha. And have a good brain in your head. Everlasting knows we need one of those between all of us."
They all shared a laugh.
"I am not as young as I may look," Ezeonwha said. "Penny is not properly learned of the danger that faces us here. I am. The Underground will kill me when this is over. Do you want to die alongside me, all for your beliefs?"
Silence descended again. Ezeonwha kept the pressure on them when one of them stepped forward. "For freedom and liberty? Yes. I would die for that."
"As would I."
"And I."
They all declared the rest in orders that followed the patterns Ezeonwha was noticing. There were variances in their levels of belief and faith in their purpose. Each person had a different level of value difference, which meant that their lives would be worth more or less comparatively.
Cohesion was weaker, too. Not a full defector team, but likely pieces of several. Was that by design from a higher up leader, or was that just circumstance? Another thing to figure out later, that wasn't critical yet, but he would know before he truly went on any missions with them, if he did at all.
He suspected running messages to Penny would be the majority of their tasks. The quality of intelligence the Eyes of Liberty had offered was substantial. Perhaps enough for Penny to turn herself from a major annoyance to the gangs into an actual existential threat. With Justicar's swarming protection of the Fort Court and the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office, there was a limited amount of things that even the gangs could do. And if the rumors were correct, a Progenitor would be partaking in the trial.
"To be clear, if I join up with you, Phoebe would come too."
"Why would we let an AI join us?"
Phoebe smiled. "Without me, you'll die in this fight. You have trained for around 2000 days. You're acceptable combatants, as is Ezeonwha. But you are fighting in a city, and underneath it. You need to know how to keep a low profile. You need to know how to move through a crowd, get in and out. And you need to keep collateral damage to a zero, or the gangs will use you like they have others who had your purpose and were less careful to justify their 'protection' continuing. If you march in there and kill 50 slavers, if you kill a few slaves or a single bystander in the process, your credibility will be smeared. And frankly, with me on your team, you won't get blown up by an IED when you try clearing your first room in a fortress."
"IED?" One of them asked, while the rest digested her statement, going through various levels of offended looks.
"Your translator is too cheap. Improvised explosive device. Here, that can be old engines, reused oil, cracked plastic, frictional fuel bombs, circuit extruders, sodium splash grenades, as well as the more military style attacks they can pack, from small micro rockets all the way up to lower level fission or fusion bombs. Though if you're in a fight with those things involved, you're already dead."
"Why?"
"Because unless you're Elders, or holograms, a nuke will kill you whether you're right next to it or just inside the same shield. They concentrate the thermal pulse, so your bones would be ash before the pain hit your eyes."
"And what protection could you bring against that?"
"Telling you it's there before you start the attack. That is, if you listen to me. I value your lives over that of this android, but also I value Ezeonwha over all of you combined. I will not prevent him from doing this, but I will have you all know the risks involved."
"We are prepared, Phoebe. We have done much of the training you say, though we do not believe the gangs would plant explosive devices in their own fortresses. There is too much risk around that, with betrayals so common. However, the minefields we have scouted are easy to defeat with the right tactics. Perhaps you can give us a briefing on those, too?"
A challenge.
"I can, depending on how long you wish to do this for. But I have the stamina for either hours or weeks, depending on which you choose."
"What of your batteries?"
"They are of sufficient quality," Phoebe assured.
"I hope so."
Their tech guy nodded, more numbers flashing on his visor. Ezeonwha hoped he had a different way of display, like through an implant or something, for the missions in darker areas. The Underground was, by its name, not a place where much natural light was to be found. And the gangs controlled all the power systems in their territory. It was another part of the racket.
"Why aren't you guarding Penny?"
Phoebe's back straightened, a subconscious posture change to make her seem more confident. Ezeonwha caught the tactic for what it was, though without extensive knowledge of bipedal forms, it was less likely the surrounding Sprilnav knew it.
"Penny proved before a trillion eyes she's capable of fighting Elders, Progenitors, and a Dreadnaught Captain. Not to mention her immense power. I can shoot bullets, but she can literally snatch them out of the air and eat them. She has her own way of doing things, and it is a good way."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Penny landed in the rubble and headed for the Vaquah with a trail of survivors behind her. Many of them, she could recognize the marks of slavery on, with numbers or brands on their skin or just the trauma crouching in their eyes dulled by the pain of a long life in a work camp. Penny went through the wreckage to the shield surrounding the rubble and the defining line between the rest of the city and the destruction. Several news drones flew above her.
More were arriving from various directions. The soft footsteps grew into a constant drumming sound, like a beating heart of doom. Penny marched with them, heading to the spaceport. A large medical operation there quickly rerouted many of its various branches to the most injured freed slaves.
Penny pressed her considerable psychic energy on the entire group, accelerating their healing, slowing bleeding, and generally repairing their bodies and cells from the trauma they'd suffered. But the cloud over their heads did not brighten. The atmosphere remained tense and mournful. Many of them had lost friends, family, and more. She had no right to ask them to feel any different.
She had freed them, that was all. They were not her servants. She was not their ruler.
Several of them came up to her, offering thanks in the small ways they could. Kind words. Attempts at hugs. Even offers of devout prayer and worship, which Penny respectfully declined. She knew, as did most of them, that veneration for her deeds was inevitable. She didn't want to be seen encouraging it at all, since this was a public place where many eyes were upon her.
She knew that it would be misconstrued as a threat if she did. Religions were some of the most major threats entrenched powers could face if not properly co-opted by the state to suit their needs. And here, the 'state' was a military dictatorship billions of years old, ripened with corruption, money, and the immortality of Elders sporting technology beyond any other in the galaxy.
The sky was blue with shields overhead. The Vaquah hung in the distance, its thrusters gently burning to keep it aloft. A trail of shuttles linked the massive ship with several spaceports, including this one. Penny watched the freed Sprilnav get on it one by one, promising themselves to a new life aboard her ship. Technically, they were citizens of the Autonomous Peoples' Stars.
That protection, Penny knew, was why the Vaquah and its innocent inhabitants were still intact. Elders already had hired mercenaries to attack it. They'd failed, thanks to Rimiaha and Penny, but also the defenses of Kashaunta's Grand Fleet when it was in higher orbit. Kashaunta, despite her willingness to use Penny as she would, also had a certain intelligence and empathy. It was highly selective, and only money and power seemed to flip that switch.
But Penny needed the Elder, and Kashaunta only had use for her as an asset. She palmed the new communicator Kashaunta had issued her after the last one's destruction. Kashaunta's hologram appeared. It looked around, noticing the news drones in the air.
"Not here."
"Where?"
"You will know."
In the mindscape, a Sprilnav appeared on Penny's layer. They felt odd to her, almost like the minds of certain humans high up in the hivemind's network. Penny greeted the Sprilnav warmly.
"Hello."
"Queen and Elder Kashaunta requests your presence on her flagship."
"Very well."
In reality, Penny looked around at the crowd. She waited until it dwindled to nothing, and then spoke.
"Displace."
Conceptual energy twisted, and she stood on Kashaunta's flagship, though nearer to the edge than she'd expected. The Elder was waiting for her in an outfit that looked much like pajamas, though they were under a few armor pieces that appeared anything but decorative. Now that Penny noticed it, it was the same sort of armor that Yasihaut had worn to their last encounter, which interfered with conceptual energy. The Sprilnav were highly advanced. She wondered just how far their technology could go. She'd heard mentions of some ships having artificial gravity, and of nanites and programmable matter. But nothing certain.
"Hmm," Kashaunta said, giving Penny a once over. "You have come back. Shall I assume you are still my ally?"
"Nervous, are we?"
"Nervous is what you should be, Penny. The Judgment is coming. Ten days. Indrafabar and Justicar will both be on the court as High Judges. That is not good for us at all. So I figured a bit of prudence was in order. I have thought long and hard about this, and with the great battles of our time so fast approaching, I figure it is time to mend our relationship before the chasm grows any wider."
Kashaunta motioned to a special looking sword sheath on her back. Slowly, she drew a sword. A Soul Blade. Penny began to draw up her armor.
"Oh, I am not wishing for a fight, Penny. I know the damage you could do, even in my sanctum in the sky. Tell me, do you know how Soul Blades are forged?"
"No."
"Good. And tell me, do you know why they draw so much power to swing, even for Elders and beings as capable as us?"
"I have a few theories."
"I am sure you do," Kashaunta said. "But here is the thing. Soul Blades are typically weapons assigned to highly promising Elders, or even Progenitors. Filnatra, undisputed sword master that she is, can wield them as easily as breathing. If I were to swing this blade, there would be no drawback. Why?"
"Because you own that Soul Blade."
"Because this Soul Blade is mine. It is not just something I own. I own around seven or so more Soul Blades, with some weapons nearing their quality lying in my various vaults even now. You did not detect them, because I willed that not to be. I need you to understand this, Penny. You have power. You have might. But you are not invincible. My Soul Blade, if it struck you, would not cutely separate Nilnacrawla or Cardinality from you. Nor would your speeding space entity be able to block this blade with his flesh. If this cut you, it would release unending agony upon you before you exploded in a burst of burnt gore."
Penny sighed. "There is no need to threaten me. Allies do not threaten each other."
"But you do not see me as an ally. You see me as your means to get through the Judgment. You believe I see you as nothing more but a linear singularity maker, and perhaps a passing curiosity I'm backing on a whim. You neglect to imagine that there might be firmer reasons why I back you, and why more Elders are getting drawn into this conflict. You believe I am comfortable with showing you my more pragmatic and ruthless sides because I am comfortable with the fact that you cannot harm me. That you would not dare to do so, when you need my assistance so badly. That I might even be aiming to normalize my 'new' self with you."
"That is hardly my belief alone."
"Is it now."
Kashaunta grinned. There was no warmth in her gaze.
"Nilnacrawla," Kashaunta said. "Cardinality. Exile. Come out and show yourselves. You are being rude as guests."
Exile detached from Penny's head. He grew into the shifting array of fractals and shapes she was more familiar with. What had once grated on her eyes did so no longer. Kashaunta stared at the speeding space entity for ten seconds, then looked back up at Penny.
"He will not work on us. I will cover his form with holograms if he walks through my ship out of courtesy for my workers and crew, if he cannot."
"I am capable, Queen Kashaunta."
"You are quite knowledgable, aren't you?" Kashaunta mused, looking at him hungrily. "Oh, how I wonder what secrets you have in your head. How many of ours do you know?"
"I will not be taken as a hostage," Exile said.
"You will not because I decide not to," Kashaunta said. "Formally, our species are still at war. There is no treaty."
"The Sp'rkial'nova no longer exist."
"Yes, they do," Kashaunta said. "The name was discontinued for use regarding the lesser specimens we created. But I can assure you, Exile, if you wish to go by that name here, that we still do exist. I am a Sp'rkial'nova in the flesh. In the blood. In the mind. In the soul."
"Say what you will, Sprilnav. It changes nothing."
"On that I agree. Though our views on how things are may differ, and yours is wrong, your opinion is not valuable enough to matter."
She turned to Penny. She would have defended Exile, but he gave her a simple shake of his head area.
Nilnacrawla formed out of psychic energy in front of Penny. Cardi did the same beside her. Kashaunta tapped a claw on the ground. Tables and chairs appeared. A chef brought in food that looked passable and a few decent attempts at human cuisine.
"We do not have to eat, though I would expect that all of you at least sit at the table. We will discuss our grievances, and how to solve them before we proceed with the future. We shall first go to the matter of the Alliance. Penny, many in their number wish to establish contact with you. Do you agree to this? If so, I will add their communicator numbers to the translation program I have reserved for your personal use, in case your own device needs another sudden replacement."
"I agree."
"Good. A first step of diplomacy, I would say. Agreement. Now, Nilnacrawla, you look like you have something to say to me. What is it?"
"Free Meridia."
"Meridia was detonated by planet cracker during the 139th Sector 9 Border War. I am sorry more could not be done."
A cold draft of air rushed out of Nilnacrawla's nose. He glared at her. "You let them die."
"I did not. A Grand Fleet was defending that star system, and three came to lay siege. I am many things. A tactician, a queen, an Elder. But I am not a god. I cannot perform miracles. I evacuated 30 billion people from that world and its surrounding stations before the planet crackers hit it. 4 trillion more souls died in that blast. The best I can do is to offer an apology."
"That will never be enough for what you did. If you had never established your nation, they would still be alive."
"They would be slaves. Chattel slaves, not that cute little 'wage slavery' concept privileged people throw around. Perhaps I should remind you just how much darker that reality would have been for your female descendents, specifically. I am a brutal warlord, a dictator with an iron fist. But my claws do not squeeze nearly as tightly as I could. Metrics say that I could extract at least 370% more profit from my people if I simply enslaved them. But despite the shock this may bring to you all, I do have principles. The Autonomous Peoples' Stars are my people. My nation. My empire, if you think I'm imperialist. But I protect them as best I can."
Nilnacrawla's cold anger didn't lessen. Penny placed a calming hand on his front left thigh. He blinked. He let out a long, pained sigh. And he bowed his head to her. Not to Kashaunta, but to Penny.
"There is no need to be cruel."
"My language was accurate, Penny. He is a strong Elder. Everlasting knows he's stronger than most of these fools. Nilnacrawla was and is a hero of the Source war. I respect him enough not to mince words, or to give platitudes. Coddling is for babies. Nilnacrawla is far more mature."
Kashaunta turned to Cardi. "You have been remarkably silent in this, concept."
"I have."
"A wonderfully succinct statement. Perhaps you can shorten it further. But nevertheless, you and I will be working together with Penny much more in the near future. Rest assured, if you refuse to become more independent, you will be nothing more than a crutch for her to rely on before leaving her to fall when you are ripped away."
"When, Elder? I would like to think your protection is sufficient."
"I am sure the truth is quite the opposite, dear. I will now get to the point. Penny needs to move faster, and needs to break out of her shell. She needs to be pushed to do more. She has signed a binding treaty, which shows she is capable of more than barbarian aliens, as some Elders would call her. You, Cardinality, will help her be a high achiever. To do this, you need to learn more about your own history.
That is the theme of the year, after all. History. My history, Penny's history, Sprilnav history, and even Gaia's history, it would seem."
"Gaia? What do they have to do with all of this?" Penny asked.
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that."
"Excuse me? You don't get to decide that, Kashaunta. You will tell me. I refuse to be coddled, like you say. I demand the respect I am owed."
"You forget yourself, Penny."
"I remember myself, actually. I am all I need to be. I can become all I need if I must. You can hold your backing against me all you want, but you won't withdraw it. As you said, more binds you and I than mere money and ideology."
"And if you're wrong?"
"Then I've doomed my species and my nation to war, and this planet to the full power of my wrath."
"Wrath, Penny. Wrath. The Sprilnav have many words for anger, rage, hatred. There is the desire for vengeance, in varying degrees. There is that for justice, which does differ. And that for belonging. I know you believe you are standing up to me as a way to assert your own authority in this relationship of ours. You believe I see you as inferior, and will pull back my help when it is profitable for me. I will not offer you the consequences of what your words could mean.
You already know them, and that argument is as stale as your view on us Elders. I will say this once, Penny. You are the Champion of Humanity. The apex predator of your planet, the only one mostly in charge of an Alliance that does more than merely dream of overthrowing us. It is easy for me to say you are not a threat, though I do not ignore the threat you and your nation are trying to become. Gaia will be a part of your movement, but even my information is not entirely complete. I will not mislead you by claiming I know Gaia's link to this, just that there likely is one.
And I am not unreasonably petty. I am willing to put all our animosity behind us and start anew. Even if you are not willing to do the same, I am willing to make this work for us. You have more people to care for than just the Alliance, now. Do not forget them."
"A lot of words that mean nothing."
"Because you heard, but did not listen. Perhaps it will be easier this way, Penny. I want you to win."
"Explain."
"You wish to overthrow the current Sprilnav led order of the galaxy. Your path to that will likely be through mass slave revolt. A viable strategy that I could spread far beyond just this planet. And I actually agree with you. This Judgment, this utter insanity around the Alliance and your species has shown me the truth. The Elders as a class and a species cannot be trusted to rule any longer. We need new leaders. Better leaders."
"And yourself?"
"As the hypocrite that I am, and the power-hungry ruler of the Sprilnav, I would obviously exclude myself from that number. Let's be realistic. The Sprilnav will never accept a non-Elder ruler. If you wish to see what our insurgencies would be like, imagine the 2090s Struggles of Asia. Expand that to billions of planets, large and small. Countless ships and space stations. We have more collective ships than you have people. And as your military planners know, there is no such thing as an unarmed ship. Without us, without me, your plans are stillborn. Your galactic Alliance or whatever you make will fall to pieces without proper counseling. In essence, my offer to you, and you alone, is this. The galaxy, for the Sprilnav."
"Who backs your offer, with the power to give it?"
Progenitors Lecalicus and Nova appeared in the room.
"I back Kashaunta," Lecalicus wheezed.
"I observe her offer, and wish it a proper outcome," Nova said.
"Thank you, esteemed Progenitors," Kashaunta said, standing just to bow to them. Penny stared at Nova, balling her fists.
"There will be time for battle later," he said. "But not now. Hear out her request. She does not make it lightly."
The Progenitors disappeared.
"If I accept your offer, it will be on a written record."
"No. It will not be, because if that record is written, my nation will be facing war on all sides. A better idea would be for us to keep this under wraps."
"Perfect for betrayal," Nilnacrawla muttered.
"It would be, yes. But consider the second part of this situation, Nilncrawla. If word of this galactic offer, not just the Pact, were to get out, which is why two Progenitors who know the price of interference were called here, it would mean the deaths of Penny and all her kind. Or do you forget what rapidly approaches us?"
Nilnacrawla frowned. "I did. I apologize, Penny."
Kashaunta spoke up again.
"Penny. You believe I will betray you. So I make an offer of collateral. An offer so unbelievably sacred for us Elders that many would recoil at the mere thought of it. Now that you have signed a backed treaty, you are fully qualified."
Kashaunta grabbed her Soul Blade and presented it to Penny.
"What does this mean?"
"Nilnacrawla, tell her," Kashaunta said. "She will trust your mouth more than mine."
"Bonded Soul Blades are priceless artifacts," Nilnacrawla said. "To offer one to another is the ultimate gesture of trust and respect among many martial Sprilnav cultures. It can also allow for a mind bridge, a soul pact, or a proposal for marriage between two great houses, martial families, or Elders of great wealth and power. To offer this to a human... to anyone... is an ultimate sign of backing, and one of trust.
It is a sacrosanct honor, the absolute agreement of speaking truth and respect. The words I can use in any human language are insufficient to describe the weight of this honor. This gesture is one of absolute truth. Family lines with hatred going back millions of years would never dare to violate this honor."
"Only one Elder in history did so, one who once led a group known as the Stannic Resistance. He does so no longer. Penny Balica, Champion of Humanity... if there is nothing else I can give you to prove that I do really back you, there is this."
"...Just how low are my chances in the Judgment for you to resort to this?" Penny asked.
"They are not zero, but your battle with be incredibly difficult even with this boon of mine. The future of the galaxy, I now realize, hinges on the outcome of this. If we do not have enough trust, they will sniff it out, and we will fail."
So she had no choice. But as Nilncrawla continued to explain in her mind, Kashaunta was getting the worse side of the deal. Which meant she was throwing her backing behind Penny for real, beyond all reproach and retraction. Kashaunta, the most powerful Elder in the galaxy.
"And if I reject this gift, or your reasons for it?"
"Circumstances would demand that I kill you and then myself using this blade as a way to cut apart the dishonor, before my remains are dumped into a black hole to be forgotten forever. I would not do this."
"A dark and archaic custom," Penny said. She would have said more, but she looked at Nilnacrawla's face. He was clearly deeply uncomfortable. Her five words had shaken him more than anything she'd ever said to him before.
"You do not understand," Nilnacrawla said. "This is not something to joke or lie about. With a Soul Blade Pact in play, all else must cease. Right now, there is you, and there is her. Accept or decline. The choice, your only choice, is yours."
"How will this look to the Elders in the court? To the Sprilnav, and the people who back me?"
She could see how it would be a boon and a curse.
"You, and I," Kashaunta said. "The whole of the universe between us right now is you and I. No others exist until this one act is done. There will be trust or there will be death. No in between. No middle ground. The nature of this bond will be a Pact of Blades."
Conceptual energy swirled between them. Penny's natural translation, as part of the hivemind, failed for the first time ever. Her communicator likewise did not translate the words Kashaunta spoke.
"Eis nama kaste Penny Balica, sun lanci Dorima Kashaunta. Ko'ri, lanci nupa bes na Dorima'Pecunyanova. Sp'rkial'nova. Sun. Homo Sapiens."
The air grew thick with tension. It was not just emotional, either. Psychic and conceptual energy gathered. The mindscape started to distort as more and more eyes began to view Kashaunta and Penny. But all of them were Sprilnav eyes. All of them were Progenitors. Nova's appeared brightest and largest, nearly six times the size of the next largest pair. They stared at her, sending psychic and conceptual energy down upon her in waves that forced her and Kashaunta to kneel to the ground.
"I apologize for my earlier words," Penny said. "I should not have denigrated this."
Penny stood for an hour, deeply contemplating the Pact. If it was as Nilnacrawla was describing to her, it was a promise that Kashaunta would not break. If she was offering it at all, especially to Penny, it meant she had a level of trust in Penny's capability far above what Penny had previously thought. Apparently, there were even higher agreements than this that were possible, with this Pact being the lowest level of bond and considered unbreakable with the enforcement of consequences coming from the Progenitors themselves.
She thought of her place in Justicar and the wider universe. Hours passed like water. And then, by the end of it, after nearly 19 hours, Penny finally had decided. She gave a short nod to Kashaunta, who had been kneeling to Nova all this time.
Kashaunta gestured at the sword. "Tol, nopa shikai."
Nilnacrawla fed her a few suggestions on what she would need to say.
"I come to this Pact seeking peace, justice, and hope," Penny said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery."
Nilnacrawla translated Kashaunta's next words to her.
"I come to this seeking trust, understanding, respect, and peace," Kashaunta said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery. I make this Pact before the gods, those who equal them, and those who surpass them. I bind them to an oath of silence regarding this event, until I directly instruct them otherwise, in a state of a sound mind, body, and soul. Here, we shall step into a future that needs both of us, casting aside that which is unimportant to focus on the ultimate goals we have. I offer my Blade to Penny Balica, of species Homo Sapiens. In this way, we forge a new future, and walk a new path. I accept the Pact."
"I accept the Pact."
Nova and a hundred Progenitors descended. Nova grew larger, and Kashaunta knelt to him. Penny remained standing. His sharp teeth glittered in the light. He pressed his claws to Penny's chest, and to Kashaunta's chest.
"The Pact of Blades is made before the Progenitors. We agree to your vow of silence. The penalty of breaking it will be dismemberment and disposal into a black hole. Penny Balica, Engineer Kashaunta. To break this Pact without mutual agreement is to call down our collective wrath upon yourselves. You both have agreed, and are of sound mind, body, and soul. The Pact is forged. By sword, by word, by action. I, Nova, Everlasting, Lord of the Progenitors, King of all Sp'rkial'nova, Heir to the Mantle of Power, Heir to Narvravarana, Progenitor, Elder, and Sprilnav, declare the deed done, etched in time, space, and Reality."
They winked out of existence one by one, leaving Penny and Kashaunta alone, to ponder the future. Penny's thoughts turned to the Judgment, and her confidence she could win it began to waver. How much worse was this Judgment going to be than before?
Penny stared at Kashaunta's Soul Blade. With careful fingers, she took it. Kashaunta sat up, satisfied.
"Now we can begin. I shall compile all the news about you I can find, and we shall see how to address the questions the High Judges will ask. Now that you trust me, I cannot betray you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

• Spawn system is unbearable after extended play time. Half of the game is just deathmatch fighting at spawn in which kind of defeats the purpose of an open world style game. Please add many other spawn points with a wider range on the sides of maps or make a dynamic spawn system that detects other player proximity and moves your spawn based on range so there is at least a buffer of room to get away. I know this is hard to do on farm based on the map size but currently this spawn system is going to turn off a lot of players since the game is built around hardcore loss of gear.
• Initial recoil bounce of guns should be removed/reworked. This was already hated in tarkov for years and makes semi auto guns really unviable compared to full auto. Please change this to be a more consistent curve of recoil instead of just a barrel bounce. Think Valorant (EDIT) but more realistic based on attachments, etc.
• Jumping and shooting with full accuracy (super manning corners) needs to be nerfed. This is especially bad with scavs who have zero reason to lose anything and can still melt your legs/face with stock guns. I do enjoy the more arcadey movement but please don't make this into a call of duty 360 noscope type of game. If your feet are off of the ground your gun recoil should be double in my opinion. Easy fix.
• Full auto spread needs increased (lazer hipfire is bad FPS design). Currently full auto guns are way too strong in terms of being able to just hipfire horizontally and not really aim the gun. I do not want the goofy solutions that tarkov did like durability and jamming to make full auto not so dominant. Just make the recoil realistic in terms of the first few shots are accurate where aiming and then if you continue full auto the cone spreads. This is a known design that works in just about every single FPS game. Keep the realistic ballistics of course but also make the recoil patterns realistic as well. If you want an FPS shooter that is skill based than the player should be controlling the recoil not some arbitrary system. The current design just promotes cheesing as players will shoot the first 2-3 shots prefire into the corner of a wall knowing by the time they strafe out the recoil is "fixed" and they laser. It is just bad design overall for a game that wants tactical realism.
• Scav detection radius is absurd. I am not sure if it changes based on your player level but after hitting level 30 scavs see me from EVERYWHERE. I am talking like a 150m radius if I am anywhere near them I am spotted. They very often comm and rush at me from behind cover or non line of sight where they really should have no idea of my exact location other than general footsteps. Sniper scavs on valley are just as bad and I have been hit through trees at like 300m out just randomly moving through cover. Either please reduce the detection radius or make thier shots a bit less accurate. Sniper scav will basically kill you by shot 3 if you do not have hard cover or some serious armor. I have even multiple times (im taking like every other raid) will see a scav in the distance just straight rushing at my location when I have not fired a shot or given any target inidcator and I will just watch them path right up to me like a magnet. Its both immersion breaking and annoying as hell.
• Scav tanking expensive ammo. This one drives me insane. If you want to make scavs be stronger by increasing health pools than please make some kind of visual change to thier clothing to look armored, especially the face. They dont actually have to have lootable gear obviously to keep the loot balance but there is nothing more immersion breaking or frustrating than shooting a scav with a baseball cap in the face and they just flinch and run off. This is one of the worst design aspects of tarkov and how BSG uses hp pools to balance the boss/AI and it kills me to see it copied in ABI. Please ask the art team to do some kind of pass even making the scavs have ghetto looking armor like something out of the game Rust to keep with the lore feel.
• Higher tier 6-7 7.62x54R does same TTK hits as lvl 5 making the cost pointless in many hours of sniping with a mosin. So basically T5 ammo costs roughly $1k. It on average will two shot body a naked and three shot a geared player with L4+ armor. Headshots are one hit kill. T6 and T7 mosin ammo again from my extensive tesing does the exact same damage counts in terms of hits. So you are paying an extra $1k per round to get the same bullet DPS. Of course yes these rounds will shine vs level6+ armor players but I do not think any ammo worth $1k+ per round should take more than two body shots for L4 armor players. There are a few exceptions to this but I have used mosin on Valley for multiple 10+ hour sessions and something is weird with the 7.62x54R T6 and T7 ammo class.
• Shoulder swap for weapons to left peek. This is an easy addition and honestly should be in any tactical FPS game that requires CQB fighting. Please add this for a huge quality of life.
• Option in player list that can be enabled so whatever team mate gets the killing blow can only loot that body who they killed locking out the rest of the team. This would greatly help with players not wanting to join random squads and get thier stuff taken after putting in the hard work of securing the kill. Not a perfect solution but would greatly help stopping thieves. Yes would players try to "last hit" to steal your loot? Sure. Would this system work 10x better than currently just watching a teammate rat your gear? Absolutely. Again make this a selecable option in the lobby so party leaders can choose and everyone wins. You don't want that option just don't enable it.
• Allow ANY keyboard key to be rebound. Many of us use custom key binds that are shared across multiple game titles and having to "relearn" the keys for this game because certain keys like ALT can not be bound to crouch for example makes the player controller feel really bad. A normal person is not going to just unlearn 15+ years of gaming keyboard binds and so every time there is a panicked firefight I naturally revert to the expected keys and it gets me killed. Super annoying and again very basic fix to allow those keys to be rebound.

My main concern right now is that these types of changes I have listed have taken tarkov YEARS to update. So what I do not want to happen is players having to camp the ABI patch notes for another 2-3 years just to get back those quality of life changes missing in this game that tarkov now has resolved. I do expect ABI to be much more efficient with the patch releases but none the less for someone who has played tarkov for many years some of these changes feel like "starting over with an old version" waiting for the same fixes that already exist in tarkov. They copied a lot of the bad design aspects of tarkov along with the good in my opinion.
At the end of the day this game is fantastic and really blends the casual and tactical mix to hit a wide audience. If you do not currently have beta access please do understand watching the game really does not do it justice. You have to play it to feel all of the small quality of life changes that make this title rival tarkov. I personally could care less if the game is copied or not. They did it better and BSG had 6 years to get thier act together. Someone like myself has been praying for this exact mix of extraction for a long time now. As long as the monetization does not impede the hardcore looting aspect AKA buying gear than I think this game will be just fine for the long run. Good luck out there!