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Romuna Administrative Orbital Headquarters, United Confederation Occupied Territories of Earth (QUAL-ZANV)
May 8, 1945
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Commander Dunajski
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We were the watchful eyes over Earth. That was my job. The only thing second to that was the search for the missing pieces of my life.
As usual, however, that work was hard. After all, the past two years had been the same process. I get my human subordinates to find a list of names from anywhere: concentration camps, labour camps, ghettos, and all of those rotten places. Then, they'd hand me a report with the unimportant names blacked out and only the specific names I needed were left uncrossed. I had spent two years doing that process, every day on this station was spent doing that. Finding those two was the main goal of my life; It's what let me wake up every morning. The hope of a reunion.
But, until I got my hands on another report, I was keeping myself busy with monitoring my subordinates on the Romnua Space Headquarters as we orbited over Southern Africa. Something to help me take my mind off of everything was admiring our native Earth from my post. The golden deserts of Namibia and the green rainforests of the Congo dominated the view from the huge glass wall that separated us from the cold vacuum of space. Although I’ve been on this damn station for two years now, the sights never cease to get a gasp of amazement from me.
The Confederation used this station and 16 others to monitor and keep tabs on anything happening on Earth. We were the keen observers that protected Earth from any foreign incursion.
A bit ironic coming from the people who invaded us.
At least the Germans didn’t fill us with such lies.
The only reason why they chose me to run this joint human-Confederation sector was because I was an unwilling favourite of their high command. I was one of the best remaining generals in Poland. I served in the Great War and the Polish-Soviet War as a lowly troop, but I was a respected general by the time of the German invasion in 1939.
I defended my country for as long as I could. I resisted for a long time after our official surrender. When the Nazis got to me, they carted me off to a labour camp. Then I escaped and continued the fight on the British Isles, being airdropped and ferried out on multiple occasions. Once the Confederation arrived, my fight against the Nazis and their brutal occupation ended, but I was left without the sunshine of my life.
“Here’s the registered civilian report, sir,” a Lithuanian lieutenant saluted as he handed me a manila folder with a printed paper that had a list of names typed onto it. Even though Lithuania and Poland weren’t the greatest of chums before the war, occupation by the Soviet and Nazi barbarians created a sense of tragic camaraderie between our people.
“Did you file out the names?” I asked calmly, flipping open the folder. I kept my ears open for the response as I waded my hands across pages of paper with smooth flips.
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant replied as my eyes scanned the paper. The names were crossed out in black marker. I scanned it top-to-bottom and page after page. I began to lose hope even more, but then again, it’s not like there was much left of it anyway.
I had been searching for them for two long years. Two years of going against the rules of our hulky alien occupiers. I used their systems to find evidence and our tools to file them out into something comprehensible. I wouldn’t trust an “AI” to find the names I was looking for. The Germans kept well organised records of everything well-organised, so a good thorough search was probably the best thing I had. Still, however, it was an arduous process.
But, just as that thought appeared in my mind, it was my eyes that had fixed on the one name I had been anticipating for the last two years:
Katarzyna Kaminski. My love.
I must’ve jumped with joy. I’d done it! I found her! After what? Six long years of waiting and searching! Finally! First my wife, and then that would open the gate to finding my son too! After so long! I’d see them again! This day was something to be remembered forever!
“Oh, you did your job spectacularly!” I cheered to the lieutenant. However, his expression was more grim.
“Ne, pone,” he advised sombrely in Lithuanian, shaking his head. "The top of the page.”
I was so hooked in my search for any sign of my family that I forgot to even read the title of the page. Looking up, my eyes locked onto the print and read. In a moment, my hopes were stamped out and rage and suffering swallowed my heart like the deep blue ocean.
Registered List of All Prisoners Killed in Auschwitz Death Camp in the Year of Our Lord 1942
Everything went silent in an instant. I froze upright with my eyes glued to the paper. My ears began to ring like a shell had just hit nearby. My face bubbled red in embarrassment, rage, and most of all, misery. My legs felt just about ready to collapse inward and my hips were ready to explode outwards. My body pushed against itself, betraying my fundamental being as my eyes reread the name over and over, trying to make some worthless attempt to console my burning body of emission. None of it worked.
My Katarzyna. Gone. In one sentence. All my joy trampled in a second.
She died not even with a proper burial. She died leaving her son and not knowing if her fighting husband would even embrace her again. All of my searching, and the result was this. This.
It seems that the story of my search for my loved ones ended here. But upon reviewing the rest of the list in silence, I couldn’t find a single mention of a Jakub Dunajski. All my hope was gone to the extent that I held out no idea that Jakub survived the camps.
If his mother didn’t, then he didn’t either.
The final verdict of my search hit me like a train: I would never see my family again.
That depressing day I had to leave them in September of that fateful year was the last time I’d ever see my son and wife again. Our paths diverged with me toling in labour camps hoping to escape to find them once more. And while I was fighting onwards in England, they were shipped to Auschwitz to die. While I was toiling in captivity, they were being beaten and tortured daily. While the Confederation swept across Europe, they were gassed or gunned down in their cots.
After all this time, the thought that I had been suppressing for my entire search was now the dominant ruler of my brain. It was the fact that I had failed them.
I did not sob loudly, I did not scream. Nor did I stamp the floor or tear the page from the folder. I resisted them all. As I had for the past six years. The only response the Lithuanian got from me was a barely audible whimper and a tear.
The tear rolled from my eye down my shaved cheek, slowly dripping down and curving up to my chin in a swift motion. It hung there delicately as if it was absorbing all of my pain into it. Then, when the load became too much for it to bear, it fell. Quickly slipping off and dropping down before it slapped against the white page with a plop. A stain that looked like a crater in no man’s land now rested, ingrained into the paper that killed my hope.
The paper that essentially killed my wife.
Silence engulfed the room and ringing my ears as the words and black marker on the paper became no more than a blur, incomprehensible and unidentifiable. That’s what I wanted anyway, every glance at the page would just finalise the fact that it all was over. That I was alone.
“Legion-Commander Henix wants to see you,” an unforgiving feminine alien voice came from behind me. I jumped in response as my head flew back to meet the alien.
It was a Yetiayhu. And, as was apparently commonplace, they had the typical fangs and talons that all species other than us seemed to have, along with a giant tail that had a little ball of fur at the very end of it. Adding onto that, the Yetiayhu had large expansive cool-coloured frills that were interrupted by little blackish-blue dots here and there, like some Amazonian animal. Their bodies were slimmer than others but still pretty much buff tanks compared to me.
“For what purpose?” I replied with a brow raised in suspicion. My experience in the military and as a resistance head gave me a good tutorial on how to suppress the tears in one’s voice. After years upon years of endless trial and error, I had pretty much perfected it. But, in the case of my reddened eyes, I brought the brim of my military cap down to obscure my eyes.
“He didn’t tell me. Get moving,” the Yetiayhu hissed, her frills fluttering in annoyance.
I almost forgot that the aliens didn’t give a shit about any of our feelings. I’m sure showing too much emotion was an offence in the Confederation military. Could you imagine emotion being a punishable offence? What sort of dystopian fascist hellhole did that!?
Oh wait, I could think of one: Nazi Germany.
My eyes subtly fixed on the Yetiayhu with a bit of contempt that she came to me at my worst moment. I just found out that my wife was unceremoniously killed in a death camp, and she was just acting as pouty as a kid. Granted, she didn’t know of my suffering, but that attitude is deserving of a wrist-slap back on my world.
Too bad for me, the world I’m referring to was no longer even ours anymore.
“You better show some respect,” I huffed, containing my emotions in a little capsule of misery.
“Last time I checked, you were still a transpec,” she scoffed. “Get to his office. Now.”
I couldn’t say no. The first was because she was right about our species’ standing as a “Transitional Species”. But the other reason was because the females of these species were huge. It made sense since their system of governance was a matriarchy. But even then, this bitchy Yetiayhu was a good 2.3 metres tall, towering over me by quite a bit.
Why the hell were these species so damn demonic? Did nature really just shit on us for all of evolution? Every single alien species I had ever seen was some sort of superhuman being. Was there some galactic hierarchy that I didn’t know of? But whatever, there was nothing I could ever do about that fact. The most concerning thing on my platter now was finding the fate of my only child. Whatever Henix had would have to come second.
But either way, I obliged. Leaving my little command sector with a scowl. The doors hissed shut behind me and I turned to my left and began my journey. To prevent an emotional disaster, I tried to ease my haywire senses by inspecting the futuristic facility around me.
Around me was a circular walkway that wrapped around the edge of the station as the outer rim wrapped around the core. Now that I think about it, the station resembled more like a solar system than the bullseye some of the Hungarians compared it to. There was a huge spherical central command at the core of the structure, and then there were the rims. Those were essentially shorter tube structures that wrapped around the centre. Like an orbit.
But these “orbits” weren’t separated by any spaces at all and were all bunched together and connected. The only open space in this station was between the centre and the outer sectors, which was only punctuated by multiple pressurised walkways. The other sectors and posts were in a concentric batch of circular structures around the core. Where I was going, was into the core.
I strolled along the outskirt walkway before taking a right turn into the deeper sections of the station. The view changed from a large window of space to machines and tech beyond my comprehension as I made my way into the inner sectors. The closer it was to the core, the more important it was. These areas were exclusively for the Confederation members, so no human without permission or clearance could enter. But apparently, they were okay when I was there. Many of them gave parting glances before getting back to their work on their “holograms” and “holopads”.
That was something to note, the tech difference between our two civilisations was greater than we could even conceived of, following the Armistice. I watched as humanity went from pigeons and telegraphs to radios and enigma. Now these aliens had “networks” and “internets”. All the new tech was annoying and complex, I never knew what to do. That’s why my sector, the only sector with humans, used telegraphs, enigma, morse, paper, ink, pen, typewriters, and everything else that you would find in an earthly workplace.
I went through a workplace that was basically a science fiction book. It had bright white individual work pods, big glowing blue screens that weren’t even tangible, and so many other things that were too much for me to comprehend. This was stuff only a writer could come up with! Even if we had all of the guns, tanks, and planes our planet’s resources would’ve let us make, it still wouldn’t have even come close to the weapons of the Confederation and their sophistication.
After a long stroll through the labyrinth of connected stations and workplaces, I finally reached the connecting walkways. I entered a little middle chamber that hissed a little gas onto me and ran over me with a blue and red laser. The other doors then opened and I was let through into the lightless walkway.
Once again, only space shined through the top glass dome that ran across the whole upper section of the walkway. But even if I wanted to, I couldn’t even gaze at the stars due to the circumference of the spherical central command blocking half my vision. The outside cover of the sphere was white and hexagon padded, which just added to the already humongous gap between humanity and our Confederation conquerors.
But, even if I looked beyond that when no structures were blocking my view, I could see at least a hundred or more blocky slabs of black and grey.
And there it was, the Confederation Occupational Fleet. It was so menacing with all of their Vatican-sized ships. Except, those ships were only frigates. Their fleet had cruisers, frigates, destroyers, battleships, battle cruisers, carriers, supercarriers, and everything in between. All to monitor our little desolate rock of two billion.
Their supercarriers which were probably the size of Rome, were the prides of the enemy fleet. Those bulky beasts and their battleships were the literal symbols of their superiority. All of these ships had enough firepower to raze a good million or so Earths. Why they sent all of this to deal with a species that hadn’t done anything past grazing space with a V-2 rocket was beyond me.
Overkill, My mind ranted to itself. Ego just radiates off those ships like heat from the sun!
Speaking of the sun, in a good few months, there wouldn’t even be one.
Or, to be more specific, it would be pretty much enclosed in a megastructure to harness power from it. The Confederation called their mad project a “Hrana Complex”. Construction began even before they attacked Earth, and they were making progress. Whenever a human complained about it, the Confederation ilk always shot them down with either a patronisation of their primitive nature or a response that there would be a small window for Earth to receive light; As if that was better.
The sun was dimmer and dimmer by the day, the one light that all humans looked up to was fading. Blocked out by tech and machines from the occupying powers. That’s like if the Germans built a big space shield to block America from the sun and kill all of their crops or something.
The idea was so alien that not even I could come up with a relatable explanation for it!
After a long while of distracting myself with successful results, I finally reached the other side of the walkway, which was a large metal door. I now had to push the heavy metal door open with difficulty as it slowly hissed open. Upon entering, I was greeted by two Bwkas, who were basically supersized humanoid bears, but with deadly attributes tripled in their power and appearance. Of course, I was met with the average stare of contempt as I made my way up to them.
“And why are you here?” one of them growled with venom as it balanced its heavy rifle in its claws. Those “rifles” were the size of an anti-tank rifle or an Ami bazooka. The difference was that it was also automatic and powered by plasma. Just by seeing that, anyone could’ve already predicted it to you that humanity was doomed from the start of the war.
“Legion-Commander Henix wanted to speak with me?” I replied with a head tilt.
“Up the stairs and down the left hall to the right,” the other grumbled with a snarl of its fangs. He was talking as if I didn’t know where my own senior officer was.
I rolled my eyes secretly and trudged on. Scurrying off into the main lobby, I gazed up to see that the vertex of the roof was an absolutely stupendous 40 metres high! That just added a cavernous feeling to the multi-floored white chamber. It was a whole office building in space.
Not many of those were left in Warsaw anyway.
As I made my way toward the circulating stairwell, my gaze snapped to the circular stellar map that projected a huge three-dimensional view of the galaxy. I couldn’t help but be mesmerised by the glowing non-touchable lights every time I saw it. The map was of the whole known galaxy, the dark pink was the Confederation at the centre. It was huge, at least triple the size of the second largest power, whose name was in an alien tongue unknown to me. All the other colours were of the different species that were independent states and empires of their own.
Free from the forced “civilising” we were suffering through.
Annoyingly, my long black military boots slapped against the clean granite floor with loud audible clacks. This, of course, instantly drew attention from all the beasts around me. All of them looked at me with confusion before it morphed into what I assumed was judgment. These species didn’t think highly of us at all. I mean, according to them, we were uncivilised brutes. Dumb primates that just invented new ways of chucking rocks at one another.
Now, that wasn’t wrong per se. But, it wasn’t nice when that was their one sole opinion of our species.
From the beginning of my tenure here, they practically spat on me. They saw my use of our antiquated tech to be insubordination, and savage in nature. Whenever I did my Polish two-fingered salute, they saw it as disrespect and dishonour. Whenever I didn’t eat the same solely raw and carnivorous diet as them, I was a disgusting omnivore who was a greedy bastard wanting to steal from both sides.
Whatever that meant! Imagine being persecuted because of what you ate! On Earth, we were prosecuting each other over other stupid things like skin, race, ethnicity, national origin, religion, how people looked, and everything else similar.
But!
Nobody was stupid enough to get mad at each other over food. Muslims didn’t kill Christians over eating pork. Jews didn’t kill Muslims over them eating dairy and meat on the same plate. Food was food. We all needed it to survive. Yet, the aliens saw it as just another thing to hate us for.
How could these things hate us but somehow still force themselves to occupy us? Why didn’t they just let us duke it out in the battlefields and on the high seas? Why were they just lamer Nazis? Death by slow assimilation and bigotry was worse than death by starvation, labour, or the firing squad.
Making my way up some circulating steps to the second floor, I took the turn and rushed down the hall before finding the door to Henix’s room. Pushing it open with a low drum, I was met with the dark room of Legion-Commander Henix. The only thing lighting the room was, of course, empty space. Since we were higher than the orbiting sectors, his window was actually able to see into the rest of outer space.
The dimming sun reflected off of the station’s concentric exterior and the stars shined bright through thick glass and into the little dark room. The floor was akin to an emerald-coloured rug and the walls were shelves for storage devices like their “pads” and “drives”.
“Greetings, sir,” I opened to the Kohaul with a two-fingered Polish salute.
The Kohaul were the typical humanoids, but they were practically copies of wolves. Light grey fur, a huge bushy tail, and a patch of dense hair around the pelvis area that acted as a sort of frontal tail. Hazel or blue eyes. And, obviously better than us in every way as usual with fangs, semi-venomous saliva, better hearing with their dog ears, the ability to run faster, especially on all fours, and all of that useless garbage that I was used to. Humanity was clearly always the weak link.
Ending my salute and looking to the right, it was then that I noticed at least three other foreign beasts. I quickly recognised them as superiors of different stations and fleets. Why they were here just added to my paranoia.
A Wenli, a Felshan, and a Geinna. Or the more simplified version being: a humanoid dragon, a blue lizard, and a literal Pacific folk beast.
If you were to continue simplifying it even more, you’d come to the definition that they were the three species assigned to resistance mop-up duty on Earth.
“Now, now,” Henix growled. “What is the way I taught you?”
Sighing deeply, I put my Polish general cap to my chest with my left hand before bowing slightly. They wanted us to purge all of the things that made us Polish soldiers and make us their soldiers. I wasn’t going to give up so easily. No matter how much they held me in high regard. They would have to acknowledge that Poland was for the Poles and I would never be anything else.
“Now, I know you are a good commander. You have served us well,” Henix began with a flick from his dog ear. “But, something has come up in recent days that has been of horrible concern to us.”
“And that is?” I asked with a raised brow, sitting at the open chair in front of Henix with a grunt.
“Wasting Confederation equipment and materials on something unsanctioned by any relevant superior on this station,” the Geinna replied for Henix with a hiss.
Oh, kurwa.
They had caught me red-handed. Was today just the day my luck ran dry from its coffers? I was now completely at their mercy. But, these aliens were brutes. So, I was sure that I’d be beheaded within the next hour.
I had tried my best to scrub all evidence of my operations. I put in false reports and fake alerts to give them the facade of me just doing my job. It appears that they saw through my ulterior actions quickly. I was using their tech to do it. Why did I not expect them to know!?
“Now, unless you would be so kind as to tell me why, maybe I’ll pardon your charges,” Henix warned with a composure that put me off.
“Charges of what?” I asked fearfully.
“Well, normally, that would just be a reprimand or demotion at the worst. But since you are a species that we are trying to integrate into the galactic community . . . the punishment is equivalent to treason.”
Henix must’ve seen my face go pallid as his expression softened from robotic seriousness to empathy in a moment. I didn’t despise Henix at all, and this was the exact reason why.
He could feel empathy.
Unlike most Germans.
And he showed reason.
Unlike most Germans.
“Oh, no, don’t worry,” he reassured me with a sombre grin. “I personally do not wish for that fate to befall you. You have served me well. I’ll defend you. But I can’t do that if you won’t even tell me why.”
I would’ve, but I couldn’t. I trusted Henix. Sure, he was as bigoted and cold as his shitty peers. But, I could trust in his word. He wasn’t a crook. But for his comrades present? For all I knew, this was a death trap to get me to confess and to justify a sudden execution. It's not like they would've cared much if I lived or died anyway. I was expendable.
“I know nothing of this,” I affirmed, straightening myself in the slick white chair. Since I was practically a master of all things cold and emotionless, I could just put off a face of resolute honesty without any weaknesses, barring the death of Katarzyna. They’d have to fuck off eventually for that reason, and I’d be more careful with my further searches.
But then again, Katarzyna was dead, and Jakub probably was too. There was nothing else to really risk my life for. Because I had no more life. The two I loved most were gone. I could’ve just let myself die here. I had nothing else. My parents were dead, my home was rubble, my country was occupied, my wife was dead too, and my son was too. I had nothing left to fight for.
“You are the only human in this position of power,” Henix hummed. “We chose you for a reason. You had talent and composure. But this we cannot tolerate. Don’t play coy and tell us.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I huffed with concern mounting in me and gnawing on my soul. “I do not know why you seem to want to frame me for such a crime.”
“Commander Dunajski,” the Felsha snarled. “We’re not stupid. Do not try and lie to us.”
“I am not lying,” I turned to the row of beasts with a scowl. “Whatever could I even use the equipment for? My subordinates only use human machines. Typewriters. Not ‘holographic display devices’ or any of that fancy tech. Why would I even?”
“Commander Duna—”
“No,” I cut off in a calm but harsh tone, “this will not continue.”
Henix looked between the beasts and then he zeroed in on me with his steely blue eyes that rivalled mine, “I know you’re lying, Commander. This will simply mount your charges.”
“In fact,” the Felshan admiral began with a sad smirk, “you could be helping resistance movements for all we know. That level of treason is something very few get and it’s for a good reason. Does that sound like something you’d want?”
“I didn’t do any of the deeds of which I am accused,” I held my ground with a growl. “I have nothing to gain!”
“Do you not?” Henix growled, now agitated. “I’ve noticed a lot of care in searching for a ‘Katarzyna’ and ‘Jakub’. Is there any reason why?”
The Geinna nodded, “Are these contacts or aliases? You know well what fate awaits you if we prove their origin to be that of a resistance cell.”
Oh, Bog. I was really stuck now. They knew their names too. I couldn’t just shrug this off. If I continued parrying their questions, I’d totally get beheaded. They wanted us to be as meek and docile as possible. Me standing up to their accusations instead of folding probably already probably fucked up my chances of clemency.
I looked up to Henix, and his blue eyes were unforgiving. He was waiting for my next move, like a brutal game of chess. I turned to look at the three bastards to my right, their eyes were filled with scorn and disgust at me, at my people.
Just like the Germans.
“I-I . . . I don’t . . . They aren’t . . . ” I began before letting out a deep sigh to empty my tight lungs. Silence enveloped the room for a good few seconds. I couldn’t fight on anymore. I’d lost. “You win.”
“As expected,” the Wenli grumbled. “I expected better of someone like you. But I guess the nature of such a volatile and insubordinate species like you would always dominate your actions.”
I didn’t mind that blatant patronisation of me and my kind as I just looked up at Henix with decimated dreams. Henix seemed to note that I wished to talk as he leaned and sat up straight in his chair. He’d listen. But not his ilk.
“Do you have a testimony, Commander Dunajski?” Henix purred with his head leaned in on his arm.
“Well,” I began with a wince, “i-it’s for a selfish reason to be fair.”
“Mhm,” Henix replied, pulling out one of his hologram pads to write down my testimony. Even if I trusted him, as of now, I couldn’t even trust him with writing my own testimony. For all I knew, he’d probably just warp it into something reminiscent of a last-second attempt at deception or just plain begging.
Then again, he was my best chance to prevent my fate from manifesting.
“I-I-I . . .” I stuttered, not finding the words to express my suffering. My throat burned and my eyes filled with tears. My face of composure was just as fragile as my mental health. All I knew was going to shit.
“You what?” Henix snarled. “I’m not here to take stutters as a testimony. Give me a comprehensible sentence or I can call the guards in to take you to the brigs.”
“I j-just want to find my family,” I blurted blindly. Clamping my eyes shut, I waited for my reasoning to be torn apart by the monsters before me. The monsters that were killing our homes and assimilating us.
Just like the . . . Oh, you know who!
After a little while of uncomfortable silence, I reopened my eyes and looked up at my prosecutors. Henix’s ears perched up in surprise at the confession, and I heard the slaps of tails and the rustle of scales from my side. I expected that to be an even greater reason to punish me. Using their tech just to find my family? Treason it was. I couldn’t even pull myself back together when a few tears rolled down my cheek as I looked to the floor once more in shame.
I fought and worked for Jakub and Katarzyna. Now both were gone. And even if Jakub was still alive, he would be without a father too in this new world. Nothing was happy about this unceremonious end. My story was over, and so were the stories of my family, friends, and parents.
“F-family?” Henix finally hummed with a hint of shock. He then attempted to hide it with his monotone voice. I slowly and quietly sobbed to myself, cursing my weakness. “Tell me more.”
The other beasts in the room shuffled their feet and locked their gazes on me with a bit of anticipation. I was a bit confused by the reaction. How was saying they were my loved ones a game-changer? But, I didn’t pay much attention anyway, my mind was filled to the brim with the stone-cold fact that had haunted me since the beginning of my searches:
I was now alone.
“Wife and son. I-I don’t know where they are. I was searching for them both. Using your systems, I . . . before you summoned me here, I got a report. In it, Katarzyna, my wife of twenty-two years, is dead. My son . . .” I gave a miserable chuckle, “only God Almighty knows where he is now.”
I should have never cried. I should have never shown emotion, especially on this damn station. Emotional control was the most important here. These beasts were very organised and very honour-driven. Crying itself was probably considered treason. At this point, it was just another thing to add on to my list of present offences.
Everything was collapsing in front of me in quick succession.
Instead of scolding me though, Henix just looked at me and watched me fail at controlling my sobs. It gave me an odd feeling that he was just tacitly judging me rather than chastising me verbally. The other beasts were the same, simply wagging their tails in thought or tilting their heads. It unnerved me a bit, but I was too busy internally cursing myself to care about it.
After what felt like my whole tour in Bolshevik Russia, Henix gave a low growl and a wag of his bushy back tail with the words of his sentencing response pushing against his fangs. The fate waiting for me was only a second away, and with that one growl, I’d be done for. What a fool I was to trust any of these pigs!
“I’m sorry about your predicament,” he spoke slowly. “When we saw the crimes of your ‘Nazis’ it became one of the major reasons why we intervened on this damn planet in the first place.”
What a lie. My brain cackled nonchalantly. They’re doing the same things as the Nazis; Although this time, it was all of us who were suffering from it.
Rolling my eyes, I saw through the bullshit. They were no different.
Scraping at his slick and futuristic desk in ponderous thinking, Henix refocused his pristine and steely blue eyes on me, “What you did was unprofessional and highly dishonourable. Anyone who did such an offence would’ve been discharged or demoted with the snap of a maw.
He shook his head in another short pause as he formulated his next response. I hated the silence, I just wanted a “yes” or a “no” if I was to be shot or not. The aliens had a knack to be blunt, but also verbose. It didn’t make sense, but that’s how they worked. And boy did I hate it!
“But, I cannot even attempt to grasp the gravity of the situation you are dealing with,” he began again, snapping me from my thoughts.
I scowled with agitation and furrowed my brows, “Am I still being shot?”
“No,” the other Wenli interrupted with a sigh and a lick of his fangs. “But, we aren’t leaving you here either.”
My mind went berserk As if that was better! Leaving me alive at this point was punishment enough! Without this station, I’d have to scan all of Europe manually. It’d take the rest of my whole pathetic life to cover even half of Poland! Damn these beasts and damn their posturing!
“Well,” Henix thought, “I have an idea. Akvu?”
The Felsha stepped up from the group of beasts and bowed slightly, “Yes?”
“How about we send Commander Dunajski to be a part of the clearance teams?”
The Felsha slapped its tail against the floor in disdain, “Isn’t he under suspicion of connections?”
“I never saw it in him,” Henix replied. “He was hiding something? Yes. But I never expected resistance affiliations. He isn’t that type of soldier. Besides, I used the accusation to crack him, not actually charge him.”
“W-what is my punishment?” I interrupted with mounting impatience as I tapped my jackboot in annoyance. Talking about how they broke me wasn’t what I wanted to hear at the moment. What was important was my quest for my old life. I wanted my wife back, my son, my home, my country.
“So, the idea is,” Henix began with his hands raised in illustrative explanation, “we send you to Earth to root out the resistance pockets. Some random places like Roosiya, Anghipt, Brazza, Mixka, Cooba, and much more. But! There is also an ongoing search for a resistance network in Eirope.”
“Where?” I shot back with rejuvenated hope.
“Central Eirope,” Henix hummed with a grin. “Former human nations like Polna, Cjermaña, Nodorla, Belja, and Cnzecka.”
It took me a good second to decipher those names. What a mess of pronunciation for all of them they were. Since they were busy trying to wipe our uniqueness from us, the aliens had their own names for our old nations, just the same as how they put my Poland in an occupation zone called “Foije”. A stupid name. Now, they were just coming up with mispronounced names for the defunct nations of old Earth.
I absolutely loathed the name “Polna” because “Polska” was better in every way. But they were our conquerors, and they were the bastards who just sentenced me to scouring Europe for my own kind.
“Who’s under my command?” I sighed.
“Oh, just two dozen of every species in the Confederation,” Henix smiled.
“288? That’s kind of small,” I chuckled. “My all-Pole regiment in Britain was at least 1,000 strong.”
“You really think there’s only a dozen species in the Confederation?” Henix snickered. “No, there’s a good seventy. You really thought we sent all of our power across the galaxy to fight some small plucky band of primates? How adorable.”
That ticked me off, but since I didn’t want to bite the hand that spared me from a beheading, I kept my mouth zipped tight. My composure returned and I wiped the tears off with my sleeve as Henix talked with his other peers in their garbled choking that they called a “language”. My goals had shifted from not crying to not snickering as they conversed in the throat cancer they revered as an actual tongue to be spoken by someone.
“For now, you are dismissed,” Henix sighed. “I hereby remove you from your post. You will report to the bays for a debrief.”
“Can I bring my personal belongings?”
“No,” he replied coldly.
“Why?”
Henix squinted his eyes in anger, “Get there and don’t ask any more questions. You are still a disgraced officer and you will not be shown any more mercy from us.”
How reassuring, I scoffed to myself once more. These aliens were as blunt as wood! They might rival my old camp Oberkommando. Hell, they might as well be him!
Sighing, I pressed my hands against the smooth chair and shakily brought myself up again. With another stupid bow, I left while trembling in every limb. I was in a precarious position now. Anything that went wrong under my command, I would take the hit.
But, if it still gave me a chance to at least try and piece my old life back together;
Then I’d throw myself into it with an intrepid Polish spirit.
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[Prev]

I live in an area where there's a ton of vintage goods / collector's shops. Many have been around for a long, long time, but a brand new one just opened up in a pretty high-traffic area. I went to check it out, and the shelves were totally sparse. Like I've seen more stock in a cramped comic-con booth than I have this entire store. On top of that, they're only open 5 days a week.
I've been mulling over starting my own retail store and just starting to look into the costs associated I'm totally baffled as to how they could pull this off. It feels as though even if someone were to buy their entire stock in a day, they wouldn't be able to make rent for more than 2 months.
Are some of these stores a base of operations for another business? I knew a comic book store like that didn't make any money, but instead the owner held a monthly comic convention and he'd use the store to advertise it.
EDIT: So I've seen a pattern of answers here:

1. Rich people who can lose money and do it as a hobby
2. Primarily an E commerce headquarters
3. Money Laundering. Lots and lots of cocaine.

THE BACONS(Lymhurst Locked - Headquarter in Flatrock Cliffs)** Part of the Fairy Tale [FYTL] Alliance Server: AMERICAS
The Bacons is one of the main community driven guilds around, heavily recruiting new & experienced players alike and doing all sorts of content together. Our ideology is community first, building a cool place for people to hang out with is the main driver of Bacons where we just some bacon on it!

Content Focus: 

• Owning our little corner on the BZ, with fully upgraded Headquarters & Home Stages.
• T7 & T8 Fame Farm right near our HQ with a Gathering & Crafting HO.
• Being a community is the guilds and the alliances primary focus.
• Fame Farming, Faction Warfare, Avalonian Roads, Hardcore Expeditions and Ganking via player driven LFG.
• Outpost Capturing, Castle Capturing and Large Scale ZvZ's fights via guild driven CTA's.
• One of the Best Regears system for most content! up to t8 equivalent regears on everything including artifact weapons and t7 equivalent for all capes.
• No Gathering Tax!

​

We Look For: 

• Beginner or Experienced players with at least 20mil total fame.
• We are an International Guild from players all around the world, and we expect everyone to follow a set of basic rules and decency.
• Our content is focused between 7:00 UTC - 00:00 UTC.
• Add & DM ademir#0736 for guild mergers.

​

How To Join: 

Join Community Discord: https://discord.gg/xxfbfyb

• Apply on Discord at channel #recruit-me
• Find The Bacons on the season rankings UI or the in-game Guild Finder

U.S. DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY,MG Timothy J. Lowenberg, Adjutant General and Director State Military Department Washington
Military Dept., Bldg1 Camp Murry, Wash 98430-5000 USA.
Good Day To You: ,
I hope this email finds you in good spirit and in good health? because i am quite aware of your losses in the past years now through this security office intelligent track devices, it may surprise you that i am also aware of your Consignment Boxes Pursuit In Benin, Ghana, Togo, Nigeria, Spain, France, Malaysia, Indonesia, China, Korea and etc .My name Is Supp. Tony Jeh Johnson,the Current secretary of U.S Department Of Homeland Security , i am in charge to monitor all Foreign Transactions In Africa Europe And Asia and this kept me in constantly traveling round the world.
I have been in The U.S Department Of Homeland Security Secret Service now since The Government of President Barack Obama, monitoring the various transactions going on in Africa, Europe And Asia, most especially Consignments Cases, A.T.M Card Cases And Bank Transfer. I
do not intend to spoil your day or to put you under duress.
But you can not receive any of your Consignments Boxes, A.T.M Card And Bank Transfer pursuit, without a Clearance from this U.S Department Of Homeland Security. However, upon my arrival in Benin Republic after series of meetings with our President Barack Obama and United Nations Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon, due to numerous complains from other Security Agencies from Africa Asia, Europe, Oceania, Antarctica,South America And The United States Of America Respectively, and against the Benin Government and Nigeria over the rate of Scam/Fraudulent Activities going on in these Africa Countries and around the World.
When i arrive in the Benin Parliament in Cotonou and going through all cases of unpaid funds, i found your Consignment Box Clearance File lying on the Foreign Affair Office Desk without any attention and on a thorough scrutiny, i discovered that your Consignment have been abandoned by your delivery agent. Meanwhile, i was made to understand that the Foreign Affair Office have tried to reach to you, but no way and they have made several attempts to contact your delivery agent but to no avail.
To my greatest surprise, during my recent routine Re-Checking, i personally discovered that your Consignment Content Declaration
Document (C.C.D.D)stated that your Consignment Contains Personal Effects meanwhile, it contains United States Dollar Cash Us$946Million Dollars, (Forty Million United States Dollars) which made it impossible for the Consignment to be delivered to you earlier before now.
Based on this personal discovery, i am contacting you now to let you know that with my position and power as the secretary of U.S Department Of Homeland Security and now i am presently here in Benin Republic to handle this matter of all unpaid foreign payment to their respective owners like you, i can assist you to legally clear your Consignment Funds and personally make the shipment to you on my
traveling back, but you must agree with the following conditions. Because i have called our office in Washington,Dc from here in Benin, who has been intercepting all your E-Mail Communications, telephone Text/Sms messages & all telephone Calls, with the help of Mtn, Tigo Vodafone And Airtel Network Benin.
I also received some information from our Homeland Security Office representing here in Benin Republic, they have confirmed about your emails, & other communications that you have been dealing and sending Money to people in Benin, Ghana, South Africa, Togo, Nigeria , UK & etc who claims to be the Western Union Directors and representative of other unofficial offices. You are also dealing with a Bank, and other names which i am still waiting to be forwarded to me from Our Office In Washington,Dc. My office authority have monitored all your dealings with those Hoodlums.
You are advice to from hence fort stop further dealings with all the above mentioned people, until we complete our investigation. Because your dealing with them is termed as illegal transaction. I wish to inform you that we the Homeland Security is on look out for all the above mentioned names, mostly those who claims to be the director of West African Debt settlement, Western Union And Money Gram And A.T.M Card offices and including the property recovery Benin. All these mentioned people are imposters, and we intend to apprehend them soon.
I want you to please stop communicating, and dealing with them until we complete our investigation. I wish to notify you about the latest development concerning your Consignment Box content of your total USD$946 Million that was already handed over to me today. Your Consignment Box content of your total USD$946 Million was assigned to me today after the meeting held between me and some of the top Parliament members of Benin and the Foreign Affair Minister in the Benin Capital Commecial Headquarters Cotonou, due to the delay by you as nobody has heared from you to receive your Consignment Box For Long time now.
Accordingly, we have waived away all your Consignment Box "Clearance Fees" and authorized the Government of Benin Republic to allow me fly with this your approved Consignment Box to make the delivery to you without any delay which they have agreed. The only Fee you will Pay to confirm Your Consignment Box received in your possession is the "Air Flight Weight Fee" of your Consignment Box which is the sum of USD$238.00 only.
In order words your Briefcase is with me now and i shall be coming to your country to make the delivery to you as soon as you sent me your below shipping details/Address where you will want your consignment be deliver to you.
Hence i hear from you also with the MTCN Numbers for the fee payment of the Air Flight Weight Fee of your Consignment Box which is the sum of USD$238.00 only, then, i will be coming along with your Consignment Briefcase Box content of your USD$946Million, but remember that as the secretary of The Department Of Homeland Security United States Of America, i am a Us Government Secret Security Agent and i have the power to go through any Airport Customs and security Agents without personal inspection or inspecting what i carry along.
And as soon as i arrive in your state, i will give you a telephone call and instantly send an email to you from my official Ipad Hand Computer which is always with me while traveling around the world so that you will give me a direction on how we can meet Face to Face and i will physically hand over your Consignment Box to you before proceeding back to to my official duty Post in the States.
As soon as i arrive, i shall call you on your Telephone Number following an email to you then when you immediately respond, i will Meet you in person, hand over your Consignment Box to you and all these will end once and for all now.
I have taken this assignment upon myself because i understand that you have really paid so much on the cost of these Delivery which i want to stop now, because, nothing was received by you. So be advised to contact me hence immediately you get this email now because, every thing has been done ok.
Once you send the money, try to immediately notify me with the Mtcn for easy pick up and for the immediate action on the delivery of your Consignment Box,for you to receive your Funds without any further delay Again . Since you was unable to receive it since .
Send the fee of USD$238.00 via Money Gram or Western Union Money Transfer using the below stated receivers name and information.
Please make sure you copy this information well to avoid mistake okay
Receiver’s Name:....: Emmanuel Ogbonna Country:. . . . . Benin City:. . . . . . . Cotonou Amount:. . . . . . USD$238.00 Question:. . . . . Update Answer:. . . . . . .Today Mtcn:. . . . . . . . . . Sender's Name . . . . Sender's Address. . .
As soon as you send the fee, make sure that you send me the MTCN numbers, senders name and other payment information. Once you send the Money, Try to immediately notify me with the Mtcn for confirmation and for the immediate action on the shipping of your Consignment and its Handing over to you. Also you are to forward to us any email that you have been receiving from people for proper verification and investigation before you deal with them okay.
I have a very limited time to stay here so i Will like you to urgently respond to this email message with the fee payment MTCN Numbers ok , my dear, this is the opportunity for you and you have to urgently comply so that your Box shall be deliver to you at your designated address. But remember that after (Some Days) you did not make the Payment, then i Will have not other option than to regard your funds as unclaim and divert it to Us Government Reserve Fund or to Benin Government Treasury. Please treat this as a matter of urgency.
Sincerely Yours, SUPP. INTELLIGENCY GENERAL, JERRY FOX E-mail;( [howardbutler584@gmail.com]() ) CURRENT SECRETARY OF THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY USA

DC Next presents:

I AM BATMAN

In True Crime
Issue Sixteen: Dark Hair And Face Paint
Written by ClaraEclair
Edited by PredaPlant & DeadIslandMan1
 
<< < Previous Issue Next Issue > Coming Next Month
 
 
Gotham University’s winter term was coming to an end, and that meant the resident varsity football team was finishing out their season — on home turf, no less. The Nighthawks were on a winning streak and were looking to finish off the season with a championship. The entire team felt the energy coursing through them as the stadium filled and crowd chants grew.
There were always major league scouts within the crowds at these types of games, especially for teams as impressive as the Nighthawks had been. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that some of the players on the varsity team would be making it to the national league. The coach, as hard as he could be on his team, felt nothing but warm pride in his heart and mind.
Zack Howard, the captain of the Nighthawks, looked over the 120 yard field from the player entrance, listening to the roaring crowd chanting for the Nighthawks — even fans of the Princeton Tigers felt the pull toward cheering on the Gotham University team. Just as much as his coach, he felt pride in being able to carry his team this far. He hoped to give the best game he’d ever played, to be noticed by big league coaches and scouts.
“Zack!” He heard his coach shout from behind him, no doubt trying to shift his attention back to the locker room and preparations for the game ahead. Zack exhaled deeply and turned around to see Coach Fremlin approaching with a light jog, holding something in his hand. “Delivery for ya,” he said, handing the envelope to the captain. “Some girl said to give it to you, said there’s somethin’ special inside.” With a smirk, Fremlin clapped Zack’s shoulder before turning back toward the locker room.
Zack’s mind flooded with possibilities and fantasies about what could’ve been in the envelope. Something special could have been anything, and it excited him as he ripped it open. His expression quickly shifted, however, as he pulled a handwritten note out of the envelope, scribbled in nearly illegible handwriting.
”Zack Howard,” it read. He opened it, his brow furrowed, and watched as an instant print photograph fell out of the fold and onto the ground. One piece of clear tape had been shoddily applied to the corner and had clearly lost its adhesion. Leaning down, Zack picked up the photo and squinted, trying to make out the subject.
It took a few moments, but the longer he stared at the photo, the more it dawned on him what was depicted in it. Instantly, upon realising what he saw, he rushed back to the locker room and forced himself through his teammates to Coach Fremlin, who was dragging out his playbook. He grabbed the coach by the shoulder, twisted him around to face him directly, and planted the photo firmly on his chest.
“What the fuck is this?” he demanded. Confused, Fremlin chuckled nervously as he tried to grasp the small photo on his chest, not able to see the subject but only the fury in Zack’s face. The room fell totally silent as the entire team watched the coach and their captain with bated breaths.
“What do you mean?” asked Fremlin, turning the image over and squinting at it, trying to make out the details. Just as fast as Zack had initially made out the details, Fremlin’s face dropped at the realisation. “Holy God, Zack, I–”
“What the hell is this?!” Zack demanded once more, resisting the urge to grab his coach by the collar and push him against the wall. “Who gave this to you?”
“I– I don’t know, it was some girl,” Fremlin stuttered, fumbling over himself. “She was short, had black hair, face paint…”
“What’s it say on the back?” asked Tim Teslow, the team’s best running back, pointing toward the image and the messy scrawls on the back of it. Zack snapped it back out of Fremlin’s hands as the coach sat down, head in his hands.
“Section 204, Row 8, seat 9,” Zack read the note aloud. “I’m going to go see what this is,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Dude, that’s across the stadium,” said Cutter Karznowski, the wide receiver that had only joined at the start of the season. “The game’s starting in a few minutes.”
“I don’t care,” Zack snapped back. “I’m going.”
 
 
Good evening, Gothamites, I hope you enjoyed that last one — Barcode by Self-Sacrificial. It’s always been a personal favourite of mine, straight to the point with the best beats and deepest riffs.
In the same spirit, I’ll get straight to the point of why today’s a big day for me — you’ve all known this was coming but I never quite said what it was. When I started this show a little over a year ago, I wanted to look at the dirt of the world. I wanted to bring you my favourite music while trying to figure out my favourite events in this city.
I’ve talked about all the legends, I’ve talked about Joker, Mister Freeze, and so many others. I’ve talked about new shooters like Man-Bat and Professor Pyg. I’ve even, unfortunately, shed some light on the unoriginal copycat hacks that have started popping up in recent years. It’s all been out of love, though. Love for the mind of those who would commit these atrocities, appreciation for what they are and what they represent.
There’s a reason why they are what they are, and it’s always been a goal of mine to love and appreciate what they put into the world. It’s all about the chaos.
But, today, I won’t be talking about that. Today, I’ll be talking about football. Before you all start booing me, it’s my special day and it’s my show, so I get final say. Specifically, it’s the big championship game for the Gotham University Nighthawks. I went to school with these guys, I feel… an obligation.
I’m excited to see how the game will turn out. I get the nagging feeling that their winning streak might come to an end.
 
 
Section 204 in the Gotham Knights stadium, on the north side of Tricorner Island, the southernmost landmass of Gotham, was filled to the brim with spectators and fans. All were cheering as they waited and watched the Gotham University Nighthawks enter the field below, while Zack spent his time searching the section for a small woman with black hair and face paint.
Despite the difficulty of sifting through the crowded seats, he couldn’t find a woman matching that description. He looked back down at the photograph’s note and read it again, making sure he was in the right spot. The location remained the same: Section 204, row 8, seat 9.
People called out his name, but he was quick to shrug them off. He was too focused on finding the woman who’d sent him the photograph. Even asking those who’d been sitting within section 204 had proved fruitless, with no one being able to say anything about the described woman.
Angry and dejected, Zack turned back toward the steps between sections to head back down to the field when something caught his eye as he moved.
“Sir!” He called out, angling his head toward a man two rows above him, pointing beneath his seat. “Sir, what’s that under your seat?” There was some sort of flashing light taped to the bottom of the seat, slowly pulsing between purple and green.
The man looked confused, leaning forward to take a look at what Zack had pointed at, eyes widening the moment he saw the wiring that he sat atop. A complex series of wires and lights traced their way around each seat in the section, though neither he nor Zack could see what, exactly, the wires were attached to.
“I don’t–”
The man could only shout out those few words before a loud explosion rocked the stadium, blasts running down the portion of the stadium from rows 12 to 4. Dozens of seats were annihilated as smoke, fire, and green gas erupted. Cries of pain and fear replaced the cheers of the spectators.
Blood tainted the intact seats while the smoke rose into the air, infiltrating the sky of southern Gotham, visible from all along the city’s coast. What fell across the stadium, permeating nearly every seat on the west side of the stadium, making its way into the halls that traced the inner workings of the building, was a thick green gas, forcing its way into the lungs of the men and women who were running for their lives, trampling each other.
Those closest to the explosion felt intense convulsions in their abdomens and spasms in their faces, involuntarily forced to bear wicked grins while their shattering breaths overtook the screams of terror in the form of wicked laughter.
Amidst the chaos, the charred photo that Zack once held fell slowly and gracefully, slightly charred, ignorant of the horror that it had been subject to. Slightly charred, it landed a few sections away from the explosions, trampled upon by infected spectators who had no idea what was being done to them.
 
 
A Few Minutes Earlier…
James Gordon’s office at the Gotham City Police Department headquarters was quiet as he sat at his desk, resting his elbows on its surface with his hands clasped, opposite Astrid Arkham, the frail-seeming daughter of Jeremiah Arkham. She had requested a meeting with him, and he had assumed it was for an update into Batman’s investigation into her father.
“Gotham City needs something new,” she began, catching him by surprise. His eyes widened slightly, then his brow furrowed. “We’ve been in this… this state of insanity for decades now, and it is only getting worse. This city is no longer livable, Commissioner.” He resisted the urge to groan. The only difference in Gotham City as it was and the Gotham City of before was that the murders had become spectacle.
When supervillains pushed out mobsters and gangsters, there was a shift in crime, but the results remained the same. Salvatore Maroni and Carmine Falcone knew how to keep their business quiet to the public unless they were in active war. Those were the good old days, now.
“Insane, maniacal supervillains,” she continued. “They rule the streets whenever they so choose. The police cannot deal with them, not under you. You rely on the Batman,” there was venom in her voice as she spoke the name, “and she sweeps up the problems while bringing deranged cultists and assassins into this city. She’s the heir of a small personal army with untold technology and she runs free. The Joker Riots, the assassin siege, Simon Hurt, all because the Batman has infested this town with these misguided thoughts of the supernatural, supposedly haunting our city.” Gordon remained silent.
“Essen’s incentives are now failing,” she said, watching Gordon closely for a reaction. If he gave one, she couldn’t see it. “How many companies that were enticed by her incentives have moved headquarters out of Gotham? They pay nothing in taxes, they have Essen licking their boots, and it’s still not enough. Despite all that’s happened, we haven’t been through hell yet, Commissioner. We’ve only arrived at the gates.”
“If I may, Miss Arkham,” said Gordon, leaning back in his chair, scanning the young woman up and down. “What’s your point?” He understood what she was saying, and he feared she was right, but he didn’t like the conclusion she was bringing forth.
“You are antiquated, Commissioner,” she replied, her face straight. “Obsolete. Your methods don’t work anymore, the law you uphold is no longer effective. Besides that, you are getting old. I can see the fatigue in your face, the bags under your eyes, your paleness. You’re not the detective you used to be.” Astrid leaned forward in her seat, putting her weight on her cane. “Gotham needs something new.”
Gordon’s phone rang, and for a brief moment he was thankful for the reprieve — but only for a moment.
 
 
I’d say I feel bad for the people at the Nighthawks game, but, if I’m totally honest, they had it coming. It’s about time everything caught up to them.
While we all ruminate on what’s happening at the game right now, let’s listen to some good music. This is Confetti by Viscera.
 
 
Batman had listened to as many notes as she could about a green gas that made anyone who inhaled it laugh uncontrollably. It typically led to suffocation through the inability to control the diaphragm, but this time it didn’t, and it confused the Dark Knight. A familiar sight, an attack that resulted in eery laughter, and yet it wasn’t what the city had seen before. None of the victims that hadn’t been in the initial blast had died, though medical care for each of them was necessary.
As much as she cursed herself for being late, not able to save anyone as the events unfolded, she knew that she needed to take control as fast as possible. She, along with every person in the city, dreaded what this attack meant. The name of a particular clown lingered on everyone’s tongues, though no one dared invoke his name.
Batman wasn’t so sure, and she hoped that her gut feeling was right. Most of the bodies that were recoverable had been extracted from the blast zone, over a dozen dead and dozens more injured. Blood and soot equally covered the destroyed seats, and even more on the concrete below.
One thing caught Batman’s eye amidst the mess, two sections away from the initial blast. A small instant print photograph, half burnt, laid on the ground, covered in dirty boot prints. She picked it up and looked it over, squinting as she studied the subject.
It was a blonde woman, head down with wet hair covering her face. Almost lost in the details was a small trail of blood behind the hair, mixing with trailing makeup. Batman frowned as she flipped the image over, seeing the note for a specific seat in the section of the stadium that had been blown to bits.
She approached the seat and kneeled, ducking down to see under the seat. It was one of few that remained intact after the explosions. Zack Howard’s Final Stop was scratched into the bottom of the seat, and at the sight of it, Batman signalled to Oracle to scan the engraving. She couldn’t identify the woman in the photograph, but she could see clearly enough that the attack was targeted at a specific person.
Another killer, she thought to herself, fearing what it could mean for the city. Pyg almost tore the richest members of the city’s economy apart, and they were ready to throw their own to the wolves. Now, there’d been a deadly gas attack at a football game — one that had been sponsored by many of Gotham’s elite.
The idea that the Clown Prince of Crime had returned was already making its way through the city — Batman knew she would have to exert control over everything she could to keep it from tearing itself apart at the seams. She was more than prepared to do so.
“It doesn’t look good,” she said to Oracle.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice distant. “I hope it’s just another copycat, they’re much easier to deal with.”
“I don’t know,” Batman replied, looking back at the photograph. “Something’s different.”

"Snoozydoodles! Get your Snoozydoodles here!" Himiko announced. Some students smiled kindly at her, but continued to walk. Other students scoffed or snorted at her, ignoring her completely. Himiko sighed. "It's no use." Three went up to her.
"Don't give up, Himiko!" she said. "Um...maybe it would help if you gave them a reason to want your cookies."
"What do you mean?" Himiko asked.

"Instead of waiting for customers to buy your cookies, do something to lure them in!" Three suggested. Three spied Kaito and Maki walking towards the school. "Ooo! There's some people! You know them?"
"Yeah, that's Kaito and Maki," Himiko said.
"Maybe there's a way for you to draw them in," Three said. Himiko took a glance at her glittery snickerdoodles, and thought the perfect way to convince one of them. She jumped right in front of Kaito and Maki.
"'Space...the final frontier!'" she announced dramatically. "'These are the travels of the starship, Booby Prize! Its continuing mission to explore strange new galaxies! To look for new life and new civilizations! To boldly go where no one has gone before!'" Kaito's mouth hung agape in amazement.
"Hey! You know the opening sequence to Cosmic Quest! " he exclaimed. "That was pretty good, Himiko!"
"Nyeh...if you liked that, then I think you'd like my Snoozydoodles!" Himiko said, gesturing to her cookies.
"Snoozydoodles?" Maki repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"You made space cookies?!" Kaito shouted excitedly.
"Come see for yourself," Himiko said with a sly grin. Kaito hurried over, pulling Maki along. Maki noticed Three standing next to Himiko's table.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Just a friend," Three simply answered.
"Whooaaaa!! Maki Roll, look at these cookies, Maki Roll!!!" Kaito shouted, holding up a cookie with both hands. "They look like stars, or somethin!'"
"But, why are they called Snoozydoodles?" Maki asked Himiko.
"Nyeh...I made those cookies special," Himiko explained. "You hafta eat them right before you go to sleep."
"What'll happen then?" Kaito asked.
"You'll have to wait and see," Himiko replied, grinning mysteriously.
"This sounds like a prank Kokichi made up," Maki mumbled skeptically.
"No, it's not a prank, I promise," Himiko assured.
"Ha! I believe her!" Kaito said as Three handed him a small baggie to put his Snoozydoodle in.
"What else is new?" Maki muttered. "But...if Kaito will believe you, I guess I'll be an idiot, too." She and Kaito both paid Himiko ¥500.
"Hey! Did you just call me an idiot?" Kaito said with a frown. Maki merely smiled and rolled her eyes. The two started walking away. "I'm serious, Maki! Is that what you meant?" Himiko turned to Three excitedly.
"Wow! I had customers who weren't my friends!" she squealed.
"Eeee! Yay!" Three said. "You really knew how to handle that guy!"
"It's not hard, really," Himiko shrugged. "All you gotta do is talk about space."
"Well, space is pretty cool," Three admitted, nodding her head. "But, in this case, it's good that that guy's so obsessed with it."
"Nyeh...I think I'm ready to try someone else now!" Himiko said, now feeling energized.
"Look! Here comes a girl! And, wow! She looks really cool!" Three said, pointing to Ibuki, who was skipping her way to the school.
"That's Ibuki," Himiko said. She thought she'd try matching Ibuki's energy. "Nyeh...hiiii, Ibukiiii!!" Ibuki noticed Himiko and went over to her with a big grin.
"Hellooooo, Himikooooo!!" she shouted.
"I hope you like lotsa color and sparkles!!" Himiko said. She was already feeling tired from talking like Ibuki, but she forced herself to keep smiling and talking in Ibuki's overly-cheerful manner.
"Of course! Color and sparkles make the world go 'round!" Ibuki cried.
"Then, how about you try my Snoozydoodles?" Himiko suggested, gesturing to her cookies. Ibuki gasped.
"GAAAASSSSP!!! THESE LOOK SO AMAZING!!!" she cried.
"You want one?" Himiko asked.
"Yeah! Can I have a pink one and a blue one to match?" Ibuki asked, pointing to her arms and hair.
"Nyeh...sure! That'll be ¥1000," Himiko said. Ibuki paid for her cookies, and opened her mouth to take a bite of the pink one. "Wait, Ibuki!!" Ibuki stopped.
"Huh? What's wrong?" she asked.
"Uh...b-before you eat that, you should know that they're called Snoozydoodles because you're supposed to eat them right before you go to sleep," Himiko said. Ibuki's eyes widened.
"Really?!" she exclaimed.
"That's right!" Himiko handed her two baggies. "There you go!"
"Yeee-haw!! I can't wait!!" Ibuki shouted. "Ibuki's so excited to eat these that she might not even be able to sleep!"
That's what you think, Himiko thought to herself.
"Well, thanks, Himiko! Good luck selling your Snoozydoodles!" Ibuki skipped away, leaving Himiko to sigh deeply.
"Hee-hee...she was a ball of energy," Three giggled.
"I know. I don't know how she can stand it," Himiko muttered tiredly.
"Hey, look! More people!" Three said. Himiko turned and spied Fuyuhiko and Peko. She rubbed her palms together.
"Nyeh...I think I know how to get them," she said. "I've always wanted to do this." She sat down on the flat end of school's front entrance's brick banister. She sat up straight, crossed her legs, and stared ahead, stone-faced while curving the corners of her lips downward. Fuyuhiko raised a brow, but smiled curiously as he and Peko slowly approached Himiko.
"Uhh...Himiko? What are you doing?" he asked.
"Fuyuhiko, my boy, thank you for coming here on this very...very important day," Himiko said in a raspy voice as she reached out to straighten Fuyuhiko's suit. Fuyuhiko uttered a small chuckle, realizing that Himiko was trying to imitate Vito Corleone from The Godfather. "Now, listen...I'm gonna make you an offer you can't refuse."
"Okay, dork, show me what'cha got," Fuyuhiko said, chuckling. Himiko hopped up off the banister. Using her two fingers, she gestured to Fuyuhiko and Peko to follow her.
"Come," she said, still putting on a voice. She gestured grandly to her cookies. "These are the greatest cookies ever known to man. If you were a dope, you'd leave right now. But, you're not a dope, are ya, Fuyuhiko?" Still smiling, Fuyuhiko shook his head in awe.
"No, Himiko, I guess not," he replied. Himiko picked up a cookie.
"Then, here, take a Snoozydoodle," she said before nodding to Peko. "And one for the dame, too." Fuyuhiko handed Peko the cookie, and took one for himself.
"I'll pay for the both of us, Peko," Fuyuhiko offered, and paid ¥1000.
"There's only a minor thing about the cookies," Himiko continued. "You're supposed to eat them right before getting conked." Fuyuhiko smiled quizzically at her.
"Getting conked?! " he repeated.
"Yeah...y'know, in other 'woids,' before youse guys go to sleep," Himiko explained. Fuyuhiko laughed and shook his head.
"Got it," he replied. Himiko handed him and Peko a couple of baggies for their Snoozydoodles. "Thanks, Himiko. Y'know, I can see why Kokichi digs you. You are pretty cute." Himiko blushed.
"Oh, stoooop," she said bashfully, breaking character. "Oh! Um, I mean...Don't call me cute, or it'll be 'coitans' for you, punk." Fuyuhiko laughed again.
"If you say so, Himiko," he said before waving goodbye to Himiko.
Part Ten
Two hours had passed, and Himiko earned a total of ¥9500. She wished she had made more, but it was much better than the day before.
"Nyeh...thanks for helping me out, Keiko," Himiko said with a grateful smile.
"Nooo problemooo!" Three replied. "That was fun! Maybe I can come by next weekend and help out again!"
"Heeey, that's a pretty swell idea for someone who's slacking on the job!" came Kokichi's voice. Himiko and Three turned to see him peering at them from over the brick banister. He walked down the steps and joined them. Himiko and Three glanced at each other frantically.
"B-Boss! I was, um...I-I..." Three stammered. "It's not what it looks like! I was just...dropping by, and I-"
"Yeah, Kokichi! She wasn't helping me, honest!" Himiko chimed in, coming to Three's defense.
"I was just giving her moral support, and maybe some advice," Three said. "But, I promise, I'll go right back to-" Kokichi held up his hand to silence her.
"Very well," he said. "Return to headquarters, Three."
"Okay, boss," Three said, pouting. She dashed off, waving goodbye to Himiko, who waved back. Then, Himiko turned to Kokichi.
"Kokichi? Are you mad at her?" she asked in a small voice. "Are you mad at me, too?"
"I'm not mad at either of you," Kokichi said. Himiko stared back in uncertain silence. "It's not a lie, Himiko. I'm really not mad."
"Oh, but...why do you seem...not happy?" Himiko asked.
"Because Three has business elsewhere," Kokichi replied. "She wasn't supposed to come here."
"Oh..." Himiko said quietly. Kokichi sighed and nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders.
"Seeing as she was assisting the Supreme Lady, though, I'll let it slide this time," he said. "But, I need to have a talk with her about shirking her responsibilities."
"Oh, but...with her support, I made ¥9500," Himiko said, showing Kokichi her earnings. Kokichi's eyes lit up.
"Really?! Way to go, Monkey Buns!" he said, nodding with respect.
"How much did you make?" Himiko asked, afraid to find out.
"Not as much as yesterday," Kokichi said. "Just ¥25000."
"Oh..." Himiko muttered disappointedly. Kokichi held her shoulders firmly.
"Don't be so down, Himiko," he said. "What you earned...it's a start. I'm sure you'll get better later."
"Well, it's just that...I don't understand how you make so much when nearly everybody hates you," Himiko sighed. "And, no matter how much they hate you, they'd still rather buy from you than me."
"Well, even though I'm annoying to most people, I'm always confident in my abilities," Kokichi said. "I know how to give people just the right amount of intrigue. You can do that, too, Monkey Buns! You did make ¥9500 after all! By the way, what advice did Three give you?"
"Well, she said that I should find a way to lure customers in," Himiko said, remembering Three's words. "That I should give them a reason to buy my cookies, rather than waiting around for someone to."
"She's right," Kokichi nodded. "And, how did you do that?" Himiko smiled modestly.
"Well...all I did was recite the Cosmic Quest opening to Kaito, hoping it would interest him enough to try one of my cookies, which kinda looked like outer space," Himiko answered. "Then, I imitated Ibuki as a form of flattery, and then I pretended to be that guy from The Godfather to appeal to Fuyuhiko's 'yakuz-y' nature. Nyeh...he even said I was cute for that."
"Ooo, so you have a crush on Fuyuhiko, now?" Kokichi teased.
"No!!" Himiko cried. "You're already my boyfriend!"
"That's right!" Kokichi said dramatically, wrapping his arms around Himiko protectively and kissing her cheek. "Mwah! You're my Supreme Lady. Mwah! And I love you. Mwah! So very much. Mwah!" Himiko giggled.
"Gross! You're getting your slobber all over me!" she exclaimed. Kokichi blew on her cheek, making a rumbly sound. Himiko laughed even harder. "KOKICHI!!" Kokichi chuckled and kissed her lips.
"I'm proud of you, Himiko," he said, patting her shoulder. "Were they the only customers you had, though?"
"No, Tenko, Angie, and Tsumugi also bought some cookies," Himiko said. "And after Fuyuhiko was Ryoma, Sonia, Celeste, Makoto, Mikan, Miu, and Gonta bought some, as well."
"Heeeey, look at you, being a salesgirl!" Kokichi said, giving Himiko a high five. Himiko blushed bashfully. "Sooo...ready to go?" Kokichi asked her, casually sticking his hands in his pockets.
"Nyeh...yeah," Himiko replied. "I've had enough funny business for one day." Kokichi's smile faded, and frowned.
"Did Three teach you that, too?" he asked. Himiko stood still like a deer in headlights.
"Y-Yeah...why? What's wrong?" she stammered. Kokichi sighed deeply shook his head.
"Three knows better than that. That should only be said to official members of the organization," Kokichi explained.
"Oh! But...I'm the Supreme Lady, I thought," Himiko said.
"Not officially," Kokichi pointed out.
"But...I don't understand," Himiko said, genuinely confused. "You tell me stuff about your organization all the time."
"Only the basic things you need to know," Kokichi said. "But, if you wanna know all the secrets in how we operate, you have to be an official member."
"Oh..." Himiko mumbled. "Nyeh...you really do take your job as Supreme Leader seriously, huh, Kokichi?"
"I do...which is kinda ironic, considering what we do," Kokichi said thoughtfully. "But, if I let everyone act all willy-nilly, the organization would go to pieces. What kind of Supreme Leader would I be if I let that happen?"
"Well, I guess you're right," Himiko said. "But, please, don't be mad at Three, Kokichi. She really helped me!"
"Alright, alright..." Kokichi sighed, holding up his hands in surrender. "But, I do need to have a serious talk with her. Aaaanyhoo, let's get ready to go back home." Himiko nodded, and the two cleaned up Himiko's area.
"Nyeh...I hope they end up liking my cookies," Himiko said on the way home. "Or even bothered to remember not to eat them until right before going to sleep."
"Well...you sold them a pretty interesting cookie, HimiCocoa Bean," Kokichi said. "I'm sure you've intrigued them enough form them to remember. We'll have to wait tomorrow to find out what they thought of them."

[First] [Previous]

A quick thanks to aMANTEIGAdo for the Liiry fanart

Transcription Subject: Fink, Landlord/Veln supporter
Date [standardized human time]: February 24, 2137
I idly waited in the empty restaurant for this mister Gilt. His secretary had sent me a message saying that he was underway. It’s weird how his secretary has refused to make any phone or face calls, and has only contacted me through messages. It shouldn’t matter though, so long as this Mr. Gilt is a level-headed and reputable leaser.
My train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the jingling of the bell above the entrance. Walking through the doorway had to be the most veteran-looking exterminator I have ever seen. He wore 3 exterminator badges, but far more impressive than that was how he was covered in scars. They were concentrated especially heavily around his neck, most likely from predators attempting to bite through his throat, and somehow he’d survived so many attacks. What did puzzle me further though was how unevenly his fur was shaven and the strange look in his eyes, one that I could not place. “Hello. Mister Gilt, I presume?”
“The one and only. I’m here for the interview and to see the restaurant.” I now noticed that he was wearing a pawsfree headset. Its green light was blinking, like it was on.
“I’m sorry, but are you having a call right now?”
“No! No, I am a very busy venlil and always wear this in case I get an important call.” A bit strange, but I suppose not too out of the ordinary.
“Well, could you tell something about yourself?”
“As you can see, Gilt, er, I have spend decades removing the taint of Venlil Prime and keeping the population safe,” Gilt said in a rather strange way, like he was reading it off a paper; maybe he had memorized the line, expecting the question during the interview. “Now that I’m retired from that lifestyle, I have begun investing my well-earned money in small businesses.”
“That all sounds good. Your secretary already gave me most of the information I needed, like how you’re going to turn this place into a salad-based restaurant; he called it a ‘salad house.’ And I’m sure that I don’t have to ask you what your policy on humans is.” I gave a small chuckle, imagining a veteran exterminator like him welcoming humans warmly into his restaurant.
“You don’t have to worry about me or any employee of mine ever accepting those tainted scum into my establishment. I can’t wait for Veln to be voted in, he will surely make sure that those filthy humans will be cast off our magnificent Venlil Prime,” Gilt said, again quite stiff. He might just be nervous.
“Rightfully said, he sure has my vote.” Speaking of humans, is that one across the street? Over Gilt’s shoulder, I spotted a human making a phone call in an old, rusted-up van. He was looking straight at me, up until he noticed I was looking back and quickly looked away. With relief, I noticed that a pair of exterminators were walking straight towards the car. The human seemed to end his phone call and opened up a window to speak to the exterminators. With that small problem solved, I turned my attention back to Gilt, who seemed to be panicking a bit. I suppose even someone with nerves of steel as him can get nervous over simple things like an interview. He pressed a button on the pawsfree headset, and the blinking light turned off.
Transcription Subject: Vuccen, Krakotl Exterminator
Date [standardized human time]: February 24, 2137
Another day, another pointless patrol. I wish they would give us something real to do. But with all those ‘animal’ welfare laws and us no longer being allowed to lock up anyone with predator disease, we have nothing left to do but roam the streets in the hopes we find something that we are allowed to do. My prayers were answered, because not 10 meters ahead of us, I saw a human sitting in the passenger seat of a terribly beat-up van covered in rust and algae. Weirdly enough, it had a sideview mirror on the driver’s side. Finally, something to do. “Come on Cuko, I see a human let’s see if it’s hiding something,” I chirped to my venlil partner.
“Please be nice to them, they hardly ever do anything wrong.” She’s so kind, too bad that she sometimes focuses it on the wrong kind.
I tapped against the window with the talon of my right wing, and the human quickly ended a call and began to crank the window open by hand. “Hey, if it isn’t Burny-bird, how are you two doing?” he said, switching glances between me and my partner.
All of a sudden, I recognized the human’s face; it was the same one that purposely angered me last month [chapter 2]. “Get out of the car,” I demanded while I unholstered my flamethrower.
The human casually placed his arm in the window and calmly asked, “Why, what have I done?” Cuko behind me signed with her tail in agreement.
“Random search, now get out of the vehicle.”
“Sure, ‘random,’ totally not out of some bias to antagonize a specific species,” he said sarcastically as he got out of the car with one hand raised while the other opened the door.
Cuko guided him to the front of the car for a pat down. “Please place your claws on the hood and spread your hindlegs.” If evolving into predators wasn’t enough, they had to be completely bald too. With all those false pelts, humans can hide so many dangerous items without anyone being the wiser.
I wretched when I looked into the car; the floor was littered with mouldy cans of vegetables, nearly empty save for the rotting scraps and overgrown utensils. “W-why?”
The human spoke up while he was being patted down by my partner, “I know what you’re looking at —ough, careful with those nails— and those are not mine, all that junk is from the owner, my friend. I have been urging him to clean it up, and I’ve even thought about doing it for him, but he really should learn to take care of himself.”
I began to sift through the junk, relieved that I am covered from talon to neck in a rubber fireproof suit, not having to coat my feathers in this filth. Outside, I heard that Cuko hadn’t found anything dangerous or illegal on it, and that its name was ‘Maarten.’ I was about to give up on finding anything until I pulled a lever on a small rectangular object I found in the glovebox, and a small knife flipped out. “Aha, got you now filthy predator. Why do you have this?”
“That’s a pocketknife, that’s just a tool. I have it in the glovebox with the rest of my tools to keep this hunk of rust running.”
My partner spoke up with a concerned look on her face, “It’s not illegal to own a knife that small. You probably have bigger ones in your kitchen drawer, we can’t arrest him for that.”
It looked away from me and continued looking at Cuko, as it did before I spoke up. I shudder imagining what predatory thoughts lie behind those binocular-eyes.
Transcription Subject: Maarten de Groot, Human Refugee/Meat dealer
Date [standardized human time]: February 24, 2137
Don’t pet her, don’t pet her, she has a flamethrower.
Transcription Subject: Vuccen, Krakotl Exterminator
Date [standardized human time]: February 24, 2137
Giving up on finding anything in the front, I slid open the side door, revealing even more junk. At least these look more promising…and not covered in mould. Why is there a dishwasher and 5 blenders in here? “I noticed that the wool on the top of your head is a lot more puffy then on most venlil,” the human carelessly remarked. Of course, it’s going to point out her insecurities, typical predators.
“It is, you don’t have to mention it,” Cuko replied in an annoyed tone.
“It looks good on you, it’s cute.” What?!
“Oh, er, thank you…very much.” I can’t listen to this, she’s to naïve to understand that it’s just tricking her. I continued searching the back of the van for anything, traces of meat, weapons, dead venlil. I opened up one of the 3 large boxes that were hidden behind a piece of plywood that was haplessly placed there. There was a cool box inside. Jackpot! To my disappointment, it was empty, and so was the next one, and the one after that. Stil,l though, why would anyone have these hidden away like this?
“Why are there 3 cool boxes hidden away in the back in back?” I asked, demanding an answer from the human and interrupting it from its conversation with my partner.
“I don’t know, why is any of that stuff in there? On our way over here, we saw a dishwasher on the side of the road and he threw it- well he asked me to throw it in the back.” This is going nowhere.
Transcription Subject: Fink, Landlord/Veln supporter
Date [standardized human time]: February 24, 2137
“And that is why you should never combine drain cleaner and aluminium in a metal canister,” Gilt said, finishing his strange explanation.
“Huh, I never knew how to make an acid bomb. Shall we begin with the tour?,” I asked, finally cutting off Gilt’s rambling about chemistry. What a strange person.
The dining area wasn’t much to look at, it was completely empty save for a bar that was bolted to the floor, hence why the previous renters didn’t take it with them. Gilt walked around seemingly at random, looking at the outlets and taking a glance at the empty shelves behind the bar. “Are these taps pressured by gas?,” Gilt asked while he pulled on a lever and being briefly disappointed by the lack of alcohol.
“Yes, I think there was room for 2 canisters, but I have to look that up. May I ask you something? Why do you know so much about chemistry as an exterminator?” Gilt’s tail suddenly began flicking nervously left and right.
“Uhhh, uhhh, I uhh, studied it, yes, I studied it, but I was better cut as an exterminator.” I was unable to get a proper read on him; he sounds like he’s lying or at least nervous about something.
“Shall we take a look at the kitchen?”
“Yes!” Gilt nearly yelled, and he instantly got up and speed walked through the kitchen door. When I walked through the door, he was fawning over the industrial freezer lined against the wall. “This thing is big enough to fit a body inside…hypothetically.”
“…Yes, it would be very useful for you for keeping your vegetables preserved. There is also plenty of counter space, and even a strayu-oven,” I said, doing my best sales pitch.
Gilt immediately took a liking to the oven. “Can this thing make other stuff too?”
“Well, it’s a strayu-oven. I don’t know what else you want to make with it, especially in a salad-house.”
“I don’t know! Perhaps other food that needs to be warm?” Gilt said dismissively, his tail nervously flicking left and right. I think he’s just very nervous.
“I am quite glad you’re an exterminator,” I said, trying to relieve the awkwardness. “I really don’t want to have any humans in any of my buildings, especially not after what I heard on the news not a quarter claw ago.”
He gave a confused ear flick. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s all over the news. Some humans blew up the front of the exchange program headquarters. Those dangerous predators should have never been allowed to stay on our planet.”
Gilt his ears folded back and showed a snarl, something hardly any venlil did and combined with the fact that he looked so dangerous made me instinctively back up. “Those sons of farsuls, I will make them pay! Humanity First is making the humans’ reputation even worse!”
“Calm down sir, you’re no longer part of the force.” He really takes this personally. You can take the exterminator out of the guild, but you can’t take the guild out of the exterminator. “Hey, you seem like a good leaser for this place.” And the only participant. I quickly said, hoping to change the subject. He was a bit intense before, but now, he was starting to scare me. It’s not like I trust this man, but I need to lease this place out too not go under. To many leasers and renters pulled out after going bankrupt, after Venlil Prime left the Federation. All because Tarva wanted to sleep with a predator.
Miraculoisly this seemed to work miraculously, “Oh, great, where do I sign?” His ears lifted up again into a happy expression, though only for only a short moment until his pawsfree headset went off and he immediately answered it. The green light began blinking once again. “What?...No…No…Yes…I already did it, without your help…bye…bye!”
Transcription Subject: Vuccen, Krakotl Exterminator
Date [standardized human time]: February 24, 2137
I noticed Cuko was looking a bit confused at a piece of paper with some venlilian writing on it. “What do you have there?”
“That human from just then, gave me his phone number for some reason.” She’s too naïve for this line of work.
A/N:
As always I really appreciate comments, it gives a lot more satisfaction than a few up arrows.
A special thanks to u/InstantSquirrelSoup for proofreading. Check out his fic: Arxur Hospitality
[First] [Previous]

One of the fascinating aspects of outsider reports and analysis is what they see. Given that at this point (1992) the internet was not yet widely available/accessible, this sort of thing would have been difficult to find. And of course SGI wasn't ever going to tell us the truth!
This will show you that SGI-USA (then called "NSA") was failing in recruiting far earlier than perhaps most of us in the US realized. SGI in the USA was basically a flash in the pan; it fizzled fast; and now it's just that rank stale smoke smell that lingers long after the fire's been put out.
This comes from Cults and Nonconventional Religious Groups: A Collection of Outstanding Dissertations and Monographs, "Nichiren Shoshu Buddhism and the Soka Gakkai in America: The Ethos of a New Religious Movement", Jane Hurst, 1992, pp. 150-151. Jane Hurst has some interesting research out there; while she tends toward being uncritically supportive of SGI, anyone who is making statistics available is a big help.

NSA members in the 1960s and 1970s were young (52% below age 30), more than half female (59%), and from a variety of occupations and social classes.

The Baby Boom generation were at most age 19 in, say, 1965 and at most age 24 in 1970.
This youthfulness is largely reflected in the early organization's origins in the American servicemen who returned from being stationed in Japan with their Japanese war-brides - those servicemen tended to be young and from a variety of ethnicities and backgrounds, as the draft was still in effect during that time period (ended March 1975). In addition, the first General Director of the US organization, Masayasu Sadanaga, initially targeted college campuses for recruitment by offering lectures on Buddhism. Sadanaga changed his name to George M. Williams in 1972, in obedience to the (short-lived) direction back then of Japanese leaders adopting American-sounding names (first AND last) in order to appeal more broadly to non-Japanese Americans.

The percentage of Oriental members steadily decreased as more and more white and black Americans joined NSA as seen in Figure 10, above.

Figure 10 (I'll get to that line in another post.)
Ewps - Here's the REAL Figure 10.
Most of the original "Oriental members" were those Japanese war-brides, whose first efforts to recruit new SGI members were directed toward other Japanese individuals.

NSA members came from the major religious traditions of Protestantism (30%), Catholicism (30%), and Judaism (6%). At the time these 1971 statistics were compiled, all areas of American society. By 1983, the age span was even more broad, with 11% of the members age 50 and above, 62% ages 30-49, 24% ages 20-29, and 3% below age 19.

For reference, here are the age ranges for the existing generations in 1983:

• Greatest: Ages 59-82
• Silent: Ages 38-58
• Baby Boomers: Ages 19-37
• Generation X: Ages 4-18
• Generation Y (Millennials): Age 3 or younger.

While these 1983 statistics aren't broken down by generation, here's what is clear:

• 11% of the SGI-USA membership was MUCH OLDER than Baby Boomers
• 62% was either Baby Boom generation or older (though younger than that oldest group)
• 24% was Baby Boomers
• 3% was younger than Baby Boomers.

This means that 97% of the membership of SGI-USA was Baby Boom generation OR OLDER!

IN 1983!!

Notice how this affirms the demographic estimate from this other research: "Soka Gakkai in America": Little appeal/interest outside of Baby Boom generation

Take a look at Table 4.
Specifically, the Age cohort (%) category.
For the Converts, 26% are older than Baby Boomers; 61% are Baby Boomers. That makes 87% Boomer and older. Only 14% are younger than Boomers.
No wonder SGI-USA is aging and dying, with these kinds of numbers!
We are seeing, like, 90% Baby Boomers in the group photos we've looked at.
The pictures back this up.
Also, this comment by an SGI-USA leader a few years ago during Minoru Harada's visit (anyone know what year that was?):

They [top SGI-USA leaders] then went off on how when we create these big-ass meetings, we shouldn't have to look into the crowd and see, and I quote, "A bunch of old-ass motherfuckers" The words of my "superiors", not mine. I think this is when they brought up the idea of 50K to my co-leaders and me. Source

"Old-ass motherfuckers" is all they have. How 'bout showing a little of that appreciation and gratitude SGI bangs on about??
Worse, "old-ass motherfuckers" is all SGI-USA can get.
Further, again referring to Table 4, SGI-USA's membership is solidly 2/3 women. That means it's going to be very difficult for women in SGI-USA to find mates to marry, which means childlessness will be more of a norm than an exception. Child-free is a valid and respect-worthy decision, don't get me wrong, but a religion's most reliable source of younger members is its own membership's children. Since SGI-USA's female members don't feel any responsibility or obligation to bear multiple children (like those poor, stupid Mormon sheepwomen do), there won't be any next generation to take over.
There's a reason so many religions have traditionally exhorted their membership to have lots of babies, why they condemn birth control and abortion. A big part of it is to keep their own numbers up! Source

It's the same problem happening in Japan within the Soka Gakkai:

On the other hand, aging is relentless. In terms of the Soka Gakkai's membership demographics, the "volume zone" where most members fall is the baby boomer generation who joined by the 1960s. They are now late elderly. In the past, the management of centers in various places was handled by the "Gajokai" consisting of Young Men's Division members, but it is no longer possible to secure personnel. Instead, in 2009, the Soka Gakkai launched the "Ojokai'' consisting of "middle-aged divisions,'' scolding them as "young people in their 50s'' and rushing to mobilize them. Source

GOOD LUCK!

For perspective, note that SGI-USA was managing to recruit just "1,000 per YEAR" - including all ages - between 1991 and 1999. Eight years of only 1,000 members added per year, with no accounting for the deaths or defections. Were the years after that more successful, recruiting-wise? I doubt it.

[Then-SGI-USA's public-relations director for the East Coast Bill] Aiken says SGI-USA has attracted about 1000 new members per year for the past eight years. - from 1999. Only 1,000 new members - across the ENTIRE 360+ million-person strong USA - in an ENTIRE year. And this extremely low level of success for EIGHT YEARS IN A ROW!! Source

From 2018:

In recent years, the number of young Soka Gakkai members has been decreasing rapidly . Looking at the participants in the simultaneous broadcasts and roundtable discussions, the majority are of the grandparents' generation, with only a small number of young people in their 20s and 30s, and the number of teenage boys and girls is almost an endangered species .
Therefore, what I am interested in is the population of Soka Gakkai by age group. This time, I would like to estimate the current population of Soka Gakkai by age , based on information I have personally seen and heard and verification from others . Please note that this estimate is very rough.
First, the largest number of Soka Gakkai members are baby boomers (born between 1947 and 1949 [Japan's Baby Boom]). This seems almost certain considering the history of the development of Soka Gakkai .
Also, the total number of members has already been verified by many people, and is estimated to be around 3 to 5 million people. This time we assume about 4 million people .
And this is what I heard directly from a staff member at headquarters last year, who said , `` The number of activists decreases by about 1/3 with each generation.'' I think this is a reasonable rate of decline that can be felt by looking at participants in simultaneous broadcasts and roundtable discussions. It seems that members who have stopped being activists are less likely to have their children join, so this time we will use a value of 1/3 per generation as the member decline rate .
Also, regarding the number of years it takes for generational change, the average age for men and women to give birth to their first child is currently 30 years old. Considering that the average age of childbearing for both men and women when the baby boomer generation was born was 24 years old, and that there are cases where not only the first child but also the second and third children are born, the generational shift will take 30 years. Let's calculate it as if it would take a year . In that case, the annual membership attrition rate would be (1/3)^1/30 = 0.964, or 3.6% .
It is unclear when this trend of declining membership started, but this time we will assume that it started in the year following the baby boom generation (1950). Source

And "Soka Gakkai is like an old people's club":

Regarding the problem of a decline in Komeito votes, or in other words, a decline in active Soka Gakkai members, many people concerned point out that the primary cause is the aging of Soka Gakkai members. The enthusiastic members of the generation who supported the growth of the society along with charismatic Honorary President Daisaku Ikeda are now elderly across the board. Most of the current new members are second- or third-generation members who join because their parents are members of Soka Gakkai, and they are not very enthusiastic about Soka Gakkai's activities. Today, many of Soka Gakkai's daily events are even derided by insiders as "like an old people's party."

And a more recent report (this year):

Back about 20 years ago a good friend and good guy, now deceased, from ChiTown, was commissioned by SGI Central Command to survey every contactable member of SGI in every district in America. The number he came up with was 5% of the number of Gohonzon passed out since, I guess whenever Gohonzon started to be passed out. The total number was about a million give or take, 20 years ago. These were contactable people, not practicing members. I remember going through lists of people we had on the books and trying to see if they could be reached. So the number we came up with was reported. Hearing nothing about it, I happened to run into my friend at some event at Soka U. He mentioned that he did the survey, and gave me the results. I believe he told me the facts. (Not everyone who practiced was a lying asshole.) So about 20 years ago SGI had about 50,000 “contactable“ people who had received Gohonzon. My estimate that about half of that number had zero interest in SGI. Thus 20 years ago, SGI had about 25,000 members still interested in SGI in some capacity. I think it’s the same number today. (2500 districts x 10=25,000.) Like I said before I went to FNCC twice last year, and everyone, including me, were old zany seniors. Neither conference was for old people. Conclusion: SGI is a senior citizen support group. When I joined in1969, we were all hippie ish, rejecting all the old shit, looking for something new and hip. Now SGI looks like old shit. Source

And another (this year or last):

When I joined 50+ years ago the ratio of youth to MD and WD was about 80:20. Now it's the reverse. Our goal is to move steadily back to a youth focus again. Source

Except it's obvious that SGI-USA doesn't HAVE "20% youth":

Youth? They've got to be fooling themselves!!! When I was still with the SGI last February (2023), I went to the kosen-rufu gongyo meeting at the center in my area. Mind you, the state I live in closed its center in 2021 for undisclosed reasons. That aside, the one I went to was in another state, and at that meeting, they had no byakuren, Gajokai, or Soka Group in attendance. Additionally, the only youth at the meeting were a few small children. Source
I feel that SGI is out of touch with anyone who’s younger than 60. The leaders are retired, have a lot of time on their hands and completely disregard the fact that people may work or have families. For young people it’s the old people taking nonsense. Source

The PROBLEM was already evident in 1983 - and none of the SGI-USA's big "Recruit-Youth-A-Thons", like "Victory over Violence" and "Rock The Ego Era" and "50K Liars of Just-Us" (everybody wants to forget the epic fail that was the "Gandhi, King, Ikeda" exhibit), has made the slightest difference in this demographic disaster. In fact, preparing for the 2018 "50K" event, SGI-USA likely had only 2,451 members in the 12-35 (or perhaps 11-39) age group, just 9% of the most generous SGI-USA active membership total (~30,000).

Ikeda could have preserved a "youthful" Soka Gakkai by passing the Presidency to a younger candidate, but Ikeda refused, because Ikeda was too focused on and obsessed with HIMSELF - his power, his prestige, his wealth, his status, his fame, his renown, HIM becoming leader of the world, his PERMANENCY, and his legacy. He refused to let anyone else come anywhere CLOSE to the power and control - he greedily, selfishly clutched it all tightly to himself and refused to share.
THAT is why the Ikeda cult Soka Gakkai/SGI is aging and dying. It's ALL Ikeda's fault, Ikeda's responsibility. IKEDA DID THAT.
Some "mentor". Source

SGI-USA has never managed to recover from that demographic bottleneck that happened no later than 1983.

The New Capenna Triomes completed the set of tri-color fetchables, though they're not actually "triomes," and that kind of bothers me. They're really more of a lair or headquarters, but unfortunately that isn't how MTG works. Instead, they'll be named after the similar card that came before them!
The thing I appreciate the most about these lands, however, isn't their naming, art, or anything like that. It's that they're somewhat affordable and aren't totally restricted from most players (looking at you duals and some fetches).
You can find more information here: https://draftsim.com/new-capenna-triomes-mtg/