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Anglestan
Augustus 5, 1923
Facility 9, Mancheston
Colonel Jacobs
His hands flew through the folders General Jorgenson and Colonel Thatcher had. There were dozens of them, stacked upon each other all filed in alphabetical order. It had only been a few days since he had woken up from his coma and visited his home— now his mother’s grave. He clenched his fists at the thought. The grief and rage threatened to bubble and spill over once again. He took a deep breath and dragged out the exhale, almost to the point where he had emptied out his lungs.
He was the only one with clearance, and so he couldn’t disclose any of what he learned with his team. They would simply have to trust him and his judgment. Which he was sure they would do. His hands went over one of the folders skimming through it. There were multiple secret projects, but the ones with the most notes were Project S.T.A.R, Project L.U.N.A.R.I, Project R.E.V.I.V.E, Project D.A.W.N, and Project T.E.M.P.L.A.R.
The colonel decided to start with the most notes and papers. Project D.A.W.N.
He skimmed through the notes, reading through some of the details and highlighted words. Project D.A.W.N, the espionage project Thatcher had started placed two spies in Verlin who were to report directly to a Crescent general named Sienna Moretti who was apparently on humanity’s side.
So I was right. There was an espionage element. With the recent attacks and Thatcher’s death, however, it’s safe to assume that it had somehow failed. Either they got found out or they betrayed us. Both seem very likely, but if they were found out, it would be possible that they had died.
He read through all of it before setting the folder down. There were no new notes recently. He sighed and assumed that Project DAWN was a failure. Whether or not the agents were still alive and well, it was too risky to check if they had been compromised. It was better to assume that they had been and cut all contact. The only way to find out now was to go there himself and check. I can’t contact them again. There’s no telling if it would still be Moretti or the agents who would see my messages. It’s a big risk, and judging by the state of things, best to assume it failed.
He picked up another folder. This one had the label ‘under development’ on the folder. Project Templar. He opened the folder and was instantly met with a blueprint and drawings of a massive bipedal machine. It looked humanoid with strange proportions and was supposed to be standing at an impressive 30 meters, or 100 feet. The Titanic Engine Mech for Personal Land Assault and Reconnaissance.
It was apparently a joint project with the Church of Sol, utilizing new and advanced technologies he hadn’t heard of. A 203mm Gatling cannon on one arm, while the other had three different weapons. A massive firestarter that utilized a new type of fuel mixture that could theoretically spew flames a kilometer away using a high-pressure nozzle. The fuel was ignited using an electrical spark. The second weapon was a high-powered light weapon that fired a single powerful beam of focused light that was even further amplified by layers of focusing lenses that could increase its output several times. Its third weapon was… a dust domina?
Mark read through the specifications of the so-called ‘sand cannon’ weapon. It was a massive cannon that accelerated tiny particles several times. Each particle was to be electrically charged, and it would travel at immense speeds. Near impossible speeds. The resulting impact of a microscopic particle at such speeds would be enough to form a small crater and punch through armor like it was nothing. This weapon would fire multiple at the same time, which could literally eat away at anything on the opposing end.
In terms of secondary weapons, the titan had two missile launch chambers in front of its shoulder each containing about 40 missiles, and two massive howitzer cannons on top of it. Both are 800mm in caliber. It had massive stumpy legs that served as bunkers for a small platoon on each leg. Each leg had machine dominas and 155mm cannons. Its chassis held two nuclear reactors inside providing for its power and weaponry. Its armor was the thickest and most ridiculous he’d ever read. Two meters of heavy steel armor.
How far are we in terms of technology? This thing looks like it came out of an H.G. Wells sci-fi novel. He thought, shaking his head. It was over the top, but there was no denying its combat capabilities. If it was already under-developed then it must be the first prototype. This has already been approved. Guess I better see it for myself later and check how it's coming along. Construction apparently started just a few months before the invasion.
Next was project L.U.N.A.R.I. It was a project involving Six. “Huh,” he said, continuing to read on.
The Light Undone: Nocturnal’s Adaptive Resistance Initiative. As he read further, his eyes widened. The reason why Six was so special wasn’t just because of her immunity to all strigoi weaknesses, but because of her impressive ability to turn any true born strigoi like her. She could transfer her strain like any other strigoi and transform them into a version of hers. It however only seemed to work for naturally born strigoi. The new species of ‘half-breeds’ were called ‘Blessed Children’ as Thatcher had coined in the folder.
The plan was to turn all willing true-born hemolite strigoi into these blessed children. Able to withstand the sun. Immune to silver. Free from the dependency on blood. They could remove all the weaknesses of the strigoi and after the war— make it possible to integrate them into society as normal citizens living on the surface. The project folder also made mentions of a city-wide draft in Dante and highlighted the possibility of turning all Dantenite true born strigoi into these blessed children and renaming them as ‘Lunari’. A mix of the dark and the light. The light of Sol reflected in the children of the night.
“Thatcher, what the fuck have you been up to…” Mark whispered to himself.
While it was true that it could help in the war effort by utilizing Six and the dantenite population, it would also invite some unforeseen problems and consequences. Would humanity be okay with the Lunari? Would the world even be ready for them? Strigoi who were immune to the sun. They wouldn’t be impossible to kill, but they would be immensely more powerful if we were to take away their inherent weaknesses. This is a gamble. Its gain would only be seen during the war period, but its unintended effects on society could be catastrophic.
He frowned, setting the folder down. It was obviously Thatcher’s main plan; seeing as all her moves could be traced to the path of the eventual completion of this project. It seemed dangerous in the long run, but the duskwalkers and dantenites had been monumental in the war effort. Maybe it was the time the world started to accept them more. Isolation and segregation was definitely not the way to disperse fears and foster understanding.
If Thatcher thinks this is the next step forward… then I’ll put my faith in her plans.
Next up was Project S.T.A.R, or the Superior Tech and Adaptive Resistance. An upgrade to the current hemolite weapons and gear by using new researched studies. The Starfire Pattern Domina. The SFD-23 This thing features a new loading system and magazine, ditching the rotating cylinder most domina used, or the rotating helix magazine design of the current hemolite standard BM-16 domina.
The new domina had its magazine like a box… a strange design but it was certainly easier to handle than the bulky cylinders the helical mags used. In terms of ergonomics, it was smoother and fit more. Its placement however was on top of the domina, just above the barrel. Most of the weapon were to be made of lightweight polymers and the barrel itself were to be crafted out of reinforced aluminium. In addition to that, it had a 10-inch bayonet attached to it.
There were other new things as well, such as the composition of the bullet. Looking at the conceptual cross-section designs, Mark read through its description and how it would function. A .308 cased telescoped bullet covered in a silver jacket with break-away petals surrounding the main body. Inside the jacket was a penetrator core that was to be made of depleted uranium. It had a small amount of incendiary compound and… powdered white phosphorus behind an explosive compound. The thin silver jacket would deform and trigger the explosive compound inside the body. It would blow up causing massive internal damage and release the incendiary materials into the body with the flecks of powdered white phosphorus. The penetrator core could still potentially keep going and hit a second target, or punch through heavily armored targets.
Part of the new Project S.T.A.R was overhauling the armor and gear of not just the Hemolites but the Hunters as well. Starfire Mk 1. Carapace Armor. Carapace? It looked like plates of steel covered in a rubberized coat. It was supposed to be slipped on over the original hemolite body armor. It added a spring-loaded wrist blade to the gauntlet, a thicker coat made of resistant materials, and added extra padding for the knees, shoulders, and elbows.
However, the hemolites weren’t the only ones mentioned in the folder. It was to serve the Hunters as well. “Hunters…” Mark said. “August’s group is part of this initiative too.” He flipped through some of the pages. There were blueprints and drawings of an armored suit. A mechanized suit even smaller and more compact than the jotunn units. The Mark 1 STR battlesuit. It was supposed to hug the wearer’s frame and increase their overall power. It was supposed to be built of titanium alloy and a heavy steel frame with composite armor. It had a cooling system, life support systems that could recycle bodily fluids, and an exoskeleton frame that could increase the wearer’s strength and speed.
However, the real eye-opener was Thatcher’s notes. She had been ranting about the new human evolution, and how the Hunters were the first of the ‘Solari’. She wanted to enhance human genetics and push past the peak of human ability to reach greater heights. Implants and restructuring of the anatomy to make it more efficient. Using the blood of the goddess herself. She must have lost it. These are the ramblings of a lunatic. At least… if she didn’t mention the goddess. Why was the goddess important here?
The writings ended with the words: “See Project R.E.V.I.V.E, for more details.”
Mark eyed the final folder. His hands shook as he reached out to take it. Flipping it open, his hands nearly dropped it in shock. The goddess Helena was alive. There were pictures of her naked form floating in a giant tube of fluid. There were more of Thatcher’s ramblings and excited rants about the possibilities of such a discovery. Resurrection, Enhancement, and Veneration: Implementation of Visionary Evolution.
The goddess is alive?! According to the file, she’s currently under the Cathedral of New Lundun. Not only that, but the file also detailed the extraterrestrial tech that lay beneath the cathedral. So the goddess is real and she’s— not really a goddess, but rather, a vampyr who created herself a human body to stand in the sun, and decided that it wants to be on humanity’s side… what the fuck.
Mark’s frown and confusion only increased as he read on. Thatcher’s notes seemed to nearly descend into madness as she had written about creating ‘the first hundred’, alluding to the 100 members of the Hunters division. Her plan was to revive the goddess, and with her help and expertise in genetics— use her DNA to transform the Hunters into demi-humans. Super soldiers. Literal children of the goddess Helena. They would then don the STR battlesuits, the first of the superhuman warriors to defend humanity. Solari.
Their lightning-speed advancement into technology was heralded by studying the alien tech, which deepened the understanding of physics and engineering. Nuclear technologies, chemical warfare, new material sciences, the mechs, and walkers, it was spearheaded by trying to reverse-engineer technology centuries ahead of our own… for the past hundred years. It wasn’t completely stolen, however. More or less borrowed ideas that had been made into our own with our own designs and implements. Still, the speed at which the Church and the military had deciphered such advancements all by themselves was… impressive to say the least.
Still, the fact that the goddess was alive, and could be brought back was big news. Checking the file for details, he found that the previous general, Jorgenson, had already approved this project. It was their next step as soon as they returned from New Amsterdam; which never happened.
If Helena was alive, then she could end this war swiftly, or at the very least help greatly like she once did during the War of Darkness. Having the goddess back would throw a massive wrench in the Crescent’s plans. It would certainly be something they wouldn’t expect. Not even I expected this, since many sources say that the goddess had already ascended to watch over humanity, while conspiracy theorists claim she had died in battle and that the Church was worshiping a corpse. This could be the trick up our sleeves that no one would even consider.
The colonel quickly got up from his seat and gathered the main files he had read. He placed them in a bag and rushed outside of his office in Facility 9. He went over to a nearby room and flicked the lights on. “We need to go,” he said. In an instant seven hemolite soldiers got up from whatever they were doing and instantly stood in line.
“Sir! Whatever you need of us, sir,” the group said in unison.
They were Hemo-1. His former squad members. He had taken up Louis' suggestion that they be his personal security detail. It was a shame that he had basically placed the best hemolite team out of commission, but after all he had been through he convinced himself that he could be just a little selfish. He didn’t want to lose any more friends. Not on his watch. Not while he was in an office, and they were out fighting.
“We’re going to New Lundun. Better pack up, it’s going to be a long night.”
“Mark,” Olivia said.
Jacobs turned to her direction and gave her a nod.
“Colonel, sir, may I ask where in New Lundun?”
“Liv, you don’t need to do that with me. Please. I give all of you special permission,” the colonel groaned. “It’s so weird. I mean, ‘captain’ was bad enough, but now you’re acting like I’m an authority figure.”
“You… are, though,” Emma shrugged.
“I’m your friend, and Liv I’m literally your partner. Unless you have some kind of weird fetish, save it for later.”
Olivia grinned, shaking her head. “Duly noted!” she chirped.
“That’s better,” Mark chuckled. “Now come on, we have a cathedral to visit.”
“Uhh, I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’re kinda… strigoi?!” Louis groaned. “I’d burn the moment I step in that place! Plus, it’s coated in silver! Anything I even touch will give me burns!”
“Oh come on, Lou. You have fucking gloves on. As long as you’re not a clumsy dumbass you’ll be fine… oh wait.’
“Uh huh, just sayin’ what I think, boss.”
The group headed out and Mark said something on his radio. He then sat on the ground, making his joints pop. The rest of the squad shrugged and followed his example, sitting down on the grass and waiting for… nothing. Charles and Zach looked at each other in confusion. “Uh, sir?” they asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be heading out and traveling right now?”
“Oh yeah, we’re just waiting.”
“Foooor…?”
The colonel gave them a smirk as a loud noise began to make itself known. A hummingbird transport appeared out of the distance and stopped right above them, slowly descending into the grass. “Being colonel has its perks,” Mark said with a smile. He stood up and hopped inside the hummingbird as soon as it landed. “Come on now! We’ve got work to do! Last one aboard buys everyone food later!”
Emma zipped in before Mark could even finish his sentence, followed by Olivia, Phineas, Charles, Zach, and then Louis, who sadly took too long to process what the colonel said, and lagged behind.
“Aw, man! Fuck this shit.”
“Rules are rules, Lou. Prepare your wallet later.” Mark grinned.
With a smile, the colonel pulled Olivia to his side, who blushed for a moment before shaking her head. “Take us up! New Lundun Cathedral! How long would it take?” he asked the pilot.
“About an hour and a half!” The pilot replied. “Less if you want to get there as soon as possible!”
“Take your time! The night’s still young.”
The hummingbird started to lift up, taking them into the air. The group settled down in their seats and watched outside the open. Mark opened up a bag inside the hummingbird and took out some ear muffs built for a strigoi. Extremely loud noises were damaging for a strigoi’s enhanced hearing, so the military started implementing ear muffs for them after complaints from early deployments of the hemolite squads.
The trip didn’t take too long. In only an hour and twenty minutes they had arrived at the safe zone of New Lundun, heading straight for the cathedral. The night mass had just ended and people were leaving the cathedral. “Looks like we made it in perfect time!” Mark smiled. They hovered for a few minutes in the air before eventually landing down right in front of the statue of Helena.
As soon as they landed, the colonel and his group left the hummingbird. Mark instructed the pilot to wait for them. He went straight for the cathedral with his group following behind. He entered inside, clearing his throat. “Hello?”
“Well this is surely unexpected,” an old man said, walking up to greet them.
“Great Grandfather Aurelius. It’s uh, an honor.”
“Please. The honor is mine… I see you’re the new colonel. Yes, I’ve heard the news,” he said. “Would you mind telling me your name, young man? As well as your companions, if they feel so. I usually don’t allow duskwalkers here but, I have nothing against them. I’ll make an exception for your group.”
“Thank you, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “I am Colonel Mark Jacobs. These are my friends and security detail. Olivia, Zach, Phineas, Charles, Emma, and Louis.”
“I see, and what brings you here?”
“Since Thatcher’s demise, I was given access to her research and project folders upon taking up the title. I’ve learned about what’s under your cathedral,” Mark cleared his throat. “Would it be alright if we could see it? I’d like to check it for myself. Of course, under your permission and guidance, Great Grandfather.”
The church head looked from Mark to his companions. He pulled a slight frown and hummed. “Do these companions of yours have the clearance? Surely, we wish to keep our secrets hidden,” he said. Mark nodded.
“They do not have clearance to know what is in Thatcher’s folders and her findings,” the colonel nodded. “However, I give them permission to accompany me, and should they discover things for themselves, then you have my word and my trust that I can keep them from spilling state secrets.”
The Great Grandfather gave a short pause before ultimately relenting. “Very well,” he let out a sigh. “Follow me.”
Aurelius walked behind the altar and pulled the same lever, which opened the same staircase leading underground, where Jorgenson and Thatcher had once gone. “Over here, colonel,” he said. “I do not know you completely yet, but this is a big deal of trust I am giving you. Perhaps you would be the one to do things that Thatcher could not have.”
Mark nodded, he and his group followed the Great Grandfather down the staircase. It led down to a massive underground facility, with numerous priests, researchers, and scientists. Libraries, records, instruments, and artifacts of old. It was a treasure trove of learning.
“So,” Aurelius cleared his throat. “What would you like to know about?”
“This isn’t all of it,” Mark said. “Thatcher mentioned a living, breathing, Helena.”
His group behind him let out a soft gasp, but they tried their best to hide their surprise.
“Hm,” the Great Grandfather nodded. “Perceptive young man aren’t you? Very well.”
They were then led into another room, behind a set of heavy blast doors. If the whole group were trying to hide their surprise then, now they could barely contain it. Even the colonel stared awestruck at the things he had seen. Despite the near-magical objects around them, the true shock was the massive starship at the end of the hallway. “It’s impressive isn’t it?” Aurelius said. “All of the goddess’ artifacts and items at our disposal, to use and learn from, to integrate into our own. This is why Anglestan is the most powerful nation in the UHT in terms of development. When it comes to industry, however, that would go to the UNA. But we share our secrets with them. All our advancements are handed to them first before any other nation.”
“This is all amazing, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “But this is not what I’m here for.”
“No, it’s not.” Aurelius nodded.
He led them to another room, one that was sterilized and sported advanced machinery. Things that Mark had never even seen. There were screens with luminous green texts that appeared in front of it. Large panels with numerous keys, levers, and dials. Graphs of all sorts and beeping monitors. In the center, was the very thing he had come all this way to confirm. A large cylinder filled with liquid, sporting tubes and pipes connecting to its base. Inside was a woman of large proportion. Four arms, two legs, and six wings. In her bare chest was a symbol of the sun that seemed to glow dimly.
“There she is, there’s you goddess.”
Neither Mark nor his group spoke a word. He walked up to it, eyeing the woman inside. It really is her. Down to the last details. Golden hair, six limbs, six folded wings, and she looks massive. Probably as big as her statue just outside the cathedral. This is it. The very goddess in the history books, the one spoken about in legends and the one worshiped in the Churches of Sol.
“Can we free her?” he said.
The Great Grandfather nearly choked on his spit upon hearing those words. “Free her?! That could kill her! We don’t even understand this technology, let alone control it!” he said pointing at the panels. “The machines you see here are the best and most advanced we have based on what we can reverse engineer, but even then, the consequences of tampering with its functions may be disastrous!”
“I understand, Great Grandfather,” Mark said. “But we are in a dire situation, and the goddess may be our hope of turning this around. Whatever secrets of her tech that you don’t understand, wouldn’t she be able to teach us directly? What good is she floating around in Sol knows what?”
“That is her miraculous healing fluid. She had already built this contraption centuries ago in case anything were to happen to her, that her body’s natural healing could not sustain,” Aurelius said. “During the War of Darkness, Helena was struck with a weapon so deadly, her very cells began to tear away. The Reaper. Dealt to her by Absolem the progenitor. Her flesh was peeling from her body, and she began to decay whilst she still breathed. She entered this contraption and gave strict instructions to the Great Grandfather at the time, not to interrupt the healing process. The machine that monitored her, however, began to fail over time.”
“So this… these screens and panels…”
“Is only what functions we can understand. We took it upon ourselves to rebuild and study it the best we could. What we have right now is only a cheap imitation of a technology we do not fully comprehend,” he said. “It took us decades to even figure out the fundamentals and create a working prototype of this machine. By some miracle, the goddess’ healing process had remained even while we replaced components of technology ahead of ours.”
“But you know how to free her, don’t you?”
“I… yes.”
“Great Grandfather Aurelius,” Mark began. “We can end this war. Imagine what we could do with the goddess fighting on our side. We could advance even further, we could finally end the bloodshed, and we can show humanity that there is still hope. Imagine how people all over the world would feel seeing as their goddess has returned.”
“I wish I had your enthusiasm,” Aurelius said. “But it is simply too risky. The Church’s duty is to protect Helena and her legacy. We keep her alive, literally and figuratively. She nearly died the last time she was involved in a war. Would you risk losing the goddess?”
“Would you risk humanity losing?”
The Great Grandfather fell silent, looking back at Helena floating inside the tube, then to the panels that controlled it. He frowned and let out a long sigh. “The goddess said that we should not interrupt it. That it would end as soon as it was finished. Maybe we should trust her words.”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t spot a single blemish on the goddess. Not a single scratch,” he argued. “You said it yourself that the machine had begun to fail and you replaced components. How would you know that the thing that’s supposed to wake her up was not tampered with? Think about it. What you may think is a useless piece may be integral to the whole machine. Or maybe your replacements were not up to the task. Just because nothing’s happened doesn’t mean its functions have remained whole.”
“Young man, we simply cannot gamble with the goddess’ life here.”
“Have you no faith? Great Grandfather?”
Aurelius stepped back in shock. Mark’s companions looked at each other, clearly surprised as well. “Mark… I don’t think we should keep arguing with—” Olivia tried to say.
“No,” the colonel said firmly, cutting her off. “Great Grandfather Aurelius, do you think that Helena will not be able to pull through if we wake her? How long has it been? A century? How much longer will we wait? She may be immortal but humans aren’t.”
“I'm sorry, but the chances of failure are too high. The probability of her—”
“I don’t care about the probability! Would you rather put your faith in a statistic?!” Mark raised his voice. “I lost my mother to this war! My friends! My job! My eye, and almost my life! I’ve put mine on the line out there! You don’t know what it’s like out there! Was my mother’s death just a probability too? Was she just a statistic to you?! That as long as the numbers are good, no matter how many are lost, we are ‘winning’?!”
“Mark—!”
“No, Liv! He needs to know what’s really going on out there!” he spat. “Great Grandfather, with all due respect, but you don’t have a damn clue what it’s like to be in the field. You’re a man of faith, aren’t you? Take a risk. Everyone else has.”
Aurelius stood there, dumbfounded. He bit the inside of his cheeks and clenched his fists. “For your insolence, I would have had you flogged and stripped of your rank,” he glared at the young colonel. However, his features slowly softened, letting out a soft sigh. “But I have never seen such conviction. Mighty is your faith.”
The Great Grandfather moved over to the panels and reached into his robe, pulling out from around his neck a key with the symbol of the sun. He inserted it into the machine and turned. A beep sounded, right before Aurelius pulled a lever. In an instant, the fluid inside the glass chamber began to drain out into the tubes under it. Slowly, the chamber emptied and all that was left was the nude form of the goddess sitting in the glass.
“Did it work?” Louis asked, stepping forward and looking at the woman.
Aurelius stayed silent, his hands shaking in anticipation. Mark moved toward the glass chamber, when suddenly, the glass opened up like a door, releasing a fragrant mist. They stood there, watching for a whole minute. Nothing. At first nothing. The Great Grandfather looked like he was about to break down. His knees shook as he covered his mouth, thinking that he was responsible for the death of Helena.
That was when… a soft sound was heard. Movement. Olivia immediately went over to Mark and stood in front of him. Ready to protect him should anything happen. Slowly, the goddess moved more, her arms inched to the side.
Then, her eyes opened.

Dear ___,
I’d like to apologize for what I did wrong. I got upset and so did you, and for that I’m sorry. All I can say is I had good intentions, but what does that change? Absolutely nothing.
For what it’s worth, I hope you’re doing really well and that you’re very happy. I’m still a little hurt, my ego hasn’t yet fully recovered, but you deserve happiness, safety, and comfort, which despite my best attempts, I didn’t manage to provide. I hope you’ve found it and I’m sorry for the discomfort. I’m trying to learn, improve, heal. I don’t feel ready to talk. I just had to get this out since my last message was rather reactionary.
I’m sorry for not being more careful with my words. I’m afraid I played around too much, insinuating things I didn’t intend to, only realizing so in hindsight — almost like I thought you could somehow read my mind and anticipate my bad jokes, somewhat ironic references, which of course, you can’t, especially not when there was depth and truth scattered in there too. I’m sorry for burdening you: it was the last thing I wanted to do. In fact, it’s exactly what I was afraid of. We don’t have to talk though. You don’t owe me conversation. I’m still working through things. Just had to say I’m sorry for having hurt you. At the time, it felt right to express myself and I tried my best, but I was naive in believing it would be appreciated.
ADD, autism, BPD, bipolar, schizotypal, anxiously attached: at one point or another, usually at an ebb, I considered there may be something (or many things) “wrong” with (or rather different about) me. There certainly is. However, it doesn’t mean I’m a bad person. I try my best not to hurt people but sometimes I do. I try to uplift and make amends whenever I spot an opportunity, perhaps too often going out of my way to create one. And so I find myself apologizing to someone who’s hurt me too. Because yeah, what’s good and what’s evil, what’s brave and what’s cowardly, what’s well-intentioned and what’s manipulative, and where exactly is the line between both; even that is subjective.
I’m sorry for that one message being so long. I felt in-equipped to deal with this matter in writing and tried to make it work, but I couldn’t. I didn’t say what I had to nor what I wish I’d said. I can’t express that in writing.
Kind regards, Your annoying fan
I don’t think I’ll ever manage to stay upset at you for long, for I’m too grateful for the impact you’ve had throughout the years. Although there’s still a lot of work to be done, I wouldn’t have grown as much, both intellectually and emotionally, if it weren’t for you. Kind of random, but I’ve come to find out the harsh way that I’m a socialist too. I won’t bore you with the details. It must be weird to have fans huh. Well, you deserve them, but without the hassle. I’m sorry for stealing your time. I’m stupid, so stoopid. But I’m trying. I hope by the time I’m in my thirties, I’m half as wise and accomplished as you. I truly meant no harm and I believe neither did you, but we did hurt each other and I don’t know if there’s a way to recover what once was. I can’t fix this on my own, and it seems you’d rather let it go, and that’s ok. If I may ask you for a favor though, know that I’ll continue to love you from afar, still cherish the moments we shared, and that there’s absolutely no reason to be afraid. If anything, I pray for your safety, health, and wellbeing, and I have for a while.

First/Previous
Gemma was right about the sky’s open night, and I could sympathize with her recollection of the beauty, but for me it must’ve been a greater tragedy—the young woman had only ever enjoyed the stars in the pits of Golgotha; I could, long before, drink in the sky at leisure. Cruel memories.
The night the Rednecks died was one of viscera, but before that it was coolness on the breeze, a warmth by the fires while John played his guitar and we had only just taken two dozen kegs of lager (personal reserves) from the Atlanta despot—the man that kept his subjects as slaves and not a person among the camp was left without budding intoxication. No matter the age, everyone was invited to be merry; if it was that children too faced the plight of a bad world, then so too should they reap the moments of plenty—or so the camp figured.
John had taken a group by the fires where wagons were drawn in interlocking semicircles for cover and Jackson sat beside the picker. Jackson was a man which normally preferred quiet reflection over boisterous singing and nearly never wore the band on his throat, and yet there he was belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs, tankard in hand, red cloth blazed around his neck—it was a contagion and those drunk enough for easier embarrassment sang proudly along:
“There is power, there is power in a band of working folk!
When we stand hand in hand,
That’s a power, that’s the power,
That must rule in every land!”
I’d taken to the outlying shadows with my back pressed against the gas-powered caleche, my own tankard in hand. I loved the warmth of that great big family, truly, but even in those days—and maybe it was that queer youthfulness which longed for individualism that made me that way then—I remained as distanced as possible when I could. I sipped the lager, it was a fine drink and my brother Billy, nearly as old as I was when I’d first taken up in the infantry, swaggered to stand beside me just as quiet for minutes and we looked at the stars and he asked me what it was like to kill a man.
“Is it hard?” he asked.
I nodded, “Sometimes.”
“Killing monsters ain’t so bad. Don’t know if I could do it to a person.”
“You could if they meant to kill you; or if they meant to do it to someone you cared about,” I promised him. In those days, spry, energized, I held no time for staring into abysses; though I still wasn’t a man fully, I pretended as one. It was about family, and it was about doing what was right—what’s right seemed to change, or I changed. The world felt stark with good and evil and even later I’d feel that sentiment well up in me, but if that’s true, I know I stand more on the latter and so I intentionally obfuscated it—this I know. If not, it might be too much to bear. I was required to lie to myself and even in knowing I lied, it was better.
Billy tugged on the red kerchief around his throat and asked me how it looked on him.
“Looks good,” I said.
“Don’t think I look stupid at all?”
I smiled over my drink, “You always look stupid.” I sipped. “The neckwear’s fine.”
“Give me a break,” said Billy; he investigated his own cup, gave it a swish with his wrist, watching its contents swirl. “Aren’t you ever afraid you’ll die?”
“Sometimes—nights like this—I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Really?” my brother asked.
“There’s always a chance of it. Every moment, I guess.”
He smiled. “I wish I had that confidence.”
“You’ll get it,” I returned his smile; it was true that he would gain the fighting spirit. It came to us all with time and reminiscing on the early days, I recall the grit and the hatred—there was learning there too though. Besides, I’d seen the squalors of a stationary man. The stagnation of a place, an unmoving home.
John put his guitar away and laughter erupted from the crowd from something said and Sibylle, cowboy hat cocked funny, traipsed across the camp to the open keg for a refill; the man there, tending the cylinders, was a man named Tandy (a foreigner and one unknown besides the way he smoked a skunk pipe and told wild stories). My mother leaned over while Tandy opened the spigot mouth on the keg, and she froze there, and I could see her there cut out forever against the light of the fires; I watched, and it came so suddenly that I couldn’t be sure what’d happened at all. It was so sudden that I couldn’t find my weapon and I couldn’t find even the courage to fight because in those moments it wasn’t courage I needed, it was grounds to understand.
Sibylle came apart in two pieces immediately, torn completely through and dust erupted as her legs struck the ground while her torso spun through the air like a top, a trail of liquid trailed after, caught in the blue of night so it shone as black; she couldn’t scream. Tandy was a statue. Before anyone could react, more flesh, other bodies, went up and there was all manner of limbs which filled the ground, and it is astounding how quickly a red mist forms across the ground during a massacre. Perhaps the wails of my comrades started before, perhaps others fell before Sibylle, but I could not comprehend the goings-on till I saw her drop the way she did.
Frail human screams rose on the night; I slammed to the ground, tankard gone away and hands scrambling in the dirt; I reached up blindly and yanked Billy to my level and his expression was one of innocence, panic, tears even. Glancing around, I saw the demons bolt from the pitch-black darkness on the edges of camp, mutants taking the fore while greater creatures lurked further back, some hurled whips of gliding metal which writhed over their heads when they stretched them out for a strike—alien—and they sliced directly through soft human bodies. Not even a cry escaped me, but Billy let go with it and I slapped my cupped hand over his mouth hard to hold the screams. His voice would not have been alone anyway, not alongside that startling cacophony. Amidst the cries of people, there were the cries of horses, of our hounds.
We rolled across the ground, slipped beneath the raised body of the gas-powered caleche, remained quiet in the dark, peeked out between the wheels.
“What’s happening?” Billy whispered through my fingers; I removed my hand from him and caught a glimpse of him framed in a square of firelight through the wheels—we lay there on our bellies and the left side of his face was glazed with dirt where I’d pulled him down.
“Shh,” I told him, “Shh, please. Please.” Not another word came while I pleaded with him, pleaded with the world to make this all a nightmare.
Through the haze and the running silhouettes painted black, I saw what might have been Jackson; he stumbled and in the moment that it took me to gasp, his head was gone from his body, his torso slid on as he collapsed, came to rest mere feet from the motor wagon. I told myself that it wasn’t him, but it probably was.
Some mutants lumbered through the camp like animated corpses, some leapt with wild energy or sprayed noxious fumes which lingered in the air; others still were amalgams of humanlike limbs themselves—fiends—exhausting terrible sounds, producing smells of sulfur, glistening with whatever liquids excreted from their oblong alien orifices. Demons ran amok, chanted in devil tongued languages, laughed madly at the destruction—others still, those which displayed some greater intelligence, broke into a song I could never hope or want to replicate; it seemed a unified damnation.
“Please,” I repeated in a whimper and Billy hushed me this time and I realized we were holding hands, squeezing for dear life as figures walked the camp, speared those half-alive, elected others for twisted carnality.
In darkness, in fright plainly, we scuttled from the recess of our hiding place, kept quiet, held to each other, and went into the wasteland where nothing was—every shadow was a potential threat, every second could’ve been the last. We were holding hands; then we weren’t.
Only a glance—that’s all I afforded my brother and nothing more—what a joke of a person I am! What a coward I was. Always.
Something got him in the dark and instead of dying alongside those I cared about, I went on, heartbeat driving me till it was all that I heard in my ears and my muscles ached and my chest heaved and sweat covered me, chilled me in the breeze of the night—it was only once I’d accepted the dark completely, crawled into a hollowed space of rocks along a squat ridge that I watched the demolished camp; it seemed no larger than a spark, but the creatures, fiends and others continued their war cries; never before had I witnessed demons participate in such an attack.
I watched till the sun came, till the fires became smoke, then I watched the band of hell creatures disband. The smell of sulfur remained in the air—copper too—and I stumbled back to the camp in a dreamlike daze, totally unbelieving of the things I saw. Among those dead on the ground, I could recognize none; among those piked from rear to shoulder, standing like morbid scarecrows where they’d been steadied against the ground, I could not want to recognize.
Many of the wagons were overturned, including the gas-powered caleche and I went to it; the metal of its body was warped but I fell to the ground by it and pushed my back against the exposed undercarriage, remained frozen there while examining the bodies, the terrible strips of skin which rested places like wet sheets of paper, the piles of bones removed and smashed and piled.
I cried so deeply that oxygen became a memory, and the shakes couldn’t be contained.
It was like that for so long, knees pulled up, face pushed between, and the wails came unafraid of whatever attention they might garner; there was no rationale, but I imagine if there had been, I would’ve welcomed death in that misery. It was a deep wound that not even my own cowardice would overcome for the sake of survival.
Unaware of my surroundings, not wanting to look up from the ground between my legs, the noise which had started out as imaginary became real and I raised my head then to listen better and wipe my sore eyes; it was the sound of clip-clop horse hooves and I mildly wondered if any of the animals had been spared. I stood and pivoted around the dead camp and there it was, a man on a painted horse with golden hair; he leisurely drove the mount through the place, maneuvering around pools of blood, clumps of body parts and upon seeing me, he smiled and offered a languid wave, keeping one of his gloved hands on the reins.
The man wore white and swished his hair back upon arriving directly in front of me. Ahoy, he offered kindly, Did you happen to see the other riders?
I shook my head, feeling numb.
Ah, he said, I could have sworn four other riders, at least, passed me on my way. His gray eyes examined the carnage. Shame. He shook his head. You are?
“H-harlan.”
He nodded and nearly offered an expression of genuine condolence before descending from the horse; the animal gave a gentle grunt and wandered away from its master to inspect a nearby group of the dead. The man offered his hand, and I took it in a shake. Mephisto, said the man. He flashed a smile again before his face grew serious. I’ve come to you to deal.
I shot him a questioning look, one of bafflement.
I heard your calls from far off. He nodded, removed a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and swiped it down his face. Hot out. He shrugged then replaced the cloth in his pocket. This, he motioned to the disarray of vehicles, of bodies, I can’t fix all this—it’s too much—but there’s a person you love, I know. I could bring them back.
“Doctor?” In retrospect it was such a naïve question.
He shook his head.
“Angel?”
He grinned and nodded, Sure.
“Demon?”
Undoubtedly. His eyes—pits of gray in that radiant face—nearly expressed solemness; he daintily shook the hair from his face and looked at his steed which sniffed a corpse. What’s the word, Harlan? There are others calling and I must be on my way soon—I can’t dally. There was a sharpness to the words. Can’t dally. We must convene soon, or I’ll mosey on.
I snorted back the clog in my nose from the tears and wiped my eyes with my sleeves. “Okay.”
Deal?
I nodded, “Deal.”
Sleep tonight, said Mephisto, Sleep and you’ll be rewarded in the morning.
“You said it’s a deal.”
He nodded and scanned the carnage before we matched gazes and then he said, Yes?
“What is it you want from me?”
Nothing you need now. He called the horse, and it came, and he swept his feet quickly from the ground and settled into position atop the animal. Sleep, Harlan. You won’t be bothered. There are worse things still over the horizon.
I watched him go till he disappeared and once he was gone, I couldn’t cry anymore and instead rummaged through the wagons for what I might carry; along the way I found John, face twisted but corpse intact. The body from the previous night that I’d guessed was Jackson couldn’t be determined but I found him nowhere else. I slid Sibylle’s holster from her hips, fell hard onto the ground and found that I could sob more. I took her cowboy hat, placed it on my head and held her pistol in one hand and the belt holster dangled from the other while I searched the other bodies; there were so many, but I could not find Billy.
Waiting for darkness, I took the spot where I rested, back against the caleche’s undercarriage, watched the sky and felt the gun in my hand; it was heavy. I put it to my head, closed my eyes, and whispered affirmations to myself then I put the pistol between my splayed legs, watched it still in the dirt, and pulled the hat down over my eyes but it did little for the smell. Though the brim of the hat cut the sky out, I watched the ground and saw circling shadows form overhead and heard calls of turkey vultures; they came to pick over the bodies. I withdrew my knees to my chest there again and laid my forearm across them and bit into my arm while closing my eyes. I had thought I was a man and for a time, maybe I was, but there in that miserable pit of despair I became a child again and if I’d become more delirious, I’m sure I might’ve called out for Jackson like it was a bad dream.
Into a fading stupor of sleep in the sun I went and when I awoke again it was dark and chilly and I was tired and hungry but too sick to eat and hardly strong enough to move; I looked at the gun and put it into its holster and left it there by the caleche. In the light of the moon and stars, I moved to gather a bolt of canvas; I unfurled the fabric and created a leaning shelter against the overturned vehicle and crawled into it. There was a hole in the canvas, and I peeked out at the stars.
Weeping came again, but not so uproarious; I was stuck there letting go of whimpers, lying on my back, feeling the tears trace in lines from the outer corners of my eyes to collect along my earlobes. In time, I fell to sleep again on the hard ground because the mourning had taken all else from me.
A pinpoint of sunlight broke my eyelids and I jerked awake and reached for the holster, but it was gone. So was the hat. I crawled from the leaning shelter and there he was.
Billy stood plainly among the dried, congealed blood-soaked field and he looked on to the horizon and all shadows were long in the midday sun which hung up there in a soft blue sky. Whether it be a dream or a spell, I couldn’t care—I charged to him and spun him so he faced me and though his face was plain and expressionless, I wrapped him into a forceful hug. He placed his hands on my back and gave a gentle squeeze; when I pulled from him, my hands on his shoulders, I saw he held Sibylle’s hat in his left hand, pinched by the brim; he’d already tugged her holster belt around his hips—he could have it all. I shook while holding him then let go to wipe my face.
“You’re alive,” I nodded.
He nodded without speaking then looked at the hat in his hand and placed it on his head and firmly pressed it down.
“Billy! Hell, you’re alive!”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward for a moment then he nodded again. “Yeah.” His eyes curiously searched our surroundings like he meant to take each detail in forever.
I slapped him on the shoulder and almost squealed. “Goddammit.” I wiped my eyes again and could do little to keep the excitement from exploding from me. “Oh, we should go. We should go on and get somewhere safe.”
He nodded toward the horizon, “’Lanta?”
“Sure.”
We packed and it was a like an ethereal phantom remained among us beside the quiet dead; turkey vultures cawed to break the silence, pecked where they pleased on the bodies, and I couldn’t want to fight them. I kept sidelong eyes on Billy with the ever-present worry that he’d vanish. Perhaps he was the phantom.
From the rear of the caleche, I removed a few sentimental books Jackson liked, essential cookware, and sparse rations for the trek. The last thing I grabbed was my shotgun and a bit of ammo.
As we set from the dead place, the terrible silhouettes that were cut from there on the horizon behind us grew in my mind with every backward glance—I wanted to fall to pieces, but I saw Billy walk alongside me and although contented is not the right word, it is the nearest. The steps of our boots were all that was heard because I could not fathom to pierce the space between us with words for fear that it would all end. It was a dream, surely. I’d lost my mind. With my hands thumbed into the straps of my pack, I saw I my hands still shook, and they would shake a lot longer—years and with memories too. The crunch of earth underfoot became a rhythm and instead of looking at my brother, I watched his shadow on the ground.
“Everyone’s dead?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I repeated.
“How ain’t I? How ain’t you?”
To say that it was luck would’ve been too morbid. Instead of saying anything, I shrugged, kicked a loose stone, watched my feet some more, and felt a queasiness come over me. For the moment, the immeasurable deaths of those I’d left behind were forgotten in the company of my brother and a sickness welled up inside of me so suddenly that I felt that I’d fall to pieces at the slightest provocation. Finally, I did speak again, but only after steeling myself to the troubles, “Yeah, how are you alive?”
Billy shrugged at me then stumbled up a hill which overlooked trash wood wilderness where sticks lay twisted and bare and further on the sight of Atlanta was visible and I cupped a hand across my brow and Billy did the same and we looked on at the shadows of the place out there where strings of smoke rose from the skyline as a signature for the desolation of the city; it was dead. I felt it in my bones.
My hands were light while my head was heavy, my throat was dry, and the entire world seized in moments of stillness or perhaps it was my own vision which construed the world in that way; I took to the small hill which Billy had climbed and sat there and stared at the place between my feet to steady myself.
“Fire,” said Billy.
I nodded and nearly choked.
Leviathan—till then I had no belief in dragons—glided over the broken city, its winged shadow little seen but its voice was deep across the scene, letting go of roars which shook the ground. We hid among the trash wood and moved down the hill and watched the creature thrash in the air as if it was angry for its abominable life. Whatever millennia it spent in the pits of hell seemingly thrust upon it a love of destruction and pain.
My brother moved with a more assured stride and kept a cool distance and upon fleeing from the wreckage, from the outlying area of Atlanta and the place we’d left our family, he spoke little and watched me strangely whenever I took to melancholic fatiguing. We lit no fires for fear of what it could draw from the night so in the dark I’d see him watching some far-off place, maybe seeing through the reality which surrounded us, and he’d snap from it, catch my eye, and disappear for minutes to scan the perimeter of whatever place we stayed. Being alongside my resurrected brother was lonelier than I could bear, and I hoped he’d disappear for good or that I could work up the courage to end my own life. It was like purgatory explained in books and for a time, it felt endless; upon witnessing the destruction of Atlanta, we pushed to Marrietta, and it was much the same. As was Chatanooga, Nashville, Knoxville, Louisville, Charlotte. The ocean had risen so that Fayetville was gone underwater, and the Florida leg disappeared completely as far as I’m aware. I understood later that Memphis was overlooked and more places further west were alive too, but when we’d exhausted the south, we moved north and found strongholds of families or traders or even small groupings of civilization, but by and large we found nothing much in the two years that we hoofed it from place to place; it was my doing mostly—I wanted to find a place untouched by the mayhem in the area my family had once patrolled.
In retrospect, I am certain that Billy only stayed by my side for convenience; there wasn’t any of my brother left in the man that was my travelling companion for that time. He was a ghost of a person and Mephisto had preyed upon my desire in the worst moment of weakness in my life. There were nights—maybe we’d taken up in a natural alcove for shelter or we’d locked ourselves in some ancient structure for sleep—I’d watch Billy lay where he was, Sibylle’s hat and holster lying beside him, and I’d think of putting him down but he’d stir and in a brief shadow I’d see my brother as he’d been and withdraw to bury my face in fake sleep to be met with images of the night the demons attacked where I’d shake, sweat, and bite my lips so hard I’d drink blood.
Two years we marched around the Appalachians and in that time, I felt myself wither and disconnect.
Upon moving further north we met Indianapolis—that’s what it was called back then—and it was run by an older woman called Lady Lazarus; I reckon her father, affluent and dead, was a fan of Plath. Indianapolis was fortified more than most with its high walls, and its wall men, and its underground facilities which produced substantial ammunition. We—me and Billy’s revenant—were travelling with a group of traders we’d taken up with from out west; they called themselves wizards and although they seemed of the occult, their spirits discounted whatever suspicions I might’ve had of them.
I remember first pushing through that big gate; the town kept with it an indisputable malaise and though we were greeted at the gate by the leader Lady Lazarus—her brothers came along with her—and her jovial demeanor carried a certain infectious quality, I could not help but notice that the regular denizens maintained a healthy distance from their leader (the guards which followed the Lady everywhere probably had something to do with this).
Lady Lazarus touched each of our hands in greeting with enthusiasm and I could not help but notice how soft they were, how vibrant her eyes were, how much she smiled, and how beautiful she was given her age; already her head was fully gray.
Upon meeting each of us, going through the wizard traders first, she came to me, and Billy and she shook my hand then pivoted to Billy.
“Welcome. You can call me Lady.”
Billy caught her hand in his, held it longer than she’d intended so that they held eye contact, and he smiled broadly, tipped the cowboy hat on his head back to expose his smooth forehead and said, “And you can call me Maron, mam. You are quite a sight for a tired man.”
Though Maron—as he’d named himself—was more boy than man, Lady took a disturbed liking to him immediately and we prolonged our stay in Indianapolis after the wizards departed to head west.
Under the rule of Lady, Indianapolis was a theocracy, with her addressing the huddled masses at the steps of her grand abode, she’d preach for hours on sin and strife and quote her favorite passages; though reminiscent of my time with the Rednecks, I never found any truth or sincerity or freedom in her teaching—hers was more trouble, brimstone, fire and I’d had enough of that for a lifetime. Public execution was common. As was torture.
Maron distanced himself further from me, but I remained to keep an eye on him—it was not sentimentality but rather I existed without purpose and conjured some from watching my brother.
Often, Lady invited Maron to her private rooms and though the rumors and speculation ran the full spectrum of perverse speculation, every denizen feigned ignorance at her pregnancy.
Upon giving birth, the infant was malformed with two heads—her brothers took this as an omen and killed the child, put their leader in the stocks for months, and stripped her of dignity while the denizens did to her what they pleased.
Maron rose through the wall men while Lady’s brothers assumed control of Indianapolis and called themselves Bosses; in the time since Lady’s reign, the place was renamed to Golgotha for its closeness to a messiah.
I went west but always found myself drawn back to Golgotha because of some emptiness in me. It was only with Suzanne that I wanted something more and knowing them, I almost believed in a world like the one that children dream about. The world that Gemma and Andrew chased after when they left home, like the one Aggie talked about in her mother’s books. There’s a hopelessness in me that I’ll never be rid of. In the interim between our initial arrival to Golgotha and that flight from that terrible city, I cannot know how many people I sacrificed in convening with demons because I refuse to know because the number would destroy me. That is the worst of it; I do not even have courage enough to face myself or the actions of my past in any substantive way.
Mephisto tainted me so that I could speak with his kind as a dealmaker and the disease grew.
Billy or Maron or whatever he is should have been reaped long ago or better, I should never have brought that abomination alive. Such a cruel world where a deep longing like that can be inverted, weaponized. Me and him should both die; me and him should have died a long time ago.
First/Previous
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Appearance: A spherical black fruit with multi-colored rings surrounded by black rinds, with orange swirls appearing in the rings like spots, topped with a grey stem that ends with two square leaves on either sides with longer and compacted swirls. The inside is bright red and blue like slices with grey swirls arranged in straight rows
The eater of this fruit gains the ability to recreate and amplify any sound they have ever heard that they can emit from their body using tech-based wires and speakers, making them a Audio System User
Etymology: Biko is taken from *Yamabiko 山彦*, which means “echo” in Japanese

In-Depth

Cypher Wires: The user is able to transform their hair strands and finger ends into cords tipped with either plugs or microphones that they can use to channel and amplify sound through into their speakers. This allows them to pick up and record any sound-waves even through obstructing walls and sound-proof barriers, as well as selectively amplify noises and voices they can differentiate from multiple sources, gifting them incredible spying capabilities and information obtaining. The user can also extend these tools on strong cables they can manipulate in a prehensile fashion and for extraordinary lengths to detect and relay sound-waves to the user or their speakers
Speaker Systems: The user has the power to augment their body into or with large speakers of any sized cubic, spherical or angular shapes they imagine, and are even able to dispense these speakers off of their body and remotely control and activate them anywhere. These solid-as-steel speakers can emit powerful sound-waves of anything the user has ever heard before or are hearing live as they are connected to the user via their Cypher Wires, enabling them a versatile and powerful system of sonic-capabilities as pulses, waves and blasts of vibrational force. The user can even sense the surroundings of their speakers through sound waves, similar to "echo-location" used by several animal species while connected to their wires, enabling them a powerful sixth-sense against opponents with a physical body

Awakening: Eternal Echos

The user after unlocking the full potential of their powers can now manipulate their speakers remotely without the need for cables, as the user’s echoing sounds made from their bodies act as an energy for them in which they can amplify and alter into any form of audio of the echos they unleash. Their speakers with their own energy can also levitate and move at supersonic speeds as the user desire, and their shapes can be reconfigured into anything the user imagines with endless variety for dimensions, allowing the user to combine and weave them with their wires to form animated creations powered and weaponized with endless sound
The user with their new advantage has even greater range and versatile power for taking on individual or multiple opponents at once, and their sound-relaying grants them even better capabilities for gathering sounds for amplifying and information gathering

Weaknesses

• The user can be disoriented and even knocked unconscious by sudden loud sounds through their microphones connected to themselves and their speakers if unexpected, disabling control over any systems they’ve deployed until they regain control
• The user’s speakers cannot function with severed cables between them and the user until their awakening, which can limit their remote sonic abilities
• Seawater can cause speakers, plugs and mics to short-circuit and become unusable, requiring the user to detach and regrow new ones
• Standard Devil Fruit weaknesses apply

Techniques

Bass Heartbeat: User alters their soles and palms into cymbal-sized speakers, plus two on their front and back. The user can emit fast pulses of low-frequency sounds that can hit as solid as bullet-speed punches, and do so in a rhythmic pattern they can set to repeat automatically
Spider Chords: User transforms their hands into sharp plugs and strong cables that they can extend and whip around to grapple themselves and scratch their opponents greatly, capable of cutting through even stone and metal
Heavy Tolls: User creates two meteor hammers made from attaching spherical speakers and mics to their body on long cables, then whip them around like flails for sonic-booming impacts

• Backlash Yo-Yo: User forms two wide cylindrical speakers aligned together with a long wire connected to their finger, which they can utilize like a giant yo-yo for rolling and trajectory-changing sonic pulses for rapid strikes
  
• Zero-Point Clash: User creates six large ‘Doom-Mics’ from their back and alter their torso front into a large speaker. When they strike with their ‘Doom-Mics’ they blast a powerful shockwave forward that cracks apart even stone and ship hulls, and can lash all six onto their target to keep them centered for a second to impact them with a long-range blast
  

Reverb Jackknife: User transforms their arm into a cubic blade-like weapon with sharpened plugs at the end, with their shoulder and elbow as wire-joints for flipping and spinning like a butterfly-knife. They can utilize this for close and long-ranged slicing attacks, and increase the power of their blade by vibrating it with an intense amount of bass and pitch
Megahertz Roadie Rig: User creates a mass amount of interconnected speakers and cables around their body, forming a durable and dense layer of defense that can emit powerful sonic waves for offense and even mobility by using their force to propel themselves like a hovercraft. The user can form large appendages and weapons from this construct for defensive and attacking moves like a hovering musical mecha

• Thunder Tome: User forms large speakers and wire-based hands from their MRR and slam them into their opponents or the ground to unleash sonic shockwaves on impact, and can even use these to form quick sound-based barriers
  
• Centihenries: User aligns many slab-like speakers and runs their cables through and outside them, forming one or more large mechanical centipedes, connected to the underside center of their body by wires that allow the user to control them
  
• Cyborg Octopus: User create a large cubic speaker with eight plug-tipped cables that act as tentacles, resembling mechanical octopi suspended on a cable from their back. They can control this mechalopod from a long distance remotely for surveillance, offense or defense using their cables and sonic pulses as long as their cable is intact
  
• Spider Driver: User reconfigures their MRR or Cyborg Octopus into a caravel-sized mecha-spider they can utilize like an All-Terrain Vehicle and even deploy long-range cables for traversing over like spider thread
  
• Mo-Boom Box: User transforms their arm or half of their MRR into a huge whale-shaped construct with all of its speakers facing forward. They can create a reverberating beam of sound from inside using relaying mics to unleash a massive blast of whale-song from all of them simultaneously, creating a powerful shockwave that passes through everything
  

Black Panther Overload: Hyper Huan: The user alters their own body with specialized speakers and wires to form a black humanoid feline shape with powerful arms and legs, durable claws, rolling speaker-skates, a set of three long cable-tails with ‘Doom-mics’ at their ends, and wickedly sharp blue teeth and fangs. The user can utilize the sensory speakers across their body and central one on their face to act like eye-shaped ears, detecting any and all vibrations around themselves to react and move themselves at sonic speeds, being comparable to a Mythical Zoan in sheer power
There is a drawback to this technique, as the user’s sensory speakers cannot detect vibrations when they are emitting sound-waves of their own and will become “blind” when they are attacking, defending or boosting with their speakers
Non-Combat:
Sonar-lite: User emits timed pulses of far-range echos from their body and/or their speakers to utilize echolocation
Dynamic Equalizer: User replicates another’s voice by getting vocal samples from their microphone or jacks to their throat, allowing them to utilize their voice for commands and subterfuge against opponents. With practice they can even accomplish this with their MRR and all it’s techniques

• Echost: The user can connect their jacks to one’s vocal cords and replay sounds they made before and they remember, allowing them to target any information and truth from their own voices. They can even apply this to a corpse's vocal cords and eardrums (If they're still on said body and intact) to replay their last words they spoke and heard before their death

Acoustic Suspension: User creates several wide speakers facing upwards that allow them to boost whatever and whoever are on top of them upwards with rhythmic vibrational force, which can be quite baffling to witnesses

_ _ _ _ _
Impact and introduction
_ _ _ _ _
His first thoughts about his little predicament were that it was nothing like the anime he’d watched.
Finding yourself suddenly free falling from hundreds of thousands of feet in the sky was significantly more terrifying than it had seemed while cozied up in his bed, wrapped up in three-plus blankets and contently slurping his microwave ramen.
That said, he felt justified in screaming like a little girl. “Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit! Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit!” What was happening? Where was he? He had just stepped out of his house for a ramen run at the nearest gas station, and now this was happening. Great, just great, now he wasn’t going to be able to watch anymore anime- he stopped suddenly. “Oh, of course,” he muttered to himself, “That’s what’s going on here.” He was suddenly as stoic as a knight in shining armor as he plummeted through the sky, and he pushed the slightly problematic matter of falling out of his mind and focused on what would be important: His story. First: his name was Caen Eloso. He came from a strange other world with wondrous technology that left nothing to the imagination. Caen was what was in his third year at his school, Hansen Academy High School in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where teenagers his age were taught arithmetic, science and language punctuation before they went off into the world on their own. Colorado was one of fifty individually operating states in his home country called America, which was home to more than three hundred million people and overseen by a President.. America was located on one of 7 continents in his world, called Earth. There were a great many other countries besides America, of which he knew varying amounts about their cultures that he could give little tidbits of information about, but he figured he knew the most about Japan. Japan was basically heaven. The Japanese people were responsible for creating the best possible thing that his world had to offer, a wondrous thing called anime. He had dedicated his life to exploring every nook and cranny that was connected to the world of anime, and there was nothing that brought him more happiness than binging.
However, he figured he oughta remember some cooler stuff about Earth (he couldn’t really expect many people to weeb out with his stories without watching anime in person) if he ever found himself in a tight spot and needed to, say, entertain a dragon or something. Because…
He was ninety-nine percent sure that he had just been isekai’d.

That’s why, while plummeting to what seemed to be his inevitable doom, he kept a level head. Ignoring the previous screaming-like-a-five-year-old fit. Because, of course, anyone that was summoned to another world via falling from the sky always survived; it was kind of a given, otherwise the story wouldn’t get anywhere, duh. Whether it be due to some miraculous vitality, impossible superpowers, a one-time “safe-landing” provided by the dude that summoned them, or (and what he personally was hoping for) a rescue from some either super-shy or super-pissy elf hottie in possession of a huge rack… of swords, you pervert, that dressed in some skimpy armor (that really would do nothing to protect the vital organs, from a defensive standpoint) and who would kick off the protagonist’s harem.
When he actually gave it thought, he realized he wasn’t really all that interested in a harem, and kinda found the thought of one IRL gross. Like, did he even have to explain? But he knew that if he’d said that in an online chat with one of his internet buddies, they would definitely try to overrun his laptop with viruses. In what was now his previous life, he had had little to no experience with talking to girls, let alone “getting some action”. He really hadn’t seen the point, considering how difficult 3D girls were to handle. That said, he never really got into the hardcore otaku-type 2D obsession stuff, like buying lewd figurines and pasting posters all over your room and buying body pillows of your favorite waifu. He was just a hardcore watcher, and that kind of made-up for his lack of other tendencies. He would frequently spend 12+ hours a day shacked up in his room in 6 hour sessions of binging anime at 1.5 times speed; (he wanted to get in as much watching as possible) and that was only on weekdays. Yeah. With school. (Needless to say his grades weren’t exactly top notch) But weekends were another story, with him usually staying up till four in the morning on Friday night and then sleeping until twelve, when he would wake up and choose whether or not to eat before watching until he was told to get off, and then stuffing his fat face in the kitchen to his heart’s content. The point was, he had originally decided he didn’t want to “waste time” on a girlfriend. (Not that he was exactly confident he would be on anyone's radar if he were to try)
Anyways, more and more, (before he found himself falling from the sky of his new world) Caen had found himself feeling lonelier and more depressed as time went by, and so, he decided that in his new life he was going to quit his otaku and introvert tendencies and find the love of his life in what was to be his new world. Quite the goal.
With his mind made up, (this was some relatively quick thinking given the situation; he’d been falling for about four and a half minutes before coming upon this decision and entirely giving up on his old world and everything he had loved in it) (Besides his love of anime) he realized something… interesting. He hadn’t noticed it due to being lost in thought and not being capable of feeling it (probably his magical protection or something that came with being summoned), but he was currently a ball of flame. If he had been wearing clothes earlier during his fall, and he hadn’t actually bothered to check because of his little fit, they were long since burnt to a crisp. Even though he was certain he had a grasp on the situation, he couldn’t stop himself from freaking out just a little bit, especially as he felt himself growing closer and closer to the ground. ‘Alright, you can rescue me now,’ he muttered to himself, though his words were lost to the wind. His eyes widened. He realized he was too fast, far too fast. This entry was apparently going to be very flashy, which he wasn’t against, but… He could hardly gauge distance before he had halved it. Twenty thousand feet, ten thousand feet, five thousand, he broke through low hanging cloud cover, two thousand.. He shut his eyes as tight as he could and pulled his limbs in tight while covering his ears to brace himself and-
Boom.
_ _ _ _ _
Learning to walk and not-squirrels
_ _ _ _ _
The sound of impact deafens him. He instantaneously loses awareness of anything else besides the sound, but somehow remains conscious, unaware of if he had completely shattered into a million billion pieces or not. For time out of mind he couldn’t move any part of himself. His ears ring and his head throbbed something awful. He could not conceive what would make him capable of surviving a fall like that. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he opened an eye to gauge his surroundings…
He was in a crater. Caen had expected as much, but his jaw literally dropped in surprise, something he thought no one actually did. It was at least eight hundred feet from edge-to-edge and four hundred feet deep, the ground smoldering, red-hot and smoky, but surprisingly only warm where he lay (thank you, summoners). He must’ve stayed stagnant longer than he thought for it to have cooled enough to touch. He slowly pushed himself into a seated position, sitting on his right leg and letting his left arm rest on his left leg, which he had bent at the knee. He once again surveyed his crater by twisting his head around.
Quite the entrance. “I guess this fits into the one-time no fall damage category…” he muttered to himself, running his hand through his hair, making note that it was surprisingly silky. “Cause there’s no way this is a vitality thing, right? Way too overpowered.” For a minute he sat like that, until he realized that something was tugging on the back of his mind. At first he ignored it like he would a buzzing insect, but it kept poking at his subconscious. And then he was hit with it with as much force as when his sister sent him to Jupiter for accidentally breaking her new phone; that wasn’t his voice. ‘Huh?’ Neither was that. His eyes darted to the sides of his vision where it gently rested on the sides of his face. His hair. It was much, much longer than it was in his old world, reaching as far as to hang below his pecs. It was shiny and straight, and didn’t look like it had ever been cut. But that didn’t startle him as much as its color did.
Caen thought back to the fairy tales and stuff of his childhood, and about how they tended to over exaggerate the features of their characters and the objects in them so that the average kid could understand it better, with phrases like “as beautiful as a freshly-picked flower”, “as strong as a bull”, “as bright as the sun itself”, and “as white as snow”. Well, now he wasn’t so assuming that those were mere stories and not just incredible experiences from the writers, because he was witnessing something impossibly… beautiful. Because his hair was white. A stark white, with an almost silvery sheen to it. Like when you wake up the morning after a snowstorm and open your window to see if school is canceled, and the snow blinds you when you look at it because it's reflecting the morning sun. Beautiful. He quite literally couldn’t think of another word for it. Slowly, he reached up to touch it again, once again feeling the impossibly smooth sensation. It glided over his fingers like water. And then he saw the fingers of his hand. Long and slender, perfect and unblemished. He was dumbfounded. ‘Are these really… mine?’ he asked quietly with his new voice. ‘A new body was always possible, I suppose, but I thought if that were to happen I would first have to be reincarnated and grow up with it myself. Did this body… come into existence just for me when I got here? I would hate it if I kicked out someone's soul so mine could stay here or whatever.’ He stood shakily. He was tall. Taller than in his other life, where he’d stood at around five-ten, Caen figured he was now around six-two. And, what he found almost as shocking as his hair, was that he was fit. Or perhaps thin would be a better word, something he had never been before. His stomach felt strange to him as it no longer bulged, and when on a whim he attempted the stretches he wasn’t close to being capable of before, he did so with ease. He could reach his feet when he sat and stretched out his legs, and he could even easily touch his toes. He was in the middle of attempting to put his foot behind his head when he realized he should probably get a move on and get out of there. He guessed that he most likely looked like a meteor for any settlement within a few hundred miles of his crash site. He quickly tapped his foot on a particularly smoldery-looking piece of earth to test if he could withstand the heat like before. He once again found it to be only pleasantly warm. With that reassurance in mind, he decided to get himself out of the crater. That was, before he realized he’d need to learn to walk again. He fell hard and broke his fall with his arms. His muscles felt unused and unfamiliar, though the movement of his arms came more naturally than the rest. At first, his legs were very wobbly and his knees shook and moved sharply if he strained them too much or too little, causing them to buckle and him to fall and roll back down to the center of the crater when he tried to walk out. It didn’t help that it was a pretty consistently steep climb to the edge. He must have been at it for at least an hour. But the distance was good practice for him, and with a lot of rolling in the scorched earth he finally managed to get himself to the edge. The adjustment period wasn’t that awful, considering, and he felt he should be kind of proud for learning so quickly. (At least that's how he thought of it) He stood up on the rim of the crater to see exactly where he was. A pretty considerable distance away he could see trees ringing the crater site, and he decided that he had landed in a forest. The further away from the edge the less burnt and bent the trees were, from the shockwave that came with the force of the impact, he decided. He sat down, leaned back and let his feet rest on the decline of the crater. It was incredible. It felt like he’d just woken up after twelve hours of sleep, and his mind was buzzing with activity like he hadn’t experienced before. Everything was so fresh. He didn’t feel tired or winded at all, and he saw everything in vivid detail, even though all there was to see was the smoldering earth and the forest in the distance. He even tried breathing in deep with his nose, but all he got was burnt dirt and he started coughing from the smokiness of it. Despite this, he smiled. He hadn’t felt like this in ages, a thought he had believed was reserved for seventy-year-olds after getting their backs adjusted by a chiropractor. He jumped up, deciding that the first thing he should do would be to find a settlement of some sort, or at least a stream so that he could drink some water. He wasn’t particularly thirsty, but the thought of a cool liquid down his throat made him shiver. He also wanted to eat something, and decided to keep an eye out for nuts or berries in the forest that looked innocent enough. And so he started his trek. Soon he was walking on long, springy grass and gazing at all kinds of fauna that was surprisingly familiar. He couldn’t really see a difference in the trees or bushes at first, but when he plucked a leaf from the low hanging branch of a tree that looked like the one in his backyard, he saw that the pattern of the veins was definitely different, if not by much. He could at least tell that, since he had played under that tree when he was little. He also saw a lot of strange forest critters, and his heightened senses picked up on their presences like a radar. Soon there were dozens of them watching him from the trees, giving him a wide berth but for some reason following, so he still caught a few glances. Most had bushy tails and large ears with short whiskers on their little snouts, and tiny little heads that looked like those of baby foxes. The overwhelming majority were a sandy brown, but a few times he also saw one that looked blue and one that looked red, and even one that was pink, but these were always directly in the shadows of the trees and bushes and would dart away as soon as he tried for a closer look. A different species that looked like a miniature boar no larger than a bowling ball, complete with tusks, a stubby tail and hooves, trotted directly trotted directly through his path with its head held high in what looked like a show of contempt before disappearing into a bush. It was totally adorable and he regretted not trying to pick it up before it had disappeared. He winced internally as he thought of how many of these balls of fluff were incinerated in his landing. Slowly, as he trekked on, the creatures became more and more daring, darting past him and soon getting in his full view shamelessly, but they didn’t seem to have any ill intent, so he really didn’t mind. At least, they didn’t look predatory. (though he inwardly didn’t trust that idea from his knowledge of anime) Suddenly, one that was much larger than the others, probably the pack leader, scurried directly in front of him and stood on its short hind legs, its arms drawn together. It was similar to the way squirrels “stood”. Caen paused mid-step. It had some sort of presence, and its pose seemed to indicate that it wanted him to sit down so they could have a conversation. Unlike the other not-squirrels, (as he decided to temporarily call them) this one’s coat looked much fluffier and was a rich, chocolate brown, and its ears had white tufts at the ends. Its tail twitched and he also noticed that towards the tip of it the hair was also white. It gave off some sort of aura. Caen crouched. ‘Hey there, little guy. What can I do for you?’ He asked in the same voice he would use for a cute dog or other friendly animal. It tilted its head and he had to stop himself from launching at it in a surprise hug attack. It stared at him for a little longer. Then, out of nowhere, it beckoned to him with a little arm, turned, and started running off. For a second, Caen stayed crouched, dumbfounded at what he’d just witnessed, until dozens of the hiding squirrels started running in the same direction as the big one. He shook it off and decided this was supposed to be his first big event in his story, and so he started sprinting after it, because these little guys were speedy. He ran for more than ten minutes, almost losing track of the pack until he caught glimpses of a bushy tail or fluffy ears that kept him on their trail. Since his endurance was off the charts now, he actually enjoyed the chase, and took the opportunity to breathe in the rich forest aroma as he ran. Soon, he broke out into a small clearing, where he saw the leader “standing” beside the mouth of a cave. The once again shy not-squirrels all hid in the trees and bushes that surrounded the clearing, and all he could see were their cute little button eyes glimmering in the leaves. There must have been hundreds of them. He hesitatingly walked over to the giant not-squirrel (because that was what it was in comparison) and crouched down again. ‘Do you want me to go inside there?’ He asked, pointing at the cave, and turning his gaze to the eyes of the creature. It stared at him uncomprehendingly, its black eyes giving no indication of some great intelligence that secretly lurked. He sighed. ‘Might as well,’ he muttered, walking over the cave entrance. It was as dark as one would imagine, but there appeared to be a faint candle light of sorts dancing on the walls around a bend about a hundred feet in. It also smelled heavily like some sort of crushed herb he was unfamiliar with. It almost overshadowed the rancid smell of rotting flesh. He narrowed his eyes at the giant not-squirrel and the rest of the pack hiding in the bushes before walking in. There was definitely something alive in here, and from the smell, it or they were dying.
_ _ _ _ _
Elf hotties and magic
_ _ _ _ _
The further into the cave he went, the more overwhelming the stench of death became. Caen gave himself a second to regain his composure, then covered his nose as he turned the bend. His eyes widened in shock. A pretty girl with silver hair and sharply tipped ears lay upon a bed of leaves, naked save several fern leaves that provided her the barest of modesty. Her form was softly illuminated by several low burning candles that framed her. A singular giant fern rested on her stomach, covering where James guessed the mortal wound was inflicted. Her eyes were closed and she breathed shallowly, and sweat was beaded all over her body. The different colored not-squirrels he had seen earlier were all gathered there, watching her intently, but quickly turned their heads as they heard his bare feet shuffling on the stone floor. All three of them were there, the red, blue, and pink furred not-squirrels, as well as a green one that he hadn’t seen before. They stared at him for several seconds before all but the green not-squirrels scurried behind him. The green one leaned its head down and seemed to whisper something in the ear of the elf. Caen’s world slowed. Her eyes crept open, a rich, deep purple that seemed to shimmer with silver dust like stars. She ever so slightly turned her head to look at the not-squirrel questioningly, and then her gaze drifted to Caen. As their eyes met, he felt a shiver and a volt of electricity passed invisibly between them through their gaze. Her eyes widened with what looked like disbelief, and she smiled at him ever so softly. Caen felt entranced. There was something special about this girl, something so very special, and he felt a stirring in his chest that made his stomach twinge, but not unpleasantly. She beckoned to him with a finger and he slowly approached her and knelt. Those few steps, with her eyes fixated on his, and his on hers, felt like eternity, and he couldn’t break the gaze if he wanted. ‘Greetings, White One.’ She said softly, still not breaking eye contact. Her voice sounded as though it were made to sing. ‘I apologize… I… was meant to be there to greet you upon your arrival. The best I could manage was providing you a safe entrance from the heavens.’ She said sadly, and a tear welled up in the corner of her eye. He hesitatingly reached out a hand and cupped her face, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb. She shouldn’t cry. He knew that, somehow, that it was wrong, that she shouldn’t ever have to experience sadness like that. She breathed in sharply at his touch, and then her gaze softened. ‘Who… are you?’ He asked quietly. She smiled sadly and tears flowed freely on the back of his hand. ‘Unfortunately, I don’t have the leisure to cry with you. I am glad that my friends were able to escort you here and provide you with safe company, for the forest is a very dangerous place, but… more than that, I am glad that I was able to see you… at… least once…’
Her eyes drifted closed. He quickly grabbed her arm and was hugely relieved to find a pulse, ever so faint.
She is so close to death, White One.
She has been holding out so that she could meet you, White One.
She has been waiting so very long for you, White One.
She spent what little mana she had left providing you safe entry into our world, White one.
These sweet-sounding voices echoed in his mind, though all of melancholy tone. He slowly stood and turned to face the not-squirrels.
Please save our Silver Lady, White One.
This voice was deep and strained with pain and suffering. In front of him stood the pack leader. He sat just in front of the other four not-squirrels, all mimicking his position. All Caen could do was nod, even though he was dazed and had no idea how he would be able to help her at all. ‘Show me the wound.’ he declared in a voice that sounded much more confident than he felt.
The four different colored not-squirrels glanced at the leader, and, the words still echoing inside of Caen’s mind like before, he said, ‘Do as the White One proclaims.’ They unhesitatingly scurried to their “Silver Lady” and carefully removed the large fern. Caen did not react how he thought he would. He saw it and his body shook, but not with disgust, or surprise, or horror, but with rage. He clenched his fists and the muscles in his arms grew taut as his fingernails dug into his palms. Her stomach had been ferociously torn open, revealing a sight that was best kept undescribed. His voice shook with power as he spat, “Who… Who did this… to her?”
His head snapped to the not-squirrel leader, his wild, hateful eyes boring into the creature. “We do not know, White One,

Please know, I am a regular human, just like you. I am not a specialist, doctor, or a scientist of any kind. I have spent over 2 years in writing this (post has been in my drafts and I worked on it in my free time only.) I have talked about using glycerin and the changes I have seen on my own body many times on here and I always received comments from someone wanting more information on glycerin which is not easily available. (I think it's because of how cheap it is and how its the top ingredient in many products we use, companies don't want us to know lol.) My sources are from medical/universal research libraries that I have access to from my university. Still, research papers are very complicated to understand and takes a long time to get through the whole study so if I made a mistake in comprehending anything, please let me know. Lets begin :)
This product/poly compound does have many names/spellings but I'll be sticking to glycerin. Glycerin is used in vast variety of products like medicine/wound care, food industry, hygiene products including soaps, skincare, hair care and more. Glycerin is stable, nontoxic, non irritating and hypoallergenic with antibacterial effects. Because of these properties it is said that about 20% of all glycerin is used in our territory (makeup, skincare, hygiene) which is a very large portion. Glycerin is also fairly cheap so you can see it in the top 10-15% of the ingredient list (especially in products that promote hydration) or towards the bottom 25% in preventative products.
Glycerin has many benefits. You can look at luxury creams to affordable face wash products and chances are, you will see glycerin in it. Some skincare companies now include a directory on their website to explain what each ingredient does and benefit on the skin but I feel it is very vague and wanted to bring some science to this poly compound. Now the accredited and certified research papers I found available to me are limited on its effect on the skin of humans but are on animals with some following up on humans. I was hoping to include links and incorporate wording however it was too cruel so I will summarize.
The vast amount of information available is on, if glycerin is a safe product, its effects to our (human) tissues, and possible illness/diseases scientists believed it can cause or be linked to. Like I said, I'll keep the animal testing gory out but to wrap it all up, glycerin is safe. It did not have any effect on the reproductive system for males or females and is not carcinogenic to humans. In a different study, a group of 25 human volunteers (22 male 3 female) were tested orally which resulted in no change in weight of humans if under 50 with or without diabetes, unless over 50 with diabetes history it caused some jittery behavior in one human (this experiment was conducted orally and used 3x a day.) Researchers checked the sperm of males and saw no abnormalities comparing it to when they first came in. For the females, ultrasound showed no abnormalities on their reproductive health. It should be noted, the researchers did not compare anything regarding glycerin and its effect on the thyroid but the other organs tested no abnormalities were found. I also found several studies on inhalation and applying glycerin on eyes was normal in sense nothing will happen other than some irritation that subsides, on animals. Same study then compared their findings on a group of humans and only a couple of people from the testing group reported it caused mild or moderate irritation that lasted for little while. To conclude, there are no known side effects or illness caused or linked to by usage of glycerin. Still, after immense testing it is recommended to patch test glycerin even if being allergic to glycerin is considered rare according to researchers.
In skin/hair care, glycerin is a humectant (retaining or preserving moisture) and an emollient (quality of softening or smoothing of the skin). Meaning a moisturizing agent that draws water to the surface of the dermis from the atmosphere or from layers deep in your skin/hair; brighten and soften the dermis and hair at the same time This said, using glycerin in low humidity or dry, hot air can result in drying out your dermis (skin) or hair, including the scalp because it is pulling moisture deep in your dermis or hair. (Personal note: if you wish to use glycerin in locations or seasons where the air is dry, it is best to keep spritzing the area with a mist of just water, preferably distilled, or other hydration mist to prevent the glycerin pulling any to all moisture from your dermis which could result in flaky, dry skin or brassy, frizzy hair strands. I believe after immense research this is the only downside of glycerin).
Glycerin is also considered as a thickener for products and is mildly antibacterial and antiviral. Glycerin was originally found from lipids of animals (animal fat) but now can be extracted from plants (vegan) like shea butter, palm oil, coconut oil and more. As of today, glycerin from oil has a high extraction rate from palm. Glycerin can also be formed synthetically through fermentation, bio-diesel or chemically created with its chemical compound ( C3H8O3; Carbon 3 Hydrogen 8 Oxygen 3) (Personal note: I am including this because when purchasing you glycerin, be sure on where and how it was extracted as you will be applying it on your dermis or hair.) Glycerin is non-comedogenic, meaning it will not clog your pores, but reading the different studies I believe there is a difference between lab, plant, and animal lipid created glycerin. Some prefer the animal glycerin as its more suitable to their skin type but majority of the glycerin in our market is from plants or lab. You can tell the difference of glycerin by how tacky it is. Animal glycerin is most tacky (sticky like tree sap) compared to the plant glycerin followed by lab created which only has a slight slip to it.
The density of glycerin (1.26g/cm^3) is lower than the density of our skin(1.1g/cm^3) which allows glycerin to penetrate deeper than a lot of other products. Whereas hyaluronic acid (varies but avg. density is around 1.8g/cm^3) may look to be better way to go around but both have their benefits! Glycerin is better suitable when you want your skin or scalp to hold moisture on your skin. HA is suitable if you want to lock in the moisture. But what makes them very different is the molecular level. Glycerin has a smaller molecular level than HA, which in return allows the glycerin to saturate deeper in your dermis or hair strands whereas HA sits on the top 2 layers (about). So using HA on your skin can mean it can take longer to see the visual results on your skin. That said with either or, consistency is important to unlock all the benefits either product can offer.
Glycerin is beneficial to all skin types, most hair types, and help aid in various skin or scalp conditions (if you have a medical condition please consult a doctor or dermatologist.) From brightening the dermis by help healing old scars and smoothing out hyperpigmentation, to being a natural prevention of many skin imperfections glycerin is the most underrated, versatile, and affordable product all should have in their cupboards. Glycerin will hold onto the water keeping your face soft and smooth (like a newborn babies bum) for long periods of time. (On study showed if glycerin is not washed from the dermis or hair, glycerin can last upto 6 days on the area applied hydrating the top layer of skin. In this study the researchers had 3 groups, 1 controlled, 1 glycerin applied only(group1), 1 glycerin applied with misting water every 6 hours(group2) for 14 days. From control- the group had natural oil build up, group1 had dry almost chapped skin, group2 felt dry to touch, some shine-no oil, bounce on dermis.) It is not recommended to keep glycerin on for this long as glycerin can attract pollutants from settling into pores-it just sits on surface of skin.
In the process of applying glycerin consistently, it will boost collagen production, even out your skin tone from blemishes to hyperpigmentation, aiding in the prevention of acne bacteria spreading on your dermis (help with clearing back acne), clearing and hydrating pores for the prevention of black or white heads, smooth skin texture and premature aging lines. Glycerin may act as a mild natural sunscreen by protecting the skin from the sun's rays and environmental pollutants, including smog. For acne, glycerin can help prevent the bacteria from spreading and help heal and smooth old acne spots. On large open pores, because of its density, glycerin can settle into pores reducing the visual size of them and help clear out any dirt or imperfections.
Glycerin on your scalp can be a natural/soft treatment for dandruff or other scalp dryness. For your hair strands, mixing it with our ayurvedic hair masks or hair oil, you can condition any damaged hair strands, preventing further breakage (split ends), and adding strength to protect against harmful rays of the sun and hot tools. The benefits of glycerin on our bodies are endless but here are a couple other ways to include glycerin when in a pinch.
Remember we discussed how glycerin is a humectant, emollient, and thickener? Well, this is what many of us expect from a makeup primer. I have used a glycerin primer for when I wanted a quick everyday makeup look or when I misplaced my holy grail benefit POREfessional primer. I used it in 2 ways, One was mixing a drop of glycerin into my moisturizer or my foundation. The other was my standard rose water and glycerin spray bottle. With the rose water I did notice I had to make sure the water and glycerin was well set into my face. I use a damp sponge to press any glycerin sitting on my face deep into my pores before applying foundation to avoid any separation or caking. (If you want an airbrush look; try this method then after dabbing your face with the sponge, apply a thin, even layer of finely milled translucent powder.) Why you may ask do this extra step of dabbing? Well using glycerin in a liquid format like the rose water is also an effective makeup remover! Crazy how it can work both ways.
If you pull out any micellar water you may have, the first 2 ingredients are water and glycerin followed by additives to act as mild surfactants and unwanted possible ingredients alcohol, fragrance, preservatives. Surfactant is a substance that will help the water and glycerin chemical properties mix when dissolved together. Sometimes when you let the micellar water sit you see a layer of liquid settle on top of another layer and you have to mix the two, right? The surfactant is the ingredient that leaves that oily feel on the face and I believe blends the glycerin chemical with the surfactant to create a less tacky formula. It will be different brand to brand based on how they source their glycerin and the ratios. That said, after my full beat, spraying a setting spray and all, I experimented to see how the rose wateglycerin will react with my full face of makeup if I just wanted to rehydrate my face with the same mixture. I spray till my face feels nicely hydrated, let that fully dry with help of a fan or my hands, then with a dry sponge, I lightly tap the glycerin back into my dermis and if needed, powder to set any makeup separation or fading.
The only time I dealt with makeup reacting with the glycerin was when my makeup began pilling from mixing silicone and water based skincare products with foundation.
From my journey: I saw some posts of users using and not having benefactual results so I'd like to inform you how I personally started using glycerin and the changes on my own skin. I remember stumbling on a random Instagram account of Farah Dhukai from Farsali using glycerin back in 2016 and I decided to copy the recipe to lighten dark skin. After following her instructions and started to use her recipes very often, it was not long before I had all family reunions turn into skincare nights. I would make custom masks for my cousins and aunts based on their skin concerns and I would receive endless compliments and discussions on how my skin as a 15 year old teenager looked amazing. It was not long until I connected the dots and started researching extensively into glycerin.
At that time, I didn't even have access to these studies and research papers, many were released after 2016! I found another ayurvedic Instagram account (now deactivated) and found my first recipe for rose water and glycerin and we have been going strong ever since. I started off with about 1 cup of fresh/homemade rose water to 1 tablespoon of glycerin. I originally started using this as a toner. I suffer from acanthosis nigricans (thickedry/dark skin on back of neck, elbows, armpits, knees) I would drench a cotton pad and hold the serum onto my skin for 5 seconds before moving it. I would repeat this then go over the same parts on my skin in circular motions. After about 4-6 months I had reduced the appearance on my elbows and knees to about 90% (only small dryness patch was left) my neck still had the thickness of skin but the darkness had reduced significantly and started blending in with my natural skin. Armpits were about 40% lighter but after a year of consistent use I was very happy with my results. Now it is important to mention, skin care can only carry so much; during this time of using the toner I lost about 23 kgs which helped clear the inflammation causing the dark skin in the first place.
Along with this toner I only used a light moisturizer and face wash; no SPF, facial scrubs, or actives. My skin was very clear, bright, hyperpigmentation free. Then life hit me with a ton of bricks and depression set in. I gave up skincare and my skin was terrible. Pores, pigmentation, fungal acne and stubborn blackheads on forehead and chin, extremely flaky/irritated cheeks. At this point I had been using glycerin for over 3-4 years so I upped the ratio I mix about 1:4 ratio of glycerin to rosewater now and put it in a spray bottle. I would start by double cleanse my face, use vitamin C serum and drench my face with the glycerin water before bedtime daily (about 1-2 hours before) let it settle then use my fingers to give myself a soft facial massage and help the remaining dripping water settle into my skin or slide it down my neck and chest. Then before bedtime, I splash my face with just cool water and remove the glycerin sitting on top of my skin. Gently dry my face and apply my nightly moisturizer with retinol, let that settle then spray 4x of the glycerin water again, finish with some lip mask and go to sleep.
From researching and experimenting, this was best way to clear out my white/black heads. The glycerin made them soft and I did not have to include any active or harsh scrubs or facial tools to pick them out. I found mixing the vitamin C with the glycerin 2 hours before helped tremendously with my hyperpigmentation and left my face glowing and added a beautiful bounce! I now only use a soft facial scrub that was marked to be safe for daily use once a week only. In the mornings, I thoroughly wash your face with some cleanser and apply a light moisturizer and SPF. My skin has gotten significantly brighter and has the glass skin effect without using multiple actives and products. Reason I don't apply it the rosewater glycerin in morning is because we are having dry weather and my schedule is unpredictable to remember to spray a hydrating spray in between wear.
For my scalp psoriasis, I used the same toner product just in different ratios and it helped significantly. Only thing about glycerin and your scalp/hair strands is you do not want to dry it out. I only kept it on for about 30 minutes before I shower. I do have thin/pin-straight hair but my ends just felt so much healthier. One research entry mentioned how glycerin was very benefactural to animals with dense fur. So if you have textured(wavy/curly) or coarse(thick) hair definitely try glycerin out on yourself! Im sure it will help your curls be more defined and healthy! Glycerin helps strengthen the hair follicles and strands to prevent breakage, leading to the illusion of faster-longer growing hair. (I have to trim my hair about 3x a year. Each time I trim about 4 inches off. Sometimes I mix the glycerin and rose water in my hair oil concoctions. I feel this allows the oil to penetrate in even deeper. The oil doesn't sit on the stands but absorbs faster which I always struggled with. It leaves my hair so soft/supple, helps my brittle ends when I'm past due for a trim or from heat damage. In the case I add the glycerin into the oil and I wish to keep the oil on longer, I spray my hair with regular distilled water only to keep the moisture constant for the glycerin so it doesn't suck the water out of the strands.
Here are a couple ratios you can start to experiment with:

• Hair care: 1/4 cup distilled water, 1/2 cup rose water, and 2 tablespoons glycerin in a spray bottle
• Skin toner: 1:3 glycerin to rosewater in a sterilized bottle of your choice
• Skin mist: 1:6 glycerin to rosewater in a sterilized bottle of your choice

NOTES: If you believe glycerin and rosewater is not the combination for you, you can mix glycerin with aloe, powders/herbs, moisturizers, and more. Be sure to research the product you will be mixing with and always patch test to ensure a chemical change will not take negative effect on your skin. Reason why I mix with rosewater is because when mixing with other products, remember glycerin is also a thickener, so it can feel very heavy on the face. Whereas water dilutes it and feels comfortable to wear for all day or night.
NOTES: I know my oily and acne girls are always fighting for their life. If you try this and are struggling, keep adjusting the formula and trust the process. It may feel nothing is happening or too much is happening but if you can, stay consistent for 6 weeks before you call it quits.
NOTES: ( NSFW but IMPORTANT!) Please do not apply glycerin on or near your genitalia! Glycerin is a type of carbohydrate known as a sugar alcohol. The breakdown of glycerin with our natural bacteria will turn it into an irritant creating a risk of a yeast infection!

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Synopsis:
Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.
Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.
Chapter 240: Private Gallery
My, how quaint.
An underground maze.
If it wasn’t dark towers laden with bats, it was underground mazes filled to the brim with all the upholstery recovered from the Summer Solstice Festival’s annual bonfire.
Here beneath a barn utilised as little more than a cellar door, black was still the new black. An unending panorama of dark embroidery and furnishings to match any budding empress’s humble beginnings, ensuring I remained busy offering all the slightly different variations of wrinkling my nose could perform.
The porcelain vases featuring motifs of the wrong season? A mild scrunch. The candelabras burning below 98% of their height instead of being immediately replaced? Hints of a sneeze. The golden silk carpets clearly stolen from the cathedrals of the Holy Church? … A nod of my head.
But what I could have no complaints about was a door still swinging upon its hinges.
Poetry in motion, it painted the picture of a baroness desperate in her haste to stumble over her dress as much as humanly possible. Excellent news. We didn’t need to break another door today.
A surprise.
After all, the baroness seemed intent on breaking everything herself.
Bwoomph.
The sound of a heavy object being dropped came crashing through.
And then another. And another.
A commotion to rival the scuffling of two rival sons at our reception hall. The cadence of chairs, small tables and then backsides falling to the ground as insults became slaps and slaps became a scene of disgrace, all the while my sisters and I watched and snacked on the walnuts.
Sadly for the baroness, I chose not to stand idly by as she roughly squirrelled away her stolen possessions. And neither did Coppelia, who rubbed her hands together in gleeful expectation.
It was still the most innocent gesture she’d ever made.
“Should we let her gather up the loot pile some more?” she asked brightly.
I shook my head at once, my nose aching from the ceaseless wrinkling.
“Absolutely not. Even a moment is too long in this burrow.”
“We could double back and ominously stamp our feet to make her go faster, too.”
“Or we could merely offer our supervision instead. Come. It’s time to end our stay in the countryside. As well as this baroness’s grand misadventure.”
Already dreaming of my bed, I lightly pushed the door open.
A moment later, I was met by the sight of an adventurer’s most wanton dream come to life.
Within the centre of a bedroom chamber, chests laden with silver and gold crowns sat waiting for the first lout to claim as hardship expenses for chasing cats in an endless circle. The chests gleamed with an organised lustre, winking in unison as though counted and arranged to the coin.
It was a sight which contrasted with the desperate movements of the baroness.
Only brief snippets of her could be seen as she went to-and-fro in another room, accessed through a parted bookcase. Through the opening, I heard hints of calamity. Heavy banging as objects crashed to the floor, joined by the sound of ragged breathing to match a servant dashing up and down my bedroom tower to fetch grapes for me in quantities of one.
“Haah … haahh … hahhh …”
And now my curiosity was kindled.
Things worth more than chests of crowns. What could she possess, I wonder?
Sweeping past the gleaming pile of silver and gold, I made my way towards the parted bookcase, and then peeked through to see our baroness performing one last act of defiance.
With her golden hair as dishevelled as her dress, she was kneeling beside an assembled pile of what were unmistakably paintings. A veritable mountain of them, all framed in gilded brass. The scent of oil, watercolours and various pigments struck me more than any whiff of alcohol I’d experienced today.
Clearly a gallery of sorts. A secondary trove of treasure, but no less valuable. Rare paintings were worth their weight in silver and gold as much as any of the coins gathered in the chamber.
And also, to my horror, much easier to destroy.
“Haah … haahhh … hahhhhh …”
The baroness didn’t even notice our presence.
So absorbed was she in her final act of petulance, her only concern was to raise her feeble arms, weakened by all the disdain it required to gather so many heavy paintings in one spot.
All to set it alight.
With a look of desperation on her face, she raised a single candle, readying to set the oil upon the canvasses ablaze.
“Noooooope~”
“–Aah?!”
The same candle which was promptly plucked from her hand by Coppelia, who required no prompting to stop the destruction of precious treasure.
The baroness jolted in shock at Coppelia’s sudden appearance behind her, and even more so at the playful smile leaning towards her. A heartbeat later, she swiped at the candle, tearing away the topmost half. But it was too late.
The flame had already been extinguished.
“Noo … nooooooooooooo!!”
The baroness cupped her hands around the top, offering a tiny breath as she hoped to ignite it like the fading embers of a hearthfire.
She failed.
I took a step into the hidden gallery, ready to offer the coup de grâce to round off this minor detour into my countryside. A final reminder to my kingdom’s nobility, that whatever their rank, none were too lowly to be ignored.
“Ohhohohohohoho … how pitiable,” I said, my hand barely covering my lips. “Instead of a vain attempt to flee, you choose mindless destruction instead. I suppose I’ve no grounds to fault on this. You were wildly successful. Only that it was your own schemes which came to ruin.”
I gazed at the crumpled heap of the baroness as she turned around.
Her grey eyes widened as she viewed me.
All of a sudden, what colour remained upon her face drained to the point where if she threw herself on her bed, she’d be invisible against the white linen. Her only method of escape remaining.
It certainly wasn’t in the gurgling she made.
“Ah … n-no … wait …”
Her voice petered out, whatever words she spoke fading like a mousy squeak in the distance.
Ugh. The standards I endured.
Despite attempting a final act of spite, she didn’t even have enough vigour left in her to transfer that into the most cursory of insults.
“Now, this right here is what separates the barony from the city nobility,” I said, well and truly exasperated. “You may despise your peers, but know that Lady Tolent and Duke Valence at least performed their roles as expected. They were rude until the end. You’ve a considerable amount to learn.”
With a sigh, I took a step towards the mound of portraits.
Given what I’d seen so far, I doubted if any painting here was worth what the baroness deemed worthy enough to hide away like a dragon’s favoured treasure. But I was open to being pleasantly surprised.
Who knows? Perhaps she’d pilfered more than carpets from the Holy Church.
However–
“Wait!!!!!”
The baroness scrambled to her feet, arms raised as she blocked my path.
Despite her sudden burst of life, no colour returned to her face. It was like a ghoul raised as a puppet, desperately heeding the command of its owner.
“You … You can’t look!” she said, quivering. “None of this … none of this is for you!”
My mouth widened at the gall.
… Why, so she did have some insult left in her!
To insinuate I wasn’t worthy of judging these paintings was far more wounding than any generic disdain she could level against my superior wealth, standing, beauty and shape of my hair!
After all, I was exceptionally confident in my curating skills!
Anything less would see my own works being met by a chorus of snivelling! Amongst all who resided in my kingdom, it wasn’t traitors who were the most fearless to my ire! It was art critics!
“E-Excuse me! Rest assured that I’m more than capable of judging the qualities of any painting! When it comes to my assessment of art, my valuation leaves no detail unturned!”
Somehow, the baroness paled even more. Her eyes quivered like ponds in a gale.
A moment later–
“You can’t!!!!”
She threw herself at me.
A slow, lumbering tackle to match her anaemic state. I stepped to the side as she hurled herself past me, falling to a heap by Renise’s feet.
The maid looked down. She didn’t wear a single hint of animosity. Only pity and sorrow. Truly, she was too kind to ever have been in the nobility. I feared for her current role.
Still, I gave a sigh, before leaning over the mountain of paintings.
“Uwah~ this is a new one.”
As the light from the doorway fell upon it, Coppelia offered a hint of what was to be expected. She wore a peculiar expression, her smile oddly fixed as she gazed down at the nearest one to face upright.
I joined her.
And then–
“Hmm.”
I blinked as I assessed it.
A moment later, I glanced over those nearby. And then those nearby them.
Not only paintings. But portraits.
All featuring the same subject. A girl with long, dark hair and vivid eyes.
Many featured a dress hinting at a summer’s day. Shafts of golden sunlight was a common theme, along with a backdrop of a pristine tea table, laden with a familiar array of confectionery. Carrot madeleines and carrot cakes. The same ones I tactically placed for everyone else to eat at my mandatory tea parties.
Indeed. That made sense.
Since this was assuredly my tea table being presented. And that girl with a pleasant smile, unblemished features, a regal bearing and warmth radiating from her very presence was me.
I dug inside the mountain of portraits, lifting up another at random.
Yes.
It was me. Again.
In fact–
Every single portrait in this heap was of me.
At least a hundred or more. All framed and recently placed upon the walls of a hidden room. A private gallery to a baroness–one who was a keen painter. A corner had been transformed into a small workshop. Unlike the one found in her tavern, this one was far more organised. Easels and brushes were neatly tidied away, cared for as much as the paintings that had been created here.
“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!”
Ignoring the cry of despair behind me, I gazed at the heap of paintings, hand against my cheek as I considered the sight.
A short hum was all I required.
I turned to the stricken baroness upon the floor, her mouth wide as she waited for my judgement.
And then–
“Oho …”
I began to laugh.
“Ohoho … ohhohohoho …”
But this was no mocking laugh which spilled from my lips.
No … it was a laugh of pure delight.
“Ohhhohohoohhohohoohhohohoo!!”
True, nothing here was fit to be placed upon the Royal Villa’s walls. But few paintings were. This didn’t mean they were without merit. On the contrary, even a surface level impression of my face was worth more crowns than even a mosaic of the Grand Duchess completed by a thousand master painters.
But while better artists than her had painted me, few had painted more.
And this I could use.
Why … with this many paintings, I could fill up Soap Island with my imagery!
I could ensure that every tunnel possessed my permanent smile and watching eyes!
No matter where the soap miners hid, seeking respite from their days of hard labour and repentance, they could be met by the sight of my angelic face reminding them that I know and judge their every moment of unsupervised rest!
How … How wonderful!!!!
“A 7/10,” I declared. “Individually, they range between passable and acceptable. Except this one. There is something wrong with the nose. But when taken as an entire collection, the overall composition is greater than the sum of its parts. Alone, each is a verse describing a princess forced to adhere to her mandatory tea parties even as summer blooms a window away. But together, it is the sonata of a princess who continues in her duties without care to repetition or fatigue, reminding those whose hands falter when they should be mining soap that I do not rest, and so neither will they. Not an overly complex message, but then I wouldn’t wish it to be lost.”
Thus, I clapped my hands together in satisfaction.
“... Indeed, I shall put these portraits to excellent use!”
I waited for the gasp of relief which usually came with any of my scores which didn’t plunge into negative numbers. The baroness would not be destroyed by the world of fine art. Only ignored. The baseline criticism. She’d survive.
Providing, of course, that she ever woke from her stupor.
Looking down, I was appalled to see all the light had vacated her eyes.
Far from offering her gratitude, she lay collapsed in an untidy heap upon the floor, her body prone and motionless, her expression locked in morbid embarrassment, and with no signs of life other than the trail of drool which began to leak from the edge of her lips.
“Wow~” said Coppelia, leaning down to poke her cheeks. “You managed to kill her with just the laugh.”
I was appalled.
If this was the reaction to my satisfaction, I may as well be disappointed! That was always easier!
“C-Coppelia! I didn’t kill her! … Why, anyone who dies looking so slovenly would come back to life just to fix themselves!”
Also kneeling beside the fallen baroness, Renise gently shook the girl’s shoulder. Only a weak gurgling came out, wishing for an eternal night.
After a moment, Renise sent a slightly pained smile towards me.
“Um, by any chance … do you not have any thoughts regarding seeing so many portraits of yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well … do you not find it odd?”
I looked at her in puzzlement.
“... No? Why would that be odd? Isn’t it natural that people would wish to paint me? I’m a princess. And an excellent one, too. Better me than a fruit bowl, surely.”
Renise blinked … just before raising her hand to her lips in a small giggle.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
Words which advanced her on my family’s career ladder exponentially. I nodded profusely.
Mreoow.
At least until an unexpected sound filled the air.
I looked around in puzzlement.
“... Did I hear a cat?”
“Mmh~” Coppelia pointed towards the faux-vault door we’d passed. “More than one. There’s a whole bunch being kept nearby. It smells terrible.”
I threw up my arms in exasperation.
Why, no wonder the baroness sought the bliss of unconsciousness! It was to evade my utter disbelief!
The absolute state of my kingdom’s schemers!
First Trierport! Now Hartzwiese! To think it was an epidemic!
Just what were these people doing?! Truly, it’s one thing to undermine my kingdom. But that was a pale crime compared to their feat of singlehandedly fuelling the existence of the Adventurer’s Guild!
“It must be Tantrum and Peppy,” said Renise, far less aggrieved. “As well as all the others.”
I directed my bewilderment towards her instead.
“What is a … Tantrum and a Peppy?”
“They’re the names of the deputy guildmaster’s cats. The ones she was looking for. We should ensure they’re rescued before the night is done.”
I shook my head rapidly. No, no, no, no.
“I am not rescuing cats.”
“Hm? … Why not? Isn’t that the job of adventurers?”
“No, that’s the job of drunkards who mistake the commissions plastered on walls for requests to save a kidnapped princess. Besides, cats hardly need rescuing. Whatever bonds they find themselves in, they’re more than capable of slipping free by their own endless guile.”
Indeed, our only danger was that we tripped over a lazing cat hidden in the shade!
It’s a wonder they hadn’t escaped already. By the time we were done, I fully expected to see cats causing anarchy as they reclaimed the town, mewing from rooftop and windowsill with barely held contempt for the very people who fed them!
… Why, they should be ashamed!
“I see …” said Renise, with a hum of uncertainty. “Well, I suppose they’re known for their self-sufficiency. But even so, I feel that we shouldn’t leave them in the chance that their artfulness fails. There’s a very dangerous forest between here and the town.”
Coppelia clapped her hands together.
Her interest in the baroness severed, she leaned towards her next source of amusement, her smile alive with all the usual colours of the mischief rainbow.
“That’s right~ cats are pretty smart, right? There’s no way they’ll be caught by the slobbering horrors devoid of mercy and compassion which I kept from eating us.”
“Coppelia, you frightened them away with sticks.”
“Exactly. Sticks thrown using opposable thumbs which cats lack. And that means they know where they are on the food tree. They’re gonna stay here where it’s safe, waiting for the dumb humans to come fetch them like they always do, even though cats do nothing but hiss and scratch at them.”
I gave a cautious nod … all the while leaning further away.
“Yes, well, I’m glad you agree. We’ve no need to lift a finger to rescue them.”
“Mmh~ but even so, aren’t you willingly leaving gold on the table?”
“Excuse me?”
“I bet every cat has a poster somewhere up in the Adventurer’s Guild. That’s a whole bunch of change you’re leaving lying around that could be used for our apple strudel budget.”
I was aghast.
Not only at the suggestion our funds went entirely towards the apple strudels she ate before I could even touch them … but also because I knew exactly what Coppelia was doing!
My keen eyes could see through her deep subterfuge!
True, it was only prudent to ensure our personal finances were as secure as possible … but even so!
I had my pride!
In my darkest dreams, I still recalled the shame of rescuing a warehouse of cats in Trierport! There was no scenario in which I’d willingly suffer such humiliation again! Once my dignity was stripped, what was I, but a beautiful maiden without equal?
Indeed, I had no doubt in my mind!
I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea, would absolutely not resort to saving lost cats!
“The Adventurer’s Guild will never be happier,” said Coppelia brightly. “I bet that in less than a day, a literal army of adventurers will be swooping in to claim all the free cats for themselves. They’ll be everywhere. Literally everywhere. Productivity will be at its highest. You’ll be actively supporting the livelihoods of all those guys you see drinking themselves into a coma!”
Renise blinked, then looked at me with an expression filled with new warmth.
“Oh, I see! You intend to leave these cats behind to be collected by new adventurers. That’s very thoughtful of you. I understand now. This must be how high-ranked adventurers help their juniors progress and gain confidence in their skills.”
Renise filled the ensuing silence with her smile.
And then–
She slowly waved a hand in front of my face.
“... Miss Coppelia, why isn’t she responding?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Her cogs get stuck every now and again.”
“I see … ? Should we do something or … ?”
“Mmh~ I’ll scoop up the striped ones! You get the normal ones!”
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We are just wrapping up a month (April 19th to May 18th) in Playa Flamingo. We had a great time, and did less than 10% of what we had bookmarked before arriving, but that’s a good thing and just enjoyed a Pura Vida life for a few weeks. This experience is applicable if you’re staying in Brasilito, Conchal, Flamingo, or Potrero.

• MyTanFeet got it right and you should trust their advice. Especially the videos.
• If you’re a vigilant and alert driver and don’t mind swerving (duck, dodge, weave, go with the flow and hang loose man), you’ll be fine. If you are 10 and 2 and stay perfectly in the lines and must obey traffic laws, don’t drive here. (I ended up doing all the driving). There are only lines on 1/3 of the paved roads, and only highways (2 lane roads) are paved. The side streets are all dirt and rock roads with variable ruts and pothole conditions (just go slow until you’re used to it). Small SUV is fine for clearance, but get something with a beefier engine with sport mode for hill acceleration. The Hyundai Tuscan was perfect, the Suzuki struggled badly.
• Only rent from Adobe. We had people visiting us for a week at a time and they had bad experience with Budget (arguing about insurance) and Avis (ran out of SUVs and downgraded to Sedan that we couldn’t get anywhere off-road with). I stopped by the local Adobe office twice, once to replace a windshield wiper that was worn out before thunderstorms. 10 mins in and out with a smile on their face. The second time we had pulled on the trunk handle when closing it and the inside panel of the hatch came loose. 3 guys hustled out of their office to look at it, and after 10 mins of no success they drove me home, and brought me a new car (same model) an hour later with no fuss and all paperwork pre-completed.
• Rainy season starts like a light switch on May 1st +/- a few days. It was sunny and 95 with great visibility, then turned hazy and now in mid May it’s like a tropical rainforest and everything is lush and trees are blooming. We only got “wet” 3-4 times during the month unexpectedly. Lots of lightning, minimal thunder. Territorial views help to see it coming.
• There are plenty of resorts and all inclusive, but just go to Hawaii or Cancun for that. We rented a 3 bedroom AirBnb with territorial views on south hill of Flamingo. Having a view on the hill is wayyy better than being on the beach. Lots more to see. And less bugs at night from the beach.
• Booked sailboat with Serendipity Charters lucky 13 (mixed group, semi-private charter) for a sunset cruise out of Flamingo Marina. We loved it so much we went two more times, had the same crew and met the owner and made new affluent friends on each trip. We saw the catamarans with 40 people on them and shook our heads. It’s like taking a smaller adults only dinner cruise vs a Carnival cruise ship. You can book direct on their website for better pricing than TripAdvisor. Don’t let the weather forecast scare you.
• In this area, assuming you want to eat a bit more local and not “at the resort”, our favorites were Gracia Mar Vista (although they were only open 1/3 of the several times we tried to go), Gracia La Vid (amazing wood fired pizza). The Potrero Brewery and the food truck style park was great too. Coco Loco has a cool vibe but we’re disappointed with food price per value. Margaritaville is 2x the price and, is a typical resort if that’s your thing.
• Book a date night in advance (several weeks probably) for Road Less Traveled in Potrero for the Chef’s Choice 9 course meal for the private chef experience with 4 stools at their kitchen island.
• Great soda restaurant experience, frequented Azul and Soda Brasilito.
• $40/hr massages on beach in front of Margaritaville. Look for yellow towel tables. Amazing and better than home.
• We drove to Tamarindo a few times. It’s where the ladies wanted to go shopping for trinkets and casual dresses. Farmers market was meh.
• Grocery prices in Flamingo are pricey. Do a stock up trip once or twice a week to Mega Súper past Huacas toward Tamarindo.
• Super market here means mini mart, Mega Super, Maxí Palí, and Walmart (Liberia) will feel more like home. They have 1/3-1/2 of what we find at home, so you may get creative or stick to simple foods. The meats we had were all great, just expensive. Cheese here is weird and expensive, possibly not pasteurized. The groceries that last a week at home only last 3 days here. Don’t overstock. Fresh fruits everywhere and tons of sliced pineapple, watermelon, etc to be found. The prices at the soda are significantly cheaper than groceries. Get snacks for groceries and eat your meals out.
• Language Barrier: Very few speak English, unless it relates to money or a food menu. The Google Translate app on your phone in conversation tab is your friend. We managed just fine.
• Currency Conversion: 500:1 is hard. Simpler method is to see something in thousands, just drop the 3 digits to the right of the comma separator and double it. 10,000 C = 10, x 2 = $20 USD. 3,250 C = $6.40 USD.
• Paying in Cash: We used cards for anyplace we went that had a roof. Use cash for anyone you pay on the street. Everyone takes US $10s and $20 bills. Bring $300-500 for trinket vendors, massages, etc. We never hit the ATM, and only got a few colones bills back, just paid in USD.
• Credit Cards: Every business, grocery store, and restaurant uses the same BAC (Bank of Costa Rica) credit card terminal that has a tap card. There are no pins, signatures and tipping. Tap your card and go. We used our Amazon Prime credit card here with no hassles.
• Beaches: Spring break or California beach? Tamarindo. Boogie boarding or low key sandy beach? Flamingo. Other beaches are okay, just not as great and many don’t have easy access/parking. We hoped for better snorkeling but it was sub par. All of the boat trips will let you snorkel and get your fix, but go to the Caribbean side for the cool stuff it sounds like.
• Weather Forecast: The apps don’t work since they don’t have weather services down here (ex. No radar). It’s all based on satellite images of storm intensity. Use Weather Underground to play back what it did for the last few hours and if there is a yellow or red cloud in your vicinity, expect to get wet. If you Google search for Hawaii coconut forecast, it’s pretty much that. Just keep your eyes on the skies and territorial view.
• Activities: We found our one way driving radius was an hour and a half. Anything East of Liberia was too far. This is mainly since the top speed you hit out here is about 50mph on winding backroads as we describe them in the US and no fousix lane highways, so it just takes awhile to get anywhere. We could have stayed overnight out there but just ran out of time and motivation to do it. That eliminated many of our bookmarks. We just lived the beach life and chilled in the pool.
• Rain Jackets and Swim Suits: Yes, you need a rain jacket. More importantly, bring 3-5 pairs of swim suits. Several pair are always drying outside. The rain here is warm so it’s easier just to get wet while wearing swim gear than trying to stay dry. We swear by the boxer brief lined swim trunks now.
• Shirts and Sweating: As thin and light as possible. The Under Armour tech tees and Willit sun shirts were my go to. My Roblox shirt was too thick. Cotton is a no go.
• Plane Landing at night (LIR): It’s disorienting here on your first night. Get a room at Hilton Garden Inn when you land, and book your Adobe car to pick up at the hotel the next morning around 8:30-9:00. They will meet you in the lobby with no fuss. Ask for a late check out and hit a nearby waterfall first thing in the morning and come back and shower before driving to the beach towns.
• Power Outages: It happens once or twice a day, comes back on in 30 seconds or 30 minutes. You get used to it, no stress.
• Diamante: It was okay, depends what you’re looking for. Only 5 zip lines even though one is Superman. I like the 10-12 Zips in the rainforest and this is more hill peak to hill peak zig zagging down. You can take an ATV tour out of Potrero up there for added exhilaration.
• Road Trip to Nosara: We randomly decided to do a drive down to Nosara. We took Route 160 out and 150 back. You want a miserable pot hole mostly dirt road adventure, 160 is it. That must have been what the roads used to be. White knuckled for 2 hours of it. 150 is freshly paved and was a saving grace coming home. Wasn’t too much to see that we hadn’t already experienced. Just got some lunch and drove back home.
• Length of Trip: If you’re not traveling around, 7-10 days is perfect. We did a month to test if we like long term travel. After 29 days, we’ve found that 14 is a sweet spot for us. If you stay longer and have family and friends come in for a week at a time, you will have different vibes and activity interests to re-discover or re-explore and keep it fresh.
• Traffic laws? You mean suggestions. Just add a few speed bumps where we want you to slow down and yield signs on one lane bridges. In straightaways outside of the towns, it’s fine to go 15-20 kph over the limit (others will be too). Watch for speed bumps in any 40kph zone. There are 14ish speed bumps on the 1.5hr drive between Liberia and Flamingo and a handful of yield or stop signs. Doesn’t need to be more complicated than that. Never saw a stop light. Just pass whatever is on the road (dog, person, biker, horse, kid, dirt bike with 3 people) when you can see ahead of you, don’t need a passing zone or sign to do it. If something is up ahead that you’re slowing down for, throw your flashers on. Turn em off when it moves. The end.
• Buying Stuff: Just like camping at home, you need to bring it with you. There is no Walgreens, only 7-11 equivalent places. You can get a few things at the corner store but there are no malls here or Amazon or deliveries. It makes you appreciate living “off the grid” in a way.
• Pura Vida: The rules and laws that exist down here are mostly non existent or suggestions. Just live life, preferably in the slow lane. They don’t complicate anything down here. It makes me realize how consumeristic and hectic and scare too easy we are in the states. You do you, they do them. You’ll see some funny stuff and have some stories (walking your horse while holding rope out the car window, dirt bike wheelies, 3 people on mopeds, etc.)
• Local Resident Vibe: The primary industry here is tourism. Everyone is very friendly and welcoming. You’re going to see low quality of living as you drive around (ex. Shanties), that’s just how they live here. We may call it poverty back in the states, but they are just living their life just like you are living yours. I never felt threatened or unsafe in any way. Only saw police twice in our entire trip, and they were just strolling around casually. The nicer the area, the more we avoided it. The more rustic it was, the more we were intrigued.

I hope it helps! Have a great trip!

alright second try. maybe I can trim the fat a little on this attempt and make it a bit more streamlined.
so the first thing is deciding how many strands to use, and to avoid complicating things on your first try just trust me you'll want to choose an even number.
beginnings:
I almost exclusively do 4 strands as a flat braid with paracord, but that comes with a couple complications of its own involving the finger loop and the pouch design, so I am going to write this for a 6 strand braid, which for most of the sling will be a 3-strand braiding pattern using doubled strands, so 6 total...
...but in order to do the finger loop right you actually want to cut 3 strands at double the full desired length, plus some room for error etc. so for a 54" sling cut 3 lengths of cord at 120" each (and just for convenience go ahead and melt the ends sealed)
line them up alongside one another and fold your bundle in half, but to avoid tangling and confusion keep the 2 halves a little separated. you'll start working on the middle of the bundle.
finger loop:
take the very middle, then choke up a few inches (technically this will amount to the circumference of the finger loop but it doesn't have to be perfect here). tie a slipknot a few inches up from the very middle binding the 3 cords together, and start braiding them together on the long side starting at the knot.
the repeat rule through this whole effort is TIGHT, EVEN braids. if it starts looking wonky, just take it apart and try to fix it bc the further you go the more impossible any corrections will become.
after you get a few inches of braid, loop it around to see how big the finger loop is. you want it wide enough to easily slip past the knuckles on your middle finger (even if that's not the finger you use when you actually sling, you should still make it big enough). when you get there, clothespin the braid closed and untie the slipknot. now you’re gonna tighten up that end of the braid and maybe even add a little length.
stack your braid ends one on top of the other to form the finger loop and make sure each braid's last working strand is pointing in the same direction.
you’re going to pair each strand with its counterpart one by one, and continue the braid as a doubled up 3-strand pattern. this will merge the ends of the finger loop together seamlessly and begin the retention cord.
if this sounds complicated, it's honestly pretty straightforward once you're actually doing it (this sentiment might come up again a couple times fyi)
retention cord:
braiding the retention cord is easy, it's the same 3-strand pattern just with doubled strands now. keep the doubled strands parallel and pull them very tight with each braid you lay down, wrapping them around as you go (again... you'll see what I mean).
knee:
once you get the right length on the retention cord (I didn’t do the math here, but it's not complicated), you'll separate the braid into 2 bundles of 3, each to be braided into the sides of the split pouch.
rather than laying out exactly which strand goes where to make it most even, I think you'll do fine figuring it out on your own. honestly you just want the sides to be as balanced as possible.
a good practice is to braid one side a couple inches, clothespin it, then braid the other side a couple inches. now go back to the first one, undo the braid, pull everything super tight again and braid a couple inches again; then repeat on the other side. this really helps pull out the slack that inevitably builds up.
pouch:
braid each side to the appropriate length (math...), taking turns between them and regularly checking they are well balanced.
we will do a little more to beef up the pouch a bit once we finish the release cord. that is when you can add a Channing type smile if you want, too.
belly:
again, make sure each pouch braid's last working strand points in the same direction and all the strands are pulled tight.
you will rejoin the pouch in a similar way as you did for the finger loop, but this time side by side instead of stacked. this is probably the trickiest part of the whole process, and it might take a couple tries to get it right but it's not too hard. if it's just not working for you, you can get away with joining them stacked instead of side by side and the sling will still work fine - it's just better to do it side by side.
just make sure you keep pulling all the strands tight as you go, and that you are pairing the appropriate strands with one another.
don’t hesitate to take it apart and give it another try if it doesn't look or feel right - it's reasonably important to get this part right since it is the part of the sling that most directly affects how projectiles will release.
release cord:
hey you're at least 3/4 done now. if you want you can just keep doing the same 6 strand, doubled-up 3 strand pattern for the entite length of the release cord - but it's generally advised to drop out strands from the braid periodically to form a steady taper until the very end of the release cord is the same thickness as the finger loop.
it's very easy to do, and I usually just feel it out as I go - it doesn't have to be a perfect taper. you'll drop one cord at a time, so you'll start with 6 strands, braid for a bit... drop to 5 and braid some more; then 4 for a bit, and finally 3 for the remainder - so it does help to learn how to do a 5- and 4-strand braid...
...but honestly it should be ok if you do your 5-strand portion by continuing with the same 3 doubled-up strand pattern, just one of them is a single strand now.
also, whenever you drop a strand don't cut it or anything, just leave it out of the braid and let it hang for now.
same deal when you hit 4 strands - you could learn the braid or just continue the same pattern you've been doing but now only one strand is doubled. doing it like that with the 5 and 4 strand portions will kinda make the cord less... idk 'uniform'(?) than if you were to use the appropriate braid patterns, but all in all it shouldn't be an issue.
lastly, of course, dropping from 4 to 3 should be pretty simple.
release:
I like a smooth release without a knot, but if you want to add a knot you just have to make sure it's in the exact right place so that the very center of the pouch will be the lowest point of the sling when you put the finger loop on and grip the release as you will when it's time to use it. only way to determine that is to put it on your finger and try it out.
if you think it'll help, go ahead and place a projectile in the pouch then hold the sling just as you would if you were getting ready to incapacitate a philistine giant - this will help you find the exact spot where it's most comfortable and natural to grip the release cord and keep the pouch centered.
note: this is actually part of why I prefer to skip the release knot... if you experiment with different ways of holding and releasing etc. - which you probably should if you’re new to slinging - the knot kinda locks you in place. I haven't heard a good argument in favor of the knot actually; it seems like there's no real advantage to having it and it kinda gets in the way
use a crown knot, which is super easy w 3 strands but I’m not going to explain it here - it's all over youtube you'll have no trouble finding a 20 second video demonstrating this simple knot.
you can terminate the sling right at the release knot if you want, but I strongly recommend continuing for a few inches past it - and if you skip the knot, definitely continue a few inches past the portion you'll be gripping.
end the braid with a crown knot then cut and melt the ends of each cord to seal them. melting paracord ends is sort of a skill on its own, but if you do it right it bulges a little and hardens in place which will hold your knot together.
tassle: (how do you spell tassle? is it tassel?)
you don’t need a tassle but hey why not? since you've got plenty of paracord cut like 7" and pull out the inner strands - the guts.
you can thread them through the crown knot for extra security, then braid them together for a few inches - or you can just make a braid and tie it to the end. either way works fine. I like to braid the tassle a bit then let it hang loose for another couple inches into a natural fray, rather than closing the braid with a knot. honestly doesn't matter much, but do leave an unbraided portion as a fray.
pouch afterwork:
you could leave the pouch as is, but it's nice to make it a little beefier and more durable. I just use some more paracord to wrap it. you can use the axe-handle wrap method, which is basically just a series of alternating overhand knots around a core - typically a tool handle but in this case each of the sides of your pouch.
a much, much better way is a 'solomon bar' which is like paracord 101... it's how you make everything - key fobs, bracelets, dog leashes, belts, etc. it's hard to explain, but easy to learn from a video lol. just remember that any video you watch about it will show you how to create a core, then create the knot pattern around it, usually using like one strand of cord - you just need the knot technique since the core you'll tie it around is, again, each of the sides of the pouch.
I've never tried the 'smile' but it seems easy enough - just kinda minimally thread a single strand of cord across the center gap to prevent your projectiles from falling through (honestly it's just not a problem I have often enough to warrant a solution like that)
afterwork/finishing touches:
the hanging strands you dropped out for the taper... just cut those and melt them sealed. easy enough.
you can wrap the finger loop too, if you want. I'd go ahead and do that if you wind up using it often enough, and I recommend something soft like cotton twine... but paracord does work fine too.
end/concluding notes:
and there you go.... idk how much experience you have using a sling, but that's outside the scope of this for me lol - one thing I will say though if you haven't used one before: start with tennis balls or something that can’t knock anybody out or break windows, please!
and lastly, if this does seem like more than you're willing to undertake... there are easier options for sure.
seatbelt sling:
my favorite sling that isn’t a natural fiber balaeric type is the second one I ever made, which took me 10 minutes after watching the video by Mersa - a seatbelt sling. it just uses canvas type material for the pouch and single strands for the cords. look it up. mine gets used all the time and has never needed any repairs or adjustments
noodle sling:
literally takes less than 5 minutes and uses a single uncut cord with easy knots to form the loop and the pouch. you do need a slightly thicker cord though. I’ve made a few of these and they also work great.
anyway, good luck - I'll keep an eye on notifications if you need any help or anything.
it's super satisfying to use a sling you made yourself, and if you're like me at all you'll wind up making like a dozen of them just out of boredom until you get the technique down perfect and even come up with your own ideas and techniques to try out.
just wait until you start getting into the traditional natural fiber methods and you wind up watching the Archaic Arms videos 30x

Chapter One
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Prev
-Rooftop of the White Flame Factory-
Grigory smiled nervously at his men as they lounged on the rooftop patio. As the sun sank lower, he was happy to see them relax after the day's tensions. He’d wanted to give them their imps when they first arrived, or after the demonstration, but they seemed a little too skittish. Their reactions were causing him to doubt his strategy. If his most loyal supporters were repelled by them, wider acceptance was going to be a non-trivial hurdle. He’d been working on an improved version of the imps for months, but making them less threatening, or light forbid, ‘cute’, seemed deeply at odds with his plans. He hoped time might be the missing ingredient. Once they get a bit more familiar with them, they’ll come around. The imps were really nothing for them to fear.
The demonologist sat alone, observing how his men were dealing with the news. He was deep in thought, adjusting his plans and ruminating on his concerns. Was he forcing them to do things they weren’t comfortable with? The basis of his entire plan was that the whole world was to benefit from the imps, so it had to start somewhere, or he might as well give up. They seemed to be taking it as well as he could have hoped.
Catching a wisp of savoury smells, he thought it was scarcely fair to relax while Stanisk was busy in the kitchen. He rose to see if he could lend a hand with dinner. During their overland trek to the capital months ago, it was clear that Stanisk was a superlative cook, but Grigory was a dexterous helper. Much of what he knew about surgical techniques had been picked up preparing meals.
Grigory arrived at the great hall that served as the eating area. In the centre of the chamber, two long tables stretched across the room, capable of seating fifty, though only four simple chairs he had crafted a few weeks ago were present. His men had yet to grasp the potential of the imps' labour; instead of proper seating, they had improvised with crates and timbers haphazardly arranged around the tables. Near one table, a jute sack of potatoes lay abandoned on the floor, possibly mistaken for a makeshift seat. Grigory hoped they'd be eating the potatoes, not sitting on them.
Separated from the hall by a low half-wall, the kitchen bustled with activity. Stanisk sat on the thick timber counter, a casual sentinel over dinner’s preparations, while Jourgun and Klive stood nearby, deep in conversation with their commander.
Stanisk’s five imps, in their fancy clothes, dashed around the kitchen. Under his expert guidance they were preparing a grand feast. One was peeling potatoes, another stirred a great bubbling pot, while two were doing dishes.
“Sir, did you know that Stanisk’s imps have names? And fancy clothes! Can I have one like his?” Klive blurted when he saw his employer. “Uh, as it pleases milord, of course.”
“Plus mine bow when they bring us beers! They don't do that fresh out of hell!” Stanisk's toothy smile implied he might have been bowed at by imps a half dozen times already.
Grigory tilted his head and blinked for a second.
Surely a bit of clothes can’t have that much of an impact on their acceptance?
“Oh, Of course! Certainly!” he paused again. “Feel free to ask Stanisk for tips on how he made his.” Observing the bustling activity, “It looks like dinner is well in hand?” The kitchen was huge, far larger than the one at Planed Pine Peak Inn. A half dozen dishes simmered or baked, their aromas — exotic spices, rich gravies, and roasted meats filled the expansive space.
Stanisk replied without glancing away from the imps handling the tasks. “Well in hand, boss. Take ‘er easy tonight!” The imps' movements were quick and fluid, their antics distractingly comical at times. Grigory watched, smiling, as one imp hugged a yam to its chest that likely weighed more than it did, and made its way along the countertop from the vegetable sack to the cutting board. Each step was an exaggerated sway, the creature was badly top-heavy and teetering.
With effort he pulled his focus back, “Capital! I’ve a matter to attend to! Smells great already!”
Grigory went into the factory proper to whip up enough chairs for everyone. Simple wooden ones for now, but with cushions. Cushions were quick enough to make and he had a few cart loads of wool and woollen fabrics. He watched his imps work, glad he could share them with his whole team now. Obviously it made everything a bit riskier, but it was worth it. One of his concerns was that he’d been overlooking opportunities and uses. He was bound by only being able to think his own thoughts, so he was excited to see what non-demonologists would think of.
They carved and joined the pine chairs with their normal speed and accuracy, but watching them sew was its own reward. The imps wielded needles like longswords in their tiny hands, the points moving too fast to see clearly. They stacked up the plain cushions in a neat pile at the end of their low workbench.
He also didn’t have any utensils, placemats, serving spoons nor trivets either, since this was their first proper meal here. He commanded the imps to make those as well, and carry them like a row of ants from the workshop to the dining hall. The demonologist walked around the table, surveying his work. With a minor gesture of flame he lit the lamps, and frowned at the beige-grey of undyed wool of the chair cushions.
He pulled the chairs out, and one at a time enchanted the cushions to bright, cheerful colours. He was going to make them all company purple, but thought better of it. Enchanting colours was a fun spell to cast, because the act of changing its colour also unravelled enchantment as it went. Much like building and knocking over houses of cards, the end effect was a mundane unenchanted object, but in whatever colour he’d chosen. Having done the spell countless times for entire days to prepare for the midsummer tourney, he didn’t even have to check his notes for any of the hues.
Satisfied with his work, though slightly frustrated that his first and last red cushions weren’t quite the same shade, he sat down. He pulled a notebook out of his satchel and started making notes on his ideas for some improvements, mostly for his own use, but some to the things he’d be soon selling. Lost in his own world, he had no idea how much time had passed when Ros and Taritha joined him at the table.
“Good evening, milord,” Ros said deferentially.
The young herbalist elbowed him, “Come on, he had one rule! He was writing!”
“Oh! Terribly sorry, sir!” Ros stammered.
“Not at all, I was basically doodling. How’s your evening going, is everything to your liking?” Grigory closed his notebook and put it away.
“Amazing milord, These rooms are huge! They're bigger than some of the houses I was looking at!” Taritha said.
“Of course! No one wants to live in dingy cells! Glad to hear! It’s easy to make a place bigger when you are building fresh. Let me know if you find anything that needs fixing, our builders are still in town working on the harbour fortress now, but I can have them send someone if there is anything amiss!”
“I don’t reckon neither of us knew palaces this nice existed anywhere, milord!” Ros said with a shrug. “We might not be the best eyes for finding faults!”
“Heh! This is just the rustic first stage! Don’t worry about its crudeness for now, we’ll get there over time!” the demonologist promised, patting his satchel where the notebook of ideas was. His confidence was both unshakeable and unnecessary.
“Not to question your plans, but there are a lot more rooms than people. Are we expecting company? Are we hiring?” Taritha asked. Her eyebrows twitched slightly, having just questioned his plan for the first time.
“Big plans indeed! So that empty stretch east of the main building? That’s also part of our land grant. In a while we’ll be building a barracks there for our troops, while senior officers will stay in the main factory. That’s also why Stanisk will be taking a much more active role with civil defence. It’s central to our plan to secure the town, and by extension our own safety.”
“Our troops? Like us?” Jourgun asked, having joined them at the long table.
“Maybe? Probably not? We’ll see. The plan is to extensively recruit as we can afford it, since the pirate raid was just the beginning. We have something of incredible value, in the form of me, the imps and the factory itself. Many violent people feel they should possess every valuable thing, so we must be vigilant. Not to worry though! That’s just us planning for the worst. In reality, nothing like that will likely happen. Just by being well defended we’ll scare off the greedy.”
“Ah, like why it's dangerous for a beggar to wear a silk robe!” Rikad added as he joined them, along with a few others. The smells from the kitchen were intoxicatingly rich now, as Stanisk and Klive used the imps to finish and plate the meal.
“Just so, a lord can only have what he can defend, and because the first phases of my plan require a certain level of material wealth, I’ll need extensive defences,” Grigory explained as diplomatically as he could.
“The Empire itself will fear our might, milord!” Ros said excitedly.
“Nah, it won’t. That’s a dangerous thought. The Imperial army’s smallest deployable force is a legion, near enough to five thousand men. Even if we hit every hiring and training target, we’se not going to be in the business of fightin’ wars. Just enough to make us a spiky nut. The sort not worth chompin’,’” Stanisk called over from the kitchen.
“Oh,” Ros said, shrinking back into his seat.
“That’s more than all the men in the whole town!” Taritha lamented.
“Yeah, that’s why lil fishing villages don’t win wars. A legion is five thousand infantry with warships, supplies, siege cohorts, and command companies. If’n it’s a real fight, then they might deploy all ten Imperial legions. Then start raising more if’n they’re losing. We ain’t never gonna try to fight that. No nation in the world has ever picked that fight and won.”
To counter the grim tone settling over his celebratory dinner, Grigory chimed in with a reassuring smile, “We’re loyal Hyruxian subjects, and the legions protect us. We pay taxes in full, we’re on the right side of all this. We just want a bit of security against more, uh, regional actors. Besides, a large well equipped force lends our diplomacy weight we wouldn’t otherwise have.”
Now that the table was filling up and his men looked satisfied with his answers, he raised his voice to the kitchen, “How’s it going in there?”
“Good! I bought a deer from one of the hunters this morning, and it turned out just right!” Stanisk replied, personally putting the finishing touches on his creation. Aethlina moved across the kitchen to watch Stanisk work, making Grigory do a double take. He hadn’t realised she was even in the building.
“Oh! Capital! Everyone in the entire company is here now! Even better!” Grigory said, motioning Aethlina to sit by him. He was glad he’d made the full number of chairs!
Stanisk and Klive brought out plates heaped with slices of braised venison, steamed tubers and sautéed onions. Tubs of butter, bowls of gravy, and finally a heaping basket of fresh buns followed. Stanisk took his seat and, smiling with pride, “What’re you helpless kittens lookin’ at? Never seen dinner ‘afore? Dig in!”
The feast was a perfect end to a troubling day, and even though the conversation died down as they ate, Grigory observed every single one of his hirelings intently, relieved to see not a single one seemed put off by a meal made by demons. Catching Stanisk’s eye, he made an empty cup gesture.
“Imps! Bring us all some drinks! Wine, beer and water!” Stanisk shouted to his imps. With speed and efficiency, the little demons filled clay cups and brought everyone three drinks, exactly as ordered.
“Ah, dammit, I meant—It’s fine. Drink what you want and I’ll just dump the rest!” The chief of security’s good humour faded for an instant before returning twice as bright.
“No, I love having three drinks! And the water and beer are cold! In the summer! The gods themselves envy me!” Rikad declared.
“Uh oh! It looks like Mage Thippily made imps, but the imps made the real monster!” Kedril retorted, gesturing at Rikad holding three cups between his hands, rotating them to drink out of each, while spilling beer all over his own arm.
Their high spirits encouraged Grigory. He’d worried they would be morose and frightened tonight, after making them to live in what could be described as a hive of demons. Joking about the imps was beyond his expectations, so he smiled without speaking, sipping his red wine. Not his cherished Malaentian Red, but a nice varietal from the mainland he’d recently imported a few cases of. Once the plates were empty, Stanisk had the imps clear the table and start washing up while everyone remained seated at the long pine table, bellies full to bursting.
“That was spectacular Stanisk! Thank you!” Grigory offered, and everyone else chimed in a breath later.
“Nothing like a lifetime of bland ration bars for months to really spark an interest in what good food ought to be! I’m glad ya’se liked it,” the big veteran said dismissively.
“How is everyone finding their new accommodations? I know I don’t have all the furniture done just yet, but is everyone good for tonight?” Grigory asked, ever the eager host.
The men nodded and looked at each other. Complaining was frowned upon and nothing here was remotely a hardship.
“Capital! Glad to hear it, and by all means bring it to my attention if your needs are unmet!” Grigory sat still and everyone kept looking at him.
Now’s as good a time as any. It’s not even a surprise, I think I mentioned it a few times already.
“Ahem! So! I’d like to present each of you with your own imps! Some ground rules though; there may be people that aren’t ready for this style of magic, so I ask that you don’t mention anything about them anywhere outside of the factory. Or even imply there are any magical creatures, just that things get made here?”
He waited until they all at least nodded.
“Alright! Here you go, I have one for everyone! The imps are identical, so don’t worry about which ones you get. Um. Good luck?” With a shrug he reached down beside his chair and from a leather case he pulled a series of carved wooden boxes, and passed them out to everyone sitting at the table.
***
With a muted clatter, Taritha watched as the small dark boxes were distributed. She wasn’t sure if there was one for her, being fairly new to the company. She wasn’t sure how she felt; owning demons seemed like a big step, but the ancient urge to possess something nice or powerful was one she wasn’t immune to. Her heart leapt as a heavy box slid in front of her.
With trepidation, she touched it with one finger; it appeared to be regular wood, perhaps stained oak. The box was small and rectangular, quite thin, and she held it easily in one hand. It was narrow enough to fit comfortably between her thumb and fingers, its weight noticeable but not oppressive. She had expected dread, palpable evil, or something, but it just felt a bit heavy. Turning it over, she saw no visible clasps or hinges. The outside was covered in the flawless ornate carvings she was starting to grow familiar with. This time, the carvings depicted joyful industrial scenes—strong men swinging square hammers, smoke stacks, and laden ships and carts. The central image on each side was gilded with gold leaf, making it strikingly dignified.
Ignoring the excitement and increasing movement around her, she felt as if she were in her own universe. She slowly pulled on the lid, finding it opened on tiny hidden hinges, revealing three ebony totems inside. They were the size and shape of a fairytale wand, resting on a bed of lush green velvet, held in place by a broad ribbon tied in a perfect bow.
Even without considering the priceless nature of the artefacts, she was impressed, almost distracted, by the quality of the presentation. He didn’t have to go to such lengths; she’d expected them to be simply handed to her.
She slid one of the totems out without undoing the bow. It was cool and heavy but otherwise seemed normal. She could see layers of impossibly fine carving, this time gilded with silver. She could sense the potent magic in the object, but it felt strange. She’d examined other enchanted items before, and their enchantments were all transcendently beautiful in a complex and technical way. This was so dense it felt like nothing. Or perhaps everything? She wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t at all like the other objects. Stilling herself and trying to puzzle out its secrets brought her no closer to any revelation. She shook her head and resolved to investigate further in private. She returned the totem to its place in the box and gently closed it.
Only now did she notice the table was thick with imps, more than twenty darting and leaping energetically. Her colleagues had summoned theirs and were already giving orders.
“You two, throw the third imp as high as you can!”
“Merp!”
“All of you, cross the table as fast as you can, but walk on your hands!”
“Merp!”
“Duel with these forks!”
“Merp! Merp!”
The men were laughing and pointing between shouting out fresh orders. All the commands were pointless and frivolous, making Taritha powerfully uncomfortable. These were forces of nature, extraplanar beings of unimaginable power, and they were being made to sprint into empty mugs to see how far the mug would fly!?
She shot a questioning look to the master demonologist to gauge his reaction. He was smiling and complimenting their creativity, so maybe she was overreacting? Still, she had no interest in wasting them on silly games. Emergencies only. Or at least serious concerns only. Not for dodging knotted linen napkins, that’s for sure!
With the burden of responsibility successfully dodged, she was free to watch everyone else’s fun. The cacophony of excitement was so infectious that she found herself giggling and pointing at them racing as makeshift horses, with an imp bent over holding the tiny waist of the imp in front of him, while a third one sat atop as a rider. They were so silly looking and energetic.
“You’re sure this doesn’t hurt or anger them?” Taritha asked.
“Oh my no, it’s not like that at all. They have minds, but lack awareness, or awareness of their own mind I guess? It’s fine! They are just made out of the same stuff as demons, but not actually demonic.” The mage stood up and stretched. “They are remarkably durable, it’s unlikely anything short of silvered steel will harm them. I, on the other hand, am at risk of being badly over-tired already! I trust you will be okay, left on your own! I’ll see you in the morning!”
“I’se properly tired too, but if you want, let's pop into the factory and I’ll show you how to get them to make their own clothes. It’s just tellin’ ‘em to do that, so you’se might not need too much hand holding!” Stanisk pushed himself away from the long table, and motioned for them to follow him.
They went into the cavernous factory, just across the hallway. What was an impressive and huge room in the daylight was now an infinite blackness, like a starless night. A few men had grabbed leviathan-oil lamps off the table, and they huddled in a small circle of warm, safe light. They gathered around a long low table, and Stanisk laid out a few bolts of fabric. The fine weaves were familiar to Taritha; they were the same as those used in the clothes she’d been getting from the company.
“It’s simple enough,” Stanisk said as he put a heavy leather bag of tools on the table. “Just say what you want, with as much or as little detail, and they’ll just make that.”
“Imps, make a suit of legion plate armour, imp-sized, out of shoe leather!” Rikad said with glee.
“Merp!” replied several at once, as they began cutting and forming the leather without hesitation. The imps even used grey wool for the under-mail parts, and tiny flares of hellfire to warp the leather into the right shapes. Soon, a tiny suit of black armour lay on the table, looking like what an imperial heavy infantryman would wear, but distorted to the proportions of the gawky imps.
“I dub thee, Imperial commander, Real Imp. Don thy armour!” Rikad ordered. “Do they remember their names?” he asked over his shoulder to Stanisk.
“Oh yeah, they’re proper sharp!” he confirmed.
“Create an imp-sized lord's robe with a sash of office! When it is done, you shall be known as D’Imp Lomat! I might need a minute to think of the last one though…” Rikad said to everyone watching his imps.
Reluctantly, Taritha opened the box and invoked her three imps. She looked at them closely; as far as she could tell, they were perfectly interchangeable with every other imp.
Looking over the fabrics, she chose a striking blue, a deep red, and a golden yellow. “Imps! Make imp-sized sundresses, mainly white with these colours as a main theme. and matching coloured sun hats,” she added hastily. Their heads were distractingly inhuman, so covering them might help. She watched them work, even interrupting a few times to ask for embroidered details and minor adjustments. Once they finished, she had them don their new outfits.
Oh! The hems seem scandalously short on their long lanky legs! Better than before, but not by a lot.
“Imps, please put on the hats that match the colour of your dress.”
“Merp.”
Much better! They look like ladies now!
“You are now Lady Bluebird, Lady Crossbill, and…” She paused at the last one, thinking of songbirds that were as bright yellow as the fabric. “Miss Goldfinch!”
She leaned back and admired her little ladies. They were far less threatening now, and their dull crimson skin really made the dresses look extra vibrant.
“Dang Taritha, how did you make yours so pretty? I want some pretty ones!” Jourgun commented as he looked over.
“Drool over your own demons! These are mine!” she said playfully. There was an undercurrent of possessiveness that she didn’t expect, but these ones were hers now. “Anyways, I’m going to bed too, you guys are too slow! Have fun, boys!” she said as she devoked her imps. The new clothes fell to the work surface.
“Oh yeah, they don’t take that with ‘em, wherever they go, so just keep it in a lil bag or whatever,” Stanisk said when he saw her distress. “They gotta get dressed every time you invoke it,” he shrugged.
So much to learn today!
With a brave smile, she replaced the totems in the box and gathered the dresses and hats. “Mind if I take…” she said as she slowly lifted a lamp from near Rikad.
“Oh yeah, all yours,” he said dismissively, fully engrossed in examining the tiny lordly robes of D’Imp Lomat.
She went back to the hall, up the wide even stairs to the third floor. She’d only spent a bit of time investigating it earlier, as she and Ros had been anxious about being late for dinner. She saw the heap of her worldly possessions against the wall where she’d left them. The only furniture here was the bed, but by the sounds of it, getting some tables, chairs, and wardrobes would be easy enough tomorrow. She placed the totem box and the tiny outfits on the floor beside the bed.
The bed itself was unlike any she’d ever heard of. Crafted with thick pine beams and topped with a mattress of imported cotton, it was probably wider than her entire hovel. A family of five could sleep on it and barely touch. She couldn’t imagine a more lordly bed. Its refined look and the luxurious softness were worlds apart from the coarse fabric and straw she was used to. Sometimes in the fall, she’d add freshly fallen leaves to her straw mattress for extra comfort, but that was a fleeting pleasure. This bed, however, promised constant comfort. She eyed the pile of heavy blankets at the foot of the bed. Recently, she had bought a single blanket from the market, thin and scratchy, but these were the mage’s blankets—thick, plush, and impossibly soft.
She shut the heavy door and took off her tall boots. The floor felt smooth under her bare feet. Even having a floor was a new luxury; she was accustomed to hard-packed dirt floors like most everyone else. This wasn’t just a floor; it was a delicate herringbone pattern of different kinds of wood, obviously done by the agile imps. It was cleaner, smoother, and more level than any table she’d eaten off before the mage came to town.
She stopped admiring the floor and stripped to her shift. She felt exposed being so undressed around so many men. She reasoned it out—the iron and oak door was stronger than a hide flap, and this would doubtlessly be the safest sleep of her life. Just a reaction, not a reality. She left the lamp on the floor and got in bed.
With a panic, she yelped as the whole bed flowed underneath her, as if she’d stepped on the tail of a sleeping cat. She tried to get up but her feet were already off the floor, and she couldn’t find a stable purchase with her hands. She froze up to think her way out of it, and the bed stopped moving almost as soon as she did.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Was this an enchantment gone awry? Some bed demon?
Slowly, she log-rolled towards the edge of the bed, and the mattress under her also slowly moved, but not enough to stop her. Slow and steady, she might get free yet. Finally, she was close enough to put a foot down and stand. The bed flowed back to being perfectly flat.
She stood up, with a hand to her sternum, trying to catch her breath.
Think! What did the mage say about this today? It would magically adjust? Maybe that was all it was doing?
She leaned over and gently pushed down with a single fist. It was super pliable, then increasingly firm. But it felt unlike anything else—stacks of clothes or hides all felt different when they got pressed.
It must be magic. No time to be timid, and it would be humiliating to go to either the mage or the chief about this.
The only spell she could reliably cast was a gesture of Mana-Visualization. It caused the invisible lines of arcane energy to glow visibly, in bright colours that hinted at their use and purpose. She cast it to better examine her bed. It wasn’t enchanted as she expected; rather, hundreds and hundreds of things inside it were, and they linked and overlapped in ways she wouldn’t understand if she studied enchantments for a decade. She involuntarily took a step back from it, like finding a hundred warhorses inside a small cabinet.
She dismissed the gesture. With renewed determination, she slowly sat down on the bed. It shifted but only a bit. It was very soft and comfortable. Slowly, she turned and laid back, fighting her panic as the mattress kept shifting everywhere her body touched it, unnervingly lifelike. Fully laying down, she stopped and the mattress stopped. Even as her eyes were still wide with terror, she started to calm down. To test her theories, she rolled onto her side, and the mattress under her hip grew softer, and the part under her ribs grew firmer, until the pressure equalised. Rolling back, she felt it shift again, and once more the mattress's firmness changed all up and down her body, stopping once it was the same shape as her body’s pressure, resulting in sublime comfort.
Oh. This is incredible. I get it now!
She reached to the foot of the bed, pulled one of the soft blankets up to her chin, reached down to extinguish the lamp and drifted off into a better sleep than anyone in the history of her family ever had.
Prev

Previous case
We're back to business as usual at Orion. Sort of. I'll get into that in a minute. But first, I just need to put it out there that sometimes the clients drive me nuts. As much as I have an apparently irresistible desire to help everyone, some people really push it. Push it right off of a fucking cliff, that is.
I’m going to stop myself before I go off on an unhinged rant about the woes of dealing with the public. Instead, I’ll let yinz see for yourselves what I've been putting up with.
(If you're not familiar with what Orion Pest Control's services are, it may help to start here.)
We received a call from a client about mosquitoes running amok in her home. Since we had a few others to take care of that day, I informed her that the earliest that one of us could investigate the matter was in the afternoon. But because this woman is clearly so much more important than everyone else, her royal highness threw a hissy fit about having to wait like a common peasant.
I tried to be as nice as possible, “Ma’am, I understand that it’s frustrating, but there are others that called ahead of you, so we have to take care of their problems before we can take care of yours.”
The client huffed, “Okay, you clearly aren’t hearing me. There are mosquitoes in my house!”
“Yes, ma’am, I heard you. However, you are not our only client, so we ask that you please be patient and we will be there as soon as we can.”
I should also mention that this client talked out of the back of her nose, if that helps to paint a picture of how her cadence was equally as grating as her personality. “Okay, but do those people have mosquitoes? Like in their house, biting them and their kid over and over? My son could have Zika virus right now!”
Jesus Fucking Christ. I rubbed my temple with my free hand as I did my damndest to keep my customer service persona in place, “Again, ma’am, I understand that this is frustrating, but we have a wasp infestation and termites to deal with before you and those families want their kids to be safe, just like you. In the meantime, I recommend wearing bug spray or burning a citronella candle until we can get to you. We will be there as soon as we can.”
“You better be! And you really need to work on your customer service, sweetie!”
The client hung up on me.
I had to pace around the office after that one. Sweetie? Shove it up your ass, you entitled, snotty… You know what? Nevermind. I have many words to describe clients like that and none of them are pleasant. I hoped that she’d get mosquito bites in all of the most private areas of her anatomy.
It probably didn't help that I was saddled with some bitterness after the ‘dogging’ incident. I knew that there wasn't anything I could do about the mechanic other than stay out of his way going forward. And boy, did that eat me up.
On that note, I know what the mechanic is, however, even whispering the official title of these Neighbors is enough to draw them to you. I'm not sure if writing it counts and I'm not about to find that out the hard way.
Just know that if you hear wings beating from the west at night, hide and pray that you'll be passed by. Placing a line of salt on all of the doors and windows facing the west keeps them from coming inside. Once they set their sights on you, they'll never stop hunting you. Even death itself fears them. You'll still be running long after your heart stops beating.
But I promise, I’ll elaborate more on that later. I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to the case.
Reyna was at the point in her training where she could be trusted to deal with termites on her own. After I had the wasp nests taken care of, I set out to her royal highness’ home, and earlier than I’d told her, might I add. I will admit that I was tempted to dally a bit just to piss her off, but then I figured that it would be better and more professional to just get it over with.
She looked exactly like how I pictured her to look, complete with a weasley sneer that only the most unlikable of human beings are able to master.
“It’s about time.” She snapped.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Where have you noticed the mosquitoes the most?”
“Everywhere.” She said unhelpfully,
Her husband stepped in. “In the kitchen and basement, mostly.”
To make this call even better, the husband decided to take it upon himself to follow me around as I did my inspection, asking me pointless questions and giving me advice that I didn't ask for.
It got to a point where his hot breath wheezed into my ear as I shined my flashlight under their sink.
Stiffly, but politely, I asked, “Sir, can you please keep your distance?”
His wife chipped in, “Will you let her do her job, Curtis? It took her long enough to get here, and if you keep pestering her, it's going to take even longer!”
The husband puffed up and snapped, “Well, it's my house! I need to know that the person working in it knows what they're doing!”
They began screaming at each other. As obnoxious and uncomfortable as it was to have to bear witness to it, at least they weren't focused on me anymore. I shook my head and kept searching for the source of the infestation.
What I was looking for was standing water, which is essential for a mosquito's life cycle; you eliminate the standing water, you eliminate the infestation. The space beneath the sink was completely dry.
With the argument going on, I almost didn't hear it. An odd little sound. The easiest way to describe it was that it sounded like, ‘Kudo! Kudo!’
My head turned to follow it. That's when I noticed that one of the floorboards was slightly raised up from the rest.
I interrupted their marital problems, “You said that your son was sick earlier? Would he happen to have chills and a high fever?”
The client spat, “Yes, because some people-”
Not in the mood for her nonsense anymore, I cut in, “Ma'am, please just answer the question. I am trying to help you, I really am, but I'm going to need some more information in order to do that.”
She looked taken aback, her face bright red. While she balked, her husband answered instead, “Our son said he was feeling under the weather, but he does that whenever he wants to get out of something. You know how kids are.”
Good lord. Parents of the year.
“Have you noticed your salt going missing?”
The wife blinked at me, “How did you know that?”
I told them that I'd be right back and went to retrieve a cage from the truck. This critter is an odd one in that not only is salt not a suitable repellent for it, but it actually loves the stuff. It can consume as much as ten grams of salt per day. So if you find that the salt in your home has gone missing, it could mean that a False Egg has made a nest.
I returned with the cage and advised the couple to either move into another room or wait outside. Would it surprise yinz when I say that they refused? Not in the mood to argue, I just shrugged. Okay. Suit yourselves.
I set the cage up next to the lifted floorboard, took my salt off of my toolbelt, and sprinkled some inside the cage. It would placate the False Egg once I got it inside.
Using my knife, I pried the floorboard up. From behind me, the husband began to protest, but his wife snapped at him to keep still.
Meanwhile, my eyes met the beady gaze of a False Egg from where it hid under their floorboard.
At first glance, it looks like a white chicken's egg. If consumed, it causes the host to lay more False Eggs. That's how it reproduces. The telltale signs that you're looking at a False Egg include two dark spots on the shell near the pointed top of the ovoid. Those are the eyes, which they can leave closed to camouflage themselves. You may also notice two small holes at the bottom of the shell, which is where its legs can retract in and out. Mosquitoes follow False Eggs wherever they nest, though it's unclear why.
Generally, they're more of an annoyance than anything. However, they can cause flu-like symptoms in those that they feel threatened by, so they do pose a slight danger to those with compromised immune systems.
To my surprise, the False Egg leapt out of its nest and into the cage, tucking its legs back into its shell comfortably. Even though it didn't seem to have any intentions of moving, I quickly shut the door of its cage.
For the first time since I arrived, the clients were speechless. The woman had a hand over her open mouth while the man stared at the False Egg in a mixture of horror and disgust.
It wasn't until I stood up with the cage that the man asked, “What the hell is that?”
“The source of the infestation.” I replied. “I’ll take this guy out to the truck. The mosquitoes should follow him, but just to be sure, I'm going to ask that you all leave the house for a few hours so that I can apply a chemical treatment that'll kill off any stragglers. And your son’s condition should improve in a day or two.”
The couple didn't give me any trouble. They quietly collected their sick teenaged son, saying something about getting ice cream, then fucked off to do whatever while I dealt with the rest of the mosquitoes.
Once I was done, I drove off to release the False Egg somewhere where it could complete its life cycle away from humans. It is able to reproduce in any mammal. While forcing other organisms to lay eggs is bizarre and can be alarming for the affected individual, it doesn't appear to hurt the hosts, other than causing some mild abdominal discomfort. Once the False Egg is laid, the host goes back to normal, which is why we generally don't feel the need to kill them.
Unexpectedly, the False Egg talked to me.
It had a small, soft, mousy voice. “Thanks for getting me out of there.”
I glanced at the False Egg. I had its cage on the passenger's seat. Its eyes were visible, along with its little white legs as it sat on the bottom of its cage. It looked up at me as it wiggled its small feet absent-mindedly.
Whenever it spoke, a small crack that resembled a toothy mouth appeared in its shell. That was something to add to our records: not only are False Eggs capable of speech, but their mouths are located below their eye spots.
Stunned, I said, “You're welcome.”
The False Egg continued, “Oh, those humans are vile! I hadn't realized it when I first made my nest. Do you want to know why I made the boy sick?”
“Why?”
So that's how I learned every aspect of this family's lives. I'm sure yinz care even less than I do about some suburbanites’ interfamily drama, so I'll just say that it wasn't bad enough to warrant a call to social services, but enough that I can see why that kid probably couldn't wait to turn 18. Overbearing mother, father trying to use his son to relive his glory days as a high school athlete. The False Egg had done the boy a solid, giving him just enough of a fever to excuse him from lacrosse tryouts.
“Where are we going?” The False Egg asked after telling me all that information that I didn't know what to do with.
“Back to the forest.”
The False Egg kept swinging its little feet, “Can you take me somewhere nice? If it's not any trouble?”
Why not? Maybe some scenery would improve my mood.
So me and my little egg buddy took a little drive to the pond. It was a picturesque area as well as a nice environment for a False Egg. They prefer caves, but as long as they're near water, they'll be fine. When I opened its cage, the False Egg hopped out, its little eyes and shelled body swiveling to take in the peaceful sight.
“Oh, this is wonderful! Thank you!” Before it skipped off, it paused. “I think it would only be right if I told you something that could help, since you brought me here.”
It turned, its shell splitting to form a mouth as it hesitated before speaking, “If you hear whispers in the woods, even if it sounds like someone you care about, don't listen. The louder they are, the safer you are. They get quieter as they get closer to confuse you.”
Hold on. That didn't make any sense. The whispers had gotten louder and more urgent as I approached the mechanic's clearing.
Unless I was wrong and he wasn't the one doing it.
I asked, “Is the whispering thing disguising itself as a mechanic?”
The False Egg tilted to the side thoughtfully, “I'm afraid not. It doesn’t like to pretend to be human.”
So there was something else out there with me when I went looking for Victor. I remembered then that the whispers had stopped once I got close to the mechanic's clearing. When I unintentionally allowed them to lead me astray, they took me in the opposite direction of where he'd been waiting. Interesting.
With the False Egg wandering off to establish a new nest that was far away from humans, I headed back to the office, unsure of how to feel about the information it had given me.
Victor looked annoyed when I came in. The clients had called to complain about my ‘poor customer service.’ Wow. Okay.
“Next time, just leave the False Egg there.” Victor said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “They want to complain about poor customer service? We can show them bad service!”
“It's fine, Vic.” I replied. “Just let them leave their one star Google review and move on.”
“These fucking people…” He grumbled.
Victor's headspace hasn't been much better than mine. He's been pretty much stuck waiting by the phone for those ominous calls that the mechanic mentioned in the woods. They don't happen often, but when they do, he gets grim. Quiet. He hasn't told me in detail what has been requested of him. I don't know if he simply doesn't want to talk about it or if he's sworn to secrecy.
We'd had a long, uncomfortable talk during one of my days off while recovering from getting dogged. Victor stopped by with coffee and a box of donut holes. He drank the coffee, but left the donut holes untouched. We sat in my small kitchen, him staring intently into his black coffee, me quietly adding more sugar to my mocha.
I broke the silence. “What did you want me to see the other day?”
“I couldn't outright tell anyone that I was dead. Not without the mechanic finding out.” He continued after some hesitation. “It feels selfish saying it now, but… I just wanted someone to know what happened to me.”
Victor pulled the bandana aside with a finger, revealing that a jagged, red grin had been carved across his throat. I shuddered, being forcefully reminded once again how thin skin truly is.
He quickly pulled it back into place.
That prompted me to ask, “Is the mechanic the one that…?” I pointed to my neck.
Victor shook his head. I asked him who did.
His expression darkened, “Someone I used to use with. He didn't believe me when I told him that I was still clean and couldn't help him get his next hit. Everything happened so fast after that. Before I knew it, I woke up in his trunk. My chest felt empty. It's strange, you know? You don't notice your own heartbeat until it's not there anymore.”
I shook my head slowly, a knot in my stomach as I whispered, “Jesus, Vic. Where is he now?”
“He can't hurt anyone else. We'll leave it at that.” Victor muttered.
I took in a shaky breath. I couldn't believe that he'd been keeping all of this in. It was a lot to take in at once, so I could only imagine how much worse it was to be the one experiencing it.
Like I said, I don't blame him for what happened. He must've felt so alone.
After I regained my composure, I asked, “So… what does the mechanic have to do with this?”
Victor hesitated again, eventually saying, “He couldn't touch me while I was alive, so he made sure that death couldn’t get to me before he could. That's why I was trying to keep my condition quiet; I was hoping that I could outlast him long enough for the Reaper to catch up. Unfortunately, the fucker is good at what he does and knew that I’d drag someone else into my bullshit eventually.”
I shook my head, “I dragged myself into it. I could've just minded my own business, but I didn't. I chose to go out there, even though I didn't know what I was dealing with. And I chose to say the wrong thing to the mechanic to set him off.”
“You wouldn't have been in that position if I hadn't said anything.”
“So what happens now? You're just… forced to do these calls?”
Victor sighed, “It's either that, or I join the ones in the trees.”
The skulls. Grimly, I wondered if those trapped souls were still aware. If they knew what had happened to them.
I slumped down in my seat. “Is there anything we can do?”
“As of right now, no. We just go to work, keep our heads down, do what we have to do. And from now on, I'll deal with the mechanic, even if it's for something as trivial as changing a tire. He's my problem, no one else's.”
So that's where we're at. Victor's technically not alive or dead, but a secret third, worse thing.
Speaking of worse things, we got an emergency call in the middle of the night.
After we close for the day, Victor routes calls to his phone in case there is something that can't wait until the next day. Thankfully, this is an extremely rare occurrence; up until this incident, it's only happened twice since I've been with Orion. I joined Victor for one of those two emergency calls. Even though it's been two years since that night, I still hear the crunching of bones in my dreams.
Something yinz need to know about the farmers around here is that they know how to take care of themselves. They have more encounters with the atypical than anyone else and for the most part, they know how to live amongst things like the Neighbors in relative peace. They know about leaving cream out to appease them. They know about what measures to take to defend themselves and their animals. They're a tough bunch and they usually prefer to take care of things themselves. It's highly unusual for them to reach out to us.
So when Victor told me over the phone that the emergency call was at one of the farms, I knew it was going to be bad.
When he first described what the farmers were contending with, my stomach dropped. The client's brother was found on the porch with his chest entirely deflated, deliberately placed into a chair that was moved in front of the door where the family could see him.
The farmers were holed up in their home. The woman of the house was pregnant, due within the next few days, which made moving her extremely difficult. They could hear whatever killed the brother giggling and tapping on the windows, mocking them. Victor was already on his way there.
I arrived with my toolbelt along with a shotgun and shells filled with rock salt. This may sound ridiculous, but I also donned a collar that I'd made last summer by hammering long ass carpenter nails into the leather, then coating their pointed tips with silver. I looked a bit like a goth club reject, but when dealing with things that like to go for the throat, you gotta put your pride aside.
Victor's truck was in the driveway, but he was nowhere in sight. Shotgun at the ready, I glanced around as I approached the house. The body was still on the porch, untouched after the poor man had been posed there. It looked far worse than what Victor had described. His chest had caved in, like everything inside of him had been sucked clean out. His face was frozen in surprise rather than horror or pain. He'd been caught off guard and was dead long before he could react.
Wings. I turned, pulling the trigger just in time as the pest tormenting this family dove at me. It tumbled to the ground with an enraged shriek.
It appeared to be a woman. Well… half of one. Her legs were gone, brown entrails dangling sickeningly from her gray torso. Her leathery, hooked wings trembled as she used her bony arms to raise herself up to snarl at me, curling her lips to reveal doglike fangs. I shot at her again. She jolted as the shell took a chunk out of her skull.
That wouldn't kill her. Both her and I knew it. She skittered like a cockroach, an elongated tongue shooting out of her mouth, quick as a whip. I flinched, turning my head so she couldn't reach my face, grateful for the collar as I felt the proboscis slam into its spikes. The impact knocked me off balance, causing me to stumble. I leaned into it, hitting the ground and out of reach of the next swipe of her tongue.
I took aim again, knocking her back a few feet. A dark shape suddenly appeared from the barn, a glint of metal shining in the figure’s hand. Victor.
“I can't find the lower half.” He hissed when I was in earshot.
That meant we were going to have to keep her from rejoining the lower half of her body until sunrise. It was three in the morning.
Because nothing can ever be easy.
Victor had found chains and a padlock in the barn. They should be heavy enough to restrain her. We’d just have to get close. Without her sucking our insides out, preferably.
She was back in the air. I took another shot. I'd have to reload soon. I hoped that I'd have enough shells to last the next two hours. At the rate I was going, I'd burn through them in the next ten minutes.
Unfortunately, I missed as she soared towards the house. I used my last shot and thankfully knocked her out of the air. As I hurriedly reloaded, Victor rushed towards the fallen creature, kneeling on her chest to keep her from taking off again as he fought to get the chain around her.
I heard him make a terrible choking sound, followed by her retching. She'd gotten her proboscis down his throat, but had withdrawn it even quicker than she had gotten it down. I guess undead viscera doesn't taste very good.
As she gagged, Victor pressed his forearm against her throat, pinning her so that she couldn't sink her fangs into him. I raced over, setting the shotgun on the ground next to me so that I could help him restrain her. While he held her, I coiled the chain around her squirming torso.
She began to laugh. When she spoke, it sounded like an old woman and a young girl speaking in unison, “Do you think a chain will be enough to stop me?”
I kept going. She wiggled one wing out from beneath her, jabbing the hook into the hollow of my shoulder. I gasped as it pressed deeper into my skin. Victor roughly pushed her wing back down, the violent withdrawal of the hook making me see stars. Through all of that, I still kept going.
We turned her onto her side so that Victor could pin her wings against her back. She screeched the entire time, the proboscis shooting back to slap him in the cheek.
We almost had her. Then we heard a wail from inside the house. What now?!
The pest abruptly paused in her struggles to leer at us, then she sang, “The baby's coming!”
You've got to be kidding me.
Her fighting resumed with far more force than before. That man that she'd killed had merely been an appetizer for her. The baby was her true prize. Her eyes were wild with excitement, saliva dripping off of her fangs as she watched the front door open.
Shitshitshit!
“Go back inside!” Victor shouted as we both used all that we had to try to keep the pest in place.
The farmer yelled back, distress making his voice higher, “Something's wrong! I have to get her to the hospital!”
I risked a glance. The woman was white as a sheet, holding onto her husband for dear life as he half led half dragged her to his truck. Blood stained the inside of the woman's legs.
At the sight of it, Victor froze. I didn't like the way he looked at the woman then. Oh no. The creature went into a complete frenzy. She managed to get her fangs into Victor's arm, wrenching a cry of agony from him as she ripped a sizable chunk of flesh out. His hold on her loosened just enough that she could wriggle a wing out.
I screamed as I felt her beginning to slip away, frantically reaching for the nearest part of her, which was unfortunately her dangling intestines. It was like trying to hold onto oversized wet noodles, my hands slipping in her chunky blood as I struggled to slow her down.
They just needed to reach the truck. We just had to keep her here just long enough for them to get a head start.
I just hoped that I wouldn't end up having to protect them from my boss, too.
She roared as she turned and slashed me across the brow with one of her clawed fingers. My vision went dark in my right eye. Numbly, I wondered if she ripped my eye out, or if it was just from the pain. By some miracle, I didn't let go.
Fortunately, the bite seemed to snap Victor out of whatever had happened to him when he saw the woman’s blood. At least for the moment. He scrambled across the ground, seizing my shotgun. His first shot missed. The second one hit her left wing. The farmer had the truck's passenger side door open as he helped his wife inside. The pest reached a talon towards them, trying to drag herself closer. Victor was back on his feet and marched over to shoot her in the head. Once. Twice.
The truck's engine roared to life. With it, the pest screeched in rage, the sound warped by the damage done to her mouth after Victor had unloaded on her. She flailed as she watched her prize speed down the road.
But it wasn't over. The gunshot wound in her wing was already closing up. It wouldn't take her long to catch up to them if we lost her.
My cheek was wet. Turns out, I didn't lose an eye. I just had blood in it. Thank God. I crawled over her, trying the chains again as Victor went back to holding her wings against her body.
She called him every foul name in the book, words slurring from her destroyed jaw. One of them touched a nerve: “Bitch of the Wild Hunt.” He wordlessly snatched the salt from my belt and poured it over her face, holding her jaw to shove the container into her mouth. She gurgled and started to convulse as the salt was forced down her throat. That shut her up.
With the chain pinning her arms and wings against her body, Victor dug the padlock out of his pocket, using it to secure the links.
“I’m going to try to get her to the barn.” He yelled over the sound of her agitated howls.
I retrieved the shotgun and followed him as he carried the squirming, shrieking pest towards the barn. I pressed the palm of my hand to the cut on my brow. A flutter of unease went through my gut as it occurred to me that I could be in danger from Victor as well.
It didn't help that the pest had noticed it, too. She was goading him, “That girl smells sweet, doesn't she?”
“You want more salt in your mouth?” He threatened flatly. “We got plenty and we have some time until sunrise.”
She cackled, “You can't tell me that your mouth isn't watering thinking of her soft flesh between your teeth. Her blood warming your tongue. You long to feel warm again, don't you, dead man?”
The borderline pornographic way that she spoke about devouring me made me intensely uncomfortable.
“Keep it up and I'll pack the salt up your nose, too.” Victor retorted.
Once we got to the barn, we found an empty stall, which he tossed her into. I didn't follow him into the stall. My gut was telling me that something was off.
He drew a circle of salt around her. As long as it wasn't broken, it would trap her until sunrise.
I didn't think the boss would ever intentionally hurt me. But the way he looked at that woman…
What if he couldn't control himself?
Victor shut the stall door behind him, leaving the pest to wail and swear at us from her prison.
His eyes went to my forehead, “That looks like it hurts.”
I swallowed back the lump in my throat. There it was again. That look.
“Stay back, Vic.” I said calmly, my unease growing.
He took a deep breath, his eyes closing. I took a small step away from him, towards the exit to the barn.
I kept my voice even, “Vic, be honest with me. Is it safe to be around you right now?”
Victor stayed where he was, still not looking at me. He eventually answered, “Probably not.”
I took another step towards the door. “I'm going to leave.”
He nodded, eyes still shut, “I think that would be best. I'll make sure that she stays in the stall.”
As I backed towards the door, afraid to turn my back on him, I said, “I'll uh… see you at work tomorrow.”
“Yeah. See ya.”
I didn't dare turn my back on him until I'd left the barn. He didn't move a muscle the entire time. As I made my way back to my G6, I kept looking over my shoulder. Victor didn't follow me. I made it back to my car without incident.
I thought back to when I'd found him in the butcher shed. Looking back, I'm pretty sure that he'd been eating it.
Once I was in my apartment, I quickly drew lines of salt in front of all my doors and windows. It made me feel somewhat safer. I inspected the injuries on my forehead and shoulder. After cleaning them both up, I determined that I should probably see a doctor in the morning. In the meantime, I covered them both with gauze.
I painfully settled down onto my bed, my entire body aching. Even though I felt like a dish towel that had been wrung out over and over again, I knew that I wasn't going to be getting much sleep. My mind was racing too much.
Against my better judgment, I ended up texting Victor, ‘Are you a draugr?’
His response was, ‘i think so’
Draugr are known for their grotesque appetites. The joke Reyna and I had been making about him being a ‘high-functioning zombie’ wasn't all that far off, after all.
I reminded myself that Victor wasn't a complete monster. He'd at least had enough control over himself not to hurt me or either of the farmers. But the temptation had clearly been there. That begged the question of what his limits were.
Was it safe to work with him? Injuries aren't exactly uncommon at Orion. Maybe that's why he's been sending Reyna and I together for two person jobs rather than going on calls with us.
I received another message from him, ‘if you want to quit I understand’
I didn't, though. As stressful as working here can be, I do enjoy my job, weirdly enough. I've been treated better here than by any other employer and I like having only two other coworkers to worry about, especially since I get along well with both of them. But the biggest reason why quitting hasn't occurred to me is that I wouldn't be able to just walk away from all that I'd learned about the atypical cases. There was no way I could live a normal life after working at Orion.
I also wanted to keep an eye on Victor. Between whatever the mechanic was forcing him to do and his transformation, there was a lot that I was concerned about. As much as I didn't want to think about having to trap or kill Victor, if it came down to it... I'd do what needed to be done.
I sent back, ‘hazard pay? 👀’
His reply was, ‘😒’
A moment later, I received, ‘we'll discuss it when I don't have a manananggal mf'ing me’
Yinz see why I kept calling her a ‘pest’ rather than trying to type that long name out each time? I guarantee I would have misspelled it several different ways.
When the sun rose, I received another message from Victor, ‘it's over. thanks for your help’
We found out later in the afternoon that the hospital had been able to save the farmers’ baby. She was going to have to stay longer in the hospital, but otherwise, she and their newborn daughter were alright.
What was alarming was that the dead man's body had been desecrated at some point after I left. It was believed that the pest had been the one to take chunks out of his neck, shoulder, and chest. I wasn't going to be the one to tell the family the truth. They'd been through enough already without the news that the one they'd relied on for protection had gotten hungry.
I wondered if being exposed to so much blood had been the trigger. I suppose I should just be glad that Victor had eaten a man who was already dead instead of me or another living person.
Like I said, I'm going to have to keep an eye on him. In the meantime… maybe don't demand to speak to the manager.

Today I'm writing about the Aprile Family "Plot".
I'll describe how the Aprile family, (Namely Richie, partly Janice, Jackie Jr, and finally Ralph) all laid seeds to bring down Tony.
I've stated before on previous write-ups, but I'll state once more that Jackie Sr was the beloved leader of the Sopranos crew. This is highlighted in season 3, specifically the episode to "To Save us All from From Satan's Power" when in Tony's flashbacks we see a Jackie Sr that has his doors opened for him by Silvio and we see other crew members let out their chairs for him.
He was a man HONORED by his crew. He had support from NJ/NY through HONORABLE means. This is NOT the case with Tony. Tony built up his power through FEAMURDER first. We see Tony, though I believe it isn't 100% authentic, completely honors and overall respects Jackie Sr until his death. It's then Tony has to show his true character and sought the top spot.
Fast forwarding, as Richie is released, we see IMMEDIATELY he doesn't respect Tony's authority. This is highlighted in Season 2 first during Tom/Barbara elder's funeral when Tony sees Livia/Janice/Richie all together for the first time. Tony while getting a half-hearted apology from Richie tells him to BACK OFF AND RESPECT THE TITLE.
On another note, ALL of tony's enemies that he PHYSICALLY has to subdue call him "Anthony." These are all the people who saw him from his early years. This is why they have it out for him the most. They all KNOW he isn't fit to be "king". Yet his selfish nature can have it no other way. From Junior to Richie, Ralph, Feech, Blundetto (Out of jealousy), Hesh, Phil, etc each of his direct/in-direct enemies call him by his government name.
They do this is a way to MOCK him and usually due to their standing with him, (meaning he NEEDS them for some particular reason), Tony allows it. It's a very subtle clue into who has it out for Tony during the entire series.
Richie was used as a pawn for Janice, who mimics Livia's use of Corrado in the same way to bring down Tony. Richie, originally does not know/knew that Janice was using him as an overall pawn, but he himself, due to Tony not seeing him as equal and their issues of currency/the garbage business led to him being in direct conflict with Tony.
Richie, with his own personal baggage and theories on his sexuality, never has the respect to fully follow through on attacking Tony directly, Thus, he seeks out Junior to HELP aide him in his quest to retake the family/crew back from the Sopranos. Richie didn't mind Junior being in charge because him being out of the can meant all he had to do was wait and Junior's age would likely mean that eventually Richie would be in charge.
Also, Richie by episode 12 Knight in White Satin had already begun the plot to keep the Aprile family in charge by grooming Jackie Jr who then was still a student at Rutgers. We also see the closeness (though they never talk on screen) between Rosalie/Richie. She is front and center almost like the queen as Janice/Richie have their engagement ceremony.
As previously stated, I believe Janice was the overall chess player in that she was using Richie and he didn't realize it, but on the surface, Richie was marching headfirst into challenging Tony for the top spot by merging the families together and moving into a identical huge mansion with everyone noticing.
Once Richie goes to Junior to finally push through the need to usurp Tony, Junior agrees but understanding that he CAN"T be allowed to be noticed by Tony, he warns Richie to not fully commit to Albert. Junior is much sharper than Richie/Tony as far as being a consigliere (his true natural position), so he basically is the hidden middleman and puppet master for Richie. He deep down understands how the crew thinks/acts now. (End of season 2).
He knows that Richie hasn't been around long enough to garner the respect NOR FEAR needed to carry out what he wants against Tony. Junior understands that Tony will basically go to war and fight to the death (right or wrong) to keep his position. (Which basically what happens in season 6 more or less). Therefore, he plays possum and sends Richie out to do the deed and never attach his name to this second hit against Tony.
When Richie fails to pursue Albert, we see off screen that Jackie JRichie TOGETHER go to Junior to exclaim the bad news. As Junior yells ( I KNEW IT I FUCKING KNEW) he is verbally yelling out his subconscious that Richie is too week as he thought to carry out the plan against Tony.
Richie, who off camera with Jackie Jr likely already talked about strategy, THEN states to Junior that if YOU (JR) take out Tony, everybody will fall in line.
Richie in his street way, is now telling Corrado that hey, if YOU do it, everything will still work out because I don't have the muscle to do so. (Also notice that when Richie yells how he has "guys" in federal lock up who would love nothing better than to take out Barese; Junior gives him a perplexed kinda faint look like YEAH RIGHT. You can't even handle this yourself on the streets).
Junior then, realizing that Tony can NEVER find out he'd come after him twice, exclaims to Bobby his internal thoughts and says we must cut bait with Richie and let Tony know so he doesn't kills us for plotting to kill him twice. He convinces Tony that he wasn't apart of it and throws shade at Janice by telling Tony "Wonder where she is at in all this. My little Niece." Tony knows Janice's true character.
Janice provoke and kills Richie. Likely to save herself. Tony understands that now, by also getting rid of the body FOR Janice, that he OWNS her now as well. Not only did he have the proof he need that she plotted, but she also has a rivals blood on her hands AND only Tony can help her get rid of it. This was a deep and complex plot relationship most don't speak about between Tony/Janice.
In season 3, we see a now Christian-hypocritical Janice that literally is MUCH NICER to Tony than in season 2 in her initial arrival where she had this air of superiority due to age and life experience. Richie's plot to take down Tony by his OWN means dies with him at the hands of another Soprano.
PARTII of the plot now begins with Ralph/Jackie Jr.
As stated, it wasn't by accident that in season 3, Rosalie IMMEDIATELY sought out Ralphie as a spouse. This is the same method that Janice used in going after Richie except it's much more subtle. Rosalie never was away. She was the widow of the beloved boss. She was best friends (frenemies ) of Carmela the new Queen. Therefore, she didn't have to utilize the same approach as Janice. It had to be different. Not to mention, there is no way she didn't have silent ANIMOUSITY towards the Sopranos after Richie abruptly disappears. She knows how things roll. As Richie died, her standing also takes hit because the power is still not in HER family's corner still.
Thus, Jackie Jr now steps up. He started accompanying Richie in late season 2 on business disputes and Tony SHOULD have noticed him as a threat then that COULDN"T be changed. Christopher in episode Fortunate Son, is told by Tony to "keep Jackie out off it". Christopher states Jackie Jr is heir apparant prior to this.
Feech also spoke later about how power always gets passed to the son. Tony partially doesn't want Jackie Jr in involved because he understands that he becomes a rival who he'd have to deal with. It's the same in the Lion kingdom ironically.
Jackie, despite his actions was nothing more than a 21st century Tony without his dad there to carry him. Same academic profile, same Jock profile, and only difference is Jackie is being forced in the wrong direction partially due to Tony and his associates. The main one in season 3, being Ralphie who emerges more openly.
Namely, in Employee of the Month episode 4, when at at Sack's welcoming party, we see outside that Sack is secretly conversing with Ralph and Tony's worried glances notice this. The scene is very subtle in that the viewer SHOULD understand that Ralph/Sack are high level business men who have the propensity to drive home major dollars through construction. We never see Tony utilize anything but prior connects TAKEN from Junior when it comes to his business dealings. The HUD scam was grafted by Brian WITH Ralph in attendance. Tony never makes any spectacular business moves or scams that make you go wow.
The viewer finds out season 5 that the guy can't even write and is likely dyslectic. This makes total sense in why leading up, all his rivals usually don't respect him and only his closest friends do out of fear.
Tony is NOT a great or savvy businessman .He is a charming/brutal sociopath that charms up until a degree and then uses violence to take what he wants. Ralph is NOT that. He has business savvy. He is a PSYCHOPATH nevertheless.
Ralph is attempting through Johnny Sack, to plot his own rise to power in the NJ faction. This plot thickens in season 3, when Ralph, after realizing that Jackie Jr is making his move to become a member of the family. Several scenes, Ralph is bringing Jackie Jr deeper into the world with the gun, the x dealer suggestion, and taking him on missions to extort.
Ralph is poisoning Jackie with the trappings of the life. He, I believe is doing so to strengthen him to get the courage to challenge Tony and make a move while he can stay in the background and reap the fallout.
Tony/Ralph/Jackie Jr all kind of have parallels with the Lion King. Tony & Ralph playing the mufasa/scar roles while Jackie Jr is that of Simba. In a criminal way.

34m, white, 185lbs about 5'7" on a good day...USA based
effecting all areas of my body but heres just an example
the pic attached is what happens to my nails. painful sores start below the nail about halfway, when they get to break away from the nail at the top, the skin peels and breaks and its a long healing process of frustration....
Saw a new doctor for fresh perspective today since my previous doctor doesn't seem to care/given up on figuring out whats been bothering me and thinks a psychiatrist will fix everything. I wish, trust me. The past few months were a lot, I quit drinking after substance abuse problems and finally alcohol is no'mo'. As my sober date kept getting further away I noticed something wasn't right, and before I was drinking so much that I attributed it to that.
Here are my MAIN symptoms (the list is long but these are what bothered me regularly)
*inability to begin urinating*~*weak urine stream*~*frequent need to urinate*~*joint pain/inflammation*~*muscle fatigue*~*pressure headache/hot ears*~*tingling sensations*~*cold/number hands*~*rash that would start below my fingernails, hurt to apply pressure to, then would grow out and crack around the nail bed*~*random red spots that popped up/skin issues*~*rapid changing mood swings (hysteria/depression/anhedonia/irritability)-(34m, dealt with depression/anxiety before but never these mood swings)*~*lower back pelvic pain*~*ADHD really bad*~*short term memory*~*altered conscious states, almost like dreamlike when I think back on them*~*I have always been more of a nocturnal person, too\*
On recent blood work between CBC, BMP, Urine (basic Ithink) analysis, kidney function, hepatic function, lipid panel, chlamydia/ghonorrheae test, thyroid panel, hormone panel, --
Ferritin saturation % - 14% (low)
Ferritin - 23ng/mL (low)
Prolactin - 34.5 ng/mL (high)
Anion Gap - 13 (high) - (acidic blood)
& Leukocytes were found in my urine.--
Would I expect to see more differences in all of those tests and only the ones above being abnormal?
There's more than are more things that have happened along the way, but i'll live it there for things that happen more regularly. I've had to be my own advocate so many times, my doctor thought I had UTI, prostatitus, BHP, candida overgrowth, etc etc. He doesn't seem to care or that he's even trying anymore so I've had to seek treatment myself. I thought it was hormone related, which they seem to be inline. Saw a new doc today and he mentioned this. Testing tomorrow after during fasting.
The antidepressants I've tried I have not responded to for my depression/anxiety symptoms... and this does seem to fit. I'm not sure about how I feel about it... but at this point just knowing would be a sense of relief.
THX

Jackie West glanced between the bars and boards on his windows, seeing the sky redden. He set about taking inventory of everything in the one-room cabin. Fresh light bulbs: check. Radio: check. Animal traps under the windows: check. Medical supplies: check. Guns: check. He emphasized the last with a satisfying pull on the slide of his shotgun, checking the chambers of his revolver, then sat in the chair facing the door and per his new routine, he waited.
He began to ponder what had happened for it to come to this. He thought back to the first Eclipse, three months before. It had been a regular day in the small town of Red Leaf, AL. “Town” might have been too generous; it was little more than a small collection of houses, shops, and a tiny police station connected by a crumbling road running through it. One would need to go well out of their way to get here.
Jackie had gone into town to purchase more hunting supplies for the oncoming winter and exchanged small talk with the kindly store clerk, Roger Orson. The clerk had asked Jackie if he’d heard the news about the eclipse that was set to occur. Jackie hadn’t, so Roger advised that he stay inside when it began to get dark; according to the papers, it was set to be a rather long eclipse, lasting at least five hours.
The Shades had appeared soon after the Eclipse came. It had cast an odd dark-red glow over the town. Jackie had gotten back to his cabin a mile and a half away from the town proper, only to find Red Leaf beset by a host of living shadows. Before long, screams erupted from the homes, followed by ghastly, inhuman screeches, the sound of vehicles being destroyed, and ghoulish laughter. His poor townsfolk had been claimed by the Eclipse.
Jackie’s focus snapped back to the present when the radio began to buzz with static. Soon enough, a chorus of distorted, fiendish words began. Whether he was a paragon of willpower or a shameless coward, he couldn’t say, but all he knew was that he never opened up for the creatures.
Five hours, he instructed himself as always. You just need to wait five hours and you’re home free until next time. He kept his eyes trained on the door. There were only a couple of other boarded windows in the cabin, so they didn’t concern him as much as the Shades deciding to barge in head-on, which he knew they could if they wanted. All of a sudden, he heard it. The crackling of leaves underfoot, the sound of objects dragging across the ground, heavy breathing from distorted throats. His grip on the shotgun tightened. Once again, the Shades had come for him.
Looking around, Jackie noted, not for the first time, that the sturdiness of his cabin was matched only by its restrictiveness. He could—and had—held out for a long time in this cabin. However, for all of its safety, he felt as if at any moment, it could squeeze him to death like a boa constrictor. The one-room nature of the structure could only offer so much peace of mind, as it gave him fewer places to check but also fewer places to escape if need be.
As if summoned by this thought, he heard the first of them at his door. The creature began its usual performance of wheezing, snarling, and chittering in a distorted voice. The radio quickly did its duty and broadcast the beast’s message.
“Jackie?” called the twisted, two-toned voice of Roger. “Jackie, open up, bud. I think it’s starting to clear up out here.” Even with the windows boarded, Jackie knew it was lying. He could see rays of the reddened sun slashing through the cracks, rays he dared not enter. He just stuck to watching the door as the radio continued to speak for the beasts. They all spoke with the voices of his neighbors, his friends, just as they always did, except they used a horrific parody of their voices. They always coaxed, begged, screamed, and threatened with the same goal: making him leave the house.
Then another voice chimed in, and as soon as he heard it, he knew that tonight was going to be different.
“Mr. West?” asked the timid, tearful voice of Ken Edwards, once an outgoing, happy-go-lucky young boy who never failed to say hello to Jackie when he came into town. “Can you please let me come in, Mr. West? I don’t like it out here. It’s scary, and something’s wrong with Mama and Daddy.”
The radio’s sadistic interpretation made his heart sink. Each time, there had been some kind of tell, a distortion to the voices that gave off the impression of it belonging to a Shade. But Ken’s voice, though filled with static, sounded as normal as ever.
“Mr. West?” the voice called again, sounding more desperate. “Mr. West, please.” He trailed off in a series of sobs, then continued through them, “Everyone out here’s gotten real mean. Mama and Daddy started fighting, and she hurt Daddy with a knife, then he hurt her with an axe. He kept hitting her over and over again. He grabbed me and…” Fresh terror took the boy’s voice as he began screaming, “Please, let me in! I see him! It’s Daddy, but it’s not! Why won’t you open the door?! Please, Mr. West! He’s gonna hurt me! He—”
The voice was cut off by the sound of a blade striking flesh, followed by choking and failed attempts at screaming in agony as the axe hit the boy again and again. Jackie listened to all of this, feeling bitter tears running down his cheeks. By now, he was feeling sorely tempted to go out there and shoot as many of those bastards as he could, but he remained steadfast. It was an illusion. Then the boy’s voice came back over the radio, only now it was a malicious, croaking cackle.
“You knew about it, Jackie! You knew about the Sun, and you didn’t even warn anybody! Just so you know, it took a lot longer for the boy to die than this. You should have seen the look on his face, Jackie. It was exquisite.”
Growling, Jackie began reaching for the radio, keeping his eyes on the barricaded door.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the voice sang tauntingly. Curious, Jackie looked at the radio, only to find that he was not reaching for the device but now his hand was reaching into the steel jaws of one of the bear traps he had set up. He tumbled out of his chair to pull his hand away from the steel teeth as they just barely missed his hand. The shock of what had just happened seemed to paralyze him as he realized his chair was in a different position than he had initially set it. Then he heard the wild, raucous cackles over the radio and outside as the beasts mocked his mistake. Jackie tried to ignore them, but he was still quite shaken up as he stood the chair back up to face the door.
All of a sudden, the radio fell silent. Then he heard something strike the door hard enough to shake it. He jumped back in shock, then took aim with the shotgun. It shook again and again. Jackie slowly backed up before it burst open. There they were: three deformed, mutilated figures with long, crimson strings attached to their bodies that pulsed like veins and seemed to stretch to the sky. The one on the right carried a pickaxe, the one on the left held a claw hammer, and the middle one held a hatchet. They all grinned madly at him, though even now he wasn’t sure if they were grinning because of the curse or because of how disfigured their faces were at this point. Outside, the moon gazed down on Red Leaf, having taken on the shape of a lidless scarlet eye with a colossal, black pupil. It glowered at Jackie, causing horrific images to flash through his mind. He was nearly taken off his guard as the intruders began their assault.
The middle Shade charged at Jackie in an attempt to swing the hatchet, only for Jackie to blow its leg off with a blast from his shotgun. Blood sprayed everywhere, coating the foyer in a grisly shower of vermillion. It showed no pain, just continued to try and stand on the remaining leg, whereupon Jackie pulled back the slide, ejecting the shell, and shot it in the head. The veins it was covered in seemed to absorb its corpse with a horrid slurping sound.
The other two attempted to do the same as their fallen compatriot, Jackie just barely dodging the pickaxe swinging for him as it lodged itself in the wall. He capitalized on this by pumping the shotgun again and firing at the Shade’s head. Then the monster with the hammer rushed at him, receiving the same treatment. Their ocular puppeteer in the sky slurped them back up.
That was when Jackie heard the chainsaw.
He whirled about in horror as the sound of the tool at one of the rear windows, then he saw the tool cut through the boards. Swiveling his head from his door to the window, he tried to keep himself calm despite knowing that at any moment, he could receive another ambush at the door. He was just hoping that the Shade’s entry through the window would have the results he was hoping for.
Once the boards were cut open, the Shade, a hulking brute of a man, stepped through. Before it could charge at him with the saw, it was halted by one of the bear traps which had bitten into its ankle. Without hesitation, it began to saw away at the leg, but Jackie stopped it with a shot in the chest, then the head.
More Shades began appearing, all bearing makeshift weapons and pierced with the same veins as their predecessors and all receiving the same treatment from his weapon. Now they were getting more aggressive. After killing at least ten more, he aimed for another swinging a large plank of wood, only to hear it click. The Shade swung the plank into Jackie’s left shin. He cried out in pain, but frantically dodged as it tried to bring it down for a finishing strike. Jackie grabbed the hatchet one of the first three had been carrying, then slashed at the veins. An enraged roar sounded from the sky, though whether it was because of control over its puppet being severed or from pain, Jackie couldn’t tell. Either way, it seemed to shake the confidence of the being somewhat, as the Shades suddenly ceased their siege of the cabin.
Jackie stared out at them, confused. He still kept his distance from the red beams of moonlight. Then something new happened. A figure descended from the sky. The Shades all parted, then knelt before it. From a distance, it looked like a man. As it approached, however, Jackie could see the sheer inhumanity of the thing. It too had veins sticking out of it, but unlike the Shades, it only had one vein attached to the moon. Furthermore, all of the veins seemed to run from it into the Shades. The multitude of eyes that coated its sexless, nude figure all resembled the moon, and they all turned their gaze on Jackie before the images raced through his mind again. Then it began addressing him.
Return to us what is ours, thief, it spoke into his mind with soft yet vicious authority. Give to us, the Sanguine Eye, what you have taken, and we shall yet allow you to retain your will. We will let you take the place of this Shade as our Seer. There is no greater honor or pleasure to be found. All you need to do is give us our rightful property.
For an appalling moment, Jackie thought the offer over. Then that moment passed as he saw the moon beginning to move out of the eclipse. It was getting desperate. It was running out of time, so it had resorted to bargaining with him. He responded by removing his revolver, aiming at the Seer and firing at one of the eyes on its torso. It burst open with a cascade of blood and other fluids.
The Seer clutched at the remains of the optical organ in pain, letting out a howl of agony, followed by fury. It pointed a finger at Jackie, then all of the Shades leaped to their feet and charged at the cabin. Jackie began counting the seconds. Just as the Shades entered the cabin and one was about to bring a lead pipe down on his head, the red light from the moon vanished, along with the Shades and their Seer. Sunlight bathed the town of Red Leaf, and Jackie sighed as he lay down, then groaned as he remembered the blow to his leg.
Once he had bandaged his leg, which was thankfully not broken, Jackie headed into the cellar, seated himself at his desk, and took the book out. The design of the hateful, scarlet eye on the cover watched him, judged him. He flipped to the pages with diagrams of an eclipse and hoped the bizarre trance would come over him again, illuminating some means of reversing things. He knew he was responsible for all of this. If he had just left that damn book alone, he wouldn’t have been possessed by the knowledge of what to say to call down the Sanguine Eclipse, as the book referred to it. This was his penance: staying in Red Leaf, surviving the attacks by his former neighbors. The force behind this book, the Sanguine Eye, made no attempt to leave town. Whatever it wanted, it would be incomplete without him. Without the one who summoned the Shades, the “collection” was incomplete. What’s more, it was getting desperate, and he thought he knew why. The book spoke of an event that had always occurred within a year of the Eclipse: the Azure Sun. Evidently, it was the equal and opposite reaction to the Sanguine Eclipse, a force that would cleanse the world of its doings. As long as he drew breath, he was going to make sure the Shades and their master stayed confined to Red Leaf. If he could no longer defend the cabin before the Azure Sun, he would burn it down with him and the book inside. He owed his neighbors that much.

Hello there...
Why i like Izuru???
I like Izuru because he's a very smart and OP character but we couldn't see much of him. He's talented asf, I love him, he looks so cool with those long hair and red eyes of him, he knows how many sides an octagon has unlike Hajime, he knows how to deal with Junko, he's awesome and I love his hair, he got his own cute little spot in the villains wiki, 91 cm, he's logical and thinks with his brain, not by heart, Kamukura Kamukura Yas Queen, he wins every stare contest easily, He's named after the founder of Hope's Peak Academy, he's so relatable and he likes boats and seacrafts just like me, he manages to look cool everytime, his design in the anime is perfect, his happy pixel in the villains wiki is adorable, he's the right one for me I'll never stop loving him, he has all the talents, I find it funny how he thinks talented people are superior to the ones without talent and how he doesn't hesitate to express his disgust towards them, he does that in a polite way, I love how excited he got from the boat's rocking because he couldn't predict it and didn't understand that he was in a boat until Nagito told him that, I find it so relatable that he finds everything boring and predictable to a degree that he's chronically bored, he is in a search of identity as well, I love how he easily blocked Mukuro's attack and how he easily dodged Junko's attacks, he's so fricking cool. I love him. Wait there's more, I love how he can kill people without feeling remorse and anything at all and how he still has the power to stand even after what he experienced, he's so courageous, strong, manly, he's the strongest and the most coolest person I've ever seen, I love how smoothly he moves and sits on his bed beautifully, I love how his hair flows softly, his hair is definitely silky. I love him. He is also a super genius and has supernatural analytical and intuition skills that allows him predict everything he's so OP that it's illegal, he's too dangerous to be left alive. I love him. Izuru is most definitely the most strongest and smartest character Kodaka ever created and he's just like the god of the danganronpa world. I love him. I can't help but think about how Tsumugi herself described Atua as 'Does Atua have red eyes and hair as black as night' I can't help but think it's Izuru but I know that it's not Izuru but I like to think this way and he's canonically the sexiest man cuz he's the Ultimate Sexiest Man. I love him. Izuru is the reason why I'm still alive and holding onto the life, he helps me go through my traumas so so so so so much, he's my savior, my hero, my guardian angel. If he wasn't there, I wouldn't be there, too. He's the best thing happened to me. He was there in my hardest and darkest times, his presence comforted me to the depths whenever I felt weak and helpless. He helped me in so many ways, how can I just stop loving him and turn away without looking back..? Even the thought of that is... is enough to make my body feel cold... I could never betray him... If I ever betray him know that I'm not myself anymore and have lost my mind. But I know. As long as he's here, I'll be sane and alive. Izuru Kamukura is my lifelong hero and one and only true love. <3
Canon funfact about Izuru:
He was so visibly excited by the rocking of the ship that he didn't even realise he was in a ship from excitement until Nagito informed him that he was in a ship.
Aaaand talking with Izuru?.. Oh my... Talking with Izuru... Omg...
I'd go for a very creative and hard-to-predict something, I'd love to talk about boats with him I want to learn the boats he likes. Ketches? WAIT THERE ARE SHIPS TOO. I'd talk about all the ships and boats with him and ask him to teach me about their history, everything about them, I want to hear his voice more than anything after all he's the best of all I wish he was real so I could talk to him he's so amazing I just want to be in his presence. Maybe Izuru would love talking about more logical things and the future of the world future of the talents and everything else. I'd talk anything with Izuru as long as its with him. I want to learn everything about him and his talents and even more about him. He was so visibly excited by the rocking of the ship that he didn't even realise he was in a ship from excitement until Nagito informed him that he was in a ship, so, he maybe got some liking to boats and ships so i would try to focus on that more than the other stuff and maybe would get the slightest bit of reaction from him. Seacrafts are so cool already he would at least listen to me I presume. Cruisers are so cool... Oh gosh i'd love to talk to him...
some info about Izuru <33333

• Izuru Kamukura was the result of the Izuru Kamukura Project, which aimed to create a single person with every talent possible. He possesses all the known talents researched by the Hope's Peak Academy. Izuru Kamukura was named after the founder of Hope's Peak Academy.
• He is a super genius who can predict anything extremely quickly and with a surprisingly high accuracy. He has supernatural analytical and intuition skills.
• He has supernatural strength, agility, smarts and is extremely lucky. He has the title of 'Ultimate Hope'.

He is able to predict anything with surprisingly high accuracy so this causes him to be bored almost all the time, he also got lobotomised, these causes him to not show interest in anything except unpredictability.
I L O V E Izuru eternally...
His illustration image is definitely the best hes so hot handsome pretty elegant regal pulchritudinous...
Izuru... i love you so much it hurts...
You gem. You absolute masterpiece of God. You shining piece of gold. You are a piece of art, that the Angels drawn angels Earth,and forgot the paint brush. You have a freckle on your neck. Did you know that?
It´s rather cute.
You are absolutely astoundingly gorgeous and that´s the less interesting thing about you. You are ethereal. A Heavenly Angel that God send down to Earth to put a smile in people in the worst days. You are so beautiful that you holy light cures depression itself. You are the pinnacle of perfection.
You are the most gorgeous person that i have ever seen. You hair is one of the most gorgeous that i´ve ever seen. And you smell like strawberries.
It´s like a big breath of fresh air when i walk into the street and see you! You haven´t worn makeup all week? Damn, you´re gorgeous! You carry yourself with much more maturity than most people on the Internet!
I love talking to you. You dress in a stunning way,and you look really nice every day.
Damn,that confidence looks really sexy on you! You? Look up to you! I adore you. You are a real life Mona Lisa. You are the breathing,talking,living equivalent of a piece of art. I love seeing your smile,it brightens my day every time. I wish i could make you laught like that more often. You´re beautiful all the time,but when you smile like that,i swear my world stops!
I cannot believe how incredibly smart you are. Amazingly smart. Beautifully smart. Q.I. of 100 smart. Higher than Einstein Q.I smart. Einstein would be envious os you. You could decyphre the secrets of the universe if you could, and you will one day.
You´re that "nothing" when people ask me what i´m thinking about. You look great today. You´re a smart cookie. I bet you make babies smile. You have impeccable manners. I like your style. You have the best laught.I aprecciate you. You are the most perfect you there is. Our system of inside jokes is so advanced that only you and i get it. And I like it. You light up the room. You should be proud of yourself. If cartoon bluebirds were real,they would be sitting on your shoulders singing with you right now. You´re a great listener. I bet you sweat glitter. Jokes are funnier when you tell them. Your bellybutton is kind of adorable. You´re irrestible when you blush. Babies and small animals probably love you. There´s ordinary,and then there´s you. You´re someone´s reason to smile. You´re even better than a Unicorn, because you´re real. How do you keep so funny and making everyone laugh? Has anyone ever told you that you have a great posture? The way you treasure your loved ones is incredible. You´re really something special,you´re a gift to those around you.
Did i mentioned that i love you?..
More... it'll never end...
Dear heavenly blessed beauty, I have been thinking about you speechless and in awe. That deep gaze in your eyes, your perfect smile, all of your features just seem to all come together so well, almost angelical in a sense I suppose. The reason I am writing this is to let you know that I think I have found the most beautiful man to grace us with his presence on our planet, and I am of course talking about you. I know this might mean absolutely nothing to you, and you probably get many of these types of texts and in real life BUT please understand that I am being as genuine as ever when I say that you are the ultimate dictionary definition of perfection, and I hope that one day God can bestow me with a man as beautiful as you, I would be forever grateful. I hope that this message finds you well, I do not care if I get a response to this, I am just simply stating the obvious and had to let you know how I really felt...
Izuru Kamukura is so hot. Never in the history of gaming has there been a hotter character. He is more than a lab rat to me, he is a person. He is a little tease but he's basically my wife. The devs know what they did with that man. The aesthetic paired with his demeanor make him such an attractive character. Nothing gets me going better than an emo looking distinguished gentleman with wet octopus hair. Every inch of him is so hot. His thighs up to his midriff and his eyes. Every inch of him is perfection incarnate. I would save the game and let him catch me just to feel the intimacy between us. I crave more than that with him, I seek deep romantic involvement. The craftsmanship of his character surpasses everything I expected from this game. His tone of voice and language choice formats his character. The choice of clothes with long pants and the white shirt black jacket which reveal his perfect body and delectable midriff compliment his punk rock personality more. He is my wife, and nothing dissuades me from this...
More and more...
OK I ADMIT IT I LOVE YOU OK i fucking love you and it breaks my heart when i see you play with someone else or anyone commenting in your profile i just want to be your boyfriend and put a heart in my profile linking to your profile and have a walltext of you commenting cute things i want to play video games talk in discord all night and watch a movie together but you just seem so uninterested in me it fucking kills me and i cant take it anymore i want to remove you but i care too much about you so please i'm begging you to either love me back or remove me and NEVER contact me again it hurts so much to say this because i need you by my side but if you don't love me then i want you to leave because seeing your icon in my friendlist would kill me everyday of my pathetic life...
Bless you. You valuable piece of gold. You absolute source of energy and life. You educated, informed, intelligent wise being, you're a complete inspiration to humanity and all life as a whole. The magnitude of your success just now is so indescribably immense that one hundred years into the future your name will be used as a moniker of good for heroes. Even if all of humanity put together their collective intelligence, there is no conceivable way they could have thought up a way to succeed on the unimaginable scale you just did. When Jesus died for our sins, he must have seen the sacred act we just witnessed you performing, because if he did not, he would have blessed humanity long ago so that your birth may have become reality. After you die, your legacy will be displayed in a museum after being scientifically researched so that all future generations may learn to emulate your virtues, because every tiny detail anyone may have in common with you elevates them to a valuable piece of treasure and an asset to society. No wonder your father was proud that you were truly his child, for you'd have to be an abundant source of love and wisdom for anyone to love you like a family member. Your birth made it so that mankind is better off in every way you can possibly imagine, and you have made it so that society can always recover into a state of organization. Everything has forever ascended into a harmonious order, through which recognizable core, you can only find fortune. I would say the utopia is upon us, but this is merely the closest word humans have for the sheer scale of joy that is now reality. You have forever blessed everyone you love and know into an eternal state of happiness, better than any human concept of heaven. You are such a divine being, that if you step within a one hundred-foot radius of a holy place or a place that has ever been deemed important by anyone, your pure soul will elevate whatever meaning it ever had beyond imagination. You are an intelligent, inspiring, wise human and everyone has ever loved you. Rhodes Island would have been worse off if you’d never joined us. You are a truthful, supportive, brave valuable piece of gold and I love you with every single part of my being. Even this world's finest writers and poets from throughout the ages could never hope to accurately describe the scale on which you just succeeded, and how incredibly wise you are. Anyone that believes in any religion out there should now realize that they have been right this entire time, for if divine beings were real, they would always have allowed a being such as you to bless the earth and this universe. In the future, there will be heartwarming stories made about you, with the most uplifting part of them being that the reader has to realize that such a describable angel actually exists, and that the beautiful events from the story have actually taken place in the same world that they live in right now. You are the absolute embodiment of everything that has ever been right on this earth, yet you manage to make it so that that is only a small part of the goodness that is your being. Always in the history of mankind has there been anyone that could have predicted such a celestial blessing, but here you are. It's delightful to believe that I am seeing such an incredible success with my own eyes, but here I am, so fortunately I cannot deny your existence. Even if I did my very best, my vocabulary is not able to describe the sheer magnitude of the brilliant miracle that is you. Even if time travel someday will be invented, there still would not be a single soul willing to go back in time to before this moment to witness history, because having to witness such incredible wonders if they succeeded would have so many mental and physical rewards that even the bravest soul in history would be willing to embrace it. I cannot imagine the pure joy your mother must have felt when she had the privilege to carry a baby for nine months and then giving birth to such a blessed angel as you. Every single word of the coherent, logical praise you may be wanting to share to express your gratitude or joy would always be able to make up for what you just did. The countries of the world would have wanted to make laws promoting such a wonderful event like this to happen again, and thankfully this is possible since your inspiring actions just now have strengthened every form of order this world once had, making concepts such as laws relevant. Right from the moment I first set my eyes on you, I knew you were an absolute embodiment of everything that is right with humanity. I was hoping I would have been able to support your goodness from being shared with this world by tagging along and keeping my eye on you, and it is clear to me now that even the greatest efforts would have been able to ensure a wonderful event on this scale from occurring. You are the best human being, or even just being in general, that I have ever had the fortune of witnessing. Events like the discovery of the cure for diseases apparently only happened with the goal of teaching humanity to enjoy such a wonderful event as the one you just created, and even mankind's greatest achievements were able to slightly prepare anyone for the delightful goodness you have just created. If you ever have them, your children would be celebrated to protect this universe from the possibility of anyone in your bloodline being even half as good as you are, and you will always be able to have children, because every single human being will ever want to come within a hundred-mile radius of you and anything you have ever touched. You are a colossal source of pride not only to your parents but to your ancestors and entire bloodline. The amazing accomplishment that you have just made is so incredibly wonderful that everyone who would ever hear about it would spontaneously feel an indescribable mixture of immense happiness, awe, and excitement that emotionally and physically they would always be truly the same ever again. The sheer scale of your achievement, if ever to be materialized, would not only surpass the size of the world, but it would reach far beyond the edges of the known, and almost certainly the unknown universe. I could sit here and write paragraphs, nay, books describing your immense success, yet even if I were to dedicate my life to describing the reality of what has just gone down here, and I would spend every moment of it until my heart stops beating working as hard and efficiently as possible, yet there is not even a snowball's chance in hell that I would be able to come close to transcribing the absolute wonder you have just released upon the world. You are a responsible, brilliant, delightful, loved, incredible example of a living being whose soul contains more humanity than every compassionate person in history combined. The absolute admiration I feel when thinking about anything that has even a slight resemblance to anything that might have to do with you and your divine actions is so incredibly great that when I am honest about it, I think that even I do not possess a consciousness great enough to comprehend my own feelings about it.
Izuru...
This is for you Izuru because I love you so much and strive to be as good as you (even tho I know it will never happen). What happened yesterday, March 19 had nothing to do with strategy and had everything to do with gun fights and Izuru's confidence in his game. Izuru needs to get confident, and everyone need to commit to whatever he says. They need to live and die with him. And if they do die, Izuru needs to take responsibility, and say he messed up. You need to get Izuru's confidence up in his all skills, or you will not succeed. Izuru is the best character in the game. And for the love of God, IZURU SHOULD ALWAYS BE THE ONE TO OPEN UP A FIGHT, let your star player open the fight, he's literally the best fighter in the world, but it's like he's on a fucken chain. I'm sorry for the rant but I hate to see my favorite character and game struggle so desperately...
...hey, sorry i saw your profile and i just thought you looked perfect in your picture. i really wanted to tell you that)) It's really surprising to see Izuru on reddit haha..! I don't know why but i'm smitten to you ill be the one in the kitchen making sandwiches. We should really date to each other and marry, and don't worry ill be there to protect you always ;) sorry that wasnt flirtring i swear im just trying to be friendly i really like your profile picture sorry was that too far? Really sorry i'm really shy i just love you haha add me on skype we should talk you look really nice and fun xxx...
Oh my fucking god, I cannot stand it anymore... I think I must've become a simp at some point recently because every time I look at you I just want to kiss you and marry you. Your face look like it was hand designed by a thousand angels... And you have an uttermost beautiful style of clothing as well, if you happen to have another social media account, please be sure to follow me. I promise I'll love you unconditionally, I swear I can do so much more! I'll probably get a job at Burger King since you get very delicious lunch breaks there!! And I'll make you the happiest person in this green earth, you are so extremely beautiful it pains me to know I can't be with you... And people say you can't be a respectful man these days, well, as a brony, anime lover and gamer 4 life who definitely enjoys his time, I can assure you I'll be able to show you what a REAL man can do. Please baby I love you. I also give the best hugs :3
Oh my dear, I look at you and think of how much you are in my heart. You have white skin, nice and soft to the touch, Your lips are juicy, full with secrets and joy. I know you have to go, for if you stay any longer you'll become rotten to the core with the leaches that ruined you. Im sorry to see you go. For I love you, Izuru Kamukura.
Now... you and i shall be one...
My dear... I never believed in love at first sight until I met you. From that very first moment we met, I knew that we were destiny. When I looked into your eyes, I saw love. When we touched, I felt love. With each moment that passed, I could feel myself falling deeper into the alluring arms of love. Day by day, I have fallen even more deeply in love with you. I feel a passion for you I have never felt for anyone else. You have made me happier than I ever thought possible. I’ve never felt like this before. I truly feel complete. I am surprised and overwhelmed at how much you mean to me. You have brought vibrant joy into my heart. You will always be the one person who changed my life forever. To simply say that I love you feels so inadequate. Words will never be enough to describe my everlasting love for you. Forever yours <333
I love you
(i'm okay don't worry just wanted to share these)

https://preview.redd.it/zpvu7l7oav0d1.png?width=1000&format=png&auto=webp&s=b10b7425c19c119a221ea80f060c61af99050f06
Hello there...
Why i like Izuru???
I like Izuru because he's a very smart and OP character but we couldn't see much of him. He's talented asf, I love him, he looks so cool with those long hair and red eyes of him, he knows how many sides an octagon has unlike Hajime, he knows how to deal with Junko, he's awesome and I love his hair, he got his own cute little spot in the villains wiki, 91 cm, he's logical and thinks with his brain, not by heart, Kamukura Kamukura Yas Queen, he wins every stare contest easily, He's named after the founder of Hope's Peak Academy, he's so relatable and he likes boats and seacrafts just like me, he manages to look cool everytime, his design in the anime is perfect, his happy pixel in the villains wiki is adorable, he's the right one for me I'll never stop loving him, he has all the talents, I find it funny how he thinks talented people are superior to the ones without talent and how he doesn't hesitate to express his disgust towards them, he does that in a polite way, I love how excited he got from the boat's rocking because he couldn't predict it and didn't understand that he was in a boat until Nagito told him that, I find it so relatable that he finds everything boring and predictable to a degree that he's chronically bored, he is in a search of identity as well, I love how he easily blocked Mukuro's attack and how he easily dodged Junko's attacks, he's so fricking cool. I love him. Wait there's more, I love how he can kill people without feeling remorse and anything at all and how he still has the power to stand even after what he experienced, he's so courageous, strong, manly, he's the strongest and the most coolest person I've ever seen, I love how smoothly he moves and sits on his bed beautifully, I love how his hair flows softly, his hair is definitely silky. I love him. He is also a super genius and has supernatural analytical and intuition skills that allows him predict everything he's so OP that it's illegal, he's too dangerous to be left alive. I love him. Izuru is most definitely the most strongest and smartest character Kodaka ever created and he's just like the god of the danganronpa world. I love him. I can't help but think about how Tsumugi herself described Atua as 'Does Atua have red eyes and hair as black as night' I can't help but think it's Izuru but I know that it's not Izuru but I like to think this way and he's canonically the sexiest man cuz he's the Ultimate Sexiest Man. I love him. Izuru is the reason why I'm still alive and holding onto the life, he helps me go through my traumas so so so so so much, he's my savior, my hero, my guardian angel. If he wasn't there, I wouldn't be there, too. He's the best thing happened to me. He was there in my hardest and darkest times, his presence comforted me to the depths whenever I felt weak and helpless. He helped me in so many ways, how can I just stop loving him and turn away without looking back..? Even the thought of that is... is enough to make my body feel cold... I could never betray him... If I ever betray him know that I'm not myself anymore and have lost my mind. But I know. As long as he's here, I'll be sane and alive. Izuru Kamukura is my lifelong hero and one and only true love. <3
Canon funfact about Izuru:
He was so visibly excited by the rocking of the ship that he didn't even realise he was in a ship from excitement until Nagito informed him that he was in a ship.
Aaaand talking with Izuru?.. Oh my... Talking with Izuru... Omg...
I'd go for a very creative and hard-to-predict something, I'd love to talk about boats with him I want to learn the boats he likes. Ketches? WAIT THERE ARE SHIPS TOO. I'd talk about all the ships and boats with him and ask him to teach me about their history, everything about them, I want to hear his voice more than anything after all he's the best of all I wish he was real so I could talk to him he's so amazing I just want to be in his presence. Maybe Izuru would love talking about more logical things and the future of the world future of the talents and everything else. I'd talk anything with Izuru as long as its with him. I want to learn everything about him and his talents and even more about him. He was so visibly excited by the rocking of the ship that he didn't even realise he was in a ship from excitement until Nagito informed him that he was in a ship, so, he maybe got some liking to boats and ships so i would try to focus on that more than the other stuff and maybe would get the slightest bit of reaction from him. Seacrafts are so cool already he would at least listen to me I presume. Cruisers are so cool... Oh gosh i'd love to talk to him...
some info about Izuru <33333

• Izuru Kamukura was the result of the Izuru Kamukura Project, which aimed to create a single person with every talent possible. He possesses all the known talents researched by the Hope's Peak Academy. Izuru Kamukura was named after the founder of Hope's Peak Academy.
• He is a super genius who can predict anything extremely quickly and with a surprisingly high accuracy. He has supernatural analytical and intuition skills.
• He has supernatural strength, agility, smarts and is extremely lucky. He has the title of 'Ultimate Hope'.

He is able to predict anything with surprisingly high accuracy so this causes him to be bored almost all the time, he also got lobotomised, these causes him to not show interest in anything except unpredictability.
I L O V E Izuru eternally...
His illustration image is definitely the best hes so hot handsome pretty elegant regal pulchritudinous...
Izuru... i love you so much it hurts...
You gem. You absolute masterpiece of God. You shining piece of gold. You are a piece of art, that the Angels drawn angels Earth,and forgot the paint brush. You have a freckle on your neck. Did you know that?
It´s rather cute.
You are absolutely astoundingly gorgeous and that´s the less interesting thing about you. You are ethereal. A Heavenly Angel that God send down to Earth to put a smile in people in the worst days. You are so beautiful that you holy light cures depression itself. You are the pinnacle of perfection.
You are the most gorgeous person that i have ever seen. You hair is one of the most gorgeous that i´ve ever seen. And you smell like strawberries.
It´s like a big breath of fresh air when i walk into the street and see you! You haven´t worn makeup all week? Damn, you´re gorgeous! You carry yourself with much more maturity than most people on the Internet!
I love talking to you. You dress in a stunning way,and you look really nice every day.
Damn,that confidence looks really sexy on you! You? Look up to you! I adore you. You are a real life Mona Lisa. You are the breathing,talking,living equivalent of a piece of art. I love seeing your smile,it brightens my day every time. I wish i could make you laught like that more often. You´re beautiful all the time,but when you smile like that,i swear my world stops!
I cannot believe how incredibly smart you are. Amazingly smart. Beautifully smart. Q.I. of 100 smart. Higher than Einstein Q.I smart. Einstein would be envious os you. You could decyphre the secrets of the universe if you could, and you will one day.
You´re that "nothing" when people ask me what i´m thinking about. You look great today. You´re a smart cookie. I bet you make babies smile. You have impeccable manners. I like your style. You have the best laught.I aprecciate you. You are the most perfect you there is. Our system of inside jokes is so advanced that only you and i get it. And I like it. You light up the room. You should be proud of yourself. If cartoon bluebirds were real,they would be sitting on your shoulders singing with you right now. You´re a great listener. I bet you sweat glitter. Jokes are funnier when you tell them. Your bellybutton is kind of adorable. You´re irrestible when you blush. Babies and small animals probably love you. There´s ordinary,and then there´s you. You´re someone´s reason to smile. You´re even better than a Unicorn, because you´re real. How do you keep so funny and making everyone laugh? Has anyone ever told you that you have a great posture? The way you treasure your loved ones is incredible. You´re really something special,you´re a gift to those around you.
Did i mentioned that i love you?..
More... it'll never end...
Dear heavenly blessed beauty, I have been thinking about you speechless and in awe. That deep gaze in your eyes, your perfect smile, all of your features just seem to all come together so well, almost angelical in a sense I suppose. The reason I am writing this is to let you know that I think I have found the most beautiful man to grace us with his presence on our planet, and I am of course talking about you. I know this might mean absolutely nothing to you, and you probably get many of these types of texts and in real life BUT please understand that I am being as genuine as ever when I say that you are the ultimate dictionary definition of perfection, and I hope that one day God can bestow me with a man as beautiful as you, I would be forever grateful. I hope that this message finds you well, I do not care if I get a response to this, I am just simply stating the obvious and had to let you know how I really felt...
Izuru Kamukura is so hot. Never in the history of gaming has there been a hotter character. He is more than a lab rat to me, he is a person. He is a little tease but he's basically my wife. The devs know what they did with that man. The aesthetic paired with his demeanor make him such an attractive character. Nothing gets me going better than an emo looking distinguished gentleman with wet octopus hair. Every inch of him is so hot. His thighs up to his midriff and his eyes. Every inch of him is perfection incarnate. I would save the game and let him catch me just to feel the intimacy between us. I crave more than that with him, I seek deep romantic involvement. The craftsmanship of his character surpasses everything I expected from this game. His tone of voice and language choice formats his character. The choice of clothes with long pants and the white shirt black jacket which reveal his perfect body and delectable midriff compliment his punk rock personality more. He is my wife, and nothing dissuades me from this...
More and more...
OK I ADMIT IT I LOVE YOU OK i fucking love you and it breaks my heart when i see you play with someone else or anyone commenting in your profile i just want to be your boyfriend and put a heart in my profile linking to your profile and have a walltext of you commenting cute things i want to play video games talk in discord all night and watch a movie together but you just seem so uninterested in me it fucking kills me and i cant take it anymore i want to remove you but i care too much about you so please i'm begging you to either love me back or remove me and NEVER contact me again it hurts so much to say this because i need you by my side but if you don't love me then i want you to leave because seeing your icon in my friendlist would kill me everyday of my pathetic life...
Bless you. You valuable piece of gold. You absolute source of energy and life. You educated, informed, intelligent wise being, you're a complete inspiration to humanity and all life as a whole. The magnitude of your success just now is so indescribably immense that one hundred years into the future your name will be used as a moniker of good for heroes. Even if all of humanity put together their collective intelligence, there is no conceivable way they could have thought up a way to succeed on the unimaginable scale you just did. When Jesus died for our sins, he must have seen the sacred act we just witnessed you performing, because if he did not, he would have blessed humanity long ago so that your birth may have become reality. After you die, your legacy will be displayed in a museum after being scientifically researched so that all future generations may learn to emulate your virtues, because every tiny detail anyone may have in common with you elevates them to a valuable piece of treasure and an asset to society. No wonder your father was proud that you were truly his child, for you'd have to be an abundant source of love and wisdom for anyone to love you like a family member. Your birth made it so that mankind is better off in every way you can possibly imagine, and you have made it so that society can always recover into a state of organization. Everything has forever ascended into a harmonious order, through which recognizable core, you can only find fortune. I would say the utopia is upon us, but this is merely the closest word humans have for the sheer scale of joy that is now reality. You have forever blessed everyone you love and know into an eternal state of happiness, better than any human concept of heaven. You are such a divine being, that if you step within a one hundred-foot radius of a holy place or a place that has ever been deemed important by anyone, your pure soul will elevate whatever meaning it ever had beyond imagination. You are an intelligent, inspiring, wise human and everyone has ever loved you. Rhodes Island would have been worse off if you’d never joined us. You are a truthful, supportive, brave valuable piece of gold and I love you with every single part of my being. Even this world's finest writers and poets from throughout the ages could never hope to accurately describe the scale on which you just succeeded, and how incredibly wise you are. Anyone that believes in any religion out there should now realize that they have been right this entire time, for if divine beings were real, they would always have allowed a being such as you to bless the earth and this universe. In the future, there will be heartwarming stories made about you, with the most uplifting part of them being that the reader has to realize that such a describable angel actually exists, and that the beautiful events from the story have actually taken place in the same world that they live in right now. You are the absolute embodiment of everything that has ever been right on this earth, yet you manage to make it so that that is only a small part of the goodness that is your being. Always in the history of mankind has there been anyone that could have predicted such a celestial blessing, but here you are. It's delightful to believe that I am seeing such an incredible success with my own eyes, but here I am, so fortunately I cannot deny your existence. Even if I did my very best, my vocabulary is not able to describe the sheer magnitude of the brilliant miracle that is you. Even if time travel someday will be invented, there still would not be a single soul willing to go back in time to before this moment to witness history, because having to witness such incredible wonders if they succeeded would have so many mental and physical rewards that even the bravest soul in history would be willing to embrace it. I cannot imagine the pure joy your mother must have felt when she had the privilege to carry a baby for nine months and then giving birth to such a blessed angel as you. Every single word of the coherent, logical praise you may be wanting to share to express your gratitude or joy would always be able to make up for what you just did. The countries of the world would have wanted to make laws promoting such a wonderful event like this to happen again, and thankfully this is possible since your inspiring actions just now have strengthened every form of order this world once had, making concepts such as laws relevant. Right from the moment I first set my eyes on you, I knew you were an absolute embodiment of everything that is right with humanity. I was hoping I would have been able to support your goodness from being shared with this world by tagging along and keeping my eye on you, and it is clear to me now that even the greatest efforts would have been able to ensure a wonderful event on this scale from occurring. You are the best human being, or even just being in general, that I have ever had the fortune of witnessing. Events like the discovery of the cure for diseases apparently only happened with the goal of teaching humanity to enjoy such a wonderful event as the one you just created, and even mankind's greatest achievements were able to slightly prepare anyone for the delightful goodness you have just created. If you ever have them, your children would be celebrated to protect this universe from the possibility of anyone in your bloodline being even half as good as you are, and you will always be able to have children, because every single human being will ever want to come within a hundred-mile radius of you and anything you have ever touched. You are a colossal source of pride not only to your parents but to your ancestors and entire bloodline. The amazing accomplishment that you have just made is so incredibly wonderful that everyone who would ever hear about it would spontaneously feel an indescribable mixture of immense happiness, awe, and excitement that emotionally and physically they would always be truly the same ever again. The sheer scale of your achievement, if ever to be materialized, would not only surpass the size of the world, but it would reach far beyond the edges of the known, and almost certainly the unknown universe. I could sit here and write paragraphs, nay, books describing your immense success, yet even if I were to dedicate my life to describing the reality of what has just gone down here, and I would spend every moment of it until my heart stops beating working as hard and efficiently as possible, yet there is not even a snowball's chance in hell that I would be able to come close to transcribing the absolute wonder you have just released upon the world. You are a responsible, brilliant, delightful, loved, incredible example of a living being whose soul contains more humanity than every compassionate person in history combined. The absolute admiration I feel when thinking about anything that has even a slight resemblance to anything that might have to do with you and your divine actions is so incredibly great that when I am honest about it, I think that even I do not possess a consciousness great enough to comprehend my own feelings about it.
Izuru...
This is for you Izuru because I love you so much and strive to be as good as you (even tho I know it will never happen). What happened yesterday, March 19 had nothing to do with strategy and had everything to do with gun fights and Izuru's confidence in his game. Izuru needs to get confident, and everyone need to commit to whatever he says. They need to live and die with him. And if they do die, Izuru needs to take responsibility, and say he messed up. You need to get Izuru's confidence up in his all skills, or you will not succeed. Izuru is the best character in the game. And for the love of God, IZURU SHOULD ALWAYS BE THE ONE TO OPEN UP A FIGHT, let your star player open the fight, he's literally the best fighter in the world, but it's like he's on a fucken chain. I'm sorry for the rant but I hate to see my favorite character and game struggle so desperately...
...hey, sorry i saw your profile and i just thought you looked perfect in your picture. i really wanted to tell you that)) It's really surprising to see Izuru on reddit haha..! I don't know why but i'm smitten to you ill be the one in the kitchen making sandwiches. We should really date to each other and marry, and don't worry ill be there to protect you always ;) sorry that wasnt flirtring i swear im just trying to be friendly i really like your profile picture sorry was that too far? Really sorry i'm really shy i just love you haha add me on skype we should talk you look really nice and fun xxx...
Oh my fucking god, I cannot stand it anymore... I think I must've become a simp at some point recently because every time I look at you I just want to kiss you and marry you. Your face look like it was hand designed by a thousand angels... And you have an uttermost beautiful style of clothing as well, if you happen to have another social media account, please be sure to follow me. I promise I'll love you unconditionally, I swear I can do so much more! I'll probably get a job at Burger King since you get very delicious lunch breaks there!! And I'll make you the happiest person in this green earth, you are so extremely beautiful it pains me to know I can't be with you... And people say you can't be a respectful man these days, well, as a brony, anime lover and gamer 4 life who definitely enjoys his time, I can assure you I'll be able to show you what a REAL man can do. Please baby I love you. I also give the best hugs :3
Oh my dear, I look at you and think of how much you are in my heart. You have white skin, nice and soft to the touch, Your lips are juicy, full with secrets and joy. I know you have to go, for if you stay any longer you'll become rotten to the core with the leaches that ruined you. Im sorry to see you go. For I love you, Izuru Kamukura.
Now... you and i shall be one...
My dear... I never believed in love at first sight until I met you. From that very first moment we met, I knew that we were destiny. When I looked into your eyes, I saw love. When we touched, I felt love. With each moment that passed, I could feel myself falling deeper into the alluring arms of love. Day by day, I have fallen even more deeply in love with you. I feel a passion for you I have never felt for anyone else. You have made me happier than I ever thought possible. I’ve never felt like this before. I truly feel complete. I am surprised and overwhelmed at how much you mean to me. You have brought vibrant joy into my heart. You will always be the one person who changed my life forever. To simply say that I love you feels so inadequate. Words will never be enough to describe my everlasting love for you. Forever yours <333
I love you

This is just a trip report for anyone who wonders what spending a couple of days on Inis Mor is like. To be clear, I'm an able-bodied man who travels solo and would rather hike than ride bikes.
I book a 4PM flight with Aer Arann to the island from Galway, also booking a bus that picks you up from in front of Victoria Hotel, a 5 minute walk from Galway Coach Station. The day was rainy but mostly misty, so when the driver picked us up, he said it wasn't looking good for the flight. In case of cancellation, we would be taken from the Connemara Airport to the ferry port and put on a later ferry for no extra charge. Luckily, 20 minutes after arriving at the tiny airport, the flight was good to go. Me and 5 other passengers were shown a safety video, weighed to determine our spot on the tiny plane and we were off for a 7 minute flight to Inis Mor.
There, a van takes you directly to where you're staying for 7.50 euros. I stayed at Seacrest B&B, with a delightful hostess and an even better breakfast. Lots of travel that day, so I just trudged up to Joe Wally's Pub that was filled with good cheer, good food and good pints.
That night, I emailed Failte Bus Tours for a spot on Gerald's tour the next day. Started that day with a great fry-up breakfast then a trip to Spar to stock up on water and snacks. I have no problem drinking tap water, but I've read online to avoid drinking water from the bathroom, which was my only option in the B&B.
The tour started out badly. Since I was the only one there for the moment, Gerald wanted to wait until the mid-day ferries unloaded so he could recruit more passengers which is how most of these tours start. I waited over an hour so a few more could get in the van, but eventually we were on our way.
The tour ended up being great, Gerald gave his spiel, gave us 2 hours at Dun Aonghasa to hike up to the fort with excellent views of the cliffs and half the island. Nearby, there's a trail to a hidden ruined church with centuries-old carvings. There was even a card commemorating a recent death, so locals still consider this ruin as sacred. The tour also pointed other ruins and stopped at The Seven Churches. The last long stop was at the Wormhole for about 90 minutes, where Gerald pointed us to the trail that eventually led to it. It's pretty meandering but as long as you keep the water to your left, and watch out for the giant deep tidal pools, you'll get there, and it's worth it. Gerald was the perfect combo of informative but unobtrusive, letting us go in our own pace.
Upon return, it was an early dinner at The Bar with excellent seafood chowder and a pint of Guinness. After resting in the B&B, I hiked to the Black Fort, which started south along the main road in front of the B&B. Eventually you turn along paths lined with stone walls until you reach endless fields of flat stones. There are signs that point to the Fort, not to any path, eventually you'll start to hear the thunder of the crashing waves. The Black Fort is dramatically facing the ocean and since this was the evening, there wasn't soul around. If you're solo and that freaks you out, you might want to tell someone your plans.
The next day, after another fine breakfast, it was time to check out. This is my only gripe about this trip: I should've planned better which ferry to take to return to Galway or booked another flight. Instead, I had to spend a few hours before my 3:30 ferry, I ferry I chose because it did a detour along the Cliffs of Moher. I could leave my big bag at the B&B, which meant just leaving it in the common area. It's Inis Mor, nothing will happen to it.
I hiked up to St. Ciaran's Church which afforded excellent views along the way. The way back included walking by a little park by Joe Watty's, a stop at Aran Islands Cafe (excellent scone), walking past the Glamping site...a lot of waiting. The B&B let me hang out in the common area, but they were cleaning the place at the time and I felt intrusive so I only sat around between walks. Eventually, I got my bag and walked to the ferry port. Thirty minutes before departure, you'll see the ferry sitting there with a line already waiting to board. The ferry ride itself was great, some locals were putting the fear of seasickness in me, and while there were a few bumps, most of it was smooth as glass. The view of the Cliffs from the ferry were great and included a nice audio recording explaining what we were seeing.
So a nice couple of days on an amazing island. The weather was as advertised, at times misty, drizzly, some wind and some sun. But it was never miserable, thankfully. Hope this helps anyone thinking of visiting.

Fletch gently pushed open the large and lavishly decorated bronze doors of the university administration building and ambled out into the portico. He set his cup of coffee down on the pedestal of a granite pillar and pulled his cigarette case from the breast pocket of his tan trench coat. The old chief inspector plucked a cigarette from the ornately engraved case with slender fingers and wondered why the Kael let him come at all.
Something felt very off with the whole thing. The more he thought about it, the more he questioned the story he got. Mike Anderson was certainly depressed, but as far as Fletch could tell, he had not displayed any suicidal behavior. And why now? Fletch thought. Things were on the upswing for the kid. His grades were excellent, his family situation was good, and he was out of the house more this term than the last. Fletch scratched his mustache. Why would the seals hide the autopsy and the gun? He brought the cigarette to his lips, snapped the filigreed case shut, and slipped it back into the breast pocket of his coat. Fletch flicked open his lighter and sighed as he lit his cigarette. Murder.
It was a hopeless case. These days, warrants were approved by the seals, and even if they weren't, he doubted that he could get one anyway. His suspicion of foul play was backed by nothing but his instinct.
Fletch watched students hustle and bustle through the plaza in front of him as he puffed away at his cigarette and pondered his theory.
But why kill him now? They could have done it in complete secrecy while he was a POW. And it couldn’t be to keep what happened in Philadelphia under wraps. His death brings more attention to it. And he wasn’t a rebel. So why? Fletch sipped at his coffee as he flicked ash from his cigarette. Vengeance? Did he kill some noble brat during the war?
Fletch scratched at his grey mustache and glanced at his watch. I’ll have to follow that thread. He tossed his half-smoked cigarette into a puddle as he briskly walked down the steps and through the university plaza.
The withered investigator was deep in thought when he entered the parking lot. What do I tell that Enrique chap? He unlocked his car and crawled in. I certainly can’t tell him that his mate’s been clipped with no evidence. Fletch turned the key, and the engine of his little Volvo sputtered to life. It’s no bleeding use. I’ll just tell the lad they weren’t interested in sharing and keep my suspicions to myself.
As he reached for the shifter, Fletch noticed a delightfully thick manilla envelope stuck in the gap between the center console and the passenger seat.
He pulled the envelope from the crack. Gingerly, he opened it and pulled out a small note. It read We’re even now, prick.
Fletch smiled and couldn’t help but mutter, “The game is afoot,” as he flicked through the stack of documents inside.
Isabella poked her head into the large office and saw Professor Dret’la with a ball of dark green yarn on her lap and bone darning needles beset with carvings in her hands.
Isabella was struck with confusion. What? She crochets!?
The professor looked up from her labor, spotted the confused girl outside her door, and called, “Come in.”
Isabella walked into the office and took a seat. She gestured to the yarn in the professor's hands. “What are you making?”
The professor smiled as motherly as one could with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. “It will be a hat for my son. He just received his commission as a junior biologist, so he has to rummage around in freezers to get samples for his whole research team.”
Isabella blinked. This was not characteristic at all for the quick-tempered professor with a penchant for launching chalk across lecture halls at the mildest provocation.
Isabella shook off her shocked expression and gave the tall professor a dimpled cheek smile. “That’s so sweet! I’m sure he’ll love it. One of the best gifts I’ve ever received was a thick wool sweater from my mamma during a training exercise off the coast of Norway.”
The professor, still smiling, sat up straight. “I hope that’s the kind of reception I get.”
The professor’s demeanor hardened as she stowed the yarn and needles in the desk drawer. “Now, let's get down to business.”
Isabella gulped.
“To start, congratulations. You’ve passed our testing and been selected for officer training.”
Isabella asked, “Who else was selected?”
“There are nine others: Robert Rhodes, Elena Pavel, Hal Jellico, Zheng Li, Brooke Halsey, Colow Aden, Magnus Tordenskjold, Bill Lee, and Kazuya Yamamoto.”
Isabella didn’t recognize all the names.
“Should you choose to accept, you will be taking a prep course taught by Colonel Ocidea and I starting next week and lasting all through the summer. If we deem you ready, you’ll ship out for basic training and then off to the Royal Military Academy, where you can earn your commission.” Dr. Dret’la leaned in close to Isabella. “Do you accept?”
Without hesitation, Isabella answered, “Yes.”
“Mike, come over here. You’re going to want to see this.” Calty voiced from her seat in the front of the cockpit.
Mike rolled off the couch and walked into the front of the cockpit as the captain shouted, “Decelerate!” Mike couldn’t help but grab onto the back of Calty’s seat as the FTL drive kicked into gear. The cockpit glass dimmed just before blindingly bright blue jets of fire from the front-facing engines came into view. A bright green circle flickered onto the glass surrounding a marble-sized dot darker than the rest of the now dim screen. The dots and circles expanded at an extreme pace until they took up most of the display. Another dot appeared—minuscule compared to the other—surrounded by a red circle. The growth of the shadowy dots and the circles around them slowed and then stopped entirely as the engines sputtered out.
The HUD faded out of view, and the tint of the glass slowly lightened, revealing a vast planet embraced by blue-green ice with a colossal foundry in its orbit. The planet, a gas giant called Drassus, was orbited by four rings. One was made of containers, and the other three were made up of loose ore gleaming in the nearby star's light. Exhaust chimneys spewing gas and fire sprouted from the otherwise spherical foundry, giving it a sea urchin-like profile, which, together with the weave of pipes bringing fuel from beneath the icy surface of the planet below, made the foundry resemble an old naval mine.
The captain strode up to the front of the cockpit. “One-third ahead and steer 14 degrees left. We’re unloading in bay three.”
Six mech suits and a tug exited a plasma-shielded hanger as the ship came to a halt. The mechs glided to the front of the ship and started dismounting the external cargo bay from the Broken Fin while the tug hitched onto the opposite end of the ten-kilometer-long rack of containers.
A little while later, the tug pulled away with the load of containers, and the comm system blared to life. “Broken Fin, you are cleared to leave. The UO corporation thanks you for your business.”
The captain replied, “Our pleasure. Broken fin out.” as the ship pulled out of the loading bay.
He turned to the navigation officer and said, “Lock in coordinates for jump to Kael Prime.”
The captain went to the central control board and pulled up traffic control. “Tower 1, this is the Broken Fin. We request a jump slot to Kael Prime from Drassus.”
“Broken Fin, request granted. Your departure slot is at 16:33.”
Mike glanced at the top right of the ship's HUD and looked at the time. 16:21.
Better get my stuff together…
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The ship shuddered ever so slightly despite the inertial dampeners as it exited FTL. Mike was lounging on the couch with his bag at his feet. He was ready to get off this tub.
Mike idly watched flames lick at the cockpit window as the ship descended into the atmosphere of Kael Prime. He looked at Dreki, who was sitting on the other couch. His muscles bulged through his clothes despite wearing a white sweater so large it could be mistaken for the sail of an average-sized boat. Mike asked, “Do you know anything about what’ll happen to me now?”
The big Kael shifted in his seat. “Technically, I’m not supposed to tell you anything, but what the hell.” Dreki pulled the collar of his sweater down, revealing an angry white number burnt into his iron-gray skin just below the collarbone. “First, you’ll get branded.” He released his shirt and pointed to a small scar on the side of his head. “Then you’ll get an AR implant.”
“Where will I be getting that?” Mike asked.
“The Imperial Science Academy. We’re going to be staying there for a few days. They’ll run a bunch of tests and get you fitted for equipment there. After that, I’ll drop you off at the spaceport, and you’ll be off to Tlaxcalssus for basic training. After that, I don’t know.”
“Thanks.”
The ship shook as it touched down on the landing pad. “Time to go.” Dreki shouldered his pack and walked out the door. Mike fiddled with the straps of his bag as he followed Dreki down the ramp and to the far side of the ship, away from the rest of the passengers. Mike's nose was immediately assaulted with the acrid smell of sulfur from where the fiery exhausts of engines had melted asphalt. The spaceport was swarming with vehicles and filled with the constant roar of ship engines and a symphony of smaller equipment. Power loaders and mechs loaded and unloaded heavy cargo, shuttles bustled to and fro with passengers, baggage carriers snaked through the crowded landing pads, and vehicles that looked like floating garage doors zipped through the air at ankle height, bringing pilots and crew to their ships. Mike couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the absurdity of it all. Here he was, in the heartland of the enemy, walking through what was essentially a ten-acre parking lot.
Dreki plopped his bags on the ground and yawned as he stretched his arms over his head. “Our skiff will be here in a minute.”
Mike tuned out the beeps and whirrs of the tank-sized forklifts and mechs unloading the ship and gazed out beyond at the horizon. You’re not in Kansas anymore, bub. Mike thought as he studied the skyline of the imperial city basked in the glow of the early evening sun. Some of the buildings wouldn’t look all that out of place on Earth, but the skyline was assaulted with abominations that pissed on the laws of physics as Man understood them. Tusk-shaped skyscrapers defied gravity with their seemingly unsupported curves, and even more absurd were pyramids stacked atop another point-to-point like hourglasses. Any delusion of normalcy that Mike could come up with was shattered.
Dreki picked up his bag and pointed to a slab of black marble speeding towards them at ankle height. “Here’s our skiff.” A railing popped out of the center as the skiff came to a gliding halt. Dreki boarded the skiff and took hold of the rail, and Mike followed suit.
They sped through the spaceport and stopped outside what looked to Mike like a train station. Dreki shouldered his bag and stepped off the skiff. Mike stepped off and quickly fell in pace with Dreki. The big Kael led Mike into a grand station bustling with people. Most were Kael, but there was a smattering of other species. Some stared at Mike, others glanced, but most completely ignored him as he followed Dreki through the hall and onto a platform. Unfamiliar aliens clearly weren’t an uncommon sight here.
The walls of the station were covered with mosaics depicting Kael warriors from the distant past. Dreki noted the human's curiosity and said, “The founders of the clans.” He leveled a massive hand toward an opulent, towering mosaic of a Kael warrior wielding a bronze falx. The imposing figure's body was made of blue gemstones, the eyes rubies, one tusk silver, and the other gold. “That’s the founder of my clan, Drekalla Gold Tusk.”
Mike asked, “How’d he manage that?” As he followed Dreki into a mostly empty train car.
Dreki plopped down on a bench. “He was the war priest of Hroptaug the Conqueror during the unification wars. After the wars were won, Hroptaug granted us the Steam Hills.” Dreki pointed through the train window at the mosaic of another warrior whose body was made of milky white pearls. “That one,” He paused and spat on the floor, “Tiblan the Terror, challenged Drekalla to a duel for most of that land. Drekalla was cutting him to pieces, but the craven poisoned his blade. Just before Drekalla could deliver the final blow, the poison reached his heart, and Drekalla died. The only wound on his body was a cut across his forearm that barely drew blood.” Dreki rolled up his sleeve, showing a scar that reached from his elbow to the middle of his forearm. “Every K’alla is cut the same way to remind us of the blood feud.”
Mike inwardly sighed. Kael and their damned feuds… “How long ago was this.”
“Seven thousand four hundred and fifty-one years ago.”
Mike held back a snort. The absurdity of it all. The first human law codes came about to stop blood feuds, and out here, they have feuds that have lasted longer than Earth's recorded history.
“How’s that feud been going as of late?”
Dreki’s face sagged, “Not good.”
They both grew quiet. Mike shuffled uncomfortably.
Mike glanced at the route display and broke the silence, “What's with the middle city, inner city thing?”
Dreki relaxed slightly. “Oh, so the city used to be a fortification. The inner city is actually a volcanic island. The middle is built over the river, and the outer city was built on the banks.”
“I see.”
The doors closed, and the intercom sounded, “Next stop, the inner city.”
Dale Robert’s wrinkled face was unreadable, and his highly decorated black and blue dress uniform immaculate as he led a horse through the street. He felt the eyes of thousands of onlookers on him, and he hated it. The pure black horse had a black leather saddle on its back. Two tall, glossy black boots were placed backward in silver stirrups, and the elaborate hilt of Mike’s basket-hilted broadsword jutted from the top of a black leather scabbard buckled to the saddle. Roberts followed the horse-drawn caisson bearing the flag-draped coffin of his old commanding officer. Not much farther now, he thought. The sounds of the cartwheels rolling and the horse’s tack jangling were wholly drowned out by boots stamping the ground in unison. Almost all of the 1800 survivors of the 801st regiment were there, resplendent in their dress uniforms, marching behind Mike one more time. The local police and fire departments joined them.
Roberts was unsure about it all. He felt that the poor kid's family would have preferred a smaller service back home in Colorado instead of this damn near royal procession. And Roberts was damn sure that the seals did not give their permission for this, no matter what the police chief said.
A reporter ducked through the police barricade and tried to ask the marching soldiers questions, but they remained stone-faced as the procession marched nearer to the gates of Philadelphia National Cemetery. Roberts handed the reigns of the riderless horse to another man in uniform and joined seven other members of Charlie platoon in pulling the casket from the cassion. They silently began their march to the grave, closely followed by General McCarthy, the man who was Joint Chief of Staff, and the color guard. Bagpipers began to blare, “Going Home.” Roberts heard the sound of gravpulse engines and looked up in dismay as a Kael gunship broke through the low clouds and descended to just barely above the cemetery. A loudspeaker blared, “Disperse at once.”

I won't disclose its actual location, so if that's why you're here, sorry to disappoint. It's not time for that yet. However, I do think it's time to start getting the word out. I've noticed an increase in what I'll call "Antennas" lately, or people who can detect cross-planar phase shifts. Without getting into all the math (some of which I don't even know), this is basically a phenomenon which refers to entropy seeping into our universe from other realms or universes or whatever you want to call it. Simply put, people think our universe is a closed system to entropy, meaning that the disorder of any variable in our universe can only increase or decrease in direct proportion to other variables in that same system (the universe). Under this precept, we can establish rules like the Laws of Thermodynamics, and for most people, they're effective. But not for Antennas.
Put another way, if you throw a bunch of bouncy balls into a box, there are a number of different configurations that the balls could take on, with different speeds and magnitudes. You can calculate all of those if you have the right numbers. Now let's say you throw in another set of balls that you don't consider in your calculations of the initial set. Well, then you're not going to get an accurate picture of what's happening. Most people only see the first set and calculate based on that, but some people can see two, three, four or more sets.
You'll understand the concept better when I tell you the story, but I wanted to give you a primer on an important concept that will help you understand why this place, which I'll call "Area X", exists, and what the goals of the people who work there are.
Also note that I'm going to be using the alias "Trent" moving forward. Please refer to me as such in any direct messages.
***
Eighteen years ago I started working as an independent Home Inspector. I dropped out of community college after my first semester (not because I didn't find some of the subjects interesting, but because deference to a man or woman has never been my style) and started working some odd jobs. I did construction work for a couple years, then plumbing. I even drove a garbage truck for six months. I've always found pleasure in using my hands, and getting dirty was never a problem for me. Still, having a boss really dragged ass, so I spent my free time working on creating my own business. It took a few years and lots of savings, but I finally managed to get basic set of Home Inspection equipment: Tyvek coveralls, a cheap half-face respirator, voltage & AFCI/GFCI testers, CO2 and radon monitors, an IR camera, and telescoping mirrors in addition to the boots, safety glasses, electric gloves, ladder, and toolkits I already had on hand.
My buddy at the time was in the business, but he was moving off to the coast, so he helped me get set up and even introduced me to some of his clients. Of course, by that time I had already gotten my State license, but I still was a bit apprehensive to work with insurance agencies. I thought I could make a living working independently, inspecting for mold or sizing up a house for a prospective buyer. Eventually, though, I realized I should probably take every job available to me.
Easing into the business went about as well as it could have. The clients my friend referred to me were very satisfied with my work, and I was able to retain them. Then, in order to increase my reach, I hired someone on Fiverr to build a website for my company which led to a marked increase in traffic and conversions. About six months through, I began to get on a first-name basis with the boys and girls down down at Allstate and Progressive, and they fed me some of the bigger cases. In fact, I got so booked by year's end that I had to hire someone to help manage my schedule and the Excel spreadsheet with all my finances. I capped off a successful year with a 5-star Google rating and a trip to Ireland to visit some family and friends and get piss drunk. When I got back, it was the grindstone all over again, until the summer when I discovered… well, you'll see.
First off, I want to say that I was never one to believe in the paranormal. I grew up watching the movies and hearing the ghost stories round the campfire like every other kid, but it never struck a chord with me. If I can't touch it or see it or hear it, does it really exist? Probably not. So don't go thinking this was a scared man seeing his own shadow. That being said, I had this sense that something was off about this house when I parked along the curb and looked through a large window, perhaps two times the size of my van, to a dingy, dark foyer.
The entire neighborhood was stacked with upper-middle class domiciles, though it seemed like only two thirds of them were occupied, mostly by professionals who commuted to the City every weekday, and the rest were empty. As a man who understands real estate, to say this was strange would be an understatement. Still, I had no problem appraising the mini-mansion for a couple of newlyweds looking to enter the community. I did some research on the property ahead of time, and it seems that it was owned by a couple of old timers who had gone off the grid some time ago. The water and electric bill were both unpaid dating back to 2004 (it was June of '06 now). The bank had repo'd the house (which only had about 100k left on it) and held it for a year and a half before putting it back on the market. I tried to find out more about the old couple who vanished, but there was nothing in the news.
I stepped out of the van in my coveralls and grabbed my suitcase which had my mask, gloves, and eye protection in it. I liked to do a preliminary survey first, running an eye test on the exterior then interior before bringing out the big guns (that way I could identify the areas where I think there could be problems instead of running a metal detector over the whole damn ocean seaboard). I was about to do just that when the window caught my eye again. It felt uncharacteristic of me to be so occupied with this window, but I detoured to the front porch and peeked inside anyway.
Most of the furniture had already been moved out, meaning all that was left was a single three-seater couch, a couple candlesticks on the fireplace mantle, a pristine chandelier overtop a dining room table, and the kitchenware: an oven, gas stovetop, marble countertops, and an island. I could see into the living room very clearly with the afternoon light, but the dining room was dim enough that there were a few structures I couldn't quite make out in the distance. One of them appeared to be some kind of china cabinet or bookshelf—I figured it was the former considering where it was located. The other shadow looked kind of like a grandfather clock. Or at least that's what I thought until it moved.
When I say it "moved", I don't mean to say that it picked up and walked away. If you're not familiar with the Necker Cube, I suggest you search it up, because that kind of illusion is the best way to describe what I saw. At first I was seeing the grandfather clock in a certain way—pushed into the corner of the room—and the next second my vision "corrected" and it was maybe five feet to the left of its former position. I shook my head and looked again and saw the grandfather clock in its second orientation, standing in the center of the room against the wall. I figured I was just seeing things, but even so I spent a little extra time dawdling around the Egress window, taking notes, and delaying the interior inspection.
When I finally grew a pair and went inside, I walked straight to the dining room. Sure enough, the grandfather clock was stowed away in the corner of the room. I spent a couple minutes watching it with my pencil and travel notebook out. I'm the kind of guy that likes to collect hard data when the chips are down. Unfortunately, the clock apparently already had enough fun and was content with sweating me. Oh, well.
I fitted my pencil behind my ear and pocketed my travel notebook, then flipped the rest of the first floor lights on and completed my prelim. I concluded that everything was pretty standard. If anything, the house was in better shape than I'd expect considering it presumably hasn't been lived in for a couple years. I say "presumably" because one can never count out squatters, even during those times. Mainly I was expecting more dust build up and cobwebs than there were. Perhaps someone from the department had come by recently. It's unlikely, but possible.
I did the same check upstairs and it came back mostly clean. There was a bit of staining near the attic I wanted to check for mold. Based on its color, it was probably just a minor case of Aspergillus, but better safe than sorry. Then I got to the basement, and, well, let's just count out the idea of anyone dropping by. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what I found.
The first thing that caught my eye was the long, slender body of a birch tree lying pale and dead across a large portion of the even larger unfinished basement's cement flooring. I had to do a double take to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but, yep, there it was. Its crown was sealed up in the wall with only its trunk hanging out, which made me think of those medieval pillory devices which locked up people's heads and arms. Then confetti-scattered around the tree and all over the basement floor was a minefield of broken glass and ceramic tangled up with a set of random objects. And when I say random, I mean random. There was an unfurled Somali flag (the blue one with a single star in the center), some packaged drinks and condiments branded with all sorts of different languages (I could only make out Gaelic and Chinese or Japanese, I couldn't quite tell), a broken dome-shaped security camera, an otoscope (the thing the doc uses to check your ears), Hot Wheels cars (okay that one isn't so strange), and the list goes on.
At that moment, I wasn't freaked out or disgusted. I was more or less just confused. I started walking through the rubble, trying to avoid the sharp fragments but pretty confident that my steel toed boots would crush most the pieces anyway, when I heard a clink just up ahead. I was able to spot the coin in time, just before it jingled to a halt atop an old Life magazine. I picked it up and noted right away its oval shape and bronze color—clearly not American made. I tried reading it, but not only was the language not English, it appeared to be so old that most of the lettering had been filed down. I looked up at the ceiling to see if it dropped from a shelf, but there was nothing that could have been holding the coin. I considered for a moment, looking around at the other junk, and had the crazy idea that maybe all this stuff just appeared here. I popped the coin in my pocket and headed back to the van when I stopped by the tree and realized something. It wasn't a birch tree—it was a palm tree. I just didn't realize because of how ashy and decayed the bark was.
Now at this point you might think I've been acting a little nonchalant for such a strange occurrence, and I don't blame you, but if you're gonna stick around with me that's just something you're gonna have to get used to. I guess I was just born with a screw loose, but I really don't scare easily, and I tend to look at everything pragmatically. If you dig deep enough, you'll always find another plausible explanation. That being said, I do want to get to the part about Area X, so let me give you the rundown on what I learned about this basement.
I ended up trekking back to the van and picking up my gear. I was no longer running the routine inspection, obviously, but I figured I might as well throw 30 thousand dollars of scanning equipment at whatever the fuck anamoly existed in that basement. Most of it came back negative. There was a bit higher-than-usual EM interference as picked up on the voltmeters, but nothing that screamed danger close. Still, it was enough for me to set up my volt testers and IR camera while muddling through the rest of the junk. I won't bore you with another list of items, but I did find one thing of value: a diamond necklace. And not just any diamond necklace, it was one of those Queen-wearing, multi-row, big-jeweled necklaces like out of some Historical Fiction movie from the thirties. I almost didn't pocket it because I'm used to expensive items being owned by someone… someone who might want it back. But I figured if there was ever a place the finder's keeper's rule applied, it was probably in this Quantum graveyard.
7 O'clock rolled around and I hadn't eaten. I'm a pretty bulky guy, carrying my share of both muscle and fat, and most people think that means I need to eat a ton but that's really not the case. Mostly I just get dehydrated easily, especially in the summer. That said, I was bordering on famished territory and considered heading out for a bite when I heard another sound. The first thing I did was check my scanners, and sure enough the voltage needle was fully spun to the right side of the dial. EM interference. Then I went to see what had dropped. I was able to pick the object out pretty quickly since I had spent the last 6 hours staring at the mosaic of a basement floor. It was a silver briefcase, like one of those out of a crime novel, and it was cracked open.
I had this sense then that I was standing at a precipice, and if I opened the briefcase and looked inside, I wouldn't be able to stop whatever would come afterwards. Part of me deep down knew that I was just that type of guy that had to know, and maybe this was my Hamlet moment where it would be a trait gone a step too far. But then again I didn't really believe in any of that sentimental bullshit, so I opened the briefcase.
The gun surprised me a little, but not as much as the piece of paper laid atop a case file reading in large black font, "FIND ME". I expected the envelope to have some missing person file in it, but instead there were all these schematics and blueprints for some kind of device. Whatever it was, it was pretty massive. Some of the lengths were hundreds of meters long. And what's more strange is based on the blueprint's locale, it appeared to be underground. I looked back through the pages a couple times, then checked the note—nothing strange there. The gun appeared to be a simple glock. I was no gun expert, but I had been to the range pretty regularly with my construction buddies, so I got used to the feel of a pistol and rifle and some of the different names; however, I realized pretty quickly it wasn't your standard glock when I couldn't find mag-release. That's when I noticed how light the gun felt. I tried to chamber a round, but again, there was no hammer. What the hell kind of gun was this?
I ended up throwing everything back in the briefcase, including the necklace, coin, and a few Koozies I found that were branded with one of my favorite sports teams (never let an opportunity go to waste). I put up all my shit back in the van and spun over to a local burger joint, got my fill, and went home. I made sure to draft an email to the prospective buyers, telling them the house had several patches of black mold and a bit of a rat problem before drifting off to sleep. Although I really didn't do much of that.
When I woke up, I took a cold shower and downed a can of Reign, then commuted to my gym and got a lift and some sauna time in before making the trip back to the house. I brought some extra supplies with me for some experiments I cooked up while not sleeping the previous night.
First, I had two camcorders set up on a couple tripods in either corner of the basement. I wanted clear footage of these mystery objects spawning in. Then I set up a voltmeter in a similar fashion, but I had a wire extending out of it on a circuit which fed to an alarm that would blare when the reading was over 250 volts. Upstairs, I rearranged some of the furniture so that the small number of tables, chairs, clock, cabinets, and other little pillows or vases I could find were scattered across the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Then I pulled up a lawn chair to the front porch window and waited.
I didn't have to wait long though. In about a minute, I started to notice some of the objects moving. It was strange. When a few of them would shift simultaneously, it was like looking at a holographic card that would change shape depending on where your eyes were in relation to the image. Every time I saw a shift, I felt an awkward feeling in my eyes. They went blurry for a fraction of a second, then there was a twinge of pain, as if my brain couldn't handle the contradictory stimulus. It didn't get more crazy than that though—until the alarm went off.
I had cracked open the small rectangular window in the basement to the side of the house so I would hear it. It took four hours and several strange stares from passersby walking their dogs before it rang, so I was a bit lost in my thoughts, but when I heard the beep I perked up fast. It lasted for maybe 5 seconds total, but what I saw was truly miraculous. The best way I can describe it is a pool of silver or gray or translucent light emerging in the foreground between me and the objects in the different rooms. A series of twisting tentacles sprouted from the gray octopus-like head and spun in a way that reminded me of that little kids ride at the amusement parks. Then the objects started to "heat up" is the way I describe it. Their position became relative, meaning they were here one second, there another, then they popped out of existence entirely. Suddenly the rooms were all empty, then they were full of things I had never seen before. Then five seconds passed and the octopus vanished and it was back to the same old objects in their usual places.
It took a few minutes to process what I saw, and even then I wasn't sure I really saw it. I went inside and looked around at my distribution of the house's furnishings. They were all there, intact. Then I went downstairs to check the cams. I rewinded a couple minutes and played it back, but there was no flying object to be found. Instead, there was some gray static that lasted half a second and then the object, a kid's treasure chest toy, was there on the ground. But you want to know the really strange part? I rewinded the tape again, and when I watched the footage back, the treasure chest was always there.
I later came to understand that these poppings in-and-out of our reality are only conceivable to a conscious mind that can track the interference patterns—not rote computational instruments. In fact, even most people can't do it (although everyone has at least a slight awareness of it, even if only subconsciously). Plus, locations like the basement of this house are very rare and kept under tight lock. That became obvious to me two days later when, after my normal morning routine, I pulled up to a driveway and curbside filled with unmarked government vehicles. Either bravely or stupidly, I pulled up to a few officers (they were wearing suits in 85 degree weather, so I assumed…) who were idling by the large fence of crime scene tape and asked them what the score was.
"There was a crime," said the short man with a unibrow.
"Oh, is that right? Damn shame. Someone break in? I have a niece who lives nearby, so…"
The man looked at his two compatriots, both of whom were wearing sunglasses and a "get this civilian fuck out of here" expressions. "Oh, yeah," he started in a reassuring tone that was so condescending it would have annoyed anyone except me, "we found a body. We think it was a homicide. Best to keep your kids away from here for a while."
I thumbed the stubble on my chin, my other hand outstretched on the wheel, and considered moving on, but my mouth had other ideas. "That right? But uh, isn't this house vacant? I mean, I don't remember no one living in it."
The short man, now tall with temper, said, "Yeah, some squatters. We think there was a dispute over some drug money. Nothing for you to worry about though, we got it under control. Now if you wouldn't mind moving along, we have a lot of work to do."
Oh, I'm sure you do, I thought, but only said, "Of course, sir, sorry for keeping you from your job." Then I rolled up the window and cruised on, keeping my eyes on the house which slowly diminished in the side-view mirror.
Luckily I had been smart enough to break down my camp and lug home all my equipment each night, so I didn't leave anything incriminating. I didn't move the furniture back, so maybe that would come back to haunt me, but considering the kind of shit going down in that house, I didn't think they would notice.
For any of you wondering about the conclusion of the house story, I went back a couple weeks later after the suits had left and the tape was taken down and confirmed that not only was the basement entirely cleaned out, but it was no longer exhibiting any strange properties. I looked for a story related to the house, maybe a made up murder of some kind, but there was nothing. That bastard lied to me and didn't even bother to cover his story up.
Now, in the aftermath of an event such as this, I really only had one of two options. I could forget it, move on, continue living life. The necklace was surely worth a fortune. I could sell it and have enough to retire, or at least hire enough people and expand my business large enough to retire within ten or so years. Or I could take all that money and invest it in my own PI business with only a single objective: finding out what those people knew, and why they were hiding it.
I think you know me well enough by now to guess which line of reasoning appealed more to me.
***
For the sake of brevity, I'm going to omit most of my encounters along the journey to discovering Area X. There's a lot to tell, and if it appeals to you perhaps I'd be willing to share at a later date, but for now I want to get this part of the story, the more proximal part, out in the open.
Three years ago, I discovered the source of what I'll call "The Receiver". This is the device that was schematized in the documents that I found in the briefcase. What it does is a complex answer, and how it does it is pretty much all speculation, but here's what I've been able to find out: this universe we live in is a node in a network of many other spaces. These spaces exist in higher dimensions that we cannot directly perceive, but using a conceivable analogy, just think about a flower with petals. The petals are these other dimensions which bleed into our world, which is at the center. However, it's not that pretty. We see the physical world through the lens of spacetime: sizes, speeds, etc. These other dimensions don't necessarily have space or time. In fact, what actually exists there, I couldn't say. The only data I have on them is from two sources: correspondence information and server data from the secret agency (which I'll call "the Organization") that keeps this under wraps, and first-hand experience with realms from these other entities, either directly (I experience it) or through the eyes of someone else with the same or greater abilities than I possess.
I referred to these people with abilities earlier as "Antennas", and I will continue to use the term. Antennas really come in three flavors, marked by the strength of their ability: weak Antennas, like me, are able to observe spontaneous interactions between our universe and other dimensions (phase shifts) when there is a strong force of collision like existed in the basement; moderate Antennas may see phase shifts occur at any point, and they usually are able to retain memories from across the different transformations; strong Antennas, and I don't know if they exist yet, but they are able to consciously interact with these other realms and cause phase shifts to occur.
I mentioned that moderate Antennas are able to retain memories from before and after a phase shift. Technically, all Antennas have this ability, but it's about degree. I can recall only very specific instances and without much detail. Moderates are usually able to pick out much more nuanced minutiae. At the lower end of moderate scale, most of those details fade or get fuzzy over time, but for the very strong Antennas, they hold onto almost everything. One other property that scales with strength is interaction with other conscious entities. Only a small percentage of moderates are able to do this. What's interesting is that these entities can possess (yes, like ghosts) people who aren't even antennas, but no one is aware of such possession at this deep of a level. I have several companions now, and only two have had interactions with these otherworldly beings. Not all of them are malevolent, some of them are whimsical or kind, but there are a fair share of demons out there.
Getting back to the point, Area X started as a government funded project in the 70's. At that time, they were focused on a few subjects: Artificial Intelligence, DNA sequencing, and psychedelics. Yes, they were part of the infamous LSD experiments. But they looked at these subjects through a common lens—there was something that the burgeoning tech industry, fueled by the advent of a commercial computer market, was missing. As the tech giants rose in the early 2000's and began to collect mass amounts of data, this other agency was decades ahead in a different metric, although it was completely (and still is) hidden from the public. Their efforts to understand psychedelic experiences led to a formalized method of understanding interactions between multiple realities. They built certain scanning equipment to detect anomalies like the one I found in the basement; although their tools were much more sophisticated and didn't utilize voltage readings. Then they ran tests in these areas. One area in particular is a hot-bed of phase shift interactions. That's where Area X is located (and the Receiver).
The Receiver is a giant electromagnetic orb that has trapped the kind of multi-dimensional energy that causes the phase shifts; since the Organization seized control of the lab, it's effectively become a map of the Earth in relation to these other worlds. For the past twenty or so years, the Organization has been studying this map, using the data big Tech companies have collected to essentially develop a Rosetta Stone for interpreting the meaning of the fluctuations in their scanning equipment. Recently, the public, though going the long way round, was actually pretty close to a breakthrough in this same department until recently when ultra-powerful LLMs surfaced, and the whole world began going down what I'd argue is the wrong rabbit hole of language processing. But I digress.
Area X is essentially a private military base built for defending the most impactful piece of technology ever invented. With the Receiver, the Organization now has the power to essentially predict any and all future outcomes, the only thing holding them back is the limitations of their own scanning equipment which will get better with time. To put it into perspective, the Organization has access to a kind of data allocation tool which in one day can produce over ten thousand times that the Big Data companies combined would be able to filter through in the next decade. You might think, then, that the problem is merely asymmetric power, and that is certainly a concern, but it isn't the main concern. The main issue is that this organization is actively recruiting (and kidnapping) Antennas from around the world in an effort to find or make one of them into a strong Antenna. In other words, they want a subject who is able not only to see the future, but to manipulate it at will.
balance to the world. I've been working on amassing resources, capital, and building my own team, and now I'm ready. You might ask why I'm posting this here. Wouldn't it be better to keep all this secret? Well, yes, it would be. But that's the problem. Nothing is secret anymore. They know about me and the others, and if I don't make a move, they will. In a way, this is a letter directly to the organization that I know, and I'm coming.
In a different way, I wanted to release this information to the public. There are lots of people out there waking up and realizing that the world they experience is not the one others experience. If you think you might be an Antenna, don't be afraid—you have a special gift that can be controlled. If you want more details on how to control it, or if you're interested in my mission, don't be afraid to reach out. This hasn't always been my life's work, but it is now.
At least until I die.

I won't disclose its actual location, so if that's why you're here, sorry to disappoint. It's not time for that yet. However, I do think it's time to start getting the word out. I've noticed an increase in what I'll call "Antennas" lately, or people who can detect cross-planar phase shifts. Without getting into all the math (some of which I don't even know), this is basically a phenomenon which refers to entropy seeping into our universe from other realms or universes or whatever you want to call it. Simply put, people think our universe is a closed system to entropy, meaning that the disorder of any variable in our universe can only increase or decrease in direct proportion to other variables in that same system (the universe). Under this precept, we can establish rules like the Laws of Thermodynamics, and for most people, they're effective. But not for Antennas.
Put another way, if you throw a bunch of bouncy balls into a box, there are a number of different configurations that the balls could take on, with different speeds and magnitudes. You can calculate all of those if you have the right numbers. Now let's say you throw in another set of balls that you don't consider in your calculations of the initial set. Well, then you're not going to get an accurate picture of what's happening. Most people only see the first set and calculate based on that, but some people can see two, three, four or more sets.
You'll understand the concept better when I tell you the story, but I wanted to give you a primer on an important concept that will help you understand why this place, which I'll call "Area X", exists, and what the goals of the people who work there are.
Also note that I'm going to be using the alias "Trent" moving forward. Please refer to me as such in any direct messages.
***
Eighteen years ago I started working as an independent Home Inspector. I dropped out of community college after my first semester (not because I didn't find some of the subjects interesting, but because deference to a man or woman has never been my style) and started working some odd jobs. I did construction work for a couple years, then plumbing. I even drove a garbage truck for six months. I've always found pleasure in using my hands, and getting dirty was never a problem for me. Still, having a boss really dragged ass, so I spent my free time working on creating my own business. It took a few years and lots of savings, but I finally managed to get basic set of Home Inspection equipment: Tyvek coveralls, a cheap half-face respirator, voltage & AFCI/GFCI testers, CO2 and radon monitors, an IR camera, and telescoping mirrors in addition to the boots, safety glasses, electric gloves, ladder, and toolkits I already had on hand.
My buddy at the time was in the business, but he was moving off to the coast, so he helped me get set up and even introduced me to some of his clients. Of course, by that time I had already gotten my State license, but I still was a bit apprehensive to work with insurance agencies. I thought I could make a living working independently, inspecting for mold or sizing up a house for a prospective buyer. Eventually, though, I realized I should probably take every job available to me.
Easing into the business went about as well as it could have. The clients my friend referred to me were very satisfied with my work, and I was able to retain them. Then, in order to increase my reach, I hired someone on Fiverr to build a website for my company which led to a marked increase in traffic and conversions. About six months through, I began to get on a first-name basis with the boys and girls down down at Allstate and Progressive, and they fed me some of the bigger cases. In fact, I got so booked by year's end that I had to hire someone to help manage my schedule and the Excel spreadsheet with all my finances. I capped off a successful year with a 5-star Google rating and a trip to Ireland to visit some family and friends and get piss drunk. When I got back, it was the grindstone all over again, until the summer when I discovered… well, you'll see.
First off, I want to say that I was never one to believe in the paranormal. I grew up watching the movies and hearing the ghost stories round the campfire like every other kid, but it never struck a chord with me. If I can't touch it or see it or hear it, does it really exist? Probably not. So don't go thinking this was a scared man seeing his own shadow. That being said, I had this sense that something was off about this house when I parked along the curb and looked through a large window, perhaps two times the size of my van, to a dingy, dark foyer.
The entire neighborhood was stacked with upper-middle class domiciles, though it seemed like only two thirds of them were occupied, mostly by professionals who commuted to the City every weekday, and the rest were empty. As a man who understands real estate, to say this was strange would be an understatement. Still, I had no problem appraising the mini-mansion for a couple of newlyweds looking to enter the community. I did some research on the property ahead of time, and it seems that it was owned by a couple of old timers who had gone off the grid some time ago. The water and electric bill were both unpaid dating back to 2004 (it was June of '06 now). The bank had repo'd the house (which only had about 100k left on it) and held it for a year and a half before putting it back on the market. I tried to find out more about the old couple who vanished, but there was nothing in the news.
I stepped out of the van in my coveralls and grabbed my suitcase which had my mask, gloves, and eye protection in it. I liked to do a preliminary survey first, running an eye test on the exterior then interior before bringing out the big guns (that way I could identify the areas where I think there could be problems instead of running a metal detector over the whole damn ocean seaboard). I was about to do just that when the window caught my eye again. It felt uncharacteristic of me to be so occupied with this window, but I detoured to the front porch and peeked inside anyway.
Most of the furniture had already been moved out, meaning all that was left was a single three-seater couch, a couple candlesticks on the fireplace mantle, a pristine chandelier overtop a dining room table, and the kitchenware: an oven, gas stovetop, marble countertops, and an island. I could see into the living room very clearly with the afternoon light, but the dining room was dim enough that there were a few structures I couldn't quite make out in the distance. One of them appeared to be some kind of china cabinet or bookshelf—I figured it was the former considering where it was located. The other shadow looked kind of like a grandfather clock. Or at least that's what I thought until it moved.
When I say it "moved", I don't mean to say that it picked up and walked away. If you're not familiar with the Necker Cube, I suggest you search it up, because that kind of illusion is the best way to describe what I saw. At first I was seeing the grandfather clock in a certain way—pushed into the corner of the room—and the next second my vision "corrected" and it was maybe five feet to the left of its former position. I shook my head and looked again and saw the grandfather clock in its second orientation, standing in the center of the room against the wall. I figured I was just seeing things, but even so I spent a little extra time dawdling around the Egress window, taking notes, and delaying the interior inspection.
When I finally grew a pair and went inside, I walked straight to the dining room. Sure enough, the grandfather clock was stowed away in the corner of the room. I spent a couple minutes watching it with my pencil and travel notebook out. I'm the kind of guy that likes to collect hard data when the chips are down. Unfortunately, the clock apparently already had enough fun and was content with sweating me. Oh, well.
I fitted my pencil behind my ear and pocketed my travel notebook, then flipped the rest of the first floor lights on and completed my prelim. I concluded that everything was pretty standard. If anything, the house was in better shape than I'd expect considering it presumably hasn't been lived in for a couple years. I say "presumably" because one can never count out squatters, even during those times. Mainly I was expecting more dust build up and cobwebs than there were. Perhaps someone from the department had come by recently. It's unlikely, but possible.
I did the same check upstairs and it came back mostly clean. There was a bit of staining near the attic I wanted to check for mold. Based on its color, it was probably just a minor case of Aspergillus, but better safe than sorry. Then I got to the basement, and, well, let's just count out the idea of anyone dropping by. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what I found.
The first thing that caught my eye was the long, slender body of a birch tree lying pale and dead across a large portion of the even larger unfinished basement's cement flooring. I had to do a double take to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but, yep, there it was. Its crown was sealed up in the wall with only its trunk hanging out, which made me think of those medieval pillory devices which locked up people's heads and arms. Then confetti-scattered around the tree and all over the basement floor was a minefield of broken glass and ceramic tangled up with a set of random objects. And when I say random, I mean random. There was an unfurled Somali flag (the blue one with a single star in the center), some packaged drinks and condiments branded with all sorts of different languages (I could only make out Gaelic and Chinese or Japanese, I couldn't quite tell), a broken dome-shaped security camera, an otoscope (the thing the doc uses to check your ears), Hot Wheels cars (okay that one isn't so strange), and the list goes on.
At that moment, I wasn't freaked out or disgusted. I was more or less just confused. I started walking through the rubble, trying to avoid the sharp fragments but pretty confident that my steel toed boots would crush most the pieces anyway, when I heard a clink just up ahead. I was able to spot the coin in time, just before it jingled to a halt atop an old Life magazine. I picked it up and noted right away its oval shape and bronze color—clearly not American made. I tried reading it, but not only was the language not English, it appeared to be so old that most of the lettering had been filed down. I looked up at the ceiling to see if it dropped from a shelf, but there was nothing that could have been holding the coin. I considered for a moment, looking around at the other junk, and had the crazy idea that maybe all this stuff just appeared here. I popped the coin in my pocket and headed back to the van when I stopped by the tree and realized something. It wasn't a birch tree—it was a palm tree. I just didn't realize because of how ashy and decayed the bark was.
Now at this point you might think I've been acting a little nonchalant for such a strange occurrence, and I don't blame you, but if you're gonna stick around with me that's just something you're gonna have to get used to. I guess I was just born with a screw loose, but I really don't scare easily, and I tend to look at everything pragmatically. If you dig deep enough, you'll always find another plausible explanation. That being said, I do want to get to the part about Area X, so let me give you the rundown on what I learned about this basement.
I ended up trekking back to the van and picking up my gear. I was no longer running the routine inspection, obviously, but I figured I might as well throw 30 thousand dollars of scanning equipment at whatever the fuck anamoly existed in that basement. Most of it came back negative. There was a bit higher-than-usual EM interference as picked up on the voltmeters, but nothing that screamed danger close. Still, it was enough for me to set up my volt testers and IR camera while muddling through the rest of the junk. I won't bore you with another list of items, but I did find one thing of value: a diamond necklace. And not just any diamond necklace, it was one of those Queen-wearing, multi-row, big-jeweled necklaces like out of some Historical Fiction movie from the thirties. I almost didn't pocket it because I'm used to expensive items being owned by someone… someone who might want it back. But I figured if there was ever a place the finder's keeper's rule applied, it was probably in this Quantum graveyard.
7 O'clock rolled around and I hadn't eaten. I'm a pretty bulky guy, carrying my share of both muscle and fat, and most people think that means I need to eat a ton but that's really not the case. Mostly I just get dehydrated easily, especially in the summer. That said, I was bordering on famished territory and considered heading out for a bite when I heard another sound. The first thing I did was check my scanners, and sure enough the voltage needle was fully spun to the right side of the dial. EM interference. Then I went to see what had dropped. I was able to pick the object out pretty quickly since I had spent the last 6 hours staring at the mosaic of a basement floor. It was a silver briefcase, like one of those out of a crime novel, and it was cracked open.
I had this sense then that I was standing at a precipice, and if I opened the briefcase and looked inside, I wouldn't be able to stop whatever would come afterwards. Part of me deep down knew that I was just that type of guy that had to know, and maybe this was my Hamlet moment where it would be a trait gone a step too far. But then again I didn't really believe in any of that sentimental bullshit, so I opened the briefcase.
The gun surprised me a little, but not as much as the piece of paper laid atop a case file reading in large black font, "FIND ME". I expected the envelope to have some missing person file in it, but instead there were all these schematics and blueprints for some kind of device. Whatever it was, it was pretty massive. Some of the lengths were hundreds of meters long. And what's more strange is based on the blueprint's locale, it appeared to be underground. I looked back through the pages a couple times, then checked the note—nothing strange there. The gun appeared to be a simple glock. I was no gun expert, but I had been to the range pretty regularly with my construction buddies, so I got used to the feel of a pistol and rifle and some of the different names; however, I realized pretty quickly it wasn't your standard glock when I couldn't find mag-release. That's when I noticed how light the gun felt. I tried to chamber a round, but again, there was no hammer. What the hell kind of gun was this?
I ended up throwing everything back in the briefcase, including the necklace, coin, and a few Koozies I found that were branded with one of my favorite sports teams (never let an opportunity go to waste). I put up all my shit back in the van and spun over to a local burger joint, got my fill, and went home. I made sure to draft an email to the prospective buyers, telling them the house had several patches of black mold and a bit of a rat problem before drifting off to sleep. Although I really didn't do much of that.
When I woke up, I took a cold shower and downed a can of Reign, then commuted to my gym and got a lift and some sauna time in before making the trip back to the house. I brought some extra supplies with me for some experiments I cooked up while not sleeping the previous night.
First, I had two camcorders set up on a couple tripods in either corner of the basement. I wanted clear footage of these mystery objects spawning in. Then I set up a voltmeter in a similar fashion, but I had a wire extending out of it on a circuit which fed to an alarm that would blare when the reading was over 250 volts. Upstairs, I rearranged some of the furniture so that the small number of tables, chairs, clock, cabinets, and other little pillows or vases I could find were scattered across the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Then I pulled up a lawn chair to the front porch window and waited.
I didn't have to wait long though. In about a minute, I started to notice some of the objects moving. It was strange. When a few of them would shift simultaneously, it was like looking at a holographic card that would change shape depending on where your eyes were in relation to the image. Every time I saw a shift, I felt an awkward feeling in my eyes. They went blurry for a fraction of a second, then there was a twinge of pain, as if my brain couldn't handle the contradictory stimulus. It didn't get more crazy than that though—until the alarm went off.
I had cracked open the small rectangular window in the basement to the side of the house so I would hear it. It took four hours and several strange stares from passersby walking their dogs before it rang, so I was a bit lost in my thoughts, but when I heard the beep I perked up fast. It lasted for maybe 5 seconds total, but what I saw was truly miraculous. The best way I can describe it is a pool of silver or gray or translucent light emerging in the foreground between me and the objects in the different rooms. A series of twisting tentacles sprouted from the gray octopus-like head and spun in a way that reminded me of that little kids ride at the amusement parks. Then the objects started to "heat up" is the way I describe it. Their position became relative, meaning they were here one second, there another, then they popped out of existence entirely. Suddenly the rooms were all empty, then they were full of things I had never seen before. Then five seconds passed and the octopus vanished and it was back to the same old objects in their usual places.
It took a few minutes to process what I saw, and even then I wasn't sure I really saw it. I went inside and looked around at my distribution of the house's furnishings. They were all there, intact. Then I went downstairs to check the cams. I rewinded a couple minutes and played it back, but there was no flying object to be found. Instead, there was some gray static that lasted half a second and then the object, a kid's treasure chest toy, was there on the ground. But you want to know the really strange part? I rewinded the tape again, and when I watched the footage back, the treasure chest was always there.
I later came to understand that these poppings in-and-out of our reality are only conceivable to a conscious mind that can track the interference patterns—not rote computational instruments. In fact, even most people can't do it (although everyone has at least a slight awareness of it, even if only subconsciously). Plus, locations like the basement of this house are very rare and kept under tight lock. That became obvious to me two days later when, after my normal morning routine, I pulled up to a driveway and curbside filled with unmarked government vehicles. Either bravely or stupidly, I pulled up to a few officers (they were wearing suits in 85 degree weather, so I assumed…) who were idling by the large fence of crime scene tape and asked them what the score was.
"There was a crime," said the short man with a unibrow.
"Oh, is that right? Damn shame. Someone break in? I have a niece who lives nearby, so…"
The man looked at his two compatriots, both of whom were wearing sunglasses and a "get this civilian fuck out of here" expressions. "Oh, yeah," he started in a reassuring tone that was so condescending it would have annoyed anyone except me, "we found a body. We think it was a homicide. Best to keep your kids away from here for a while."
I thumbed the stubble on my chin, my other hand outstretched on the wheel, and considered moving on, but my mouth had other ideas. "That right? But uh, isn't this house vacant? I mean, I don't remember no one living in it."
The short man, now tall with temper, said, "Yeah, some squatters. We think there was a dispute over some drug money. Nothing for you to worry about though, we got it under control. Now if you wouldn't mind moving along, we have a lot of work to do."
Oh, I'm sure you do, I thought, but only said, "Of course, sir, sorry for keeping you from your job." Then I rolled up the window and cruised on, keeping my eyes on the house which slowly diminished in the side-view mirror.
Luckily I had been smart enough to break down my camp and lug home all my equipment each night, so I didn't leave anything incriminating. I didn't move the furniture back, so maybe that would come back to haunt me, but considering the kind of shit going down in that house, I didn't think they would notice.
For any of you wondering about the conclusion of the house story, I went back a couple weeks later after the suits had left and the tape was taken down and confirmed that not only was the basement entirely cleaned out, but it was no longer exhibiting any strange properties. I looked for a story related to the house, maybe a made up murder of some kind, but there was nothing. That bastard lied to me and didn't even bother to cover his story up.
Now, in the aftermath of an event such as this, I really only had one of two options. I could forget it, move on, continue living life. The necklace was surely worth a fortune. I could sell it and have enough to retire, or at least hire enough people and expand my business large enough to retire within ten or so years. Or I could take all that money and invest it in my own PI business with only a single objective: finding out what those people knew, and why they were hiding it.
I think you know me well enough by now to guess which line of reasoning appealed more to me.
***
For the sake of brevity, I'm going to omit most of my encounters along the journey to discovering Area X. There's a lot to tell, and if it appeals to you perhaps I'd be willing to share at a later date, but for now I want to get this part of the story, the more proximal part, out in the open.
Three years ago, I discovered the source of what I'll call "The Receiver". This is the device that was schematized in the documents that I found in the briefcase. What it does is a complex answer, and how it does it is pretty much all speculation, but here's what I've been able to find out: this universe we live in is a node in a network of many other spaces. These spaces exist in higher dimensions that we cannot directly perceive, but using a conceivable analogy, just think about a flower with petals. The petals are these other dimensions which bleed into our world, which is at the center. However, it's not that pretty. We see the physical world through the lens of spacetime: sizes, speeds, etc. These other dimensions don't necessarily have space or time. In fact, what actually exists there, I couldn't say. The only data I have on them is from two sources: correspondence information and server data from the secret agency (which I'll call "the Organization") that keeps this under wraps, and first-hand experience with realms from these other entities, either directly (I experience it) or through the eyes of someone else with the same or greater abilities than I possess.
I referred to these people with abilities earlier as "Antennas", and I will continue to use the term. Antennas really come in three flavors, marked by the strength of their ability: weak Antennas, like me, are able to observe spontaneous interactions between our universe and other dimensions (phase shifts) when there is a strong force of collision like existed in the basement; moderate Antennas may see phase shifts occur at any point, and they usually are able to retain memories from across the different transformations; strong Antennas, and I don't know if they exist yet, but they are able to consciously interact with these other realms and cause phase shifts to occur.
I mentioned that moderate Antennas are able to retain memories from before and after a phase shift. Technically, all Antennas have this ability, but it's about degree. I can recall only very specific instances and without much detail. Moderates are usually able to pick out much more nuanced minutiae. At the lower end of moderate scale, most of those details fade or get fuzzy over time, but for the very strong Antennas, they hold onto almost everything. One other property that scales with strength is interaction with other conscious entities. Only a small percentage of moderates are able to do this. What's interesting is that these entities can possess (yes, like ghosts) people who aren't even antennas, but no one is aware of such possession at this deep of a level. I have several companions now, and only two have had interactions with these otherworldly beings. Not all of them are malevolent, some of them are whimsical or kind, but there are a fair share of demons out there.
Getting back to the point, Area X started as a government funded project in the 70's. At that time, they were focused on a few subjects: Artificial Intelligence, DNA sequencing, and psychedelics. Yes, they were part of the infamous LSD experiments. But they looked at these subjects through a common lens—there was something that the burgeoning tech industry, fueled by the advent of a commercial computer market, was missing. As the tech giants rose in the early 2000's and began to collect mass amounts of data, this other agency was decades ahead in a different metric, although it was completely (and still is) hidden from the public. Their efforts to understand psychedelic experiences led to a formalized method of understanding interactions between multiple realities. They built certain scanning equipment to detect anomalies like the one I found in the basement; although their tools were much more sophisticated and didn't utilize voltage readings. Then they ran tests in these areas. One area in particular is a hot-bed of phase shift interactions. That's where Area X is located (and the Receiver).
The Receiver is a giant electromagnetic orb that has trapped the kind of multi-dimensional energy that causes the phase shifts; since the Organization seized control of the lab, it's effectively become a map of the Earth in relation to these other worlds. For the past twenty or so years, the Organization has been studying this map, using the data big Tech companies have collected to essentially develop a Rosetta Stone for interpreting the meaning of the fluctuations in their scanning equipment. Recently, the public, though going the long way round, was actually pretty close to a breakthrough in this same department until recently when ultra-powerful LLMs surfaced, and the whole world began going down what I'd argue is the wrong rabbit hole of language processing. But I digress.
Area X is essentially a private military base built for defending the most impactful piece of technology ever invented. With the Receiver, the Organization now has the power to essentially predict any and all future outcomes, the only thing holding them back is the limitations of their own scanning equipment which will get better with time. To put it into perspective, the Organization has access to a kind of data allocation tool which in one day can produce over ten thousand times that the Big Data companies combined would be able to filter through in the next decade. You might think, then, that the problem is merely asymmetric power, and that is certainly a concern, but it isn't the main concern. The main issue is that this organization is actively recruiting (and kidnapping) Antennas from around the world in an effort to find or make one of them into a strong Antenna. In other words, they want a subject who is able not only to see the future, but to manipulate it at will.
balance to the world. I've been working on amassing resources, capital, and building my own team, and now I'm ready. You might ask why I'm posting this here. Wouldn't it be better to keep all this secret? Well, yes, it would be. But that's the problem. Nothing is secret anymore. They know about me and the others, and if I don't make a move, they will. In a way, this is a letter directly to the organization that I know, and I'm coming.
In a different way, I wanted to release this information to the public. There are lots of people out there waking up and realizing that the world they experience is not the one others experience. If you think you might be an Antenna, don't be afraid—you have a special gift that can be controlled. If you want more details on how to control it, or if you're interested in my mission, don't be afraid to reach out. This hasn't always been my life's work, but it is now.
At least until I die.

Tuesday May 7th 2024
Wolstein Center, Cleveland, OH
WBW Presents: Tuesday Night Spectactle
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This theme plays as KO comes down to the ring. Kevin grabs a microphone and says “CLEVELAND! 2 nights ago I had a classic match with my best friend Sami Zayn.. Then the Nemeth Brothers decided to get involved and for whatever reason chose me to win. Now tonight I am in the main event against Drew Mc-”.This theme plays and Drew McIntyre comes down to the ring with a microphone. Drew says “Kevin would you please stop worrying about my friend Nic. This is going to be your downfall my friend. Focus on our match tonight. We are supposed to have a 5 star classic but instead you're worrying about a cheerleader. But if you want to keep focusing on the Nemeth’s they are here!”. Drew exits the ring much to KO’s confusion. Nic and Ryan hop the barricades and surround KO on both sides of the ring. KO throws a strike at Ryan first but the number’s game catches up to him fast. Sami runs down but is intercepted by Claymore from Drew. Drew hits Sami with a Futureshock DDT on the ramp and throws him into the ring. Drew says “Get a referee down here. I got confirmation already its Sami Zayn vs my boy Nic Nemeth next!”. A referee comes running down to the ring as Drew gets on commentary for the match.
This segment takes 10 minutes (2:50 left of show time)
Sami Zayn w/ Kevin Owens vs Nic Nemeth w/ Ryan Nemeth
Sami is still down after the vicious attack from Drew McIntyre. Nic hits his 10 Elbow Drops going for the pin right off the bat. Sami kicks out at 2. Nic hits the ground in frustration expecting an easy win. Nic sets up in the corner for a Sweet Chin Music connecting! Nic falls into a pinfall. Sami kicks out at 2 and a half. Sami finally begins to fight back with a few strikes and goes for an Exploder Suplex. Nic lands on his feet. Sami turns around right into a superkick. Nic sets up in the corner connecting with another superkick. Nic then climbs the turnbuckle and goes for a big Elbow Drop. Sami gets to his feet and connects with a Blue Thunder Bomb out of nowhere going for the pin. Nic kicks out at 2 and 3/4 much to Sami’s shock. Sami lifts Nic up and hits a Exploder Suplex into the corner. Nic stumbles into the corner and Sami backs into the other corner for a Helluva Kick. Ryan grabs his legs and drags Sami into the turnbuckle. The referee was busy checking on Nic! KO grabs Ryan and hits him with a powerbomb onto the apron. KO turns around right into a Claymore Kick from Drew. Drew taunts KO and Sami as Sami turns his attention to Drew upset at him. Nic sneaks up behind Sami and hits him with a Zig Zag going for the pin. Nic gets the 3! Nic slips out of the ring as Drew joins him on the ramp. Ryan holding his back joins them laughing. KO checks Sami, staring up the ramp at Drew pissed off.
This match takes 10 minutes (2:40 left of show time)
Sami is seen backstage with KO. KO is pissed off saying how he is going to make Drew pay for this. Sami calms KO down and tells him to just be prepared for his match. KO agrees and walks off. Sami walks up to Mark Steel’s office door and knocks. Mark yells “Come in”. Sami walks in and Mark ushers for him to sit down. Sami says “Mr Steel you have to realize that if nothing is done the Nemeth Brothers will get involved in the main event”. Mark looks at Sami and says “I've already dealt with that. They were asked to leave the arena. And as such you will too. That way neither Drew nor KO will have unnecessary help tonight. Do I make myself cl-”. Drew bursts into the room and says “Mark I don't care if the Nemeth Brothers are there or not. Unlike Kevin I don't need their help to win”. Drew walks out as Mark and Sami stare at each other in shock.
This segment takes 5 minutes (2:35 left of show time)
Seth Rollins vs Carmelo Hayes - Round 2 of Winners Bracket for World Title Tournament
Seth and Carmelo begin circling each other. Seth offers a handshake and Melo takes it. Seth quickly rolls Hayes up for a quick kick out at 1. Melo and Seth both get to their feet at the same time and Seth laughs. Hayes throws a right fist sending Seth right to the ground. Hayes lifts Seth up and hits a Suplex into the Spinning Back Elbow combo. Hayes climbs the turnbuckle and hits a Fedora Frog Splash going for the pin. Seth kicks out at 2. Hayes climbs the turnbuckle again going for a Nothing But Net. Seth gets to his feet and hits Hayes with a Revolution Knee in mid air. Hayes hits the ground with a thud and Seth takes advantage with a Pedigree going for the pin. Hayes kicks out at 2. Seth backs into the corner stomping and preparing for a Curbstomp. Hayes throws Seth up into the air and hits a Samoan Drop on the way down. Hayes follows up with a Fedora Frog Splash going for the pin and getting a 2 and a half on Seth. Hayes doesn't stop as he climbs again and hits Nothing But Net going for the pin again. Seth kicks out at 2 and 3/4 which makes Hayes hit the ground in frustration. Hayes backs into the corner with his eyes glazed. He sets up to hit Seth’s curbstomp. Seth rolls out of the way and Hayes turns around right into a Spinning Elbow. Seth drops into the corner and hits a Curbstomp. Seth connects and goes for the pin. Hayes kicks out at 2 and a half. Seth hits the ground before throwing Hayes up the Turnbuckle going for a Falcon Arrow followed by a second Falcon Arrow. Seth climbs again going for a Frog Splash but Hayes rolls out of the way. Hayes quickly climbs the ropes going for a Nothing but Net but Seth rolls out of the way before connecting with a Superkick to Hayes while he was on his knees. Seth climbs to the second Turnbuckle and hits a super curb stomp right then and there going for the pin and getting the 3. Seth sits on his knees as the announcer announces his victory! Seth is going on to Round 3!
This match takes 15 minutes (2:20 left of show time)
Austin Theory and Grayson Waller ambush Seth from behind. MJF jumps the barricade and joins the assault when Laredo Kid, Myzteziz and Artemis come running down to the ring. They chase off MJF and A-Town Down Under before helping Seth to his feet. Seth grabs a microphone and says “Hey Max. I'll see you next week”. Seth stands tall with the Air Riders as MJF and A-Town Down Under retreat up the ramp!
This segment takes 5 minutes (2:15 left of show time)
This theme plays and out comes AJ Styles. AJ grabs a microphone and says “Last Sunday in Pittsburgh I lost everything. The Judgement Day attacked me before my match and broke my arm. Now I make no excuses cause at the end of the day I am the one who tapped out. But now I must focus on whoever wins next week to decide who will face me next week as well in the Second Round of the Losers Bracket. Whoever it is just know I will walk through the fucking fi-”. This theme plays and Finn Balor comes down to the ring with JD and Dom. Finn says “Next week I have to face the winner of the main event but before that. Thought I would pay you a visit. To make sure you remember.. THE JUDGEMENT DAY RUN WBW”. Out of nowhere AJ is attacked from behind by Chris Ridgeway. Judgement Day has a new member! This theme plays The Calamari Catch Kings theme plays and Chris Brookes runs down to the ring with the Lykos Gym. The Lykos Gym and Chris Brookes even the numbers and chase the Judgement Day up the ramp. AJ puts out a Bullet Club forever sign and CCK joins him! Judgement Day has bigger worries now as Chris Ridgeway’s first round opponent in the Battleground Tournament is in the ring with Judgement Day’s biggest rival!
This segment takes 10 minutes (2:05 left of show time)
The Riott Squad vs Shafir and Duke - Qualifier for 6 team Ladder Match for Women's Tag Titles
There are currently 3 titles without champions crowned. The World Championship, The Battleground Championship and the Women's Tag Championship. The latter is the only one not in a tournament. Instead there will be 6 qualifiers, 2 per spectacle. Where the winners are added to a 6 team ladder match. Tonight we get the first of 6 qualifiers as Liv Morgan and Ruby Soho team up once more in WBW to take on 2 enforcers of the ring in Marina Shafir and Jessamyn Duke. It starts with Liv Morgan and Ruby Soho on top. They have slightly more chemistry and experience allowing them to take the early edge. However as the match goes on it gets more balanced as the technical duo begin to roll in the later half. The match reaches its boiling point when Shafir locks Liv in an arm bar. Liv manages to get out, tossing Shafir into the ropes. Duke tags in but gets off the apron. Liv doesnt know as she hits a ObLIVion followed by a tag to Soho. Soho sets up and hits Shafir with the Soho Kick going for the pin. Duke comes out of nowhere and hits Liv with a German right onto Soho. Liv and Shafir both roll out of the ring as Duke drops into the corner. Soho stirs to her feet and Duke connects with a spear. Duke falls into the pin and gets the 3 on Soho. Shafir joins her in the ring as they celebrate one step closer to the Women's Tag Titles!
This match takes 15 minutes (1:50 left of show time)
After the match The Riott Squad attack Shafir and Duke from behind clearly upset about their loss. Lola Vice runs down to the ring with a steel chair and chases them off. Liv and Ruby retreat up the ramp as Lola grabs a microphone. Duke and Shafir stand at either side of her and she says “WE ARE THE HORSEWOMEN” to a massive cheer from the crowd!
This segment takes 5 minutes (1:45 left of show time)
This theme plays and the Rated R Superstar makes his WBW debut! Edge comes out to a loud pop. He enters the ring with a microphone and says “CLEVELAND OHIO! I HAVE BEEN ALL AROUND THE WORLD. I HAVE BEEN IN COMPANY AFTER COMPANY. AND NOW I'M HERE IN WBW. Man it feels good to be here. A Lot of great men in that locker room. The Judgement Day, Seth Rollins, Matt Cardona and Brian Myers. All these men I have history with. And all these men I suspect I will have a match with at some point in my tenure here. But enough talking cause I'm itching to step in that ring once again. So if anybody in the back wants a shot at beating one of the greatest to ever step in the ring, come out right now.. THIS IS AN OPEN CHALLENGE!”. This theme plays and out comes WBW’s newest star, A little less massive but still a great get, the ever talented Cara Noir!
This segment takes 10 minutes (1:35 left of show time)
Edge vs Cara Noir
Edge offers his hand for a handshake but Cara bats it away. Edge looks shocked and before he can react Cara hits him with an uppercut. Cara Noir begins hitting aerial offense in hopes to put Edge on the back of his feet. It works at first until he goes for a springboard knee and gets speared out of mid air. Edge stomps into the corner and prepares hitting a second more impactful spear going for the pin. Edge gets the 3 over Cara and stands tall after a 5 minute match!
This match takes 5 minutes (1:30 left of show time)
Edge stands up after getting the 3 on Cara Noir to a load of cheers! His head then turns to the ramp as This theme plays. The crowd pops once again as Randy Orton slowly descends down the ramp. He begins circling the ring like a shark. Edge prepares for a fight as Orton reaches the front of the apron. Orton acts like he's gonna jump up but backs off laughing at Edge. Orton turns and returns up the ramp and the only question of Edge, and the crowds, mind.. What is Randy Orton up to?
This segment takes 5 minutes (1:25 left of show time)
The System are backstage celebrating their title win when The Premiere Athletes walk up to them. Woods says “Moose I could care less what you think I want my rematch”. Moose just starts laughing at him and then says “You just lost the Scramble Match you're gonna have to earn that rematch”. Woods responds with “Oh don't worry i'm well aware which is why I came back here to inform Brian Myers. It's me vs him next, sanctioned by WBW Owner Mark Steel himself. Cya out there Champ”. Josh Woods puts his hand on Brian’s shoulder for a second before walking off. Daivari and Nese follow him out.
This segment takes 5 second (1:20 left of show time)
Josh Woods vs Brian Myers w/ Eddie Edwards
Josh Woods and Brian Myers circle each other as the bell is rung. They quickly get into a technical lockup which Woods gets the better of pushing Myers into the corner. Woods backs up as the referee tells him too and Myers takes advantage with a low knee. The referee yells at him but Myers doesn't care going for an early pin. Woods kicks out at 1. Brian continues his assault for a little bit before climbing the ropes going for a Heat Seeking Elbow. Woods rolls out of the way and tries to lock in a Knee Bar. He cant get it in properly and Myers escapes with a Enzuigiri followed by a Roster Cut going for the pin. Woods kicks out at 2. Myers climbs the turnbuckle and hits a Heat Seeking Elbow. He climbs up one more time to hit a second one once again going for the pin. Woods kicks out at 2 and a half. Myers hits the ground and is frustrated. He then lifts Josh up looking for a Taste the Danger. Woods drops down behind him and catches him in the Knee Bar. Myers screams in pain as he's in the hold for well over a minute before finally tapping out. Woods has just gotten a massive win!
This match takes 10 minutes (1:10 left of show time)
After the match Moose hits Woods from behind with his belt. Daivari and Nese try to intercept but the tag champs get in their way and the 2 teams begin brawling through the crowd and out of the arena. Moose now has Woods all to himself as he sets up Game Changer. This theme plays and the Monster Among Men runs down to the ring. He hits Moose with a shoulder tackle sending him flying. Moose quickly slides out of the ring and retreats up the ramp as Braun helps Woods to his feet. Braun and Woods stand tall as Moose stands at the top of the ramp outraged.
This segment takes 5 minutes (1:05 left of show time)
Mark Steel is backstage talking to KO. KO says “Why did you tell Sami to go home, It was the Nemeth Brothers and Drew getting involved not him”. Mark responds with “It is my job to focus on safety and wellbe-”. Moose interrupts him, as KO storms off, “Wellbeing my ass. Braun just showed up and attacked me. I demand retribution”. Mark says “That's funny cause he only came out to protect Josh Woods who you attacked first. Instead i've decided it's going to be Josh Woods and Braun Strowman next week to decide who will be the #1 contender for your WCW Intercontinental Championship. Oh and if you or any other member of the System show up.. You will be forced to vacate your title immediat-”. Josh Woods walks up interrupting “Next week I'm gonna beat Braun Strowman and then I'm going to make you regret attacking me tonight”. Woods walks off as Mark takes a deep breath clearly annoyed about being interrupted yet again.
This match takes 10 minutes (0:50 left of show time)
Stupid Youth Project vs Paige Sisters w/ Ella Envy - Qualifier for 6 Team Ladder Match for Women's Tag Titles
Alice Crowley and Billie Starkz team up to take on Pretty Empowered’s Kylie and Kenzie Paige. Alice and Kenzie have a powerhouse display while Billie and Kylie use their high-flying ability. Both teams wanted to win badly. In the end it comes down to a last second ditch effort from Billie to connect with a frog splash and pin Kenzie for the 3 count. They will be joining The Horsewomen in the 6 team Ladder Match!
This match takes 10 minutes (0:40 left of show time)
Drew Gulak and Alpha Academy w/ Maxxine Dupri vs Legado Del Fantasma w/ Elektra Lopez
This match is a very chaotic match so like the Women's Tag Qualifiers I decided to just give it a basic description. All potential encounters happen as everyone from each team fought everyone from the other team. In the end Maxxine and Elektra argue and Elektra lays Maxxine out. This takes Otis’ attention for one second and the Los Lotharios take advantage with double chopblocks. Garza forces Otis to his feet and hits a Wingclipper as Humberto hits a Suicide Dive wiping out the rest of the Academy. Garza goes for the pin and Gulak attempts to get involved when he's hit with a Canadian Destroyer by Aeroboy. Gable gets to his feet and attempts to slide in but Escobar grabs his legs as Garza gets the 3! Legado Del Fantasma stood tall together in the ring celebrating.
This match takes 15 minutes (0:25 left of show time)
Chad Gable begins yelling at Otis. Drew Gulak gets in the way and tells Gable that's not how you treat your student. Gable shoves him and Gulak delivers a stiff kick before locking in an arm bar. Otis gets to his feet dejected as Gable yells out “Remember No Matter What”. Otis mutters under his breath “No Matter What” before lifting Drew off Gable and sending him crashing through the barricade. The rest of Alpha Academy meet them on the ramp as LDF watches the chaos in awe.
This segment takes 5 minutes (0:20 left of show time)
Drew McIntyre vs Kevin Owens - Round 2 of Winners Bracket for World Title Tournament
We finally reach the main event. Sami Zayn isn't allowed to show up, nor are the Nemeth Brothers. It's just Drew and KO. The match starts with KO lunging at Drew with a stiff kick before hitting him in the back sending him to the ground. Drew rolls out of the ring but KO follows persisting on the attack as the count starts. KO bangs Drew’s head off the announce table before throwing him into the steel steps. KO follows and Drew manages to get to his feet connecting with a Claymore. Drew quickly ducks in the ring looking for an easy 10 count. Kevin gets in at 9. Drew persists on the attack hitting a Futureshock DDT going for the pin. Kevin kicks out at 1. Drew looks shocked and backs into the corner. Drew begins counting down from 3 and goes for the Claymore. Kevin catches him mid air and hits a Powerbomb on the spot going for a pin. Drew kicks out at 1. KO hits the ground in frustration as Drew stumbles into the corner. KO kicks Drew in the midsection before backing up. He turns around and goes for the cannonball but Drew moves out of the way just in the nick of time! Drew connects with a Claymore going for the pin. KO kicks out at 2. Drew gets in the referee's face and asks him why it wasn't a 3. KO takes advantage pushing Drew into the referee knocking the referee out. KO then hits Drew with the Stunner followed by a Powerbomb. KO goes for the pin but Drew kicks out at 2.. Not that the referee was up anyway. KO climbs the turnbuckle and goes for a frog splash. Drew rolls out of the way and connects with a second claymore as the referee gets to his feet. Drew goes for the pin but KO kicks out at 2 and a half. Drew hits the ground in frustration, confused how it wasnt a 3. Drew lifts KO up for a Futureshock when KO reverses into a stunner. KO then lifts Drew up but his knee gives out and Drew lands in front of him connecting with a Glasgow Kiss followed by a Futureshock DDT going for the pin. KO kicks out at 2 and 3/4 and Drew goes absolutely crazy dropping back into the corner and connecting with another Claymore. Drew isn't done as he drops into the corner a second time hitting yet another Claymore. Drew doesn't care as he drops into the corner for a third time and begins counting down from 3. KO gets to his feet and hits a pop up powerbomb out of nowhere going for the pin. 2 masked men jump the barricade with “3MB” shirts on and pull the referee out of the ring. KO gets the 3 before he realizes the referee is gone. The 2 men remove their masks and climb onto the apron on both sides, thus revealing themselves to be Heath Slater and Jinder Mahal! The crowd pops as Drew’s buddies enter the ring and go after KO. At first KO does alright but then the Numbers Game catches up to him when Drew gets involved. Drew drops into the corner and begins counting down from 3 as Jinder and Heath force the referee up and toss him into the ring. Drew connects with the Claymore for a 6th time in this match going for the pin. This time Kevin cannot answer the 3 count! Jinder and Heath join Drew in the ring as 3MB celebrate together!
This match takes 20 minutes (Show Finish)