Keyboard lip symbol

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

1330 Terran Front Fleet Time
On the Turinika homeworld, the first signs of unrest began to manifest like a wave, The broadcast of the most esteemed Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata, Taratanti of the roost Kazatalak, openly performing the act of Kavsa had been met with shock. The last Taratanti who had voluntarily performed Kavsa had done so in protest of the treatment of the Kulorn caste, nearly two thousand years prior. It was an ancient rite, one that signified rejection of the greatest shame. Even more shocking than the act itself was the evidence that had followed it. Visuals of species, brought into the Conclave, not as migrant workers as had been believed, but as slaves, was met with an almost immediate attempt at censorship. This attempt failed spectacularly, mostly due to those who had been tasked to censor the information not only refusing to follow the command, but openly declaring that they had been ordered to do so. A situation that was already, as the humans would say, out of hand, spiraled completely out of control. Within only twenty minutes of the ending of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s broadcast entire cities entered a state of absolute anarchy. Two planetary capitals were stormed and taken by the furious civilian population, demanding the location of those who had been enslaved. The Turinika Armada, which even then was in the middle of a training session meant to prepare the fleet to withstand the Terran Front’s assault, began to cease operations. Within the hour, the entire armada would be recalled to the turnika homeworld. Those who did not take to the streets simply stopped whatever work they were doing and went to their homes to be around their brood. Images of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata with his stripped wings spread wide in front of the human fleet commander were on every news fed of the Conclave, as was the sound of his thunderous voice, and the wails of despair from a turinika female that couldn’t be seen. Close ups of the human fleet commander’s face were shown, with analysts remarking on the shock, horror, and sympathy. Since the outbreak of the Seventh Orion War, the female human known as Simmons had been reported to have made several threats towards the turinika, she had quickly become seen as a warmonger, ready to take revenge against the turinika for refusing to go to war and violate their principles of pacifism. Now the images of her lunging forward to stop the violation of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s plumage, the agonized expression of her face, and the true reason for her threats against the turinika were rapidly reversing her image. On far flung deep core mining stations and agricultural stations, on deep space stations dedicated to material processing, and in other areas hidden from the sight of the normal turinikan population, overseers and taskmasters felt their hearts run cold at the knowledge that very soon, their part to play in the willful enslavement of another species would be known to the wider Conclave. As the data package transmitted alongside the broadcast were fully decompressed and the scale of the Conclave’s government’s involvement was revealed, the entirety of the Conclave itself was teetering on the verge of absolute pandemonium. The image of a member of the kolra species, from the look of it barely a hatchling, quickly was becoming the face of the entire incident. The picture was absolutely damning, and the sight of the image had sent any who saw it instantly into contorting and painful displays of shame. The young kolra was sprawled on it’s stomach, looking to the one taking it’s picture with eyes that had no life in them. It’s shell covered it’s back, and despite the age of the kolra it was already dulled and scuffed. The foot pressing down on the shell was unmistakably familiar to those who saw it, the clawed feet of a turinika. Within the hour, billions of winged figures stood in streets, the normally soft spoken and passive species demanding action, demanding justice, on the hundred worlds of the Turinika Conclave. The bulk of the Taratanti caste, most of whom had been left in the dark of the truth of the situation, quickly went public with their own declaration of outrage, and the eyes of the entire species turned inwards to the mountainous homeworld of their species.
Hakuri Watanabe looked down at his helmet before putting it on his bed, the stylized SEVEN seeming to stare at him. He sat down in his chair and picked up a small cloth from his buffing kit. No one knocked on his door, in fact, mostly he and the rest of his squad were left alone before a major operation. They were just given their time, time to mentally prepare. Some of his squad would go over their mission briefing, some, like him, would spend their time doing something to relax themselves. Hakuri always found that taking care of his suit calmed him considerably. Granted he could simply turn it over to the squads armorers to be tended to and they would do as good of a job as he could, but he preferred it to be done by his own hand. The symbol of a triangle was on his form fitting shirt, the symbol of his special operations command unit. He was known as a Myrmidon, but the official title of his unit was Section Three. He knew this, his superiors knew this, and as far as Hakuri knew, most of the Terran Front was aware of his unit’s existence, but past that, they knew very little about what he actually did. As far as his mother knew, Hakuri was a pencil pusher onboard the TFS Berlin, the troop mothership that all of his letters were sent from. He thought about writing her, but then again, he only liked to do that when he returned from a mission, not when he was expecting to go to one. If he tried to write her when he was waiting, he would just get anxious, and homesick. That wouldn’t do when he was dropping into a combat zone. That wouldn’t do at all. Hakuri instead started to buff his helmet, waiting for the word to come down which meant they were prepared to jump. A glance at the clock made him pause in his circular rotations. The clock said 1330. Operation Naked Sun was about to begin.
Tika was on his side, Kzia standing at the end of the medical bed that had been adjusted for his turinikan physiology. He felt cold in more ways than one. For his people, clothing was more of a decoration than a necessity, but without his protective plumage he felt the cold stabbing him through to his hollow bones. His diplomatic access was already gone, his privilege access revoked. He heard the broadcast for a preparation to jump, but he wasn’t truly listening. There was no question in his mind he had made the right decision. There was no question at all. One of the humans, a nurse, came to his side and gently laid a heavy blanket over him. The human’s hand lingered on his trembling body for a few moments before it was removed, and Tika glanced in their direction. The female was one of the ones who had responded first to the call for medical service for him, had heard what had happened and why. Tika had gotten very used to being glared at on this ship. He was hated, and he knew it. He knew he had deserved it. He was a party to the vral’s enslavement of the humans, the chua, and far too many others. When he had come to Thermopylae station, he had not even given that fact a single thought. He was born into power, being of the Taratanti. He belonged to the most powerful species and government in the entire quadrant of the galaxy. His people, while mighty, did not seek to use it. To him, they had simply been above it all. When the vral had approached him with the offer to sell captured species at first TIka had wanted to reject it out of hand, but a few had told him to go through with the sale. Such was the nature of this galaxy, or so he had believed. The weak were at the whims of the strong, and one’s place in the galaxy was determined only by the power they could wield. The turinika were not nearly the first to have taken a species and used it for slave labor, and while Tika did not approve of the deal, he had not fought it either. As he looked back to the wall, he remembered what the humans had taught him these last days. When he had arrived in Thermopylae he had assumed he would find the chua species to have been at the very least regulated to a subservient role, if not outright enslaved. Finding them sharing power was a curiosity. He had expected to be treated with all the honor and dignity that his station demanded, that the power of his government demanded. Fleet Marshal Simmons had disabused him of that, and had left him humiliated and shamed. As he had laid in the dark as Simmons had declared the Seventh Orion War, covered in his own filth, feeling as if at any moment he was going to be killed he knew true fear and horrific uncertainty for the first time in his life. He had never faced these emotions, these sensations before. He had always been in power. He had stood with the full might of the Turinika Conclave behind him. He had never known anything other than the superior position. Now, as he lay in the hospital bed, staring at the wall, he was ashamed of how arrogant, how blind, and how short sighted he had been. After he had risen from his own filth, he had desperately tried to convince his leadership of the strength of the Terran Front, how it matched or eclipsed their own. The Conclave was not the unchallenged power in the quadrant anymore. The terrans, the human and chua, had somehow defied fate. They had not fallen to the vral after ninety years of near constant conflict, and now if Tika was right they had come out of it nightmarishly stronger than before. Tika had actually begged to be heard by his superiors, and he had never come close to that once in his life. The chua homeworld however, had fully broken him. If he had not been on the Antares, had not been humbled beforehand, he knew that he would have just clapped his hands together and said that it was delightful. As the transmission from the chua homeworld had come in, and the rescue effort had begun, he could only wallow in his own shame. He had profited directly from the chua’s suffering, the human’s suffering. Again he had tried, and failed, to convince his people, and again he had failed. Being on the Antares, for him, was torture. The lights were too dim, every human and chua looked at him with nothing more than loathing and contempt, his entire worldview had been shattered from the way he viewed the galaxy to his own place in it. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the shadow of Simmons standing over him, her voice cold with a lethal rage, hearing her voice echo in his mind, seeing the glint from flashes of light shining in her eyes. ‘We Know.’ echoed in his mind in his sleep, the voice of the terrifying Fleet Marshal transforming into the sound of a vengeful god demanding compliance and promising retribution. Then he had watched the humans and chua, who he knew were preparing to go to war with his people, celebrating the return of the shesvie. Once more he had expected them to be integrated into the Terran Front, but as soon as he learned Simmons offer to them, and what it had entailed, he had been called to his room to answer the latest message from his people. Once again, his people had doubled down, the knowledge of the enslavement of the humans had been suppressed, and once more Tika found himself, and his people, standing against a Terran Front that had every justification to declare war, to right the wrongs that had been done to them. All the while, he knew something else. He knew that, after everything he had seen, that his people would lose. The turinika had not been to war for nearly two thousand years. His people were not ready for what the Terran Front could do, and after seeing what they had done to the vral so far, he knew his people were not ready for what the Terran Front would do. He was afraid of the dark. Tika was absolutely terrified of it now, because now he knew the monsters were real. Simmons had shown him that, but the humans, the chua, they were not the monsters. He was. He had refused to be one any more. He had announced his intentions to his staff, who had squalled in rejection, all but three. Kzia was the first to step to his side, Kikumot and Tziki had stepped forward as well. Never, in his most nightmarish dreams, did he ever think that he would stand in front of Simmons and voluntarily have his plumage stripped from him, performing the act of Kasva. He never thought that his staff would have ever compiled and transmitted the data package they had sent. He had never thought that he would betray his people, if only to save them. Simmons had changed that, the humans had changed that. He knew the terror of the dark, he knew fear for his people’s safety, he understood the horror of war, and for the first time in his long life he could truly look back at every interaction he had had, with every species, that had asked for help in their struggle for survival against the vral and truly understand their fear and desperation. Now he lay, his plumage stripped from him, his station revoked, his status removed, surrounded by a people who despised him. He wouldn’t have it any other way now. He knew that they would listen now, if not to him, then to the civilian masses of the Conclave that would not stand for what they had done. He prayed to the Great Mother often now, shivering in the dim light, hoping that it would be enough. He had been wrong, and in his error he had sullied his own people. He had made them complicit. Even now, he did not know how they would ever be forgiven, because right now he wasn’t quite sure he could ever forgive himself. As he heard the broadcast calling out on the ship, announcing one minute to jump, he felt a hand on his side, and looked up to the human nurse. She was smiling at him. Not a smile born of malice, or anger, but a genuine smile. She patted his side lightly, then turned to walk out of the room. For not even the twentieth time since he had come onboard Thermopylae, he was mystified by these people.
The bridge of the Dhampir was thrumming with music and the vibrations of the reactor and Conrad leaned forward in his chair mount, his eyes almost feral as he looked at the empty space that was the mandeville point. He was positively chomping at the bit. Batz was positively roaring the lyrics to the song that was blaring over the ships speakers. Rev and Dev sat side by side in their mounts, throwing their hands up in time with the pounding bass beat of the sound. Towns was the only one besides Conrad that was quiet, both of them looking towards the mandeville point with complete impatience. Conrad felt like jumping from his skin. Fidget, well, fidgetted, holding his hands over his headset and listening as if he were trying to hear secret messages in the music. They were ready, their pulses were racing. The crew of the Dhampir was positively vibrating. Conrad looked to the shipboard clock, seeing 1330 displayed, and his head snapped to Fidget, waiting for the word. They were going to run, they were going to chase, they were going to hunt.
Vicky sat back, looking towards Jess and Kukat as they slept. Jess was in her chair, Kukat in her medical bed. Vicky glanced back at the block print on the paper and read it for the fifth time. She read the individual lines, one at a time, cursing their existence. After reading through the message printed she let her hand hang again. Kukat would be released from medical tomorrow, and both her and Jess still thought they would be boarding the Thumper to join the Vellacore once more. Jess had talked non-stop about her quarters on the Vellacore the past few days, how she just wanted to be back in her room. Kukat was equally excited. Only Vicky didn’t share their excitement. They didn’t know yet. They didn’t know about their battlefield promotions, they didn’t know about their reassignments, they didn’t know the days of them working together were functionally over. Vicky looked down at her hand holding the paper again, and felt like crumpling it. She had lost her crew. She had lost them not due to negligence, or time, she had lost them to fame. Kukat was to be promoted to ensign, and was to be the sensor officer on the destroyer Hadrian, Jess was getting the same promotion, her station on the cruiser Victorious. Vicky? She was the sparkling new commanding officer of a destroyer that was arriving at Thermopylae in two days, the Quarrel. She never wanted this. She had turned down promotion after promotion that would take her from the cockpit of the Thumper, away from Kukat, away from Jess. She wanted to serve in this war in her own way, as a pilot, with the two who had made her life so enjoyable. Now though, they were to be split up, and there was nothing she could do about it. These promotions hadn’t come from simple seniority, they had come from High Command, as had the orders. Tomorrow, when Kukat was released, they would be ushered into the hanger bay of the Barrowmore. They would all three be awarded the Star of Terra, then they would be reassigned. Tonight was the last night they would all be together. Vicky wanted to wake them up, she wanted to tell them, to give them a chance to process it. As she looked to Kukat and Jess she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She held up the letter again, reading the first few lines, then she felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. She looked away, her heart panging with sadness, and stared at the wall. The clock read 1330.
Corporal Brandy was sitting on the small rack, with Janet Shippen sitting between his legs using his thighs as armrests. They were both dressed for the first time in the last few hours, both of them staring at the clock. This close to the reactors they could feel them beginning to spool up for the trip through hyperspace. When the news of the operation had come down they had elected to spend as much time together as possible, which Brandy had enjoyed to no end, and he had made sure Janet had as well. Brandy had even taken some time to reach out to his sister Victoria, a rarity for them both, as since they were children they were often barely able to speak to each other simply due to schedules. He had even told her about Janet, and although he hadn’t gotten a response from his sister yet he already knew what she would say. Janet nestled back against him, but he could feel her body was stiff. Neither of them knew what the next few months were going to hold. Their time together might be constricted, in fact, this might be the last few moments they were together for quite awhile. Brandy’s Ghouls were specialists, ship boarders. Chances are he was going to be extremely busy, as was she. He didn’t quite know how he felt about Janet, but he did know that beyond a shadow of a doubt he didn’t want to be away from her. Judging from how she was acting, she felt the same as him, conflicted about her relationship with him, but not wanting to be apart. He knew what he needed to tell her, that he had to get up, that he had to leave. The Ghouls were going to be assembled at 1345, ready to board. Her unit was going to be prepared at the same time, to begin taking on salvage. Her hands were like clamps on his legs, and from how tense she was, he wasn’t going to get up until she was good and ready. The clock on the wall switched to 1330. He stared at the clock, feeling like the clock was mocking him, when suddenly Janet leaned up and turned. Her hands took hold of his shoulders and she threw her body against his, her lips finding his own. Her arms wrapped around her frame and he tightened his grasp on her.
Simmons spread her hands over the panel in front of her, looking at the table. Seven points connected the recently reclaimed chua space to what was former Shesvie territory, and beyond that, the heart of the Vral Empire. Her lip curled in a wicked smile, On the digital display of the table the hyperspace lanes, and more importantly, the avenues of attack her fleet was preparing to take. She held out her hand, all five fingers splayed over the lanes, envisioning the war as it stood now. The war to come. Seven hyperspace lanes, seven systems, branching out into sixteen, branching out again to another twenty. The Antares herself was going to link up with the Barraki, and was set to simply plough through the next five systems to do so. Slowly she tightened her hand into a fist as she looked along the hyperspace lanes, seeing task forces lined up and ready to jump. Drones had already been sent through. The vral had forces along the border, but nothing that could withstand what was to come. Her fleet was ready. She was ready. The Seventh Orion War was at the end of it’s first month, and had taken back six systems. The first moves of Operation Naked Sun would double that and exceed it, then double it again. She had already given her speech, her task force commanders were ready. High Command had taken it’s time making this decision, and while she had railed against the delay that didn’t matter now. All along the front, individual task forces were joined into larger fleets, ready to jump into the next system and eliminate any vral defenses, but unlike now, they simply would not wait. Naked Sun was to be a lightning strike to cut off as much of the Vral Empire as possible, to deny them their own space, to imprison them on their own worlds. Task Forces were designed around three types of vessels combinations, Lighthammer Task Forces were comprised of corvettes and fast destroyers, the fastest vessels in the fleet, meant to take systems quickly, to devastate unprotected infrastructure, and to eliminate light resistance. Simply put, they were going to swarm into vral space, determine pockets of resistance, and move on. They were going to rip entire sections of vral space from them, calling in other task groups if needed. Thunder task groups were the primary capital fleets, meant to be sent into those pockets of resistance, and neutralizing them, joining with the Lighthammer groups if needed. The cruisers, carriers, battleships, they all belonged to these task forces. Her own task force was called the Nova task force, and it comprised only the Antares and it’s sizable fleet escort. Simmons glanced up at the clock, the time was 1329. She breathed in slowly, then unbidden the thought came to her head and she looked to the report from the two habitable planets that had been scanned by the drone cutters, the information having been relayed to her almost twenty minutes prior. She was not worried about the ground campaign, in fact a reserve fleet from Thermopylae would be the ones to escort the landing ships from planet to planet that her fleet left behind in it’s wake, isolated and defenseless from the wider Vral Empire. Fleet escorting was no longer her job, protecting ground invasions were no longer her job. Simmons was positively growling now, as her only job was to take her fleet and use it to rip the vral out of the stars. Still, the thought nagged at her. On both of the planets that her fleet was set to overrun, there were Vral ships in orbit. On the first, there was evidence that the Vral had been bombarding a small area of the surface, extremely similar in size to the hole that now existed on Zvitia, the planet that even now was being integrated into the Terran Front. In the second system it showed Vral ships in orbit, but whatever they were doing during the time they had taken the scans, whatever they were covering up, they didn’t seem to have gotten to it yet. On the radiological scan of the planet a massive bloom of electromagnetic energy painted a broad region of the planet blistering white. She had sent the images back to Earth, back to High Command, but no one seemed to know what was happening. The one thing that every analyst agreed on so far that was that whatever the blooms represented, it meant nothing good. She took another long look at the radiological scan, seeing the intensity of the radiation, and her lip curled in a snarl. She couldn’t think about that right now, but orders had already been given to notify her the moment that they had taken a planet that still bore the radiation signal. The vral were being damned fastidious about it though. She pulled her thoughts away from it, looking back to the hyperspace lanes. The slow grin entered her features again. She glanced at the clock. 1330. Her hand took hold of the receiver next to her station and she pressed the transmission stud, knowing that Hazard had already opened a channel to the wider fleet.
“Commence.”

The hush descended over the packed stadium like a slow curtain. The 1975's equipment bathed in an expectant blue, microphones poised like silent sentinels. Each member, clad in black, had already taken their place, the final notes of the opening act still lingering in the air. All eyes were fixed on the empty stage center, a single spotlight waiting to ignite.
Then, a murmur started at the back. A figure emerged from the shadows, swaggering towards the expectant crowd. It was Matty Healy, the band's enigmatic leader, a smirk playing on his lips. He held no guitar, no microphone, just a simple silver marker glinting in the dim light.
He sauntered to the center, his silhouette cutting a sharp contrast against the blue backdrop. Without a word, he raised the marker high, a hush falling so deep you could hear a pin drop. And then, he began to draw.
Not on the stage floor, but in the air itself. The marker traced a perfect line, glowing a vibrant white as it materialized. It was the iconic color of The 1975's debut album, a visual jolt that instantly transported the crowd back to their early days. A collective gasp rippled through the stadium, a wave of electricity surging through the air.
Matty wasn't finished. With a flick of his wrist, another line appeared, intersecting the first. The white deepened. moved through the spectrum of The 1975's history. The vibrant hue of Pink to "The Sound," the deep, bruised purple of "A Change of Heart.
Now morphing into the smoky gray of "I Like America & America Likes Me". The first chord of the song resonated through the speakers, a primal scream of recognition from the audience. As the song built, the glowing square in the air continued to transform. Each color change a portal to a different era, a different sound They pulsed and evolved, the stage lights mirroring the shift, bathing the crowd in the colors of their memories.
The air crackled with anticipation. It was more than just a concert; it was a journey through time, a celebration of the band's evolution. Finally, with the last note of their latest hit fading away, the square exploded into a kaleidoscope of color. All the previous eras bled into each other, a breathtaking display of their legacy.
Then, from the heart of the swirling colors, a new hue began to emerge. It was a vibrant, yet unnamed color, a symbol of the uncharted territory that lay ahead. The crowd roared as Matty, a mischievous glint in his eyes, held his hand high, the silver marker now pulsating with the new light. The 1975 were ready to paint the next chapter on their canvas. The music started, the new era dawned, and the concert erupted into a joyous, electrifying celebration of what was to come.

Royal Road here: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/80877/nop-atalors-fate
Discord Tag: notafurrylad
It's been a while, huh?

First Last Next
Memory transcription subject: Yivreen, Cyonian Survivor
Date [standardized human time]: February 22nd, 2134
The flash daymares hadn’t stopped. Four nights since they’d set in, and now those two fire and brimstone eyes were lingering, waiting to come out when I was asleep. I’d thought that first daymare had been a fluke. It’d felt real, getting chomped up like that, crushed. But... ah.
I’d had more. Once I was in the mouth of that Arxur who’d kicked down the tree. Then I was in the cages with Hens Jr and Sr, and Alma... And each time if there was time for it that swampheaded, red eyed, smokey Arxur would come on in. Try and guilt me like I’d done something wrong.
It was working.
“Yiv. Yiv! I think I got it!” I blinked, my stupor broken by Junior. The kid had been a good help with the computer system since we’d let him fiddle with it instead of me. Much to my... begrudging admission: he was better at it. So, I stood from the chair and headed over to him. The monitor and console were lit up good as new, but they’d been like that for a couple nights now. We’d finally got access to a local map when that’d happened. Or rather a map of the surrounding area, outdated as it was it still had the location of the city on it. It wasn’t like anything had significantly changed in the past hundreds of years since this place had been abandoned. It had been the whole ‘trying to page it into the rest of the old systems at the outpost’ part that’d eluded Juniors little pet project.
“What did you get?” I replied, leaning over his shoulder with a paw on the console while he typed at it.
He cleared his throat. “W-well. I was able to find the wire that’d been causing the problem with the connection to the outpost’s server.” A server? What?
“What do you mean a server? I thought the only computer systems in here were in this room?” He turned his head, a brown eye winking at me. “Nuh-uh! Were you even listening when I explained it earlier? It’s more than just a weather monitoring station. It had a server, otherwise why would it need so many type-v connectors. See?” He pointed a claw to the bundle of wiring running up the wall and into a concrete hole that looked to lead to the next floor above us. Probably. I hadn’t really cared about how many wires there were.
“So... there’s more than just the databanks here in this room?” I asked. My eyes were tasked with looking over the monitor with pursed lips. I’d dug through some ye olde outpost files in the past nights for my journalist program but evidently I’d been missing things if all it took was one kid who had a knack for tech to ascertain there was more to these places.
Before my question could be answered though the command lines and startup protocols on the operating system for the thing had popped by and opened up onto a familiar desktop of our more modern tech. Junior went about clicking immediately to some command line and writing in some jibberish... And- my eyes widened. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing my claw to all the commands on his little black background’d screen.

1: Status
2: Logs
3: Garage Door
4: Barrack Override
5: Communications

Were among the top five, with a half dozen more I didn’t quite have time to think on. “Quick- quick! The uh- There’s a garage?” Don’t get distracted Yivreen. Ahhh moss-heaps.. “The Barrack Override. See what that does.”
The boy swatted away my paw trying to push at it. “Calm down! Calm down jeez, fine!” He jammed his digit into the corresponding number and pressed enter. A few moments passed as it simply displayed three dots. I waited... I waited.. Cmoooo-
Clank. VV-vv-vvv-veeeeeee....
It sounded like something behind the wall to our left was trying to unrust itself and move. A couple hundred years of not moving or being maintained had probably ensured it’d never get moving smooth again. Then of course the universe proved me wrong, and the wall actually shifted. The rounded metal slab I’d taken for a part of the tower’s superstructure began to lower, and behind it... “Holy shit.”
I don’t know where the extreme language had come from but... Wow. My eyes lit. Bunks. Bedding. Lockers.. It looked like the room beyond had been some sort of lodging area for soldiery when this place was built. But there’d been a grow-in on the back wall from a massive root. Snaring part of the room in its gripping-vinelike vice grip. The root was long dead, and the hole it’d bored through the concrete had left the inside exposed to the elements a touch more than if it’d just been left... At least there wasn’t much evidence of water damage.
“Yiv? Are you-” But I was already headed through the way, a paw on my pistol as I glanced around the abandoned room. My mind went right to checking out the lockers, which turned out to be a good idea. My little training sessions into understanding the named bits for guns with Alma were about to start paying off.
“We’ve got guns. Or... Something like guns.” I announced, pulling out the carrying case and flipping it open. Inside I found what looked to be a.. Hrm- no magazine, no bullets... I lifted it up, the rifle-like hardened carbon material was in remarkably good shape. Probably due to the case and materials, but something was different about it. I glanced my eyes over it, noting the electronic aiming system on top which... when I clicked at it offered a red circle for looking through the little scope with. Huh. Not a common thing to find on a Cyonian designed weapon, at least not these nights. This place was old, but this weapon looked like it’d been built by something more ambitious than Federation paws. Federation handhelds were all modified from the same combustion based lead belchers. A fact that rarely ever went unspoken on our own networks when we needed a reason to criticize Aafa.
It took a while longer, but eventually I did find a snap-button on the back of the trigger grip that made something inside it hum to life. My eyes widened. “It’s... An energy weapon.” I murmured. My tail flicking in apprehension. Would it even still fire? The red blinking just below the button told me it must have no power perhaps but... “Hey. Junior. You think you could figure out how to charge one of these guys-?”
I turned my head to see the kid standing at the threshold with his tail in his paws, gripping them anxiously. “Yiv. The uh. The communications aren’t working, but I think the garage door might open if we try it. It could be that cropping of wall and sealed door we figured the old power system must have been housed in right?” He glanced to the rifle in my paws. “I mean, if it uses the same standards as the computer out here it should still be compatible with our stuff. But- we don’t have anything to charge power packs of that size.” He pointed to the fixture sticking out the bottom of the stock. Hrm, he was right.
“See if you can’t get the garage open. I’ll keep looking in here and see if there’s something to help with that.” Came my own voice, I felt... Giddy. Alive. The potential to fight back was intoxicating. Before all I’d had was this dinky pistol I’d used to... kill a couple of the greys. But if we could bring the fight to their patrols, save more people-
I shook my head. Why was I thinking like this? I couldn’t stand up to an invasion fleet. I’d been a frightened Sivkit on the first night of the attack. I- I’d stampeded. I couldn’t remember any of it, but the chance I’d trampled someone in my panic was not zero. I might have contributed to someone being crushed... I’d failed Els, that soldier I’d dragged into the house. Obelisk I couldn’t even keep my mind straight in a fight with those howling, laughing Arxur in my head. The campfire fight had been a fluke!
I didn’t quite know how long I just sat there, staring at the rifle beating myself up, but eventually I was shaken from it by Keick when she sat beside me, an arm on my shoulder. “Hey. I heard you and Junior had a bit breakthrough eh?” She said non-chalantly. I could tell though, even with the chipper tone she’d read me. The accountant knew I’d been in one of my little moods. She’d known me the longest of anyone here, everyone else was like... a pack of convenience? Maybe not Junior. Keick and I had survived the woods together. I’d pulled her from her own hells next to that burning car.
“Hey.” I returned back. “Yeah. Junior got the servers working. Or something like that.” I pointed a claw over at the computer, only to notice he was gone now. I blinked. Had I been out of it that long?
Keick filled in the hole in my head. “He went with his old man to go check out the garage.” Oh. Yeah.
I looked around, “Ah. The guns. We have guns now. Real guns.” I explained, holding the one I had in my paws up for her to inspect.
“Doesn’t look like any gun I’ve seen.” She mused back, taking it from my grip. My body was moving on its own now, rummaging deeper into the lockers. Some of these cases had been broken by the snaring, smaller branches of the grow-in. The firearms within cracked open and busted. Probably no good at all, exposed to the ambient humidity as they had been for so long. Still, couple of the other rifle cases were good. We had weapons, plural. Binoculars? Got em. Spare power packs that needed charging? Got em. There was a lot of survival gear here. Like a militarized ranger outpost had been stationed here. The synthetic material of the camouflaged cloak I found proudly proclaimed it’d reflect thermal scanning on its faded label even! “Either the old rangers from before the treaties were really into operator stuff or the Obelisk put all this here just for us.” I murmured.
Keick, for her part seemed to be looking it all over with a little inventory in her head. Already tapping in the number of each item into her dataslate. “Well. I’d go with the former. The Obelisk hasn’t been around for us lately.” Came the reply as she poked a claw at one of the now entirely spoiled ration packs. “Still, there’s enough stuff here you could arm a squad of soldiers probably. If you know where we can find some spare soldiers that is.”
I flicked my ear at the poor humoured joke. “Ahuh.” Came my reply. “Maybe you should go try the radio again, they’d love to get their paws on stuff like this I think. Pre-war tech actually made to fight predators like this is rare.” Which begged the question... Why did the cloak boast about defeating thermals? These outposts were dated after our discovery and incorporation into the Federation as an early member, and WELL before the Arxur war. So why had we built cloaks like these? Was this equipment used during the years when we’d resisted the burning of our forests and jungles? If so, it meant it might have been auhh... much more violent then the archives made it out to be. Maybe there was a story here? My inner journalist was theorizing.
___________________________
I’d had to pick my jaw up off the ground after headed over to the garage. Hens Senior and Alma were leaned over the the opened hood of what looked like a remarkably still intact forest rover. The design was actually recognizable, having not changed much from what we had tonight. Six thick grooved tires, a buggy-like cockpit four seater set in the middle, and a back and top rack for storing anything you could want. “Is it working?” I asked the obvious as I stepped inside, noting Junior sat off to the side, fiddling with some wall mounted box or other. He didn’t look to actually know what he was doing beyond dusting it off and giving it a deep stare.
“I wouldn’t think so.” Came the chime of Keick, who’d followed me inside. It was around now my monocular visioned eyes were noting the various tools and spare parts laying around in the garage. Whoever had last been here had left in a hurry seemingly, because it was mostly stocked. No mess on all the immensely dusty parts. I could see a couple smaller fauna in the corners. A lizard here, a rodent there. Obviously there had been some way they’d chewed their way in at some point... Or they’d come in when the door was opened to the bustle and noise of the forest to my back.
It was Senior who looked back at my question, standing to his full height before leaning his back against the old vehicle. “No. It isn’t working. Or at least it won’t be until I figure a way to give the battery juice.” I tilted my head.
“Is it one of those older ones that zap out after a hundred years or so?” Came my obvious question.
He flicked his tail no. “It’s got one of the standard ones, it’s just that it stopped auto-cycling a couple hundred years ago. The electric motor looks like it should work if we pop it on. But we’ll have to see.” He glanced around the workshop. “I want to say we could probably get it working with the tools we have, but if the battery can’t be jumped, or it’s spent, or the motor needs a complete replacement we’re up a creek on getting it working.” It sounded like he knew a bit about it.
The feeling of my face scrunching ever so much came. “You didn’t tell me you were a handyman.” I said, crossing my arms.
“Well it never came up.” He said back with an affable smile. “Listen, it’s been a long couple weeks. Don’t get all spotty with me. We didn’t have anything a hobbying mechanic could fix anyhow.” Just a roll of the eyes from myself is all that met him as Keick spoke up, stepping over to the other three.
“So what’re you gonna jump it with?” She asked incredulously, leaning over the open cabin. From there I sort of... zoned out. All the older Cyonians present were bickering and blathering about the buggy which was quickly losing interest for me. I didn’t understand anything about mechanics like that beyond the bare minimum, so it was out of my purview. If they got it working that’d be another thing but I wouldn’t have been any help right now, so instead I placed a couple careful paws down until I was beside Junior, sitting next to him as he seemed to be eyeballing some far too faded label.
He had a paw lightly rubbing out the dust that’d caked an outlet, still one brown eye fixed on the label. All I could make out myself was the little yellow square symbol warning of an electric charge hazard. Weird to think even now those hadn’t changed. Had Federation technology really not changed all that much? Was it just us? A sigh. “So. What’s got your your nose twitching little dude?”
The past couple nights he’d gotten better with his anger, and... hadn’t destroyed any important tech in a fit of rage. All he’d needed was something to set himself to in a difficult situation like this. Keich had been right to set him on that computer. And.. I’d felt myself trying to encourage him along the way. Partly because I had an investment in getting those maps, and then partly because he’d ended up filling in a spot in my head like a younger cousin. Him and his old man had only been around for a little bit, but I guess maybe I didn’t want to think too hard about what had probably happened to my real family. For now, maybe I felt the most ‘at home’ around Keich and this little tinkerer. Was that weird? It felt like it should be weird.
He answered, looking up with a small upturn in his lips. “I think I found your energy cell charger for those guns you had.” He said simply. “One of the manuals over there wasn’t totally ruined, I saw something about a ‘optical projector weapon’ and ‘charger’ so I was trying to figure out if this was it. I... Think it might be, but I’d need one of those batteries to make sure.”
Now I felt like smirking. “Oh yeah? Well go get one swamp brain. Let’s see if these things still work huh?” Dutifully, he was up and off, tail shaking behind him in what I recognized as excitement. We weren’t totally defenceless anymore, and if the buggy could be salvaged there would be a means at least to relocate if we had to. Or... Maybe I could take a trip down to the city and paint a couple more of those scumbags red-
I shook my head. Where had that thought come from? If I was going back to Ataln it was to try and save more people... Yeah. I still needed to see if Gael was alive, maybe check that old house I’d left Els in. I don’t even know if I could find it now, knowing how scatterbrained I’d been at the time but- making a return to at least try seemed worth it.
Regardless, the box on the wall did turn out to be the correct port to charge energy cells for the guns. We’d just need to rig it up to the solar power system and juice them up to test them. Things were looking up! Our mobility had the potential to go from nights in every direction for shelter to mere hours, I’d just have to hope Senior knew what he was doing.
“Hey. Buddy.” I’d wrapped my arm around Junior’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go take a break for now huh? You were working on the computer all night. Maybe it’d be a good idea to just go relax. Enjoy how much you got done eh?” Besides. Gave me a good way to check out the logs page on the computer system myself before he stumbled on anything. It wasn’t like I didn’t trust him with it but- well there was no way to know what was in those logs.
He nodded, and with that I stood up, streeeetched out, and headed toward the tower. “Good, it’s your shift on the guard tower anyway.” I intoned politely. It was going to be a long day, assuming there was anything of substance in those logs... Scrounging through those would be preferable to sleeping right now anyway.

That’s all it was. A game.
Something my friends and I used to play during the summer when we had nothing better to do. I never expected that it would get so out of hand.
I never expected it to come back long after recovery.
To anyone reading, please don’t do what I did.
I’m putting this out there to warn people.
On that warm summer evening, we played the role of Pandora.
Except, the monsters we released were far worse than what’s told in stories.
Because stories end.
And this doesn’t.
I still remember the date. July 16, 2013. I was an upcoming senior in high school while the others were getting prepared for their freshman year of college, raving on about their majors, life plans, dorms, you get the point. The summer had been bittersweet as those months would be the last I’d see them for a while. Because of this, Anthony, Lola, Eliza, and I would spend the bulk of our time together going to festivals and various camping trips, trying to make the most out of the summer while we could. On that day, the day I wish I could forget, Eliza had run late to one of our hangouts at my place. This was odd since as an Ivy league student, she was usually early or right on time to these kind of things. Half past three, we heard her knocking on my door rapidly, which was also out of character considering that she was usually the calm one in our group. A bit worried, I hurried down the stairs with Anthony and Lola following close behind, expecting Eliza to be in hysterics due to her frantic behavior. When I opened the door, however, there she was with a bright smile on her face, her red hair getting in the way of her eyes, which were a dark green shade. She pushed her hair out of her face with one hand and held a brown box in the other, and she was bouncing up and down as she usually does when she’s about to talk about something exciting.
“You’ll never believe what I found.” Eliza’s voice could barely hold her impatience as she stepped inside and kicked her shoes off once she crossed over my threshold.
“What’s up with you today?” Anthony questioned, looking more confused than concerned now.
“I’ll show you guys in a minute. Can we go up to your room, Felix?” Eliza looked over at me with her trademark smile, knowing damn well we were all too curious to just leave that box unopened. Without a word, I led the group up to my room and shut the door after everyone had walked in. Anthony took his usual spot on my beanbag and unzipped his hoodie, which had the MSM logo sprawled across the front in big red letters. He adjusted his dark rimmed glasses and took on his usual stoic expression. Lola wore a dark blue FIT shirt, which she revealed more of when she moved her locs over her shoulder as she sat on my desk chair and wheeled over to us. As she did, the various necklaces she wore clinked against each other. Eliza herself was the smartest out of the group, and probably in the whole school as well. She had gotten accepted into multiple prestigious schools, but ultimately settled for Harvard to pursue a degree in some obscure philanthropic career. Unlike Anthony and Lola, Eliza wore her regular outfit –usually a white tank top and jeans– and sat on my bed with the box in her lap. I took a seat next to her to get a closer look.
“So what’d you find?” The others moved closer.
“Something we probably haven’t thought about for a really long time. Do you guys remember that one game we used to play in middle school? The one we made after Felix joined our class?” Eliza looked at our puzzled faces to see if we had connected the dots, but her clue didn’t seem to strike any of us with familiarity.
“After Felix joined? Didn’t we just hang out or something that weekend?” Anthony questioned.
“We did, but there was something else,” Eliza raised an eyebrow, “you guys seriously don’t remember?”
At that moment, I saw Lola’s eyes light up and a thin smile grew on her lips, something she always did whenever she was able to figure something out.
“You mean that little map game we played? Where we would go out to the woods and explore?”
Both Anthony and I seemed to have remembered as well with the mention of a ‘map game.’ I chimed in, “ yeah I remember! Every once in a while when we were all bored, we’d pick a random spot on a map to go to and explore there for a bit, right? When did we stop doing that anyways? I remember really enjoying it.”
“Well life happens,” Eliza responded to me, “but I was thinking of things to do for the rest of the summer when I suddenly remembered that game! That’s why I was so late for our meetup today, I was looking through my attic for this.” Eliza shook the box slightly and a couple things clattered around inside.
“There’s no way.” Anthony sounded like he was in disbelief.
“You mean…?” Lola sat forward in the chair. Eliza smirked, her adventurous nature creeping out as realization swept over us like a wave.
“Mhm! I found the map we used to use as well as the things we collected from our little escapades.” With that, Eliza opened the box, revealing a folded piece of paper and various trinkets scattered over the bottom of the capsule. Lola squealed with excitement and immediately snatched the box from Eliza, who simply chuckled and leaned back on the bed.
“No way! Everything’s still in here!” Lola digged through the box and placed whatever objects she found across the blanket. Anthony got up and sat at the foot of my bed, to observe our findings more closely. There was a piece of some clay pottery, some rusty springs and scraps of metal, an old digital camera, and some other random stuff I can’t recall to memory right now. Anthony picked up a spring and turned it in his palm.
“Shit man, this is from that abandoned junkyard we found in 8th grade…that feels like such a long time ago now.”
I examined the piece of pottery with Eliza looking over my shoulder. Lola picked up the digital camera.
“Do you remember where this came from?” I turned to Eliza and held up my discovery.
“No clue,” she shrugged. It must have been a while ago if even she didn’t remember. I turned the piece over and grew curious when I saw weird symbols inscribed on the inside of it. I squinted a bit, trying to discern some sort of pattern within the scribbles.
I turned to Eliza again, “hey, what do you think-”
“OH MY GOD GUYS IT STILL WORKS!” Lola’s voice went up a whole octave as she motioned to us.
The rest of us looked up as she turned the camera to face us. There were various photos we went through. All of us at lakes, museums, exploring the woods; everything we did from 7th grade until my freshman year seemed to be documented. The last photo was arguable the best and msot bittersweet. It was a picture of the whole group from a while ago. We were sitting at Eliza’s dinner table with a giant chocolate cake on the middle of it adorned with two candles shaped like the numbers one and five. Eliza was talking to me in the photo. Her hair was even more red at the time and she wore it in a braid. I looked about the same in the photo as I did then, with light brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles scattered all over my body and face. I was smiling sheepishly at Eliza. I now knew why Anthony said it was obvious I had a crush on her in 8th grade. Lola went through the most changes out of all of us. At the time in the photo, she had her hair straightened and side-swept, with a bright pink streak in her bangs. She wore clunky jewlery and a frilly skirt underneath a long tank top, leaning over the table to cut another slice of cake. All of us had birthday hats on except for Anthony, who kept his sitting on the table. He held up a peace sign staring straight into the camera with a stoic expression. He looked like a statue compared to the rest of us, who were laughing and smiling. You could tell he was having fun, though.
“Well don’t you look like a ray of sunshine,” Lola snickered as Anthony shot her a dirty look.
“At least I didn’t go through some weird scene phase in freshman year,” He smiled and watched Lola’s face, knowing she was blushing despite her dark skin which made it practically invisible. I let a laugh slip out, but quickly stifled it knowing that if I kept going it would mean death. Lola side-eyed me and continued, “I was using my creative liberty to experiment with my options as an artist,” she said with an overly-posh accent that made Eliza laugh.
“Yeah Anthony, don’t be such a downer,” Eliza teased. Anthony simply rolled his eyes and suppressed a smile to pretend like he was mad at all of us. He looked into the box and picked up the paper we left, unfolding it with a hint of excitement and curiosity. When he looked at it, only two words came out of his mouth.
“Holy shit.”
“What, what is it?” Lola tried to look at the other side of the paper, but Anthony quickly held it out of her view.
“What if I didn’t want to show you?” A smile crept onto his face. This was one of those rare moments where he’d be in the moos to joke around with us.
“Don’t be a dick bro,” I said, laughing as I went to grab for the paper. Anthony just held it up in the air and pushed me off of him and I landed on my floor. While he was distracted, though, Eliza took her chance and snatched the paper right out of his hand.
“You boys need to learn to be nice,” she warned in her jokingly stern voice as she unfolded the paper and spread it out onto my bed. We all leaned over to look.
It was a map of a couple towns including ours. There were around ten small star stickers placed on different areas on the map near the streets the four of us lived in. On the top of the map, a couple words were scrawled in black sharpie; “Pick a Place!” I could see everyone’s faces light up.
“Oh my god it’s our map!” Lola shouted and pointed to one of the stars near her street, “this was where we found that old junkyard right?”
Eliza smiled, “I remember that. It feels like such a long time ago now.” She pointed to another star, “and this is where we found that lake we made a hideout of. I still remember swimming in there in 8th grade…”
The four of us reminisced for a while, talking about where we had gone and what we did there, and how impressive it was that we didn’t get tetanus from that junkyard. After nearly an hour of conversation, Eliza asked something that made all of us stop.
“So how about it guys? Do you want to do one last round before the summer ends?”
The rest of us looked around at each other. It was clear we all wanted to do it. Eliza seemed to catch on and she nodded.
“Who wants to pick where we go?”
“How about you do the honors?” Lola suggested, motioning towards the map. “You’re the one that brought this stuff in anyways.”
Eliza raised her eyebrow but didn’t object. Without a word, she examined the map for a few minutes, then placed her finger on one spot a bit far from my house.
“How about here?”
“You think we can make it that far?” Anthony asked.
“Well, we can drive now so why not?”
“You sure there’s some type of trail we can drive on? That spot looks pretty deep in the woods”
“We can find a path to drive on for a bit then walk the rest of the way. C’mon guys, this is probably our last chance to do something like this! Felix, you can drive right?”
Eliza and the rest turned to me with a hopeful expression. I had to comply.
“Sure. No big deal, right?”
All three of them cheered and high fived each other, looking pretty excited to go on one last adventure.
“So when do we leave?” I questioned.
Eliza flashed that smile again, “right now.”
“Right now?!”
“Hell yeah,” Lola chimed in. “It shouldn’t take that long, right?”
“I guess…” Even then I felt uneasy about the whole thing. I didn’t feel prepared enough to go on some random trip into the woods. I needed to pack food, water, flashlights, I had no idea how long this was going to take. Little did I know that those things would be the least of my worries a couple hours from then. I wish I could go back and convince my 17-year-old self that it wasn’t worth it, that I should just convince my friends to stay and talk for the rest of the day. I wish Eliza had never remembered that stupid game. In a way, I’m almost mad at her for what happened, but I know it wasn’t anyones fault. We just wanted to have fun. I wish we could’ve just had fun. But God had a different plan for us. One that made me think Satan himself devised it instead. On July 16, 2013, Anthony He, Lola Smith, Eliza Landserson, and Felix Johanson went on an adventure that none of them were ready for.
Author's Note:
If you just read all of that then thank you so so so much for doing so! I'm a rookie writer, so feel free to comment any constructive criticism you might have if you have actual writing experience! This is the first silly little story I'm posting here, so I hope you enjoyed :)

Previous Part
Morning eventually came, banishing the eyes that seemed to peer at me through the night. It was strange how suddenly the feeling left me, making me think that someone really was watching me. The whole thing was really doing wonders for my paranoia. Despite the rough morning and sleepless night, I still found myself waiting outside Bianca’s house bright and early that morning. The air was cool but not chilly, one of those perfect days that’s cold enough you’ll never start sweating unless you really try, but warm enough that a T-shirt will get you through without too much trouble.
I only had to knock once before Bianca threw open the door.
“Where you just waiting there for me?”
I asked, cracking a smile and raising an eyebrow.
“You’ll never know” she added playfully, “Are we ready to go then?”
Bianca had made some preparations for the trip, she didn’t have a backpack ready to go but she definitely made an effort to dress the part… sort of. She was wearing an old grey combat jacket that I imagine she pulled out of Stein’s closet. The jacket was way to big for her but she made it work. Her combat boots matched the jacket, looking old and well worn. What didn’t match was the bright red yoga pants she was wearing, but I wasn’t about to complain. Besides, I had packed each of us a spare set of clothes just in case.
“Oh! So I had an idea, its a long walk, not crazy but I’d rather not just walk the whole way if we can help it. Frank and Stein used to have some bicycles when we first came here so I asked them about it and well.”
Bianca chirped, as she led me around the back of the house and pulled a tarp off two abysmal looking bicycles. The bikes were both red at one point but that was a long time ago. Now they were covered in a layer of rust and I could barely make out the branding that may have once read, “Shwinn”.
“Um… Bianca I think I might get tetanus if I sit on that thing.”
“Oh come on! Aren’t you tired of walking everywhere? Lets just give the bikes a shot, if they crumble to dust we can leave them.”
“And get me a tetanus shot.”
I added quickly
“Fine, and get you a tetanus shot.”
Bianca shot back, she feigned annoyance but she couldn’t hide the smile that crossed her face.
Laughing to ourselves, we got on the bikes and took off North, out of town and onto a dirt path leading to the woods. Bianca didn’t say much on the way out but I could tell she was having a good time. This may have been her first time out of the house for something other than supervising Frank and Stein. She tried to hide it by riding fast and staying out in front of me, but I could still catch her eyes literally glowing with happiness every now and then. I thought back to what Frank had said about her eyes glowing when she experiences strong emotion. I hoped that was the case and she wasn’t just trying really hard to influence me, which he had also said would make her eyes glow.
As we neared the end of the path, the forest’s edge came into view. we let the bikes roll to a stop then got off and let them fall over onto the dirt. I half expected them to explode into a puff of rusty brown dust the second they touched the ground but to my surprise, neither bike did. I could’ve swore I heard Bianca sniffle almost like she’d been crying. I opened my mouth to say something and then thought better of it, if she wanted to tell me what was going on she would. Well, that or she’d just manipulate me away from the question. Wait, was she doing that now? It’s hard to tell, maybe that’s how everyone around her feels. The more I thought about it the more I realized how difficult it must be for her just to have friends or form relationships with people at all. If she told them the truth they’d never know if what they were feeling around her at any given moment was real. All they’d have to go on would be her word, could they really trust that, could I? If she kept her secret she’d know that at any moment she could just change how they felt about her, manipulate them into anything she wanted. Could she resist that kind of power over them and still look someone in the eyes and say she was their friend. Not to mention how hard it would be to keep that secret over years of knowing someone.
“So Keith, were exactly are we headed? You do have some Idea where this mine you’re looking for is right?”
Bianca asked skeptically, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Well about that…. I just know its out here in the forest somewhere. That’s pretty much all I have to go on from Frank, Stein, and that massive bartender in town.”
I told her sheepishly.
“Well that explains why you over-packed so much then. Seriously? How long do you think we we’re going to be out here, you’re packed like some kind of survivalist.”
She mocked, picking through the pack I’d made for her. After she finished rooting through the pack I made for her like some kind of giant squirrel and, chastised me yet again for not doing more research on the mine, we set off.
The forest felt imposing as we walked into the woods through a manicured patch of trees. Someone had gone to great lengths to braid a few trees over this little path before the forest turned back into its natural wild state. It gave off the feeling that civilization ended with this path and something else entirely began. As we got off the path our light faded quickly, chocked out by the limbs of massive pine trees. All this cover meant there was very little foliage on the ground which was covered in a blanket of needles. The though occurred to me that we were looking for a mine in a valley. That’s weird because what exactly would be in a valley that warranted the creation of a mine? Usually you’ll find them in mountains so what exactly was one doing out here.
“Bianca I just had a thought, Why would they build a mine out here? I mean what’s the point, is there even anything valuable out here to mine?”
“Yeah, come to think of it your right. What other reason would there be to have a mine out here?”
“Unless they were just mining from a cave but that still doesn’t answer the question of what they were…”
Bianca cut me off
“What was that first thing you said?”
“Um… mining from a cave?”
A lightbulb went off over her head as she exclaimed,
“That’s it! There’s caves under the town, I’ve heard Frank talk about them before! Maybe they didn’t have a real mine so they were just mining something out of the caves.”
“Not to burst your bubble Bianca, but that still doesn’t get us any closer to these caves or mines or whatever it is.”
I responded cautiously, trying not to sound to critical of her revelation.
“Well not exactly, Frank said they were in the East of the forest somewhere so all we have to do is head East till we run into them.”
Bianca said, full of confidence. Then something occurred to me, we had no real way of getting back to the bikes other than retracing our steps. Now that was easy enough now, if we went deeper into the woods we would get lost pretty quickly.
“One more thing Bianca, Maybe we should come up with a way to find our way out? I really don’t want to end up lost out here.”
I asked nervously, fidgeting with my hands.
“Way ahead of you on that one, I left my phone back by the bikes. Here give me yours and I’ll put my number in so you can track it and find our way back.”
She said, taking my phone, putting her number into it, and turning it to me to show she’d tracked her own phones location with it, giving us a path back to the bikes.
As we turned East and headed even deeper into the forest the terrain started to change. Instead of the pine needle coating we started to see rocks and the ground was more rugged. Here and there we’d even pass a boulder or two. I decided to break the silence of our search.
“So are you ever going to tell me how you met Frank and Stein?”
Bianca sighed before responding.
“I suppose you deserve to know if your sticking around. You probably guessed I wasn’t always living with them. Lets just say before that I was with someone who I though meant the world to me but I never meant the same to him. It was all a game to him and eventually I noticed that. Then, a little while afterwards I realized I wasn’t exactly powerless anymore and I did some things that I’m not exactly proud of to survive on my own.”
I could tell talking about this hurt her but I needed more.
“That’s not exactly telling me a whole lot Bianca.”
I pressed, maybe a little to hard.
“I found out I had powers and I used them ok! I got myself out of a situation where I was pulled so many way I didn’t know which direction was up! The second I found out I could do the same thing to people myself, I did! You’re the first person to actually seem to give a shit that wasn’t some crazy doctor that tolerates my existence or someone I just manipulated into caring! Maybe I even did that with you! I JUST DON’T KNOW ANYMORE!”
Bianca screamed at me, getting in my face with tears beginning to run down her own. Her eyes were glowing electric blue again and I knew I’d crossed a line.
“Hey I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you. I… I didn’t know.”
“No.. you didn’t but I guess you should”
Bianca sniffled out, trying desperately to pull herself back together and keep up the act the everything was ok. Bianca went silent for a while as we kept walking along, crying to herself before she finally took a deep breath and said,
“You know, this is the first time someone’s asked me to come along and do something outside the house in years. I spend so much time cooped up in there just helping with experiments and looking after Rocco. It’s actually nice to get out and talk for once.”
Her voice still a lifts hoarse from screaming at me before.
“Look if you want to talk about it we’ve got nothing but time out here. I’d like to know a bit more about you anyways.”
I said taking her hand and trying to sound comforting.
“Yeah maybe I should get some of it off my chest. Here it goes I guess.”
Bianca said, taking a deep breath and tightening her grip on my hand. Her eyes still glowed faintly as she told me her story as we ventured deeper into the forest.
I’ll give you the shorter version of it here, mostly cause I’m not sure how she’d feel about me spoiling all her secrets.. She ran away from her family and her college education for a guy, his name was Brooke. Brooke was from money and had a job lined up by his family at a law firm so Bianca thought she was set for life with him. Bianca was madly in love with him at the time but as days grew into months and years, Brooke became a monster. He cheated on her and told her she wasn’t enough, that her shortcomings drove him to do it over and over again and somehow it was all her fault every time. He became abusive not long after the cheating started, flying into fits of hysteric apology afterwards only further convincing Bianca she was somehow at fault. After three years of this she eventually got up the courage to leave and never looked back. On the road she discovered her powers of manipulation, letting her play with people’s emotions and she only got better at it with time. Unfortunately her abilities got her into a very specific form of getting money out of people, prostitution. One day she tried to solicit Stein and he saw straight through her. Stein took her with him to the hotel he and Frank were staying at and they took her in on the spot. The trio traveled together ever since, Bianca becoming a kind of daughter to them.
I was in shock once she finished her story, it sounded like she’d really been through the ringer.“I don’t know what to say, that’s awful, all of it.”
“It was, I lived it. But I made it through, doesn’t matter how at the end of the day. I’ve got Frank and Stein and that’s enough, they let me into their home and I recovered in my own way, I’m still here so I’ll take what I can get right?”
Bianca stated with a cold loom of determination on her face. It was painfully obvious to me that despite the masquerade of being fine she was barley holding it together underneath. Like just talking about it with me was driving a finger into old wounds.
“At least you’ll never have to go through something like that again. With your abilities you never have to get pushed around like that.”
I said with completely no tact whatsoever. Bianca stopped suddenly as I said this and whirled around to face me. The fire I’d seen in her eyes earlier reigniting in seconds.
“Do you really think that’s all this is?! I’m no better than him, even you don’t know what you really think when you look at me! Admit ti!”
Bianca growled at me, hysterical once again.
“No, Bianca I…”
“Look I know your trying to help but just leave it, ok? I’m done talking about this”
She cut me off, pulling herself back together and signaling very clearly we were done with that particular conversation.
“Besides look over there, That hole in the rock see it? That might be what we’re looking for.”
Bianca said, gesturing to the stone wall that now jutted out of the ground beside us.
The rock wall she pointed out was chipped near the middle in a way that couldn’t have been natural. Straight lines don’t really exist in nature and this hole was cut squarely into this rock wall. As we got closer I could see that it wasn’t just an entrance either. The hole opened into the rock wall but then suddenly dropped, like whoever carved it had hit a point where the ground just fell out from under them. From where Bianca and I were looking into the hole we couldn’t quite see the bottom.
“Well we found what we were looking for, is this bringing back any memories from those dreams you had?”
Bianca asked, sounding a little short tempered still as I searched through my bag.
“What are you looking for in there?”
“Rope, I’ve got to see what’s in there and I’m hoping I brought enough to climb down there.”
I replied hurriedly, still tearing apart my bag to get to the rope I had packed underneath everything else.
“Rope? you’re not seriously going to climb down that pit are you? I can barely see down there.”
Bianca complained, sounding exasperated.
“Here, this should help you see down there.”
I said, tossing her one of the two head mounted flashlights I brought along.
“ME? I never said we were going down there!”
Bianca panicked momentarily.
“Look, you can stay up here and wait for me if you really don’t want to go down there. But I would appreciate having you to watch my back.”
I added trying to soften her up. Bianca opened her mouth like she was going to say something but stopped, instead dropping her own pack to the ground and searching through it.
“Look if I’m going down there I’m going to need something better than yoga pants on and…. You actually packed a change of clothes in here. Geez you really did think of everything.”
As Bianca took the jeans I packed and went off to find somewhere to change I finally found the rope. It was about 50 feet of strong climbing rope that I kept for an occasion just like this. Now that’s not to say I was a professional climber by any means but a 20 or 30 foot rappel I should be able to do. I was hoping that the descent wasn’t much further than that. I anchored the rope to a tree a little ways away from the hole in the rock face and tossed the rope down the hole. It hit the bottom with a satisfying thud just as Bianca got back from changing. The jeans I had packed were a little big on her but she’d manage. She looked like a mess in her ancient combat boot and jacket, all of which were too big for her. I tried to open my mouth to tell her she looked nice, I swear I really did but what came out was hyena-like laughter at her appearance.
“I…. Oh god I’m…. It’s just”
I struggled to get out, laughing all the while.
“Well I’m glad you like it at least, ok seriously come on, stop laughing.”
Bianca scolded as she began giggling herself. Soon enough we were both laughing, Bianca’s earlier storminess cleared up by the absurdity of the situation.
Here we were, a succubus and a guy with a strange mark out in the woods getting ready to rappel into a hole in the ground that apparently didn’t exist. All this was almost starting to feel… I’m not really sure how to put it, not normal but not so strange. Honestly I finally felt like I’d found some kind of purpose again out here. As weird as it all was I was starting to enjoy… this, this whole odd situation I’d found myself in. Bianca and I finally got ahold of the laughter and stood back up from our place on the ground.
“Do I really look that bad?”
She asked
“I’ve never heard you complain about your looks before. But no, with those jeans on you look like maybe, just maybe you prepared a little bit for coming out here.”
I teased, getting a little wry grin out of her.
“Come on, lets get going. Hopefully we can be in and out of there pretty quickly.”
I said, handing Bianca her pack and shouldering my own.
Rappelling in wasn’t actually all that hard, really dangerous without safety equipment sure, but neither of us had any trouble descending the maybe 20 foot drop. At the bottom I saw something that shocked me, this place wasn’t abandoned. I saw lighting set up, not on but very clearly set up recently. Bits of old mining equipment were scattered around the… cave? Mine? Im not really sure what to call it anymore. What concerned me more than anything was the light I saw at the far end of the cave (I’m settling on calling it a cave). The light came from a massive bonfire and I could just make out the shadows of several people sitting around it. I have no idea how we didn’t see the smoke on our way in. It wasn’t filling the cave but it also wasn’t coming out from anywhere I saw on the way here.
“Bianca get down!”
I whisper shouted at her, turning off my headlamp and falling flat to the ground myself. Bianca dropped to the ground as she heard me with unexpected grace. I didn’t know if those figures by the fire had seen us but I certainly wasn’t taking chances.
“Ok, I’m going to creep up and see if I can hear them talking or something. Can you just stay here and watch my back? I don’t want you getting any closer than you have to.”
I instructed Bianca who answered with a quick nod and reached into the inner pocket of her jacket. She withdrew a jeweled golden dagger from it.
“I sorry, what’s this now?”
I asked, confused and thrown off guard by the weapon. It was a really beautiful blade, the hilt was silver with several purple gems inlaid in it. The blade was golden save for the razor sharp edge which was some kind of strange blue material that was roughly the same color Blanca’s eyes glowed.
“I had a life before this you know.”
Bianca responded.
“Yeah we talked about it but you didn’t really tell me much about this part apparently. Doesn’t matter I guess just surprised you have Jeff Bezos’s butter knife in your jacket pocket.”
I whispered, pointing at the dagger in her hand.
“Well we can talk more about how I ended up with this later, not really the time now. Just be careful ok.”
I got up as she said this, realizing she was right. Now really wasn’t the time to be asking about strange daggers, I had more pressing issues.
I crouched down and started creeping towards the figures by the bonfire, careful to avoid the rusty machinery bits scattered across the ground. As I got closer I saw a passage I had missed in the dark. I dared to turn my headlamp on for just a second, trying to block out most of the light with my hand. What I saw through the dim light and shadows of my finger left me awestruck. Inside the passage a coliseum had been constructed, with seats carved into the stone. The structure itself was made up of the rusted metal pieces that littered the room, collected and smelted together to form the walls of the structure. What frightened me the most was the symbol clearly and meticulously drawn on the dirt floor, the same symbol that adorned my back, the symbol of the thunderbird. Moving on, more shaken than ever I crept closer still to the roaring bonfire. I could just about make out the words the figures were saying. When I got close enough to make out the word “tests” the fire suddenly went out with a gust of wind.The room temperature must have dropped 10 degrees immediately and I could swear I heard the sounds of heavy rain above us. But the sudden lack of light isn’t what rooted me in place, cowering on the cave floor. What did that was the two illuminated grey eyes that pierced through the darkness like lightning in a storm, eyes I would never forget, the eyes of the woman from Imalone.
This time I clearly heard the voices of the figures from around the bonfire as they all dropped to their knees.
“Shaoni! We weren’t expecting you till later, Stormcaller.”
The figures all said some variation of in unison. Their tone sounding almost as though they were begging for forgiveness. In a voice that hissed like rain on pavement the woman apparently named Shaoni spoke.
“I’ve come to oversee the start of the trials, is everything prepared?”
In one bone chilling moment her eyes locked on mine and she said the one thing I’d hoped she wouldn’t.
“You didn’t tell me we had guests.”
The moment the words left her lips I turned back to where Bianca was waiting, her now glowing eyes cutting through the darkness of the cave. Giving up any form of subtly, I bolted for the rope behind Bianca. I just wanted to be out of this cave, whatever I might learn from searching around was far outweighed by the fact that Shaoni was here. I’d seen the kind of destruction she’d left in her wake in Imalone and I had no desire to see it happen again here. I banged my ankle on several of the little bits of rusty metal on the floor as I ran, sending sparks of pain up my leg. I didn’t hear anything behind me at all which was almost more unnerving than the footsteps I expected to hear. I closed in on Bianca and saw she hadn’t moved at all, her eyes fixed on something behind me. I dared to take a quick glance back over my shoulder and saw Shaoni taking her first step away from the extinguished bonfire. Lightning crackled around her like one of those novelty plasma globes. In the flashes of light I could see her face. There was no smile or frown, no emotion at all. She simply stared straight ahead towards me and took slow calm steps, inching ever closer.
“Bianca we’ve got to go… NOW!”
I shouted, snapping her to attention. She nodded and turned on her heels, back toward the rope we’d thrown in earlier. Only, when we got to the rope and gave it a tug, it came falling back toward us.
“There’s no way. I…I anchored it to that tree, it should’ve held!”
I cried in disbelief. Bianca and I starred up at the now stormy sky through the hole we would’ve escaped from. Two men walked into view on either side of the hole, glowering down at us. I notice a marking on one of the men’s hands in a flash of lightning from the storm. I could only assume if I was able to make it out I would’ve seen a marking just like the one on my back. Just as soon as the men had appeared a shape flew in from the left with a low growl, taking both men along with it.
“Ok, new plan! There’s something else up there and I really don’t want to get involved with… whatever that was either. I didn’t see any footprints near the entrance so I’m assuming those guys we saw by the bonfire got in another way. We’re just going to have to find where that was and get out that way.”
I instructed Bianca, gesturing to the men in toe with Shaoni and trying not to sound as afraid as I was.
“Ok, I’m with you but lets get moving, I don’t want to any closer to her than I have to be.”
Bianca answered, putting her hand on my shoulder. I suddenly felt a wave of calm rush over me and for the second time I was grateful for Bianca’s ability to simply turn off my fear response.
Shaoni now stood about 50 feet from us with four men following behind her. In the light she gave off I could see the men were all dressed like normal people. I kind of figured they would be more of those canvas wrapped weirdos from Imalone but no. There stood four men in jeans and flannels standing there. Shaoni looked like she could’ve stepped right out of a painting of Pocahontas. She wore an animal hide dress with frills along the bottom and arms. Her head was adorned with a leather band containing several hawk feathers. In short she looked like she’d stepped out of a different time. But I had no time to look over the finer details of her clothing as Bianca and I rushed towards her. Once we got within striking distance I pulled Bianca to the left, towards the passage I had seen earlier. Shaoni never made a move towards us, she just simply looked at me, the ghost of a smile briefly crossing her lips. One of the men with her grabbed at Bianca though, pulling her out of my grasp momentarily. That was a mistake because she was on him immediately with the ornate dagger I’d seen before. As the man grabbed her Bianca lashed out with the dagger, sticking him in the gut with the blade. He screamed in anguish and let go of her but Bianca wasn’t done yet. She followed up by stabbing the man in the back of the neck as he bent over, grabbing at the hole in his abdomen. The other three men were so taken aback by the sudden ferocity she displayed that they didn’t come any closer. As time stood still for a second the men all looked toward Shaoni, awaiting instructions but hesitant to get any closer to Bianca. Using the brief moment of disbelief Bianca had caused, we ran down the side passage towards the coliseum.
“What was that?”
I asked, still shocked by how suddenly Bianca had acted.
“He tried to grab me, I don’t like when they try to grab me”
Bianca responded, distant and… scared? I got the sense she was still in shock at what she had done too. But I couldn’t worry about that right now, we still had to get out of here. Luckily the men didn’t seem to be following us. Wether Shaoni called them off or they stopped to care for their friend I didn’t know, and frankly I didn’t care.
Rushing through the rusty coliseum was haunting. I expected something to jump out of every shadow in the imposing structure. As we slowed to a jog in the middle of the coliseum, right where that eagle symbol was, we stopped to look around. We had come into this arena through an open arch but the only other exit I could see was a similar but barred archway. The coliseum was huge for something constructed in a cave, probably 400 feet across. I had no idea how this thing could’ve been made without anybody finding out.
“Bianca are you seeing anyway out of here? Bianca!”
I asked, then shouted as I turned to see her standing still as a statue in the middle of the Eagle symbol. She was staring at the dagger she had stabbed that man with. Blood still stained the blade and dripped from it intermittently.
“Bianca are you alright?”
I questioned as I walked over to her. She still had this look in her eyes, like she was miles away.
“Bianca? Come on talk to me. Look, you did what you had to do back there, sure it wasn’t exactly pretty but it had to be done.”
I tried to comfort her with my words but the truth is, my heart just wasn’t in it. I was a little scared of what I saw from her in those few moments. She just lashed out and attacked him, not that he didn’t deserve it but going back for more was too much. But what would’ve happened if she didn’t act? It’s not something I could really dwell on now and I’m not sure it really mattered. I just wasn’t feeling all that great about the fact we may have killed someone.
“I don’t like it when they grab me.”
Bianca finally repeated, still appearing catatonic. I leaned down to her level, putting my face right in-front of her’s and putting her head in between my hands.
“Bianca I know enough to know that whole situation may have dug up some memories for you but nows really not the time. We have to keep moving, we have to find a way out of here, and I can’t do that without you right now.”
Bianca tensed up as I spoke to her, but I could feel her relax as I finished. A single tear fell from her eye as she gave me a nod and followed behind me as I walked toward the barred off archway.
Before I made it to the archway there was a massive crash as something tore the rusty bars from their mountings and fell into the room.
“Tuck?!”
I exclaimed, recognizing his colossal figure on the floor immediately. His shirt and pants were torn to shreds though, Like he’d flexed too hard and burst out of his clothes. Bianca and I rushed over to check on him but apparently he was fine. Before we even started walking towards him he was already back up on his feet and lumbering towards us.
“Tuck what are you doing here? Actually never mind, are you ok?”
I asked, concern in my voice.
“It’s going to take more than this to stop me son. I figured you might go looking for that old mine I mentioned the other night so I came to find you. I feel real bad about ya run’in off the way ya did and I got to thinking. Maybe I could make it up to ya if I told ya about the mine. So I came out here and found some shady look’in fellas poking around and figured maybe ya needed help, looks like I was right.”
Tuck explained, dusting himself off and brushing away some of the tattered remains of his shirt. I didn’t buy his story for a second but I wasn’t going to argue with this bear of a man.
“So how did you get in anyway?”
“Used the old entrance from back when this place was still run’in, come on I’ll lead ya out.”
Tuck answered, already turning and walking back the way he came.
The walk out was long and none of us talked much so I just looked around. The further we walked down this little tunnel the more I noticed crushed equipment. The walls looked like they were made up of bits and pieces of crumbled rock that may have once been the ceiling of a much bigger tunnel here.
“There was a collapse, just like the report said only, whatever caused it wasn’t any fault of ours. It was that damn thunderbird waking up.”
Tuck piped up, answering one question and making me ask another.
“Wait you knew about her?!”
“All the miners did, some decided to follow her after she woke up and brought the walls down on us. Others wanted revenge for the brothers we lost, I’m one of the former. You see son, the reason I stayed around this town so long was because of that bird. I want a chance to return the favor.”
“But what about Robert? If you hate the thunderbird so much why’d you let him in? You had to see that tattoo on his hand.”
“I know he thinks that damned bird will “save” him or something but I don’t blame him. Everyone deals with things in their own way and it’s not my place to judge folk for it.”
Tuck lectured, as we made our way further down the passage. His words made sense to me but I didn’t understand how he could be so understanding. From what I understood the thunderbird had a part to play in the original mine’s collapse and the death of the workers there. Only for some of the survivors to revere this creature. If I were in Tuck’s shoes I don’t think I could forgive and forget.
Finally we saw light at the end of the tunnel. We emerged into the whispers of what I’m sure was a monster of a storm. But that’s not what drew my attention, what did were the boulders scattered around the hole we just came out of. It looked like they had been moved, and recently. The suspicious red stain just barley peaking out from the bottom of one of them only served to convince me further. Tuck’s story didn’t quite make sense and this entrance seemed like it should’ve been blocked up until very recently. I wasn’t about to question the guy who saved us though, so I let the issue rest.
Bianca’s idea of tracking her phone to find our way to the bikes worked like a charm. We followed the directions my phone spit at us and eventually found our way back to the bikes. Tuck’s old Ford Bronco sat behind our bikes leaving me to question if he followed us on our way here.
“Well do you kids want a ride back to town?”
Tuck asked, his voice bellowing across the forest. Seriously it was like the guy swallowed a loudspeaker at some point and just spoke through it now.
“No we’ll find our own way back.”
“Alrighty then, stay safe son.”
Tuck called back to me as he got into his truck and drove off. Bianca and I stood up our bikes and got ready to head back to town.
“Hey Keith?”
“Yeah what is it Bianca?”
“Next time you offer to bring me along somewhere can you warn me about the damn thunderbird that seems to just show up around you.”
I laughed at this, it was nice to see Bianca joking around again. After what happened in the caves she seemed like someone else, none of her usual cheeriness was there. Not that I knew if that was what she wanted me to see from her or how she actually presented herself but still. I trusted her enough at this point to assume she wasn’t using her abilities to mess with my head.
When we got back to Bianca’s house the sun was just beginning to set, washing the town in shades of purple, orange, and red. We walked the bikes around to their place behind the house and I walked Bianca back to the front door.
“Thanks for today Keith,I don’t… get out very much anymore and it was… nice… to do something other than sit around the house for once. You know, despite everything that happened it was actually fun.”
I was taken aback by her words at first. If it was me I’d immediately want nothing to do with this person who just put me in danger.
“You had fun? The thunderbird showed up again and we may have killed a guy and you had fun?”
I asked, raising and eyebrow suspiciously.
“Can we not talk about that right now? Anyways I don’t exactly have a high bar for what is and isn’t fun at this point. I’ll see you later Keith.”
Bianca said, cracking a smile and walking into her house.
I was about halfway back to my own house when I realized she never gave me my backpack back. Well, looks like I’d be seeing her again then because I need that stuff back. I wasn’t sure what to think about what I’d seen today. If the thunderbird was in those mines years ago why did she end up in Wisconsin? There was also a very real possibility some people in this town worshipped her so I’d have to keep an eye out for that. The really interesting thing to me was the Shaoni never seemed to want to hurt me in the cave today. She was terrifying as all hell sure, but I didn’t get the sense that she wanted to cause me any sort of harm. If she wanted to do that my gut told me she would’ve done it quickly and efficiently.
Thunder suddenly cracked outside, interrupting my train of thought. As I stood up to see what time it was a knock came from the front door. I froze, who exactly could it be? I doubt Bianca would come over, I don’t think she even knows where I live but maybe she came by to drop off the backpack she absconded with? The knock came again, more forcefully this time.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!”
I shouted, as I jogged to the door. My heart dropped as soon as I opened it, On the other side of the door stood Shaoni. She was dressed normally for once, wearing a long flowing white nightgown. Shaoni stepped into my house as she cooed in her usual misty voice.
“Good evening. Keith was it? We have much to discuss.”

Scott Masterson had first met Scarlett at a rooftop party in downtown Dallas. Their age and the time of year were both in late springtime, them in their mid twenties and the date in early May. He had on a sharp yet breezy blazer and she astonished in a thigh length sleeveless blue dress.
“Oh hey Scott I don’t believe you two have met…” his then happily married friend had remarked with a slow swinging open hand toward her.
“Scott Masterson…reluctant friend to this knucklehead” he said with a tight lipped grin, trying not to be so obvious with his instant rapture.
“Scarlett…a pleasure…”
Her hand was so delicate to Scott’s touch. They locked eyes. It was like looking back through centuries of connection, endless days of laying in the sun next to the Seine River, or rising to Hollywood fame in the 1940’s and only having each other who would understand the glory and the pain of it all, or generations of quiet, simple country love that would bear such beautiful, happy children that would go on to raise beautiful, happy children, all with their dark blue eyes. Yes, the memories of every love story since the beginning of time was swirling right there in Scarlett’s irises. Scott had to catch himself before he stared embarrassingly too long.
“Sorry Scottie here doesn’t get out often” his friend quipped, which Scott appreciated actually, it helped him snap back to professionalism.
“Well I don’t either…at least I prefer not to.” Scarlett’s words flowed through the air like a flock of rose petals.
“Hey, kindred spirits.” Scott was really sensing a rising energy out of her, they had barely broken eye contact.
“Well, I’ll let you two have at it, I got a wife around here somewhere. Hey…Scott and Scarlett…not bad, not bad.” His friend exited stage right with a sly chuckle.
“Nice guy…so…what are you drinking, Scarlett?” Scott looked around for the emptiest corner of the rooftop bar, hoping to find a nice place for them to be able to hear each other. This night had just become something.
“That depends, Scott…what do you like?”
Oh man.
Well, as you can expect, the evening blossomed into a beautiful, long winded conversation that etched a long list of similarities between the two. They both lived in the city, had never married, and had dreamed of stable, simpler lives far away from tall buildings and busy streets. The next morning Scott awoke in her arms, which warmed much deeper than just his skin. He could feel her soothing his very identity, his future, everything. Her arms were tailor made to fit his very soul, and he had never felt more safe and at home.
“Mmm…you can stay right here…” she whispered, eyes still closed.
“I will…I will”
They both fell back asleep, into a dream that wouldn’t end upon waking.
Two years passed and suddenly they lived that simple backwoods life, way out where acres of land far out-populated the few and far between people. They took a lovely home, which happily looked over a long backyard, right up to a lively yet mostly undisturbed river. Their only neighbor within a mile was an older ranch worker named Charles, who rarely made himself perceivable. Days were spent way on into town where they both had offices. They didn’t mind the commute. Nights were spent mostly like this night, cuddled outside near a lovely little fire, with a slowly shrinking amount of wine sitting between them. Enjoying their Kingdom. Tonight, however, would prove to be a special night, for many reasons, all unexpected.
“Honey, I’ve been thinking…” Scott began, sitting up and opening his hands to the warmth of the fire.
“Oh?” Scarlett also sat up, eyes widening.
“So look, Scarlett, the last two years have been the best of my life. An absolute dream…”
She held her breath, her focus darting between his eyes and mouth.
“Yeah?”
“We have everything we ever want out here. But…what if there’s more?”
“More?” She had envisioned this very conversation hundreds of times.
“Our dreams have come true, but what if we…made some new dreams?” Scott turned and embedded his eyes into hers. He burst into a big smile.
“Scott…I thought…”
“Nevermind what I said” he cut her off, which he always made a point to never do, but this was a good exception.
“I’m ready, Scarlett…let’s have a family.”
“Ohhhh Scott, oh Scott”
They hugged tight enough to where it hurt.
“Well, in that case, we may need to open another bottle.” She said playfully, bouncing her eyebrows twice.
“Excellent. I’ll be right up. I’ll put this fire out and then start yours up.”
“Oh stop!” She bounded away girlishly, up the snowy back steps and into the house.
Scott let out a big sigh that he could see in the cold air and sat back in his chair, taking in his decision. He really was ready. He had secretly been keeping a long list of names that he liked and that he thought would work in front of Masterson. Especially little girl names. He stared into the campfire flames, getting lost imagining the three of them sitting right here, a little girl resting securely in Scarlett’s arms, as Scott had found himself, and stayed within these past two years.
Suddenly his trance was broken when, from the road in front of their house, came the sound of a vehicle approaching at high speed. Scott snapped his head back toward the house to get a better listen. He could see, around the house and through the trees, a large truck barreling down the country road, its headlights racing and bouncing with intensity. In an instant, it had passed up the road and out of sight.
“Huh?”
Soon, after a moment of silence, another sound echoed into the night. This sound rattled Scott to the bone and tore all that was right in his world into pieces. A sharp, bellowing squeal. His eyes shot over to his neighbors house, which was about a tenth of a mile to his right but still had a couple dim lights on that he could see. The shriek seemed to come from there.
Then, more squeals. It was hellish. More than animal but not quite human. Scott stood up. He heard crashing and tearing and further destruction coming from Charles’ house.
“Scarlett!! Scarlett!” He yelled toward his house, where he looked and could see her silhouette behind the curtains at the kitchen window. She didn’t seem to hear him.
He turned back toward his neighbors. The chaos had gone quiet. Not a half a moment after, though, he heard something big barreling through the trees as fast as that truck had been sprinting. Running, running furiously between the two houses. Searching, hunting. Scott was taken aback so hard that his heel had caught the edge of the fire pit, throwing him down only inches away from severe burns. He had knocked his head in the whiplash, making him groan and take a moment to regain his bearings.
“SCARLETT!!!!”
He screamed out toward his home as he sat up, rubbing a quickly rising bump on the back of his head. He heard a loud breaching on the side of his house. The patio door. No. No. Then, all hell broke loose. Scarlett started wailing and crying and he could hear crashes of plates and glasses and deep guttural roars coming from the kitchen inside. Shadows danced in a frenzy from the curtained windows. Sounds of instinctual survival seemed to be thrown from Scarlett inside. Sounds of defeat. Sounds of agony. Sounds of insanity. Scott sprang to his feet, his equilibrium being more damaged than he realized after his fall. He had to catch his hand on a chair to stabilize himself. Scarlett’s symphony of pain had gone quiet. Soon after something burst back out the patio door again and off in the same direction as that truck before.
Scott struggled back up to the house, slowly climbing the wintered, crunching stairs that led to the patio. He no longer yelled for Scarlett. In fact, the only thing that came to his senses was the sound of his own heavy breathing. Everything else had been turned off, save for a heavy and sudden dread that he had prayed he would never feel. He came to the side of his house where indeed the patio door had been busted and forced open. It laid inside the kitchen, its hinges snapped like toothpicks. Scott, with eyes wide and twitching, slowly entered his home and looked into the kitchen.
He didn’t scream. He didn’t even change his breathing. He didn’t blink. He just got a good long look at what laid before him.
Everything was broken. The fridge was on its side, the door hanging open and food and drink scattered all over the floor. The table was upended, its legs to the ceiling. A chair was resting on the counter, possibly having been thrown in defense. And Scarlett. Oh Scarlett. She…was…everywhere. She was all over the floor. She was sprayed against the walls. She was stuck to the window. She was in the sink.
Scott gently walked through the carnal mess and sabotage of his world. Long ago he had known exactly what he would do if something anywhere near this bad were to happen to him. He politely stumbled through the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bedroom. He opened his closet door and lowered a fire safe from the top rack. He unlocked it with a passcode. 511, after that warm May date when he had first met Scarlett. In the safe was a Sig Sauer P320 handgun. Scott took it out, along with a box of bullets, loaded one into the gun, put the safe back on its rack, and walked out of the closet, sitting on his bed. Their bed. Where they should’ve been laying right at this very moment, working toward a happy future. Where he would’ve kissed her forehead and put a hand on her growing midsection. Where they would have awoken on Christmas morning to the sound of children who were way too excited to remain asleep. Where they would’ve grown old. Where they would’ve smiled at each other through wrinkles, satisfied with all the love they shared and passed on to the next generations. Where they would’ve held each other in deep peace as they finally fell asleep to this world.
“I will…I will”
In one quick motion Scott pulled back the hammer and stuck the barrel of that pistol right up against his Governor and blew himself away, far away, right back into Scarlett’s loving arms.
Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett quickly yet stealthily made his way back to his Uncle’s house. He hugged the sides of the dark country road, keeping his eyes and ears wide open as to notice any sounds pertaining to the event that he had just witnessed there in the field next to the huge blaze. His only thought was Uncle Chuck. His house was right on the warpath of that horrible thing and Smallmouth had to go to him and make sure he was safe. He dared not go back to his truck, which would bring a lot of unwanted attention. No, Smallmouth walked and walked and finally saw the lights of his Uncle’s house. He carefully approached the front door from the shadowed driveway. Suddenly it occurred to Smallmouth that something was very wrong here. The door was busted in, having been plowed through by something very large and very strong.
“No…no…no”
Smallmouth slowly entered the house. The kitchen and living room were a disaster, chairs and tables and bottles strewn about and shattered. Bloody hoof-prints covered the floors, each of them the size of dinner plates. Smallmouth heard no noise. He felt himself well with tears, his nose a faucet that he began to sniff up as he worked his way through to his Uncle’s room, the door there also being broken in. A small whine growing in his throat, Smallmouth peaked into his uncles bedroom.
It was all in tatters. The bed had been attacked and shredded, the mattress being ripped up and thrown about as if it were made of cotton candy. More bloody hoof-prints were painted all over the brown carpet. Smallmouth trembled and put a hand up to his wet face. He didn’t see a way that his Uncle was anywhere near alive, knowing what he knew about the monster that had been in this house.
Smallmouth slowly walked to the living room, to the only little table that had been untouched in the attack. It was almost as if the bottle of whiskey teleported into his hand from the overturned cabinet, unopened. He fixed that real quick.
Soon he was several pulls deep of the only thing in the world that he knew would make him feel better, even if only for a few hours. He found his pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket and lit one up, although he was indoors. What did it matter? He sat in a chair that he had turned right side up and set the bottle on the table and looked out the back window into the pitch black. He cried for his Uncle and he cried for the world. He cried for himself. He cried for broken promises and his own weakness. He drank and drank until his vision shook from right to left everywhere he looked. At first he didn’t even notice the figures on the back porch. Then his vibrating focus did pick up on them, but by then it was too late. It was so dark out there but in their outlines he could see they wore long robes and hoods.
“HA!! COME AND GET ME! HAHA!! YOU COME AND YOU GET ME!!” Smallmouth boasted with a delusional amount of courage.
A creak escaped from the kitchen and he drunkenly slung his head over toward it. Three more figures stood there. Or was it just one? Smallmouth was none the wiser. All at once the hooded intruders from both inside and outside began to chant a strange, twisted rhyme in strikingly low and dissonant harmony:
“A sliver…of liver…goes down…with a shiver… …and gives…your gullet…to gall… …but drink…the Cider…that drowns…the Spider… …and you…will be free…of it all… …so tighten the grip…that loosens your lips… …O raise…the bottle…of brown… …and wake tomorrow…to find…in sorrow… …ANOTHER…SPIDER…TO…DROWN”
Smallmouth groaned at them in dissatisfaction and turned his bottle up again and began to chug the whiskey. As he did they repeated the chant except this time it was louder and closer. By the time Smallmouth had finished his bottle he was quickly losing consciousness. This wasn’t just whiskey. As he closed his eyes he felt hands grabbing him from all sides.
Smallmouth pulled open his sticky eyelids. His head felt like someone had bowled a strike into it. Wind froze his face. The smell of sickly, wet iron stung his nostrils. His vantage was higher than usual. Way higher. He was looking out into another field, but from easily ten feet up. He saw an old church, formerly painted white but now a flaky pale-beige. He heard the friction of a quick pull of rope below him, matched with a slight, tight pain at his feet. He looked down. A red-robed figure was fastening him against a wooden structure of some kind. His feet sat on a small flat platform perpendicular to a post that went from the ground up past smallmouths head. He couldn’t move his arms, so he quickly shot his eyes side to side. They were also tied to another horizontal post. A cross. He was being tied to a crude wooden cross. His shirt had been removed, exposing a hairy, overweight belly. Smallmouth tried to speak, but all that came out was a slow, unintelligible grumble. He was still drunk. No, this was more than that. He was under the influence of something strong and absolutely inhibitive. He wallowed again, and took in a deep breath. The smell of iron once again hit his nose. He looked down at himself. He was covered in a thick, red liquid. That wasn’t just the smell of iron. He had been splashed full body with blood.
“Now now, young servant…” the figure at his feet had finished his task and took a couple of steps out to admire his own handiwork.
“Ahh…perfect. The picture of martyrdom. Yes, you will always be remembered, Brother Bassett. You are to be the first Saint of The New Bible.” He opened his arms in his declaration.
Smallmouth looked up into the cold night sky. The moon shown down, giving everything a midnight spotlight. It was a gorgeous waxing gibbous, big and bright but not quite full. Yes, he was in a great big snowy field that housed an old worn down church. From the windows of the church he saw candles glowing, showing dark heads and shoulders looking out to him, also covered in loose hoods, hiding faces. He was hanging on a cross about one hundred feet from the old church. In front of the cross was a partially covered pit, a couple of two by fours supporting double armfuls of branches and dead leaves.
The figure at the base of the cross put his arms back to his side. He was still looking right at the drugged Smallmouth’s dumbstruck face. Even with a veiled mouth you could hear the twisted smile in his voice.
“Tonight you will help us finally defeat this legion, Smallmouth. You see, it may have the evil spirits within it, but at its core, it is still an owned animal. An animal that knows its Master very well. An animal that will remember the smell of its Master. You, my friend, are covered in its Master right now. And you are hanging on a cross, the symbol of this brute’s most hated enemy. But take heart, young Brother. Before you is our pit of spears. Yes you will attract the beast, but our Divine plan will intercept it and the beast will fall and be pierced. And then, oh dear brother, you will forever be immortalized. You will be purified in fire by the hands of your church brethren. Out of your screams and into the smoke the iniquities of all will be released. We will go on to preach your good example and your sainthood forever and ever.”
Smallmouth began to drool and hum pathetically. He could hear and understand the words of the robed man but he couldn’t fight back. His body was useless, limp inside its rope confines. All he could do now is think, and watch, and wait, and dread his fate.
The figure turned away from him, walking over near the pit and gathering up a bundle of brambles and throwing them over the last open area, covering it completely. He then crunched through the snow over to the front door of the old church, groaning open the door. He stood at the dark doorway for a few seconds in silence, and then began to make a noise. An over exaggerated pig squealing noise, high pitched and infuriating. Soon after other voices from inside the church began to do the same, their wailing echoing out of the building and all across the field, loudly signaling, calling out. It may as well have been a dinner bell. Not a half minute after they began the distress signal it was loudly answered by a distant squall. A furious squall.
This was it. Either way it happened Smallmouth was about to die. Experience terror, and then die, and not even have the ability to put up any kind of defense. It wasn’t fair. He just slowly lifted up his head and watched out far into the moonlit, white field. He then raised his heavy head further and took a good gander at the moon and stars for the last time.
“God,” he thought to himself, still having full inner monologue yet no outer motor function, “I am so sorry. I am so sorry for being what I am. I am so sorry for ending up in this place. It’s only my own fault. If it wasn’t for me being so stupid and messy and drunk and terrible then this wouldnt be happening to me.”
He began to shed tears that washed lines into the blood on his face.
“Please forgive me God. Please, please, please forgive me for all of my sins. This is it. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!!!” He yelled inside his own mind, hoping and trying to send his silent words as far up into heaven as they could go.
He lowered his eyes back to the ground. He looked over at the church again. The windows were empty, the candles were extinguished. Those hooded cowards were hiding from their own handmade sacrificial service. All was quiet for a long pause until a much louder, closer bleating began at the edge of the forest not even three hundred feet away from Smallmouth’s glazed over eyes. It was time, and it was too late for a miracle.
Out of the woods, slowly and heavily, stomped the massive hog. As it marched closer and closer Smallmouth could see its white, boiled over eyes and black-burnt skin. Its jaws were flying open and snapping its sharp, pocket knife-sized teeth together in an intimidating “clack”. It was now less than a hundred feet away, the dark old church to its right shoulder. It stopped, its pale glowing eyes fixed right on Smallmouth on the crude cross. It truly was a monster. It stood as tall as a man and as long as a canoe. Around its murderous mouth were stains of red, the remnants of all that it had taken from the world on this unholy night. In its clanging jaws were bits of flesh. It snorted and scowled.
Then, in a fury, it wailed that horrible squeal and started off into a dead sprint. It galloped and galloped toward Smallmouth at a high, blistering speed. It kept yawping and howling as it cut the distance from the cross down to fifty feet, forty feet, thirty, twenty. All at once it passed over the covered pit and plunged in. In his doomed, dead eyed stupor Smallmouth could hear what sounded like paint being dumped from a rooftop onto concrete. Trails of black liquid squirted and splashed up from the pit, which had been uncovered in the fall of the beast. Unbelieving, Smallmouth saw dozens of steel spear tips standing up from the dug-in ground. Right in the middle of them the beast was stuck. The sheer weight of the animal had caused the spears to pierce through its tough skin, sticking out of its back, soaked in black blood. One spear had stabbed right under the hogs chin, passing up through its jaws and out its black snout. It made agonized sounds. It roared and roared and shook the spears inside it, beginning furiously, then growing weaker and weaker within seconds. Finally, it let out one last weak little squeal, before it went still and quiet.
Smallmouth was frozen both physically by drugs and constraints and mentally by shock. His mouth hung open toward the pit of spears, his vision blurry. He took in a deep, troubled breath and let out a moan of disbelief and relief. The old church doors sprang open, and the sound of jubilation within flowed out into the night. The red robed figures flocked out of the building toward the pit, arms raised in celebration. They surrounded the hole, getting a good look at their success and their enemies defeat. Some held additional spears and began further stabbing the dead animal, causing more black blood to be shed up at them. They all yelled loudly and triumphantly. Some danced around the pit. Some skipped over to Smallmouth on the cross and danced around him, slapping his legs and spinning in circles.
Smallmouth looked on at the raucous celebration, both in utter disbelief of their trap actually working and also in turmoil. How long now until they fully execute their plan.
A taller robed man, whose voice matched the same one who spoke to Smallmouth as he tied his feet, spoke up, sounding almost happily intoxicated.
“Ahh yes my Brothers!! It is done!! We have won!!!”
They all whooped and cheered.
“Brother Norman, go into the church and bring me the small tank of fuel. Let us send our dear Saint Bassett to the Holy lands, where he will be adored for all eternity!”
They all clapped and hollered. One figure began childishly skipping away from the pit and over toward the front door of the church.
Then, it happened.
From the pit all of a sudden a great blaze erupted instantly. It stood as tall as the cross, and it burned a furious red and blue. It raged and raged, blinding Smallmouth and making him clumsily turn his face away from the heat.
All of the figures panicked, screaming and scattering away toward the church. They didn’t get far. Up from the fiery pit, dozens of long, long, black arms, adorned with six hooking claws emerged and stretched out of the flames and latched on to the legs of those trying to escape. Smallmouth heard crying and wailing from the men as the black, razor clawed-hands of the legion grabbed them and began pulling them back, into the blazes. One by one the red robed people were dragged into the flames, their clothes catching instantly. Smallmouth could see violently shaking bodies in the evil furnace. Oh, the screams. Above the tortured howling, the sound of laughing broke out. Deep, menacing laughter, hundreds of voices, echoed up into the air from the burning hole. Then, in one extinguishing squeeze, the ground swallowed the entirety of the fiery pit, leaving it completely covered in dirt, still and quiet. Soon after, and just like the pit of spears, the old church building caught in an instant and raging fire, quickly toppling the walls and dropping the steeple into its ruins. The smoke towered high in the night sky, which had just began to hint at a pale morning blue. Smallmouth hung on his cross in utter horror and surprise.
As the late evening hours glowed into early morning the smoke eventually tapered off, as Smallmouth’s drugs finally began to wear off as well. The fires of the church did garner long distance attention, though. Just as Smallmouth was able to regain control of his muscles and voice he heard emergency sirens call out into the cold morning air. Not long after, two fire trucks, an ambulance and a sheriffs truck tore into the field and toward Smallmouth on the cross. Not long after Smallmouth could feel the tied ropes being cut loose by firemen, their uniforms easily the best red clothes he had seen all night.
“What on God’s green Earth happened here son?” A bearded man with a dark hat and brown shirt and pants asked Smallmouth once he had been lowered down from the cross and sat on the ground with a shock blanket around his shoulders. The Sheriff, no doubt.
“God’s green Earth. It really is God’s, isn’t it?” Smallmouth whispered, staring out across the cold field. Then, at the very place he was staring, an old, familiar truck came barreling out of the gravel road in the woods and through the field in the steadily growing morning light. It was Uncle Chuck’s truck. It hurried over toward the other emergency vehicles, parked, the driver’s side door burst open, and Uncle Chuck came bounding out over to Smallmouth, his eyes wide and his mouth a wonderfully shocked “O”.
“JEREMY! JEREMY!!!” He basically fell on Smallmouth in a tight, warm hug. Smallmouth was caught off guard by Chuck using his real name.
His Uncle held him for several seconds and then let up, but kept his hands on Smallmouth’s shoulders.
“I thought you were dead.” Both of them said at almost the exact same time.
“I came back and your house was a mess and there was blood everywhere. I thought you were dead.” Smallmouth weakly spat out.
“Well, I woke up and you were gone, son, so I walked to the ranch to get my truck. I was worried bout ya son. I came back home and the whole place had been turned upside down. Blood on the carpet. I just thought the worst. Then I tried my neighbors house. Buddy, they’re dead. Looks like some wacko murder-suicide if I ever saw one. Scott probably tried to come kill us too and wrecked the place when he found it empty. I don’t know. But what I DO know is that you are right here! You are okay Jeremy!! Ahhh Praise Jesus!!”
“It’s not that, Uncle. That isn’t what happened out here. It’s..it was a..a, uh…”
Smallmouth’s fried brain couldn’t even comprehend what he had witnessed over the past few hours. It was all a violent blur.
“Dont worry bout it son, you can tell me everything on the way to the hospital. We gotta go get you checked out and cleaned up. C’mon.” He helped Smallmouth up and they walked over to the ambulance, his Uncle’s arm thrown around his shoulder.
Smallmouth would be sent home later that afternoon. It would take him and his Uncle a long time to sort through the chaos of that deadly night and rebuild their lives. But life kept on. Smallmouth would remain living with his Uncle, and would begin a job working with him down at the ranch. Together they started to attend a local church. Smallmouth never touched a drink or a drug or even a cigarette ever again, and remained steadfast in his newly revitalized faith.

I had been trying to get past an issue for what seemed like forever and I finally found what the problem was, so I wanted to share my experience in hopes that it might help other users.
The initial catalyst to this was my desktop environment completely freezing and becoming totally unresponsive (not even able to access another tty session). After rebooting, first the fedora loading screen starts acting strangely and refusing to start. This was pretty simple to get past just by removing rhgb from the kernel boot parameters and running fsck (which is what it was complaining about).
Once I was past this, a reboot got me to the graphical login screen. Only now, once I logged in, the screen went completely blank. I was however able to get to another session on tty4 so I could start looking around. What I kept seening via journalctl -xb -r was that there was an initial crash with xdg-desktop-portal followed by a crash with maliit-keyboard. After that almost being started for the session crashed or errored. This is what I would see first https://pastebin.com/iQV4N1sQ. Getting a backtrace via gdb got me this https://pastebin.com/05Qj1YEU.
I searched for reports of similar behavior but couldn't find anything. Next I started uninstalling or disabling things to get the system to a more "minimal" startup, but none of that worked. I realized then I had done all this in haste without first installing debugging symbols so gdb would actually be useful. After that, then the problem was staring me right in the face: https://pastebin.com/x8tD44Db
Specificaly this error message: "No GSettings schemas are installed on the system". That seemed odd to me because checking dnf list installed said I had gsettings-desktop-schemas already installed. I search around for this error message and find a few mentions of running glib-compile-schemas could help but more importantly, it is looking for schemas in $XDG_DATA_DIRS.
I glanced in my ~/.zshenv file and saw I had added this because I was trying to setup flatpak so I could install spotify (which I discovered didn't have an arm compatible build):
export XDG_DATA_DIRS=${XDG_DATA_DIRS}:/valib/flatpak/exports/share:${HOME}/.local/share/flatpak/exports/share
Here's what went wrong: I uninstalled flatpak, but still had this line in my ~/.zshenv file. When I checked what $XDG_DATA_DIRS was set to in my tty4 session, it was only those two directories. I commented out that line, rebooted, and boom working system again.
I checked the value in my terminal now that I was back in KDE and it showed what I would have expected to see: /usshare/kde-settings/kde-profile/default/share:/uslocal/share:/usshare
So, not sure exactly where those things collided with one another, but that's the issue I ran into and how I got past it and back to my working system. Hopefully it might help someone that finds themself in a similar predicament..

Alivia strapped her daggers to her thighs, ensuring the blades were easy to access without impairing her movements. It was hard enough to escape The Order alive, and after I met Richard, I swore I would never go back to my old ways. Now that he's gone, what else am I supposed to do?
Her short auburn hair framed the delicate features of her face, drawing attention to her eyes. Blue as sapphires, those eyes could distract almost as much as the rest of her body. The only thing that marred her beauty was a small scar running across her collarbone, a souvenir from a battle long ago.
She checked the fitting of her leather garb one last time before placing her short bow and quiver on her back, ensuring they were secure. I need to provide for my children. They’re all that matters to me, and I don't know what else to do.
Donning her balaclava, she stepped onto the windowsill. She took one last look at her children fast asleep, then leapt through the window, ready to begin her journey. I have to do this for you two. I would do anything to make you happy.
Alivia approached the mage's keep, leery of any magical traps that might give her away. The manse looked abandoned, with broken windows, chipped paint, and a sagging iron gate. With any luck, it would be empty, making for an easy job.
Even with that hopeful thought, she was just as careful as if it were guarded by a dozen men. She crossed the lawn, sliding into a basement window where the bars looked gnawed off by some sort of monster.
The room was damp, with racks of wine bottles splintered on the floor, their contents long seeped into the cobblestone. Alivia carefully stepped over the broken glass and splinters, making her way to the only door. She checked the door for traps and found a simple conflagration weave. Clumsily, she disabled the trap and stepped into the hall.
Blue light flashed across the ceiling. "Crap," Alivia muttered under her breath as she readied her bow. She wouldn't have missed the enchantment if she hadn't been so rusty. It was layered under the first weave, something only a novice would overlook. But she was no novice and had no excuse for the mistake. She slowly made her way down the only path, ever more careful now that her presence was known.
She came to an ornate door, symbols she couldn't recognize etched along the frame. A thorough check showed no traps. She stepped through, arrow nocked and ready.
An old man sat in front of a fireplace, the Tome of Flame resting on his lap. "So you're the mighty mage that lives in this pile of crap you call a home," Alivia said, sarcasm dripping from her lips as she stepped through the doorway, her arrow pointing at Rothgar. "I’ve come for the Tome of Flame. Just hand it over unless you want the last thing you taste to be my arrow."
Rothgar soaked in the heat from the fireplace, red mist swirling in his eyes. This was his sanctuary, and he would not tolerate intruders. Rage burned within as Rothgar spoke firmly, “You will never leave here alive. You have disgraced my wife's memory by entering this place!”
As the words passed over his lips, Alivia loosed her arrow and dropped the bow to draw her daggers. Her aim was true, but she had learned never to underestimate a mage.
The arrow flew straight for Rothgar’s head. He raised his hand and shot forth a ball of flame, disintegrating the arrow mid-flight. “You call that an attack? A kitten would put up a better fight.” Laughter echoed through each word to taunt her.
Before he could say anything else, Alivia was already on him, one dagger slashing towards his throat, the other stabbing at his ribs. Rothgar dodged the attack and threw out a quick wave of heat to distance himself from his attacker. Once distanced, he took in more heat and threw another fireball.
Alivia barely escaped behind a table as the fireball exploded on the wall behind her, throwing hot stone everywhere. She was going to have to be more careful not to underestimate the mage's speed and agility. That last mistake had almost cost her life.
She rolled from the table to a pillar, subtly throwing one of her daggers mid-roll. The table burst into flames as she eluded another of Rothgar’s fireballs.
Rothgar barely sidestepped the dagger as it flew past, cutting a shallow gash into his shoulder. Blood dripped from the wound. “Much better. You actually drew blood with that attack. This might actually be a decent fight after all.”
But even as he spoke those words, his eyes glazed over from the poison coursing through his veins. He fell to one knee and then toppled over onto his side. Alivia slowly approached the dying man, wary of a last desperate attack.
“I’ll be taking your tome now. Apparently, I need to have a conversation with my buyer. This was supposed to be a simple snatch and grab,” Alivia said coldly. She never wanted anyone to get hurt, but she had to do what needed to be done. Besides, her heart was long dead to the guilt of murder.
As she bent down to take the tome, Rothgar stared at her with a look of relief. With his last dying breath and a twinkle in his eye, he spoke. “I was too much of a coward to take my own life. Oh, how I have missed my dear Elizabeth. Thanks to you, I can finally see her again.” With those last words, he faded from this world, his soul finally free.

The episode faded back in to a shot of the Gaffers' platform being raised up to the roof by Scott, Ripper, and Chase as MK watched and Izzy walked over, wiping slime off herself.
"Uh, not to sound lazy," Scott said as he left the chain, "but I'm not feeling so good."
"You probably just have a cold," Izzy told him.
"Since when do colds have sores like this?" Scott followed up as he lifted his right arm and pointed to a round, reddish-brown spot on his elbow.
Izzy looked at him attentively and put her hand on his forehead. "Your body temperature is high, but it's possible that-" she was interrupted by a sudden burp from her teammate that caused her to cringe and take a step back. "Why does your breath smell like lemons?"
"Are you trashing my burps?" Scott asked in confusion.
"Hold on," Justin interrupted as the camera cut to him. "Red sores, fever, lemony burps? Aren't those symptoms of one of the diseases in the book?"
"Page 753," Millie exclaimed. "Mortatistical Crumples Disease!" She gasped. "And it's fatal!"
Everyone gasped. "Mortatistical Crumples is also highly contagious!" MK added, eliciting another gasp from most of the cast.
"Okay, looks like it's quarantine time!" Chris said, backing towards the door with barely-hidden panic. "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!" He gave them a quick wave, then dashed out the double door between the two vats. Both teams went over to it with shock on their faces as the sounds of power tools were heard on the other side.
The camera cut to Chris as he pounded a nail in with a hammer. It was one of many holding up a red banner with an orange skull-and-crossbones on it, set over several long pieces of wood that had been nailed up to bar the exit. "There's more to this disease than either team knows," he told the camera with an impish grin before walking away with a dark chuckle.
Another shot of the numbered studios was shown. "Hold on," Anne Maria spoke up as the shot cut back to the ten castmates in the challenge set. "How did Dirt Boy catch a fatal disease?"
“I'm sure it's just a twenty-four hour kind of fatal,” Scott hoped.
"We have to quarantine Scott! Stat!" Izzy said in a panic.
The camera showed Ripper furiously inflating a plastic bubble with a bicycle pump; the bubble had a yellow-and-black biohazard symbol on it. "Get inside now!" the bully shouted before Scott threw himself head-first into the bubble.
"Oh no!" Jasmine cried. "Brick has a sore too!" She pointed at the soldier boy's upper left arm, who took one look at the sore and began to wave his arm in a panic.
"It has to be a mistake!" Brick exclaimed.
"Hey!" Scott exclaimed from inside his bubble, another one getting inflated nearby. "Is there an exit to this thing?"
"There isn't one!" Ripper shouted as he continued to pump and Brick got into his bubble.
"Why didn't anyone tell me that before I jumped in?!" Scott griped.
“Okay, everyone just calm down!" Chase said.
"Agreed," Jasmine spoke up sternly. "We should make sure no one else is infected. Symptoms of Mortotistico Crumple's Disease include explosive diarrhea..."
"Oh no!" The camera cut to Chase as his bowels began to groan and he ran into a nearby portable toilet with a panicked look on his face.
"Itchy lips," Jasmine continued as the shot cut to Justin, who suddenly bit his lip.
"My… my lips," he moaned. "They're on fire!" He began to frantically rub and scratch at them, leaving them swollen and red.
"Sudden hot flashes," Jasmine listed off as MK began to sweat profusely and tug at her jacket. "Sea sickness," Ripper turned green and vomited. "Speaking in tongues," Izzy was the next to be affected as she babbled incoherently and indistinguishably with her eyes rolling upwards, which continued even as Jasmine listed the final symptom, "and temporary blindness."
"Everyone can see, right?" Jasmine asked as she checked over the castmates’ current states. "That's good to know," she said in relief before walking forward and bumping straight into Brick's bubble. "Oh no," she said in newfound panic. "I'm the one who's blind!"
Confessional: Anne Maria
"I know this is a reality show," Anne Maria told the confessional camera in a serious tone, "but I doubt that Chris would allow us to actually die on national television!"
Confessional Ends
The scene cut to Chris himself watching from his control room, leaning back in his chair with his legs propped up on the desk in front of him. "You'd think we wouldn't," he told the camera, "but, just imagine the ratings!"
Back in the quarantined set, the camera panned across the room to show that everyone except for Anne Maria, Millie, and the bubbled Brick and Scott were now laying on top of stretchers, groaning and moaning.
“This is super bad,” Millie said. “We have to do something.”
“Do you mean taking their temperatures, because we only have rectal thermometers, and I'm not in the mood to joke around with them,” Anne Maria responded.
“I wasn't even thinking about that at all,” Millie stated. “Joking with diseases is not funny at all.”
“Obviously, but have you noticed we're the only ones who didn't take part in the studying all-nighter, and we're the only ones who haven't been infected?” Anne Maria asked while looking over everybody.
“I'm not so sure about this supposed disease,” Millie mused. “We need to get our hands on one of those textbooks. There has to be something they missed.”
“I’d do it if Chris didn’t seal off the only exit,” Anne Maria argued.
"There’s another exit over there," Millie pointed to the Grips' platform, which was now sitting on the floor empty of body parts. The chain still led up to a hole in the ceiling where the reel was situated.
"Oh yeah. How in the world did I not notice that?" Anne Maria droned sarcastically before the two made a dash for the platform.
"I still haven’t forgotten you pushing me off the diving board a few days ago, so don’t think I’m scared of pulling the platform as high as possible," Millie informed as they stepped onto the platform and pulled down on the chain, making them ascend.
The footage flashed forward to the outside of the studio as the two girls jumped down from a ladder on the wall of the building. “You grab a textbook, I'll look in the kitchen,” Millie instructed before they split off in opposite directions.
Confessional: Millie
"I really hope that the disease is fake," Millie explained in the make-up trailer. "There were some diagnoses and symptoms in the textbook that I've never heard of before, but I've studied a lot about diseases to be familiar with a selective few."
Confessional Ends
Back inside, Scott was shown to be rolling around in his bubble. "How long has it been since I got in this bubble?" he groaned.
"I don't want to hold onto my bladder for more than an hour!" Brick cried while covering his groin with both hands.
"My lips," Justin groaned on his stretcher. "Of all places, why my lips?"
"I'd kiss them to make you feel better, but I'm not a princess and you are not a frog," MK said, sitting up on the stretcher next to him; Jasmine and Chase were visible in a row behind them. "And even then, I am not an animal kisser."
Ripper was sitting against one of the walls, writing something on a piece of paper with a bucket of vomit next to him. “To my parents; don't let my brothers keep the money I've taken from weaklings in the past.” He paused to throw up into his bucket before writing again. “To my brothers; don't even think about stealing my stash from me, especially you, Wolfgang! From your best son, Richard Kennedy.”
The double doors between the vats were thrown open by Millie and Anne Maria. The camera pulled out as the other cast members moaned, and the two young women stepped into the room – the Jersey girl holding a textbook, and the author with some kind of canister.
"Who's there?" Jasmine asked.
"Simmer down, everyone," Anne Maria said. "We're just here to expose the truth about these textbooks, which are actually bogus." She held the book she'd brought up, and easily tore the cover off it. "The book covers are just cereal boxes." Her bowels started to growl, and with a panicked look, she dropped the book and ran towards the portable toilet. "I'll be right back!"
"It can be a crock," Jasmine sat up on her stretcher. "Nobody's faking the sickness!"
“No, but it's still untrue,” Millie interjected. “I just went to Chef's kitchen, and I found this "cheese". The camera focused in on the canister in her hand as she held it up, showing that it had an image of a cheese wedge on the label.
"Uh, what is in that parmesan?" Brick wondered innocently.
"It is not cheese, but it is," Millie tore off the label to reveal a second beneath it with an image of scratching hands on it, "itching powder and laxatives!"
"Chef!" Brick muttered under his breath. "Why did he not inform me?"
It was then that Anne Maria burst back out of the portable toilet followed by a cloud of foul odor. "That explains the diarrhea and itchy lips."
"And I didn't get sick since I'm the only one who didn't eat the pizza," Millie added.
"What about the sores on Brick and Scott?" Chase asked.
"As for those," Millie laughed lightly, walking over to her quarantined teammate. "They're just pepperoni pieces that got stuck on you when you likely fell asleep."
Brick reached over to touch his sore, and it peeled off easily. "She's right!"
Scott also touched his own sore and it also peeled off quickly. "I was suckered! Now can somebody let me out of here now?"
"So wait," MK spoke up, "the disease is fake?"
Jasmine was the first to react, sitting up and blinking. "By golly. I'm not blind anymore!"
"And I can talk normally!" Izzy cheered.
"And I'm not gonna throw up anymore!" Ripper added. "We've been cured!"
"Could I be let out now?!" Brick pleaded. "I have some urgent business to take care of!"
"I'm comin’," Anne Maria rushed over to the bubble and simply popped it with her fingernail. Both of them winced as the bubble burst, and Brick immediately rushed over to the portable toilet.
"And don't forget about me as well!" Scott spoke up, rolling his bubble into the middle of the room.
Izzy took out a pin, popping her teammate's bubble. “This was all first year med school syndrome!” she said. “Too much studying and too little sleep can make you think you've got every disease in the book!”
"Congratulations, Killer Grips!" the voice of Chris McLean came suddenly, the camera pulling out to show the host descending from the ceiling on another chain. "You just won the challenge!"
The five Grips began to cheer and celebrate. "Brilliant diagnostic skills, Anne Maria and Millie. Way to suss it out. And, for your reward," Chris continued, frowning and looking down at his empty hands. "Knew I forgot something. Just a sec!" he said before stepping back onto the chain's foothold and raising back out of the room.
Confessional: Anne Maria
"This challenge was certainly… something," Anne Maria confessed. "I can't believe that I had to play the role of doctor just to tell everybody about the so-called disease being a lie. Who knew tainted pizza could make you have hot flashes and sea sickness?”
Confessional Ends
"One thing's for sure. I'm double checking my food from now on if I want to prevent temporary blindness or having to speak in tongues," Jasmine told the Grips as the footage cut back to them.
“Once again, the pizza was too good to be true,” Brick commented. “You made a good call not eating any slices, Millie.”
“I had no idea that there were laxatives put onto it,” Millie claimed. “If I wasn't so invested with the book, I'd probably eat the pizza and fall victim to the sickness just like you guys.”
It was then that Chris returned, descending down on the same chain as before but now carrying a covered platter. "As I was saying," he said as he walked towards the Grips, "for your reward!"
He removed the cover and the camera zoomed in on what lay beneath – five picture frames, three in back and two in front, each containing a photograph of a different person. The first on the left was a light purple cat. The second was a confident-looking Hawaiian woman with black long hair wearing a yellow tracksuit and red hoop earrings. In the middle was a teenage girl, pale with brown hair tied in a bun and a beige tank top. Fourth was a smiling white man; he had no hair, had golden dog tags around his neck, and was dressed in a dark green military outfit. And on the right end was an elderly black man with white curly hair, a white mustache covering his mouth, and a dark orange collared long-sleeved shirt.
"That's my cat Whiskers!" Jasmine said excitedly as the shot panned across the photos.
"And that's one of my girlfriends Vanessa," Anne Maria declared.
"Yup!" Chris told them. "One of you gets a whole spa night away from this cruddy studio lot, with your very best friend! So, who's the lucky stiff?"
“I'd kill for a spa day, even if it's with my mom, so how about letting me have it?” Justin smiled widely at his team.
“I have some things I want to talk about with my father,” Brick suggested.
“Now wait just a minute…” Jasmine interrupted as she, Brick, and Justin started to argue over who should get the prize.
“Can all of you shut up!!” Anne Maria ceased the fight, causing everyone to look at her. “As much as I would love to be away from this trashy film lot, I say we should let Millie have the reward.”
"Wait, me?" Millie asked in astonishment. “How come?”
"Clearly, you did the most research out of all of us, and you won the challenge for us," Anne Maria answered.
“You did say that the person who contributes the most should claim the reward,” Brick brought up.
“And with you also not eating that pizza, you've certainly earned that spa night,” Jasmine smiled.
“I don't want to be left out, so okay then,” Justin agreed with a shrug.
"Chris, the Killer Grips came to a decision," Anne Maria said before giving Millie a light shove forward.
"W-wow," Millie said softly as she began to tear up. "This is really generous!"
“Just accept the offer before I trade places with you,” Justin said.
"Eeeuuughh," Chris said in disgust. "Clean up on aisle two!" he called, and moments later, a pair of young white men in white work outfits walked through the open door, one of which carried a push broom. They disappeared off-screen for a moment, then reappeared with one pushing Millie towards the door and the other sweeping up after.
"Thank you for allowing me to take the reward!" Millie said as she allowed herself to be escorted out, wiping away her tears with her hands.
The scene cut outside as Millie walked up to the beaten-down Lame-o-sine. The door opened, and she smiled and stepped inside.
"Granddad!" the writer said happily as the shot moved inside to show her hugging the white haired old man who had been seen in one of the pictures. "I've really missed you!"
"I missed you too, Millie," the man said as he hugged his daughter. "Don't get my favorite shirt wet now. I got it dry cleaned."
"Sorry," Millie said as they broke their hug. "I have a lot to talk to you about ever since I competed in the first season."
Her grandfather smiled proudly. "Spill the details. I can tell you had a ball, but don't blame me if I start to doze off more than I do while writing best selling books."
"I'm not that boring!" Millie laughed cutely. "So it all started when I was dropped off on the dock..."
"Sheesh," Chris cringed as the scene cut to him in his control room. "Talk about a loving family! Hopefully they'll get their dullness smoothed while they're at the spa." He pulled a lever on the desk, cutting the monitor feeds to static, and stood up. "So, will the Grips' winning streak last? Or will they fall apart and lose their teamwork? Find out next time, on Total! Drama! Action!"
(Roll the Credits)
(Bonus Clip)
“That spa night was amazing!” Millie told the camera while in the trailer. “The manicures and pedicures were to die for, and the facials and mud bath really smoothened the rough parts of my skin. Granted, this spa night wasn't as fun as the two-day resort back in Camp Wawanakwa, but thankfully, I didn't have to eat any disgusting food this time, so that's an upside. Want to know something interesting? Granddad was more into the spa treatments than me, but don't tell him that I said that to you,” she added with a giggle.
Eva - 14th
Geoff - 14th
Izzy - RETURNED
Trent - 12th
Sky - 11th
Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Brick, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper, Scott

Sightings of the other
Walking along a haunted river
You hid in plain sight
Learned my language
Even when the rest sneered at you in spite
I hold your disfigured hand
They sigh
She must be just as fucked inside
Your lips are charcoal
Cracked
Smokey
And taste unholy
A pendant surrounds my neck
Promising me to a sacred man
A celibate delicacy
A flower symbolic of diplomacy
But internally
Im permanently
Marked
With your divine Cautery
We make love in a death bed
You laugh
We thrive in Shelley and Percy etiquette
In the moonlight we wander
Those in the daylight wonder
But we are
Something
Like no other***

So i use an external keyboard no my windows 11 laptop to play games beacuse I just find it more better to play with. I was using it one day and whenever I press the a letter the euro symbol comes up (€) and opens the windows menu. I've tried re-installing the drivers and everything but nothing works. Please help.

He waited to call me, he literally thought about my sleep and that he’d called to wake me up a couple times already this past week so he thought no I’ll let her sleep and call at a more normal time. Is he not the most thoughtful thing? My baby. He woke me right out of a dream, it was an odd one which I cbf going into, but I was making a friend in it, I don’t know who but the dream was partly me trying to be friends with this other girl. Maybe it’s a sign I’ll find a new friend soon :) Anyway so he called and we chatted while he finished making up his keyboard. It sounds so good, like sooooo good. Like creamy marbley rain drop goodness. It’s funny because I thought his last keyboard sounded delicious, but in comparison to the new one the old one makes me envision large spiders tip tapping along a corrugated iron roof. Whereas the new one sounds like sitting by a fire with a hot chocolate with marshmallows and being read a story while the rain pitter patters outside. I wonder if this new one will sound like spiders whenever he makes a newer one? I’m truly such a fickle thing. They all sound good though, obviously. He said how when we live together he’ll make one for me! Or rather he’ll guide me through the process, because I need to pick the sounds and colours and feelings out. I’m not sure what I’d like it to be like, I’ll have to start thinking. I flip between wanting something cute, like a pink one with strawberries and hearts and glitter and then a sleek, profesh looking one. A light one? Or a dark one? And I have no idea about the sounds, but he’ll help me. And then we can make it up together! It sounds so fun, I really can’t wait. Anyway so he called and it’s still my favourite way to wake up.
Then we hung up and I was laying in bed debating whether I should get up or doze and I ended up having dirty lil thoughts about him… twice. I can be so boring with my lil fantasies now, I can’t entirely remember now what I thought about but it was just us two. I think he thinks I think about someone else involved more than I do, I definitely do but nowhere near as often as just him. I sound like a total creepy perve but I’ve even thought about just him… but I’ll be dead and buried before I ever tell him that. And that saying something because I think I’d like to be cremated… TBD on that. But so anyway, thinking about just me and him is always my favourite and works the fastest every single time. My honey baby handsome man.
I truly have a life full of first world problems, it makes me feel so guilty sometimes. I say sometimes because I only think about how lucky I am sometimes, which makes me feel even more guilty. There are SO many horrible awful things happening in the world to people who absolutely do not deserve a hair on their heads touched.. and here I am lambasting my cuticles for being in good condition after I bought some products to tidy them up. I just caught myself out before, I was looking at my cuticles and was negatively thinking about how clean they look lately - I’m not surprised I found a way to be negative about something good. They definitely need some nourishment and cuticle oil and things, but they’re so clean and neat? Why? I haven’t done anything? Anyway I caught myself looking at them thinking ffs why do they look nice I need to fix them - firstly that makes no sense and secondly it hit me a second later how terrible it was. And then the guilt washed over me and there are children dying across the world for no reason and here I am critiquing my cuticles. I truly don’t think I deserve the air I breathe sometimes. More than sometimes. I know I’m not a person that adds anything to this world, if anything I just take from it by worsening the health of the planet with the plastic, travel etc etc I do. I do my best to save bees who look sickly? That’s about it. I don’t bring joy to anyone else - I mean I make Andy miserable, I probably stress and worry my parents… I think the only one I bring any semblance of joy to is pups because I play with him and take him for walks and cuddle him and I won’t move an inch if he’s comfy and I’m not. Other than that… I offer nothing. So like I said, I am drenched in guilt. I wonder how I can change it? Or how I can offer more? I just feel like I have nothing to actually offer, even if I gave everything up. I guess physical labour…? But even then, I’m not strong and my hand skin is so sensitive so I can only really do so much before it hurts and gets bad. But I guess if I wasn’t being selfish I would ignore my skin, wouldn’t I? I would really like to volunteer. I used to a bit here and there, before I really got bad with my mental health. Not a lot but sometimes. I’d like to make it more of a regular thing - it’s something I’ve talked about in therapy about it being a part of the life I’m working towards. I’m thinking once every three weeks or so, so still nothing impactful but it’s something? I think I’d like to volunteer at an animal shelter, I wouldn’t mind even cleaning up their little areas and things, idk why but I don’t find animal stuff gross whereas I do people stuff. Then again I’ve only had to clean up after an animal I love with my whole heart so maybe it would be different for other ones, I could do it though. Or I’d like to volunteer at a retirement home, or visiting elderly people at their own homes. Just spend time with them, it makes my heart hurt to think of how lonely some of them can be and coming from someone who feels extremely lonely I would want to lessen that - especially in their final years. They’re the main places I’d like to volunteer. I’ve done time in “soup kitchens” here and in the UK, which I enjoyed, I only worked in the kitchen though helping prepare things and cleaning up - every time I wasn’t allowed out the front to serve, which is weird because I have LOTS of experience with that sort of thing? The way they implied it was that I was a young woman, but still? I guess 99% of those visiting there would be fine but maybe 1% wouldn’t be? Still though. Anyway I’d like to volunteer more. I need to learn to be comfy leaving the house first, maybe get my social anxiety under control a little more but I don’t need to be perfect because doing these things will help my issues. What else could I do? I donate to charities and have for years, sometimes I’ve had monthly deductions, sometimes I just donate on a whim. Like that fresh water one, I can’t remember the name off the top of my head but every few months I impulsively donate $100 or so. It’s not enough though, I should be better. I just get suss of the charities themselves and I don’t know how much actually goes to the cause, like I know they need to fund admin costs which makes sense but anyway. I just don’t have any skills, so other than vague stuff there’s not any real impact I can offer. Andy for example, he’s so talented and clever and creative, I bet he would have ways to make an impact. Like if he was to visit elderly people it would be SUCH a success as he’s so chatty and personable and kind and lovely and everything that’s good, so he would keep them entertained and ask the right questions. Whereas I’m not a talker so I would be awkward and quiet and they would have to lead the conversation and they likely don’t want that, unless I asked to be paired with chatty kathys of course. My nana was like that, you ask one question and she won’t stop talking for an hour. At least from memory, I don’t remember so well as I was littler. Hm. Anyway. I just feel like I’m a big time detractor of the world. That’s kind of a good villain name, The Detractor. Another way I can offer more is to be better, for example if I’m better then I don’t make Andy miserable which means he would feel more encouraged to live his life happily which would therefore positively affect everyone who comes into contact with him, which I know happens now anyway but maybe if he has a supportive loving girlfriend it will be even more so? Like I can be a lil battery for him, because I don’t really like interacting with others too much, or I do but I don’t like to be an active member, I like to listen and observe and chime in every now and then. None of this makes sense. But if I’m better then that has a positive effect on people around me. That’s what I’m trying to say. I’m always polite though, like if I take the bus I always say thank you when I hop off, I always say thank you when a waiter refills my drink or puts down my cutlery or whatever else. Even when I don’t want to talk at all and an Uber driver clearly does I will chat away even though my social battery is running on fumes because I don’t want them to feel rejected and maybe they need to chat, even if it’s about nothing. I always put supermarket trollies back into their homes. I never litter. I hold doors open for people, but only when it means they won’t have to do an awkward run for it because that’s not polite that’s annoying. So I think I’m polite, but a polite person does not make a good person - and I am not a good person. Or a worthwhile one.
So far this morning I have chatted to Andy, got up and made a strawbs smoothie, did a lil kitchen clean/tidy up, went back to lay on my bed but not IN bed and I read for a little bit, I journaled the bit up there and now I’m watching some YT. I’m really trying to stretch out my read time of this book, I’m excited to get into HP after this one but I also don’t want to let go of this world and these characters yet, even though it’s a reread. I’d like to have a productive day but I’m also going to let myself do whatever I fancy… I hope I fancy being productive.
I wound up reading/watching about those body and face types again, because a YT video came up as suggested. Anyway, so apparently you can be more yin or yang and I’m a definite yin. Yang is more angular, sharp and blunt whereas yin is soft, rounded and curved. I also feel like I’m a yin person, I was reading about that recently, I think I need to actively work to have more yang in my life in order to be more balanced? I mean these descriptors? Negative, passive, feminine, dark, cool, soft, reflective, still, calm, nurture, quiet, introspective, prefers solitude, cautious etc. Hellllllllllllo. Whereas yang is more embodied by words like active, light, warm, outgoing/sociable, masculine, direct, expressive, loud, restless, productive, growth, passion etc. Things that don’t really describe me. So I think maybe in that sense I’m imbalanced. It seems I’m imbalanced in everything, so that’s great. Excellent, even. I feel like Andy is 100% the yang to my yin. Maybe that’s a factor in why we work well? We balance each other? I think he has a mix of both though, he’s much more balanced. I was about to write “he’s perfect” but I am also a biased, love sick girl soooo… but I think we balance each other well, no? Anyway I’m reading more about yin vs yang and I definitely need more Yang in me because these are all yin:
Signs of “excess” in yin: * Oversleeping * Overthinking * Slow thinking * Sluggishness * Laziness * Compulsive behaviour * Lack of motivation * Apathy * Overeating :(
Versus yang that lists things like anger, restlessness, violence, frustration, inability to relax & let go, insomnia, addictions, need for constant stimulation, regular headaches etc.
And “personality traits” in yin: * imagination * peacefulness * wisdom (not for meee) * relaxation * satisfaction (?) * persistence (only with some things) * introversion
Versus yang that lists things like action, ambition, courage, adventurousness, extroversion, getting things done etc.
And “activities” for yin: * yoga * tai chi * slow walking * golf * qi gong * weight lifting * stretching
Versus yang that lists things like cardio, running, fast dancing, wrestling, hiking, swimming, biking etc.
Anyway I know this is all just one of those things, but also it makes total sense. But this reminds me of the therapy lesson where I learned I like these sorts of things, similar to the Myers Briggs thing etc, because I don’t really know who I am and so I find being grouped into a category really affirming and makes me feel less… outsidey. Which is a thing for me as I don’t easily click with people, I can get along fine with more or less anyone but I don’t genuinely enjoy the company of just anyone and I find it very difficult to be myself with just anyone, I have some form of a wall up with everyone bar a couple of people like my parents, Andy, M and K to an extent. But it also depends, if I don’t spend time with someone for awhile my walls go back up. It’s a huge reason why I don’t really enjoy social things, if it’s a one on one thing I can but in a group? Even with the girls from work who I know well, but I can’t relax and I don’t enjoy myself at all. I try to but I just feel like I’m outside of the bubble. But so anyway all that is why I gravitate towards these groupings of personality, even looks like the fact I was watching a video about face/body types which is why I started this paragraph. I like being able to see examples and do a quiz and find out I’m whatever and then seeing similarities in others who are in the group. It makes me feel included and less alone. It basically all comes down to the fact I always feel like I’m on the outside, of everything. I don’t feel included in anything really. Which comes back to my self esteem/self worth… or lack thereof. I’m wondering when I’m meant to be getting more of that btw, like WHEN? It’s the root of all my issues. Mostly.
I’ve been wondering if I should consider lightening my eyebrows… that sounds kinda crazy, well crazy in the land of eyebrow stuff, but idk. I have warm brown hair… but basically black eyebrows? It’s weird and I’ve always hated it. I know eyebrows always lean cooler than the hair on your head, so that’s natural, but idk, it’s just my hair is so warm and my brows so cool - it’s always irked me. I’ve never quite realised it was that though, I just always thought something was off, but I’m now starting to wonder if my brows should be ever so lightened. I never even thought of it as a potential solution til I saw some girl doing it and it gave her a much softer look. I know they also need to be darker by a shade or two, well they don’t NEED to be but that’s generally the natural look and I only want a natural result. So a deep brown? Because right now they’re damn near black. And I find the black jarring against my fair skin too, I like having dark brows - I would hate to have light/fair brows, and dark brows are supposedly wanted because they make the person with them appear younger, or rather fair brows can age a face. So I like that mine are dark… I just want them MAYBE a fraction lighter. But the idea scares me! Because if you bleach them then anything you add on top will likely lean super warm and idk. So idk how I’d even go about it. The woman I watched doing it on YT just used an at home bleach kit or something and she used it several times so I guess it won’t do much but still… I’m scared :(
I set up my new monitor!!!!!!!!!!! By myself!!!!!!! I know how tiny it is but I’m still so pleased with myself. I felt so embarrassed telling Andy, or less embarrassed and more silly/stupid I guess. Like it’s such a nothing thing but idk, I was nervous and I wrote out a step by step list to work through so I wouldn’t get overwhelmed and things while doing it. And when I say step by step I literally mean:

1. Unwrap the boxes and take each item out
2. Make sure to keep them in their own little areas and don’t mix them up
3. Clear my desk of everything
4. Clean my desk
5. Set up the new monitor with the stand
6. Place both monitors on the desk
7. Plug both monitors into power source
8. Put laptop on the desk
9. Put the HDMI connector usb into the laptop
10. Put one monitor HDMI cable into the laptop, as normal
11. Put the other monitor HDMI cable into the connecter
12. Connector should be connected to laptop with only one external HDMI a cable inside
13. Turn on my laptop and see if they all connect up - don’t stress if they don’t
14. Play around/google/ask Andy if any issues
15. Arrange my new desk! Try use the cable tidy things and make it nice.

So I mean, an absolute step by step. It didn’t cover all the steps as I forgot about the mouse parts and things. But anyway I did itttttt. I need to move the stuff around though because they’re too far apart but I’ll do that tomorrow. I also need to work out how to add an extra plug so I can charge my laptop too as there’s not enough plugs.
I asked him if he wanted to watch Bridg erton and I wish I hadn’t because he feels weird about it. I only asked because idk, wishful thinking? I want to watch it with him :( From season one, obviously. Idk I know he doesn’t want to so I won’t push it, but I want to show him shows I love too. I just like regency era stuff like this and idk. I shouldn’t have asked, now he thinks I want to watch with someone else? Like… who? I guess mum or M. But why get suss about that. Anyway. I guess I’ll watch it by myself, like I expected. I can’t wait for the music. And the costumes!!!!!!!! My favourite. Anyway idk. I just want to share things I love with him the way he does with me.. but maybe I just don’t like anything he’ll like?
I want the Laura Mercier strawberry blush a lot :( But I’m really trying to not buy makeup I don’t need and I already have 30-odd blushes which I don’t get enough use out of, including LM ones. But it’s such a pretty colour!!!!!!!!!!!!! I wish I had a trillion dollars so I could have all the colours and formulas my little heart desired. But also in saying that I love the idea of being one of those women who have one makeup bag and everything fits inside, and they have maybe one or two shades or blush/lip colour and the rest is just one. It seems so easy and simple and I would really like to be like that but I am definitely not like that at all. I’m slowly learning to be more like that with skincare because that’s how it should be, but makeup…? Even though I don’t wear a lot I just love having it and looking at it. Like I just swiped some highlighter on my hand the other day to look at how shimmery it was, I didn’t apply it to my face, I just had a tiny swipe on my hand and I’d just look at it now and then. I only do that with highlighter though obviously and I love shimmery glittery sparkly things. Mum has always called me a magpie for a reason.
He’s asleep. I miss him. I can’t wait til we live together and when he’s asleep and I’m not and I miss him I can just go snuggle in next to him for a while. But not too close, as he gets too hot. I also don’t want to wake him. The idea of him doing the same with me makes me feel like floating on a cloud. And the time he said he’d still cuddle me to sleep even when he was on a different sleep cycle to me??????? Still obsessed. I wonder if that was a turning point in when my feelings were developing? I know I already fancied the hell out of him, I did from the beginning and I fell so hard and so fast for him. But I wonder if when he said that it was one of those moments that cemented him as the kind of man he is? Or rather the kind of partner he’d be? Because I’ve always wanted someone that cares about what makes me happy and I mean let’s not beat around the bush, I’ve not had a relationship where that’s been a priority to them. So the fact he knows I love being held and cuddled and I would sometimes miss it when he slept differently but if I wanted it he’d come to bed and stay with me til I fell asleep or close enough. And the fact he didn’t see it as anything special, it was just a normal thought to him?! It’s such a minor thing in comparison to everything else he has done for me and everything he has been to me and everything he’s helped me through, but it’s just a little thing that means everything. Anyway.
I watched wish with M tonight, it wasn’t good. I just can’t get on board with the latest movies of theirs lately, they’re just so bleh. The music isn’t right - there’s nothing magical about it and I wonder if it’s because they seem to hire pop music people not composers and things now? And the animation is never 2D anymore, which tbh I understand and that’s purely nostalgia of mine than anything bad but the animation doesn’t feel magical either anymore. Apart from some of the scenes were beautiful. Anyway.
I think I’ll stop now. It’s 9:30 so it’s too late for to start BT so I think I’ll read for a lil bit then go to sleep soon. Night night

Programming on a non-English keyboard is absolutely ridiculous, since all the common programming symbols require shift-altgr-combinations. So when creating a non-English interface, you're constantly spamming the switch-language function.
About 2-3 years ago, I found an old forum post about a workaround using two programs. Autohotkey, and one other program. I don't remember the name of the second program, and haven't been able to find the thread again.
The second program was something thrown together by a single guy. It works by "intercepting keystrokes before the keystrokes are actually interpreted by windows", and turning each keystroke made on your 2nd keyboard into some really obscure character which isn't supported in most windows programs.
Then, you use AHK to re-map each of those obscure characters into the characters you want. Just write a macro triggered by each given keystroke, to generate the correct character as an emulated keystroke.
So if you press the Danish Ø key on keyboard 2, windows WOULD have interpreted this as : when your input language is set to English. But instead, this key press gets turned into [insert random character] before being interpreted by windows. When AHK detects [insert random character] being pressed, this triggers a macro to generate an emulated Ø key press.
Does anyone know about that second re-mapping program?
-----
https://www.autohotkey.com/boards/viewtopic.php?style=7&t=6563
https://web.archive.org/web/20150608092136/http://ahkscript.org/boards/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=5953
It was exactly what these two threads were trying to do, but the thread did end up being 100% successful. God, I wish I hadn't crashed my old hard drive & lost that info.
I did find one other workaround, https://www.codeproject.com/Articles/20994/Using-multiple-keyboards-with-different-layouts-on. This program, however, works by switching between languages after the fact.
This means that:
1) The first keystroke is always wrong.
2) It doesn't work in some situations such as when using console windows.

Authors note: sorry about the long as all hell wait for this one. I work in retail management and the start of the spring is always a massive rush.
[First]/[Previous]
Memory transcription subject: Zevek, deeply moved Venlil
Standard date: September 4th 2136
I blubbered weakly, whimpering to myself in the weak light of my room. Overcome with a level of raw emotion that came a from a source that I would've never imagine.
wrong...everything we've been told about the humans was wrong...they are so much more than beasts..so much more than just some...curious quirk of biology...no more than a true people could craft a story so...moving.
I wiped away the last of my tears credits for the human movie BladeRunner slowly scrolled up the screen. "He...just wanted to be a person.." I whined in the dark, still trying to wrestle with my own about the past claw. I had been arrogant, foolishly confident in myself when I had first started. The humans had a level o cultural diversity that was head spinning merely on the surface. So much to just, and so much I simply just lacked the perspective to fully understand. The sight of their raw, unmolested eyes at the beginning had me a shaking wreck in my seat, but soon the events that unfolded simply had me too enamored. The pride I felt from braving such a hurtle was quickly drowned by the tale that unfolded...But once I was working into the depths of their media was when things truly began to spiral into an utter journey, one that had only begun. I had begun with simply searches that went along with my own expertise. Mainly engineering and machine learning tech, and promptly into a treasure trove of stories and media that kept following this trend that kept coming up with these apes.
Duality. so much hate, yet raw love, so much violence, yet so many tales of peace and empathy. This species was utterly madness, one moment is brutality, mercy, forgiveness..it simply made no sense..I...have to know more, not enough data...
"Ok." I huffed to myself as I slid the movie application out of the way. "Let's see how else these humans entertain themselves." I began to work away at my interface, punching in simply 'games' into the search bar. Naturally a veritable wall ran into me and I began to move my way through it with a care, until I came across a video...of some kind...battle simulation...My tail curled in confusion as one human was visible in some kind of smaller box, judging from features the human seemed young. My spine still try to rattle out of my back at those bright green pools that were blazing with an almost manic focus. I took another long breath, paws balling up on my desk, biting down on the instant reflex to dive under the desk. Sure...I've learned to brave it...sort of. The main screen of the footage, show some kind of heads up display. The long powerful arms of a human clutching a weapon that bobbed with the gait of the bouncing view. Clearly thi-
"Got a guy on your left main hall!!" I jump at the sudden urgent bark of another human voice, nearly falling out of my chair. The human on screen seemed to barely react, but this...simulated human he was controlling suddenly whirled in the given direction. The firearm snapped up to the sights with blinding speed, the weapon barked, cutting down another virtual human in mere seconds. There was some kind of odd chime and above the body a human set of numbers popped above the head, adding to the score at another corner. "Good tap, dude was trash..."The worlds were lightning, the choppy and quick barks between hunters on the move, the human not even breaking his stride as he piloted his avatar. I sat by in my seat, ears flicking at the sounds, enamored I let this video play. Watching how the human so efficiently and rapidly maneuvered through structures and streets with ease, slaying other digital humans. it was brief but the context was clear.With shaking paws I type into the search bar again, the words smashed out with ease.
-[Strategy, combat simulation game]-
There was another flood of entries, several of them showing many such titles...trailers, and vids. Claws slipped by as I watched humans not only against programs but each other, contesting in grand games of resource management and strategy. Simulated nations as small as pre space flight fiefdoms to interstellar empires, jockeying for power and dominance. I sat there in silence, can of sprunk going warm as enormous interstellar fleets, coordinated by a human juvenile, roll over other human star empires. Deftly maneuvering fleets, cycling exhausted and damaged ones back to shipyards in time with fresh vessels. They sent the heaviest out to key assets, intentionally bracketing the other's to crush they're strongest. My tail hung limply as I took a drag from the can, which landed in the bin to join the others.
these are entertainment, they play these for fun....combat sims of all kinds they play for fun...I'm starting to think that Tarva was wise to side with these creatures, if this is what they're younglings are capable of in their pastimes, then they are showing incredible restraint in their martial prowess...more data...another entry..
I cracked opened another can, and gave a cabinet below my desk a kick, it slid open, full of various local nuts. The paw full was stuffed in my mouth as my claws flew across my interface.
-[non violent digital games]-
As if this search was mocking me another utter wall of returns washed across my interface, was there anything these human *don't d-*My train of thought feel face first into the pavement as a video came on, another of these digital games but...The sound of gushing water rippled through my ear pieces as a human gabbed on about some nonsense on a stream. While on screen they were..washing a construction vehicle. From the little avatar that was wielding a power-washer, blasting away at the mud and grime caked on the machine. I wrack my brain for what kind of reason of why any creature would engage in such a thing for anything but training. It simply made no sense, illogical towards enjoyment....and yet. My eyes tracked the flowing water, watching as mud and filth was blasted away to reveal its hardy finish I..I felt a satisfaction. That kind of sensation where you take your first bite into a fruit, that same feeling when something you've made slides into its planned place.I didn't know how long I watched the massive construction machine be washed..but it was downright hypnotic to watch.Something tells me I've only barely scratched the surface of these creatures....
Standard Date September 5th 2136
I slinked back into my apartment after my work claw, sighing as I hung up my cloak. Work had been fine, it got rather funny when management had come to down to check on our progress and pretended to know what the brahk he was talking about. But such thoughts were lost on me while I went back to my terminal sitting back down and loading my earth search engine. My secret researched continued, this time I decided to take a far more broad approach with my work, and went for history.
-[Human history]-
[Memory subject time lapse: 3 standard hours][Resuming playback, subject brainwave patterns at low stability]
I lay there in my chair, I just didn't know..how to feel at this point. Several times I had to stop, several times I nearly heaved my lunch into my garbage. Several times I was moved by the words of human hearts. Several times I was taught horrible lessons that have to be learned in horrible times. I was shown the mountains of bodies it takes to truly fight against those who would do evil. They're stories told me of how people despite all this could forgive, how...they fought for those we would put down without a second thought.
I've truly gone off the deep end haven't I..because every time I think I've come to some kind of understanding of these human's, they break the pattern, so they've done so much, come to far..I'm not sure what to even be afraid of anymore..I still don't have enough..
Across my screen, a man a truly ancient human that seemed to be naught but skin and bone, but his terrible predator eyes shone. Those blue pools gleamed with an ironclad conviction that despite his decades of retirement. He was telling his story among a lengthy documentary of the human's second world war, which even with its age was still the most brutal conflict they're species ever knew. It was such calculated savagery, the utter destruction, the ruthless genocide, everything that I would come to expect from a predator species. But then more of the footage came along with the old humans talking.
"Ya..ya see..we have been pushing a'way over inta' paris for the better'parta fiave weeks.." The ancient male rumbled in his seat towards the camera, his hellish eyes making my pelt want to leap off my bones, but his words had me mystified. "I was just about smoked five steps ta'hell after pushin through them lines, only thing keepin me goin was thinkin about not being killed by no damn nazi boys..." The human worked his strange and loose lips for a moment, sharp gaze sliding away from the camera."When ah wus out there, pushing inta paris, we had a stop, and my busted up ass was so dog chewed t'hell out I just leaned on a corner pole and didn't give much of'a damn, but den.." His words slowed, a certain something gleamed in his eyes, was it guilt, determination, the species was still too alien for me to tell. "I saw dis lil girl out there, walking down tha street our way all dusty and looking like the devil had took'a swipe at'er..she sidled on up'ta me..gave me a half toothed little smiled and thanked me, since she lived in the part of city we had cleaned out for'em..Her name wus Noelle it was.." I felt my throat tighten along with the long dead human in the footage as he fought to keep up the words."then she walked on away, an all of tha'sudden..Ah weren't tired no more..."
The man's words rung deep within me while the documentary went on. So much agony, so much destruction, met headlong with conviction, forgiveness and determination. How could creatures so vicious and lethal and the same time show such grief and almost mad drive to aid their fellow being?
At every turn they seem to jump between the actions of prey and predator, banding together, seeking to defend themselves from danger, fleeing and submitting in the face of death and danger. Yet in the very same moment some humans act like true predators, instantly reacting to perceived threats with determined, relentless force. Then..in so many instances this bloodthirsty rage they seem to summon is at its strongest when they're kin are threatened..These creatures only grow more complex the more I research..
I rub my face as I slip into bed, sliding onto the mattress, paws coming to my face. Despite the long paw, sleep couldn't come. My glasses stayed on, the display flitting as I kept up my reading into human histories..seeing their story.
I'm done for..Brahk..I'm done for...I have to keep this a secret, because I'm starting to understand these predators...
Memory transcription Subject: Zevek, Distracted Venlil Standard Date: September 6th, 2136
I can research and work all I like, but a venlil still needed to eat and get to all the little drudges of life. This rest paw was going to be expended on errands. Sure I'm a herd and family of great affluence and I could easily have everything I needed delivered directly to my apartment on my hefty salary. I decided against such a practice, seeing as a waste of credits when I had paws where such tasks could be taken to. Besides...I was thinking sometime outside would do me a bit of good.
Mind still in awash from my research, I connected my glasses to my pad, clipped it to my belt, and slipped my cloak on my shoulders. After a momentary pause, I quickly snatch up my pair of wireless ear buds. Flicking the doc open, I push them into my ears as they connect to my interface into them, and keying my pad into my terran connection.
Slipping into the cold biting air of BlackRock I set up the browser yet again in an off box in my vision as I walked, grocery bag folded under an arm and out the door. My paws worked along the road towards the small tram station stop at the center of my hab block. I began to slip into the pedestrian traffic, small groups of venlil moving together made then easier to slip around. My searching through the countless song lists gave so many options, so I simple threw caution to the wind and picked something at random as I stopped at the platform. I let the music player shuffle
Stairway to heaven-Lead Zeppelin
For what I was expecting for the music of the humans it was far gentler in its beginning. It began with a low and soft kind of string instrument that I recall was a 'guitar' from my studies. I leaned back in the cheap plastic seat of the tram, barely noticing I was in it how hypnotized I was by such sounds. Then the human began to sing, its rumble growl so oddly melodic, as he began to sing me a song about a stairway to heaven. There was something so melancholic about it, some cultural points weren't hitting, but even someone as socially inept as myself could pick it up. By the time I was slipping off the tram I felt an odd spring in my gait as the song picked up, despite its screeching notes there was something about this electric guitar that scratched an urge I didn't know was there. The song was at full swing towards its in when I entered the simple market nearby my home, I found my tail swaying and bobbing to the alien yet bewitching rhythm.
And she's buuuying a stairway to heeavaan..~
The incredible voice of the human tapered off into a soft silence while I was picking out some proper snacks. Venlil music was often very gentle and easy on the ears, but even this oddly mellow human song had a certain spark the my own people's simply lacked. While I stuffed a fruit back and another case of drinks in my bag my search for another song was far less timid that before. A small moment of memory slipped in..going about my brother's and fathers constant talk about the taint of predators, how it would corrupt all it touched. It sent a small spike of..guilt..maybe remorse while I stood at an end-cap.
Well..I've already delved into their history and entertainment for several paws now, your already down the mine shaft Zevek, might as well see the bottom..Besides, its not like they're culture will infect me that badly will it?
[Time lapse: 1 hour of shopping and music surfing later]
I never been one for dancing, in fact I'm sure I couldn't dance to save my life. Additionally, I've never had much motivation, or the raw confidence to do so..
That is until I starting hearing songs like this...
For some reason the beat just had me moving, I didn't realize how much I was moving until I was a few stops on the train, and by the time I was off the train I was dancing my way home. Perhaps something had my mood high, perhaps..with my predator disease having gone so deep I lacked the concern. A full bag of groceries hanging from the crook of my elbow as I went along.
Nor did I care about the looks I was getting as I came bouncing off my train and into my neighborhood. In my gyrating, grooving walk I gave an utterly perturbed mother and gave her a jovial tail flick as I passed her up the stairs.
I found myself swaying to the human's voice as I idled in the elevator, something about the tenor and melody. The beat making my paws sway and bounce, head swaying as the music began to grow. The peak rolling through my ears as I all but flowed through the door, arms spread wide as I slid through my door.
STAY WITH MEEEEEEEE..~
I didn't even realize I was singing along as I bounce along in my room. Arms rolling in ways I never would have never done in public, my tail wrote patterns in the air that even I didn't know. Her voice was simply incredible..how could I not move..I could feel it in my soul..I was on my bed at one point e- bling-bling! The sound of the specific chime tone I had set up for Dayna's message suddenly sounded out. After giving the floor a perfect exterminators tackle I scrambled, face blooming as I snatched my pad. Gaze rapidly scanning over the new message.
-hey Zevek, how's it going?-
I swallowed a little at the message, clearly I couldn't tell her about my highly incriminating research into her species completely. Yet, my heart ached at the very concept of lying to her, it was a foolish impulse. But I did my best to get something on the screen.
-its been going great Dayna, I've been looking a lot into human culture, why didn't you tell me that your species had such a huge range of music?!-
Half truths we're the finest lies, as father would always say.
-it what happens when your culture is constantly shifting and changing, human tribal nature causes a lot diversification, but more importantly, I've got some awesome news Zev!-
My ears perk forward, my fingers flying over the keyboard.
-what kind of news, do tell?-
-they gonna push my program forwards, I'm packing for my trip to Venlil prime as we speak-
In that moment, alone in the dark, my heart leaped for more reasons than I'll ever know.

Sorry for the delay everyone, I had a loss in the family and needed to take some time with loved ones. Decompressed and back in the saddle now to resume regular posting.
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Chapter 22
Ana
The first time she opened her eyes, it was to a soft, pillowy comfort, the kind that made her want to tuck the duvet right up to her chin and go back to sleep no matter what responsibilities awaited. Dull grey light and a plain ceiling. There were sounds too, but they floated in and out of earshot as if on clouds, dulled like a conversation from an adjoining room one moment, then uncomfortably loud, like someone was speaking directly into her ear the next. She closed her eyes and the warmth carried her off again.
The second time she woke, things were sharper. There were edges to the tiles of the ceiling above her head and the comfortable fuzziness had lessened, giving way to the dull aching onset of a vicious headache. Her limbs were heavy, weighted anchors dragging down her swimming skull and pinning her to the seafloor of the bed.
This is… wait, what happened?
She remembered the smell of the barbecue, and arriving at the door to the journalist’s suite, and then… a sharper throb of pain rippled up the front of her skull from her temples and she winced.
Movement. She turned her head slowly so as not to provoke another stab of pain.
A kespan in a white outfit sat some ten feet away to her right. She was perched on a strange metal seat, and when she noticed Ana’s stare she directed it over, gliding across the floor towards the bed with a low humming sound. There was a symbol on her breast pocket, one that Ana recognized from her medical exams. A doctor, then.
The pieces of the puzzle started to click, and Ana propped herself up, the sheets below her crinkling softly. How is it that even with all their advanced technology, hospital beds still feel the same as on Earth?
“Specialist Cardoso?” The kespan peered down at her and Ana squinted back. “I’m Doctor Scytha. You gave us all quite the scare you know.”
“I really don’t…”
“I’ll go over everything that happened with you in just a moment, but first I need to know, are you in any pain? I understand you hit your head on the way down.”
“Just a headache,” Ana flinched as another jab of pain radiated across her skull.
“I can get you something for that if you’d like,” the doctor offered. “We’ve ruled out a concussion, but I daresay you’ll be feeling somewhat delicate anyway.”
She was about to agree but paused before the words could leave her lips. Through the lingering haze of whatever they’d had her on while she was unconscious, a tiny niggling feeling in the back of her mind was making itself known.
“No, I… I’m okay for now,” she rasped instead, her throat like dusty sandpaper. “What happened? How long have I been out? Where am I?” She held up a hand, feeling at the side of her head, where the worst of the ache was coming from. A strange smoothness greeted her probing touches.
“You have a minor contusion,” Doctor Scytha explained. “The dressing should stay on for at least a day, but we’ve treated the injury with…” she trailed off, a conflicted expression flickering across her face. “Well, we’ve treated it with something that should help it close much faster. It will be fully healed before you know it.”
“Come on doc,” Ana raised an eyebrow on the side of her face that wasn’t obscured by the strange bandage. “I’m curious. What did you treat me with?”
The doctor’s lips pursed beneath her muzzle, and her eyes flicked away. “Artificial cells. We can program them to—”
“Nanobots,” Ana deadpanned, and the doctor grimaced. “You treated me with nanobots.”
“While they do share some characteristics, the applications…”
“Whatever,” Ana cut her off. “I’m not in the mood to discuss semantics, and I‘ve got enough of a headache already to unpack that. Just tell me where I am please.”
“You’re still aboard the She-Serves-With-Honor,” the doctor supplied, relaxing visibly at the change of topic. “It’s been roughly eight hours since you were found. I’m told that you were carried here by that cute reporter boy who’s been stealing the hearts of every serving woman aboard. Lucky you.” She pulled a tab in the side of her chair and a small screen sprang out on a moveable arm. “I’m sure you’re also interested in learning what happened, yes?”
“That was going to be my next question,” Ana grunted, pulling herself upright and noticing for the first time as she did the opaque tube that ran from her forearm down under the bed. Sitting up turned out to be a mistake though, as when she did manage to raise her head the room spun and her stomach turned. She begrudgingly lowered herself again.
“Well, we’re not quite sure ourselves,” the doctor said, her eyes glancing between the screen on her chair and a space on the other side of the room. Ana shifted, ignoring the discomfort until she could peer over towards the door to where the doctor’s eyes had gone, taking stock of her surroundings as she did.
Two uniformed guards were standing there, one on either side of the door. They stood stock still, gazing back at her— no, at the doctor, with measured stares. Three blazes of red shone from each of their outfits at the cuffs and collars, sparkling brightly even in the dim overhead lights.
The room itself was on the smaller side, with her cot the middle of three in the room. The other two beds were empty. They were here for her then.
“Pretty tight security for a ship hospital,” she remarked. “I know I’m new to this whole ‘alien army’ thing, but somehow I don’t think the Garrison stands watch over all of your patients.”
“They are here because I am here, Specialist,” a smooth voice sounded out, and Ana turned her head further, towards the back corner of the room. A severe-looking woman sat there, medals softly shining in the dim light, a crisply ironed, angular hat resting on her knees. She stood as Ana gaped at her.
“Vice Admiral Kel’rek, ma’am.” She tried to raise a hand into the chest-high salute of the kespan military, but her head throbbed again, and the niggling feeling in the back of her brain only grew in magnitude, so the result was a sloppy flapping motion. Ana frowned, staring down at her uncooperative limbs.
“At ease, Specialist,” the Admiral waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve had a rough night. What do you remember?”
It might have been the drugs, but something about the way she asked the question made the hairs on the back of Ana’s neck stand on end. By the doorway, the soldier’s attention had shifted. Now they were staring at her.
“Not much ma’am,” she answered, ignoring the insistent tug of her hindbrain. “Just walking down the corridor, arriving at the door to the suite, and then nothing. Did something happen?”
“We were hoping you could tell us,” the doctor chimed in, with a respectful nod to the Admiral, who had sat back to rub at her chin. “Your scans came back clear, your bloodwork was unremarkable and your toxicology report shows you’re clean, no known contaminants. Although,” she hesitated, and the Admiral shot her a sharp look. “It’s possible that we missed something. We don’t know everything there is to know about Ervamir yet. It could be that something specific to humans eluded our scans.”
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, Ana thought bitterly, something red and hot churning in her gut and threatening to spill over. She quashed it, but barely. Strange, I haven’t been this quick to anger since before… she cut that thought short too. It must be the drugs.
“Failing that though, what is your prognosis doctor?” the Admiral asked— no, seriously, why is she in the room? Has she been here the whole time? “Nothing too dire, I hope? It wouldn’t do to lose our first human soldier to an unknown illness.”
First human soldier. Her. How long had it been since that idea made her blood boil like it did now? She felt it return, the same dark crawling feeling that had curled up to nest inside her when she accepted the alien’s offer some six months prior. Back then it had been hunger that forced her hand. A choice between flinging herself on the mercy of the cartels or working with the invaders. I thought I’d left this feeling behind.
The doctor hummed, head still buried in the tablet. “New species often exhibit psychological distress in response to their first exposure to space,” she said hesitantly. “The media presence and press conference, followed by an interview on the same day may simply have been too much. If there are no further physiological symptoms, then the episode may have been stress-induced.”
Ana’s eyebrow twitched. “Respectfully doc,” she managed a forced smile. “Like most humans, I think I’ve been through things a lot more psychologically challenging than staring out a window and answering some questions. I’ve never seen any of the women back home experience anything like what just happened to me.”
The doctor avoided her eyes. “Compounding trauma could make this kind of event more likely, but again, we don’t know enough about human psychology to make a proper assessment. All I know is the scans are clean.” She looked up, but it was the Admiral whose gaze she met rather than Ana’s. “I’m prescribing plenty of rest. She should be off active duty for at least a week, preferably planetside.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Admiral Kel’rek stood, and her guards moved to flank her. “You heard the doc, Specialist, I’ll make the necessary arrangements. In the meantime, I believe your squadmates are anxious to hear from you.” She raised an eyebrow at the doctor, who nodded. “I’ll have word sent that you’re awake.” She took a step towards the door.
“And the journalist, ma’am?” Ana asked.
The Admiral turned back to her and tilted her head slightly. “What about him, Specialist? I hope you’re not considering giving an interview from your hospital bed. I’m afraid that might give off the wrong impression.” She spoke with a light tone, but the look she directed Ana’s way was firm.
“I just wanted to apologize for not making our appointment,” Ana insisted. “And maybe arrange a new time, once I’m given the all-clear.”
The Admiral hesitated, just for a microsecond, but it was enough to be noticeable. “I’ll have word sent. You should be aware that he’ll be on the next shuttle with the rest of the media. It’s unlikely that you’ll get a chance to see him in person.”
“You could send me with them,” Ana suggested, and the Admiral shot her an incredulous look, her hand poised to open the door. “Ma’am,” she amended, lowering her eyes to the floor in what she hoped passed for submission. “If I’m going to be recovering planetside anyway, it would be an opportunity for us. To show the galaxy how humans and the Imperium can co-exist, I mean. I’m sure that any good reporter would accept.”
She peered up to watch the wheels turn in the Admiral’s head. Finally, the cat woman stepped away from the door to regard her properly.
“You wouldn’t prefer to recuperate in your home country?” she asked, probing. “The media is bound for the largest island in the South, the one we are currently in orbit over. It’s a green zone, but I would have thought you’d be more comfortable in a familiar setting.”
“Australia?” Ana’s eyes widened slightly, and some genuine excitement leaked into her voice. “I’ve always wanted to visit. I hear it’s a great place to relax. And actually,” she let her tone grow rueful, “I have a slightly… checkered history with my home country now. A lot of baggage. It might be better if I didn’t return for a while, especially if I need to stay low-stress.”
The Admiral raised an eyebrow at the doctor, who nodded. When she turned back to Ana though, she still didn’t appear convinced. “That would put me in a difficult position Specialist,” she said. “If I crammed you into a shuttle with two dozen members of the press less than a day after a serious medical emergency I’d be strung up, even more than I already am just for being here.” She shook her head. “I can’t put you on that ship.”
Ana lowered her eyes again. “I understand ma’am. That’s unfortunate. I was hoping that the interview might make a difference. Show people that cooperation is possible.”
The woman hesitated, and her eyes bore holes into Ana’s own. Then she cocked her head. “However…”
“Yes ma’am?”
“I can arrange transport for tomorrow. We’ll be slightly out of shuttle range by then, but a larger ship could make the journey. Specialist,” she maintained the same intense eye contact, and Ana held it. “I don’t think I need to impress on you the importance of your role here. We all want what’s best for humanity, and the sooner we can get your people on board, the sooner Ervamir… the sooner Earth can be made whole again. I’m expecting a good interview, even if it means a prolonged leave period. Are we clear?”
“Clear ma’am,” Ana managed the salute this time. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Very good. As you were then, get some rest.”
Ana breathed a sigh of relief as the woman exited, the garrison members following her out. To her slight surprise, she noticed the doctor breathe a similar sigh, and filed the information away for later. Maybe she was the sort of commander who rode her troops hard. It was strange; she’d never been given that impression.
An hour went by, and Ana drifted in and out of sleep several times, each time waking up slightly sharper than before, though her headache kept growing. She was offered the painkillers again but declined. Years of soldiering in the South American jungle had taught her to trust her instincts, and hers had been screaming through the fog ever since she’d first awoken that morning. Something didn’t feel right, and she needed to be clear-headed to figure out what. She was feeling less collected now than she had been for months, and somehow, at the same time, more herself.
Maybe the doc is right and I’m just a bit fucked in the head, she thought.
Just as the headache had reached the point where she was beginning to question that decision, a polite rap came from the door. The doctor’s chair hummed across the floor to answer, and a moment later, a fuzzy face peered in overtop two smaller figures.
“You’re awake!” Banta’s voice boomed across the room, and the doctor made a frantic shushing noise. “Oops, sorry.”
The small group piled into the room, and Ana smiled through the throbbing pain as Vrina and Sergeant Rea’ar’s faces also came into view.
“Specialist,” her NCO greeted her. “I trust you’re on the improve?”
“Ma’am,” Ana inclined her head slightly.
“A little bird told me that you’re to be stationed planetside for a time,” she frowned.
“Yes ma’am,” Ana replied. “Sorry for the inconvenience ma’am.”
“It’s no matter,” the sergeant’s expression was unreadable. “The rest of the fire team sends their well wishes.”
“What she means by that is that the duradians don’t think you’ll die,” Banta grinned. “They’ve got some… quirks… regarding illness. Very pragmatic.”
“You can tell them that I appreciate their confidence then,” Ana replied, and what might have been the ghost of a smile graced the sergeant's face before disappearing abruptly.
“You’ve put me in a slightly difficult position here, specialist,” Rea’ar said. “I’ve been asked to leave one of my troops to watch over you in case your condition deteriorates. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem, but assigning one of the duradians to your care would be a bad fit. I thought to send Singer alone, but…”
Banta stiffened. “Ma’am—” she started before Rea’ar held up a hand.
“Yes, yes, I know Corporal, save it. You’re both going. I’ve arranged for you to be assigned to a posting on the surface, at one of our new consulates. Might as well make use of you while you’re down there.”
Banta relaxed visibly, and Ana looked between the three women in confusion.
“You two aren’t like, married or anything, are you?” she couldn’t help but ask, pointing between Banta and Vrina, and the pair balked. Vrina’s crest puffed out, and she spluttered, a strangled choking sound coming from her beak. Banta sniggered, and the sergeant’s eyebrows rose.
“I— wh— no!” clucked the Ulu, her chest feathers fluffing out like pins from a cushion. “What makes you think that?”
“Well apparently you’re attached at the hip,” Ana defended. “I’m not judging, just curious.
Sergeant Rea’ar held up both hands, absolving herself of the conversation. “I’m glad to hear you’re improving Specialist,” she said, heading for the door, and Ana watched in amazement as the woman who’d kept her cold demeanor throughout months of training and onboarding fled the scene. “I expect regular updates on your condition,” she opened the door and turned to the other two. “Don’t keep her up too long, she needs rest.” Then the door was closing behind her, and she was gone.
“What the fuck was that?” Ana breathed, looking back at Vrina, who was still prickling, and Banta, who was held under the stern glare of the doctor and trying to keep her giggling from devolving into full laughter. “Okay, come on, what is this?”
Banta pulled herself together and glanced over at Vrina, who was still doing her best impression of a taxidermized rooster. “Maybe we should—”
“Shut up,” Vrina tucked her head beneath her feathers, rubbing at her forehead with the ridge of a wing.
“I’m just saying, it’s not like she’ll think any differently of—"
“No.” The ulu held firm. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Hi, invalid here, not exactly in a position to judge,” Ana raised an arm. “I don’t mind if the two of you are—”
“It’s not that,” Vrina hissed, and Banta guffawed again, catching another warning tut from the doctor. “We’re old friends, nothing more.”
Banta stopped laughing, and looked at her askance, her mirth disappearing. “No lies, Vrin,” she said, disapprovingly. “It’s one thing to keep something to yourself, but it’s dishonorable to lie to a comrade. I’m telling her.”
Ana cocked her head. “Wait, so you are—”
“No,” both of them replied together, the ulu still hissing. “Banta, I swear to—"
“She’s more like… my employer?” the ursinian ventured, and Vrina’s eyes bugged out, a sound like a death rattle building in her throat.
“Corporal Banta, you will not say another word,” she spluttered and then recoiled in horror as the bear woman bowed her head low to the ground, saluting her.
“Of course, your majesty,” she replied with a grin, and Ana’s brain short-circuited.
​
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Standing in a desert with no one but Solomon and me, a quiet fear had me scratching the top of my hands. Snapping his fingers, the scene shifted to the president’s house. Staring down at my outfit, a frilly wedding greeted my trembling palms. Stepping back with a rounded eyes, his elbow hooked around mine. Leaning down to kiss me, a clammy sweat drenched my skin. Pushing him away, his claws sank into my arms. Shaking me while yelling at me, a scream burst from my lips.
Jerking awake in my chair, the other’s watched me with deep concern. Wiping my tears away, a wave of my hands shut them down. That monster was never going to be my husband, my teeth gritting. Rubbing at my dark bags underneath my eyes, that nightmare had been occurring too often. Jack’s words of comfort falling on deaf ears. Day two of a major migraine had me massaging my forehead, the lack of sleep leaving me feeling less than my usual self. Sinking into my seat, my fingers brushed against my chains. Another mission to a heavily populated planet had us rushing to aid those trapped in a discreet servant trade, my heart aching for them. Images of dead parents haunted me, the poor children probably sitting in cages. Remembering Scampy and Basy’s smile merely brought more unfiltered rage, the raw hurt of how they ripped me from my life biting my heart. Ignoring everyone through the long hours, we descended into the dark side of a mining planet. Undoing my harness, I dropped my helmet over my head. Everything doubled, Jack grabbing my shoulder the moment I snatched my staff off the wall. Mission first, then we can talk about my feelings. Although, the desire to talk about any of it wasn't there.
“What is going on with you lately?” He asked with an annoyed huff, my hand slapping his hand away. “You need to talk or you could compromise this mission.” Rolling my eyes, all of this was becoming too much. Icy and Whiskers joined my side, the conversation ended like that. Running in the shadows, the oxygen kicked one. Cloakie radioed me personally, his voice crackling in my ears. What did he want? Feeling cranky from my migraine, everything seemed to be a nuisance.
“Even I know that you aren’t okay. Talk to me while I hack into the system.” He spoke sternly, the corner of lips curling into a tired smile. “Don’t get me started on your lack of sleeping at night.” Digging at the light green sand, he had a point. Then again, would it be fair for Jack not to know what was going on before anyone else? His rights as a husband required that, my heart wanting to give him such a simple conservation. Alas, it was not a simple task to my anxiety- ridden mind.
“It’s nothing.” I spat impatiently, the three of us coming upon a clear dome protecting the kids. “Leave me alone.” The heavy door groaned open, Cloakie chastising me. Sprinting in, the door slammed shut behind us. Hiding behind a big rock, dirty kids walked by with carts of precious metal. Remembering the trauma that I was put through, horror rounded my eyes at the impaled parents on wooden spikes. Jack shook with raw fury behind me, my hand on his arm shutting him down. Turning on my radio, the boys shook their heads in protest at my order.
“Get the kids out of here. Pull the ship, Cloakie! I have a problem to deal with.” I ordered sharply, my concise words affirming my position on the matter. Skidding out of my hiding spot, golden energy glowed at the end of my staff. Missing my pets, my scaled ladies were on my ship waiting for my return. Think of something nice. Think of something nice to keep me calm.
“Come on out, Master Fachork! Face me like the man you aren’t!” I challenged him, his snake alien men looking up from what they were doing. “I suppose an appetizer is in order. Come and get me.” Sprinting into the mine, the ten henchmen crunched after me. Building up golden energy around my foot, a swift kick sent a cart clanking down a tunnel. Hiding in a large crack, the glow from my golden staff died down. Watching them crash down the tunnel with headlamps, the next step had to be completed. Coming out of my hiding spot, the number of casualties had to be kept to a minimum. Creeping out of the entrance, the pale moonlight of five moons gave me the light I needed while making my head pound harder. Sprinting towards a sea of tents, big eyes watched me skid into the tent. Jack appeared over the hill with about thirty children, the ten behind me cowering. Crouching down to their level, their breath hitched the moment I took off my helmet. Cupping the nearest child’s cheek, tiny tears dripped off of my fingers. The poor things had nothing to worry about in our care, a few of the homes opening up for them when we got back.
“You need to go with the blonde haired man. He is the way to safety.” I promised them sweetly, all of them running towards Jack. Pushing the flap out of the way on my way out, a big worn tent glowed in the distance. Hearing the ten men I ditched crunching behind me, time wasn’t on my hands. My footfalls echoed in the canyon, an elbow to each guard’s face had them hitting a patch of light green rock. Letting myself into the tent, a snake alien in a beat up leather suit placed his whiskey glass gingerly on a coaster. His neon green scales shimmered in the light of the flames, his golden snake eyes tracking me. Must they always be this creepy.
“Long time, no see. What has brought the great captain to my tent.” He commented casually, plucking a cigar from the case next to him. “Solomon said that you would come. Why don’t you want to be his bride? You could have all the riches in the world. After all, you are only a mutt.” Shrinking back, his words stung harder than usual. Slapping my cheeks to snap me out of it, I placed my helmet on his desk as gingerly as he placed his cup. Lighting up the cigar, he snapped his fingers. Solomon sauntered in, his arm yanking me close to his waist. Jamming a needle into my neck, my shaking hands shoved my staff into my belt before I went limp. Throwing me onto the bed, his steady hands chained me to the pole in the tent. Noting his horrid burns, our battle on that planet left a few scars. Smiling to myself, some damage had been dealt.
“Why am I not shocked at your survival? I should have known that my little prize had a way out.” He mused playfully, his finger tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear. Shuddering involuntarily, my nightmare became one step closer to becoming reality. Plopping down next to me, he crossed his hands on his lap. True terror swelled within me, my plan of attack biting me in the ass again. Why couldn’t I ask for help like a normal person? Turning his head to face me, he plucked dust bunnies off of his expensive ivory suit. Smirking cruelly, his palm rested on my thigh. Silent tears stained my cheeks, a bomb rolling in giving me reasons to cry harder. The lack of beeping would be my undoing, my cleverness with my weapons not helping. A loud boom had the toad’s venom splashing onto us. The pure agony of it searing my face canceled out his drug, one solution remaining. Yanking on the pole with the chains holding me prisoner, a thud had the canvas falling over us. The end of the pole had been upended, my muscles protesting as I shimmied down the pole. Hitting the sand with a gruff groan, Master Fachork rolled around a few inches from me. Army crawling over to me, his eyes widened at me draping my chains around his neck. Hissing had my ears perking up, Ratalia slithering in. Venom flowed freely from her fangs. Sinking them into the soft spot on his throat, foam frothed around his lips. Seizing until his hand dropped to the sand, Ratonia lowered a healing potion into my mouth. Biting the glass, the thick liquid coated my throat. Spitting out the glass shards, the cuts on tongue would heal in a moment. Scooping me up, her tongue flickered against my face. Rubbing her scales, her eyes flitted over to Solomon. Wiggling my toes, enough feeling was back for me to walk. Sliding off of her with a kiss, my eager fingers curled around my staff. Steadying my legs, ice shot out from underneath me. Melting it with my golden energy, this was about to be a death trap for him. Electricity crackled to life around his palm, another wave of ice foiled my plans. Cursing under my breath, my scaled pets whisked me out of the tent. Setting me down, Solomon pulled himself out. His staff glistened in his hand, a malicious grin twitching on his lips. Charging at each other, our weapons locked in a position of power. Pushing each other back and forth, his hissing skin peeled off of his arm. Jamming my knee into his stomach, his body smashed into the rocks. Coughing up a fountain of blood, a couple of his organs had burst. Icy tossed me a vial of the venomous oil, Solomon charging at me. Wondering if the oil would burn him, today would grant me my answer. Rubbing the oil into the metal tip, my gloves protected me from its negative effects. Catching my reflection in the ice, faded scars covered my cheeks. As if I couldn't get any uglier, I cursed bitterly to myself. Screwing the top back on, a throw behind me had Icy catching it. Spinning my staff in my palm, Solomon appeared over me with electricity crackling over his staff. Blocking his strike clumsily, my body hit the sand. Rolling around to avoid his blows, my free hand grabbing a big old handful of sand. Throwing it in his face, a thud announced him hitting the ground next to me. Jack called for me to hurry up, Icy tapping his foot with a mixture of anxiety and impatience. Putting my hand in the air, I raised my beat up staff over my head. Slamming it into his head, his tongue rolled out of his mouth. Ratalia rolled my helmet over to me, a quick peck on her cheek had her rattling her tail with joy. Sprinting next to Icy, the others yanked us onto the ship. Tired children were strapped to the bars, Icy throwing me into my chair. Guiding my snakes into their harnesses, the door shutting had him leaping back into his seat. Hooking everything up, Jack backed up a bit before zooming into the inky sea of diamonds. Working the switches, a wormhole hummed to life. Flying in without thinking, he rode the waves of energy with ease. Skidding onto another one of the many jungle planets, the neon trees shooting from the ground. Not recognizing this planet, our coordinates had to be further out. Slowing to a stop, Jack killed the engine. Undoing my harness along with my pets, my snakes couldn’t be happier to be free. Typing at the keyboard, my ship did a run through of the oxygen levels. Watching the bar move up and down, a sigh of relief flooded from my lips at it falling well within the safety zone. Ditching my suit, curiosity had me running towards the door to explore. Typing in the code to open the door, my heart ached for the poor orphans we rescued.
“Whiskers and Jack will take care of you. I have to go make sure we are safe.” I announced with a bright smile, the kids cheering up a bit. “Cloakie and Icy! Come along!” Smoothing out my mechanic’s suit, Jack’s protests fell on deaf ears. The door hissed open, Icy’s helmet resting on a seat. A sickly warm breeze lashed at my cheeks, Icy laying his hand on my shoulder.
“Maybe you should talk to Jack. He wouldn’t stop talking about how worried he is about you.” He suggested with a cautious grin, his words holding weight. “Do it for me if you can’t bring yourself to do it.” Pushing me towards Jack, Jack ran his hand through his hair. Yanking me closer to his hips, his forehead pressed against mine. Rocking back and forth for a minute, a hallucination of Solomon had me leaping back. Apologizing pathetically as I ran off the ship, Cloakie and Icy had no choice but to follow me into the lush neon blue and pink vegetation. My pets slithered to my side, the company feeling welcome. Icy cleared his throat as a bloody Bogs waved at me from behind a tree. The color drained from my face, a clammy sweat drenching my skin. Fighting back tears, the scientists from the bomb project had silent tears staining my cheeks. Something seemed off, the scent of deception poisoned the air. The dirt crunched behind us, Jack fussed with his leather jacket. Grinning ear to ear maliciously, a gun glinted in his hand. The others stared at me with odd expressions, my boots pounding deeper into the jungle. Running until I couldn’t, a spike cut my palm. Strange neon pink sludge oozed into my palm, a rough darkness stealing me away.
Standing in the lab of my bomb building project, the scientists waved at me as I crossed the threshold. Happy to be working for me, long emerald waves brushing against the top of my hand spoke of better times. Remembering what day it was, the petite mouse alien dropped the nuclear material onto the floor. A blast knocked me out of the space, a burnt scientist slamming the door shut to prevent a nuclear leak. A ringing in my ears mixed poorly with the rushing sounds of my burst ear drums, officers rushing in around me. Touching my forehead, blood painted my finger. Jack rushed up to me, his words sounding as if he was under water. Reaching for the door, a pool of blood hit my boot. All of them were gone, tortured wails bursting from my lips. The commander marched up to me, her hand pinning me to the wall. Her face blurred, her beratement fading in and out. Jack began to argue with her, a punch sending him into the wall. Kneeing her in the gut, she had no damn right. Dropping me to the floor, the crack of my skull plunged me into darkness.
Groaning awake in her secret torture chamber, the vodka was hot on the commander’s breath. Leaving me alone with someone else, terror had my muscles shaking like a leaf. A thick cloth covered my eyes, Jack’s screams shattering what composure remained. Chains rattled as I realized that a cage surrounded me. A familiar voice had chills running up my spine, Solomon’s claw tracing my cheek. Shivering with fear, my burst ear drum gave me a small bit of relief.
“The commander promised you to me. Together we can destroy all that is around us.” He bragged gleefully, his bright tone frightening me further. “We are the same age and from the same town. Let’s just say I am simply obsessed with you. Too bad the commander is under my control.” Laughing maniacally, the door blew open. Snapping her fingers, the heel of his boots clacked to the other side of the room.
“Do you know what you have done!” She roared thunderously, her slap had a stream of fresh blood dripping down my cheek. “The president wants my head.” Unlocking the cage, she ordered Solomon to follow her out. Too feeble to move, the image of blood pouring out from underneath the door haunting me. The door squealed open, Jack staggered in with bruises all over his face. Leaning down to check up on me, his arms draped me over his shoulder. Too weak to fight back, violent sobs wracked my body. Closing the door to our room, the lock clicked shut. Laying me down on my bed, he collapsed next to me. Burying me in a desperate embrace, my emotions soaked his blood soaked shirt. Apologizing profusely, his finger lifted up my chin.
“It was all an accident.” He wept as hard as I was, several of his friends being caught in the blast. “This isn’t your fault.” Unable to speak, his lips brushed against my forehead. Neither of us spoke of the feelings passing between us, a deep despair silencing our hearts.
Sitting up with a deep gasp of air, the streaks that were stars told me that we were heading home. The medical room greeted me, my frantic eyes flitting between the details. Wiping the tears from my eyes, every breath grew shorter. Violent sobs wracked my body, the memory of my friends getting disintegrated breaking me all over again. Cupping the sides of my head, a broken scream exploded from my lips. Jack burst in, his wet eyes glimmering with relief and a dark worry. Sweeping me into his arms, he buried me into a desperate embrace.
“They died because of me! They died because of me!” I cried into his chest, my breathing growing faster. Hitting his back repeatedly, I wanted to be anywhere but here. Letting me work through my panic attack, his finger lifted up my chin. His tears splashed onto my face, the corner of his lips quivering. Why was I so messed up?
“Like I said before it was an accident.” He assured me with his real smile, my muscles giving out. “You worked yourself up again. My friends died that day but they shut the door so you didn’t die. They knew what they were getting themselves into. I love you with all of my soul and I need you to know that I am here for you.” My tears raced down his arm, the inability to smile back scaring me. Attempting to smile, his head shook.
“Stop trying to smile when you can’t. The depression doesn’t go away but what you are doing is dangerous. You can’t keep shoving it down or things like this will keep happening. Please talk to anyone if it can’t be me.” He pleaded with another one of his loving smiles, his lips pressing against mine tenderly. “Let me see your palm.” Lifting up my palm gingerly, the infected cut oozed. Scooping me into his strong arms, my heart fluttered at how handsome he looked. Gathering his supplies with his free hand, he sat me down on the bed. Working on my wound, something had to be said.
“I hate myself every day. People like Bogs died for me and I can’t live with that.” I admitted brokenly, his lips pursing into a playful smirk. “I want to get better. This depression is drowning me but everyone keeps me going.” Finishing with my wound, his hand cupped my cheek. Jack was my rock and I really needed him in this vulnerable moment.
“I hear you. You aren’t the monster you think you are. We all love you. Get some rest.” He returned sweetly, kissing the top of my head. Turning to leave, I leapt onto his back. Begging for him to take me with him, a warm yes had a bit of life returning to my eyes.