Thank you guys for all your nice comments on my previous post! Here's my followup post walking through the anthology - I apologize for the delay, but I wanted to sit with this half of the album a bit longer. This analysis will be slightly different: first I’ll go through themes present throughout the anthology, and then walk through each song individually, since it’s not as consecutive of a story as the first album. As with my first analysis, I tend to also stay away from literal details as proof that a song is about a certain subject or muse – to me, it’s easier to understand the album when you think first about what the song’s overarching meaning is, rather than getting caught up in literal details (and I think Taylor often throws these in as red herrings). Moreover, it’s important to note that it’s likely that the literal detail she’s thrown in is one that only she and the muse will understand (i.e. her referencing a lilac skirt in imgonnagetyouback is unlikely to be one we’ve ever seen her wearing in public, so it’s useless to paternity test based on that detail!).
Firstly, the word anthology means a collection of assorted literary works. As a result, I think there are more themes scattered through this album, and it’s meant to be a little harder to parse than the first one. I think this album is what TTPD would have been before it crystallized into a tighter theme – similar to the 3 AM tracks for Midnights, the majority of which were written prior to the standard edition’s tracks.
There are a few themes throughout this album. From a romantic context, to me, this album is primarily about Joe. I’ll walk through why I believe that, but this album feels less muddled to me in terms of its muses, and I think that is in part due to the fact that her self-described mania from the standard edition is not a theme on the anthology. This work also covers her own relationship to celebrity and fame, and how that affects her romantic relationships and her personal life in general. And finally, I think the final theme throughout this collection is the idea of childhood, of formative experiences, and how our author goes about processing events that happen to her.
The Black Dog
What happens when you intimately know someone, when you share every aspect of your life with someone, and then it's over? Six weeks after their breakup, she’s barely holding it together (“I move through the world with the heartbroken”). She even tried to rebound her pain away (“I took the miracle move on drug, the effects were temporary”), and wasn’t able to succeed. Meanwhile, she sees him go to a bar, and she has the sudden realization that he may be able to do what she failed to do – he might be able to move on, with someone new. Reckoning with that realization is horrifying. If he is able to pull it off, what does that mean about the love they shared? When he had told her for years that he was who he was for her, and her alone?
You said I needed a bravе man
Then proceeded to play him
Until I believed it too
And it kills me
How could they go from being so intimate that they shower together, that she’s aware of his every move, to being so distant from each other that she wonders if making her fall in love with him was a hazing? And the cruelest part of it is – she doesn’t want either one of them to be able to move on, and give validity to the fact that they weren’t right for each other, even though she knows they have to. Moreover, she’s already *tried* to move on at this point, and failed – she tried to manufacture a counterfeit version of their intimacy, but what if he’s able to perfectly replicate it? And to really drive in the knife, what if it’s with someone younger than her?
And you jump up, but she's too young to know this song
That was intertwined in the magic fabric of our dreaming
Given that a theme throughout the first album was her feeling like she’d given him so much of her youth, so much of her childbearing years, with nothing to show for it, what does it feel like to know that he can essentially reset time, by being with a younger woman, but she’ll never be able to get that time back?
imgonnagetyouback
We know that her and Joe took a break or two while they were together (see: Hits Different, The Great War, in addition to PR articles). To me, this song is about when you do take that break from your partner, and you’re trying to make a point to them that they’re not going to find anyone better than you (I can tell when somebody still wants me, come clean) – the two of you are too intimately intertwined to find a suitable replacement. You know what to wear, what to say, what to do to bring them back to you:
I, I hear thе whispers in your eyes
I'll make you wanna think twice
You'll find that you were never not mine
This song also has a lot of similarities to So Long, London, which is why I attribute it to Joe. To me, it provides a deeper story to some of the lines she touches on in So Long, London:
I didn't opt in to be your odd man out
I founded the club she's heard great things about
And to some of the lines in Hits Different:
I washed my hands of us at the club
You made a mess of me
I pictured you with other girls in love
Then threw up on the street
//
Bet I could still melt your world
Argumentative, antithetical dream girl
imgonnagetyouback is a story of one-upmanship – of trying to out-jealous your partner, of proving to them that nobody knows them better than you do. And maybe this time when they’re both playing this game, it works:
Push the reset button, we're becomin' something new
Say you got somebody, I'll say I got someone too
Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leavin' here with you
//
We broke all the pieces, but still wanna play the game (Oh)
Told my friends I hate you, but I love you just the same
Pick your poison, babe, I'm poison either way
The spacing to me is a deliberate red herring (the 1975 very famously made a song called fallingforyou), and a way to illustrate that the subject of the song wants space from her – but she’s not going to give it to him. This is another theme that calls back to Joe – in So Long, London, she describes him as constantly pulling away (Pulled him in tighter each time he was driftin' away). Matty didn’t pull away – he was all in for two weeks, until he chose to ghost her, and leave abruptly. There was no slow death, no push and pull to her relationship with Matty – it was a meteoric rise and fall.
The Albatross
This song feels like a sister song to “peace” – she describes what it’s like to love her. It’s a little more twisted, however, as she describes her love for her partner as both a danger, and a rescue from the danger she’s imposing on him by being involved with him:
Wise men once said
"Wild winds are death to the candle"
A rose by any other name is a scandal
Cautions issued, he stood
Shooting the messengers
They tried to warn him about her
She’s described herself as wind and liquor in her relationship with Joe previously, in Mastermind:
I'm the wind in our free-flowing sails
And the liquor in our cocktails
She has empathy for the narrator, but disdain for herself. There’s also acceptance though: she knows that she tried to prevent it, and tried to warn him about the danger she posed. In the end though, he chose this life with her, and he chose the danger – there’s only so much she can protect him from.
The devil that you know
Looks now more like an angel
I'm the life you chose
And all this terrible danger
Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus
This song feels like another sister song to The Black Dog – how does she cope with the idea that her long-time partner might move on? How does she cope with the fact that if she chooses to leave, she also chooses the future in which they both move on? A future in which they don’t know each other? It also touches on her wondering if she should move on with Matty, and how feasible it would be to know someone else instead of her partner:
If you want to tear my world apart
Just say you've always wondered
This song, more than anything else, illustrates that moving on with Matty was nothing but a way to move past Joe – what she really wants, more than anything, is a response greater than indifference from Joe:
As the decade would play us for fools
And you saw my bones out with somebody new
Who seemed like he would've bullied you in school
And you just watched it happen
There’s also the realization that Joe may never love who she is now – who she was at the beginning of their relationship will always be who he prefers:
If you want to break my cold, cold heart
Just say, 'I loved you the way that you were'
She’s trying desperately to find some way to make up for the fact that she had to leave Joe, that there was nothing she could do to stay – she tried changing everything about herself, but still, the need to leave him eventually caught up with her:
I changed into goddesses, villains and fools
Changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules
All to outrun my desertion of you
And you just watched it
And she wonders whether despite his indifference, and the distance between them, she should still stay:
Could it be enough to just float in your orbit
Can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses
Cooler in theory but not if you force it
To be, it just didn't happen
But now, they are merely ghosts of who they once were – it’s not possible to force the relationship anymore.
How Did It End?
When a long-term relationship ends, you can point to the factors that led to its demise: a difference of opinions on money, on marriage, on children, and so forth. It is easy to determine the “what” and the “why” of an ending. But what is harder to diagnose is how you both became the versions of yourselves that weren’t on the same page, that were unable to discuss these topics, that couldn’t move past these dilemmas. That is much, much harder to pinpoint, and this is the question Taylor asks in this song. She knows what killed them:
We hereby conduct this post-mortem
He was a hot house flower to my outdoorsman
//
We were blind to unforeseen circumstances
We learn the right steps to different dances (ohh)
And fell victim to interlopers' glances
Lost the game of chance, what are the chances?
But what she still doesn't know is how it happened – how did it end? She also finds the empathy from the media and from the public to be false and selfish – they only want to know what happened to feverishly spread the news like wildfire.
Come one, come all
It's happenin' again
The empathetic hunger descends
We'll tell no one
Except all of our friends
We must know
How did it end?
//
Soon they'll go home to their husbands
Smug 'cause they know they can trust him
Then feverishly calling their cousins (ohh)
//
Say it once again with feeling
What the feeding frenzy wants more than anything is gossip, and they don’t care that she is utterly lost – lost as to why this happened, and lost physically and mentally:
Guess who we ran into at the shops?
Walking in circles like she was lost
How does she give an answer to quell the empathetic hunger, when she herself doesn’t understand exactly how it happened?
So High School
In an album that touches so much on feeling like she’s running out of time to have the future that she wants, and running out of youth to give the various men who come into her life, it is interesting and heartwarming that the song about Travis on the anthology is one that describes being with him as regaining her youth:
The brink of a wrinkle in time
Bittersweet sixteen suddenly
Moreover, another detail to note in this song is the difference in how she describes alcohol and drugs – in nearly every other song on TTPD, alcohol is a vice she uses in her moments of despair, and drugs are what her previous partners turn to in their moments of strife (she also describes the influence of drugs on her partners as something she detests – “sinking in stoned oblivion” and “you needed me but you needed drugs more”). With Travis, she’s not imbibing in any substances – instead, his thoughts and jokes are enough for her:
I'll drink what you think, and I'm high
From smoking your jokes all damn night
Travis is giving her back her youth, making sober promises, and the impression that we get is that they’re building this dreamlike reality together – it’s wholesome, all-American, and high-school-inspired, yet still grounded in something tangible, unlike the promise of fate and destiny, which powered her relationship with Joe and her entanglement with Matty.
I Hate It Here
More than anything, I think this song illustrates how Taylor sometimes uses escapism and maladaptive daydreaming to ignore the reality of the situation she’s dealing with. She recognizes that it’s not possible to stay where she is, locked inside this prison of stagnation and boredom:
If comfort is a construct
I don't believe in good luck
Now that I know what's what
She recognizes that this isn’t what she used to be, and that she never intended to choose this life of secrecy, perhaps alluding to all those years she spent “locked inside her house”:
You see I was a debutante in another life but
Now I seem to be scared to go outside
She describes herself as finding hope in the places her mind creates (seemingly alluding to her creation of characters and places for folklore and evermore):
I hate it here so I will go to
secret gardens in my mind
People need a key to get to
The only one is mine
I read about it in a book when I was a precocious child
And her escapism into her past, and imaginings of what could have been:
I hate it here so I will go to
Lunar valleys in my mind
When they found a better planet
Only the gentle survived
I dreamed about it in the dark
The night I felt like I might die
All throughout the song, there’s recognition that she doesn’t want to be here – she doesn’t want to feel as if the only place she can be free is in these imaginary worlds she creates. But there’s also concession – is she perhaps only destined for an eternal consolation prize? For loneliness? For imagined romanticism? For the fantasy of how she imagined her life and her love to be?
I'm lonely but I'm good
I'm bitter but I swear I'm fine
I'll save all my romanticism for my inner life and I'll get lost on
purpose
This place made me feel worthless
Lucid dreams like electricity, the current flies through me,
and in my fantasies I rise above it
And way up there, I actually love it
​​thanK you aIMee
This song, along with a few others in the latter half of the anthology, discusses the loss of innocence she felt in key moments of her life. This one quite obviously alludes to Kim Kardashian, and their infamous feud. I will make a separate post on this, but I think people describing this song as petty may not remember the depth of the hate aimed at Taylor in 2016. Kim and Kanye organized a revenge porn music video for Famous, and held a museum exhibit so that people could take pictures with the naked dolls. The night the snapchat videos were released, every Kardashian family member descended upon social media to gleefully celebrate the #TaylorSwiftIsOverParty. The amount of hate Taylor got was so unprecedented that Instagram actually built their comment filtration system because of this incident. It really was that bad.
And every baby step Taylor took (for example, even just posting that she had a good 2017 was met with immediate media backlash) was quite literally mocked across the internet. People thought the reputation era was cringey, that she was over, and that she deserved everyone’s ire because she was “proven” to be a liar. She describes this in the song:
Each time that Aimee stomped across my grave
And then she wrote headlines in the local paper
Laughing at each baby step I'd take
And it was always the same searing pain
But the whole time, despite the pain and blood, she was dreaming of the day that she would heal, and dreaming of the day that she would climb her way back to to the mountaintop:
And our town, it looks so small from way up here
//
So I pushed each boulder up that hill
Your words were still just ringing in my head, ringing in my head
What still irks her though, is that this bully who created this entire hate train and organized her downfall will pretend as if it never happened – she will undoubtedly reframe things to make our subject seem overdramatic, petty, and unable to move past the incidents of years ago. Taylor, however, has always been clear about one thing: sometimes, no amount of time can heal you from something that deeply traumatized you.
I Look in People’s Windows
This song to me feels like a sister song to The Black Dog, but a few months after the official end of a relationship. A sub theme that runs through Taylor’s songs about the Joe breakup is the loss of being understood – when you are no longer with a long-term partner, how do you cope with the fact that you move the world knowing everything about this person, but at the same time, not knowing them anymore? Would you peek into their windows just to get a glimpse of what their life looks like now? As anyone who has gone through a breakup knows, the hardest part is often not being privy to the mundane details of that person’s world – their dinner parties, their wine, their friends, and so on.
I look in people's windows
Transfixed by rose golden glows
They have their friends over to drink nice wine
I look in people's windows
In case you're at their table
What if your eyes looked up and met mine
One more time
The Prophecy
The prophecy is devastating. More so than any other song Taylor has ever written, it is full of desperation and longing. All she asks for is to be known, to be understood – to not be perceived as an idea of a woman, or a starlet with no humanity:
Please
I've been on my knees
Change the prophecy
Don't want money
Just someone who wants my company
Let it once be me
Who do I have to speak to
About if they can redo
The prophecy?
It’s striking especially considering how much she laments that leaving Joe means she’s giving up being known – it’s also striking given the fact that in the epilogue poem, she states that neither Joe or Matty ever truly knew her:
He never even scratched the surface
of me.
None of them did.
What she desires beyond fame, beyond notoriety, beyond money, is to be loved and to be known. The song also alludes to her being in therapy, and to finding some sort of consolation that she will find someone to share her life with:
I'm so afraid I sealed my fate
No sign of soulmates
I'm just a paperweight
In shades of greige
Spending my last coin so someone will tell me
It'll be ok
Cassandra
This track is a sister song to ​​thanK you aIMee, and continues exploring the theme of fraught public womanhood we see in Clara Bow and Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me. In this song, Taylor discusses how the validation of women is never publicized in the way that the crucifixion of them is:
When the first stone's thrown, there's screaming
In the streets, there's a raging riot
When it's "Burn the bitch, " they're shrieking
When the truth comes out, it's quiet
Moreover, when women speak up about an issue, they’re often viewed as overdramatic, and unserious. Cassandra, in Greek mythology, was cursed by Apollo to always predict the future accurately, but never be believed. We see this happen every day to women in politics, in the media, and in pop culture:
So, they killed Cassandra first 'cause she feared the worst
And tried to tell the town
So, they set my life in flames, I regret to say
Do you believe me now?
And for Taylor, it’s reminiscent of all the times she’s been the first to speak out about something in the industry – for example, against Scooter Braun and his well-established pattern of bullying, or of the exploitation of artists on streaming services – but never been supported broadly by her peers. They believe her later, but at that point, very few people give her the credit for speaking up in the first place. It’s reminiscent of the Kimye scandal. When the news broke originally, the hatred she received was widespread. But when she was acquitted by the long-form video that leaked, it didn’t receive anywhere near the level of coverage that the original scandal received.
Peter
Peter is another song that touches on both the male muses for this album, and in turn, on the promises various men have given her over her life (we’ll circle back to this in The Manuscript!). It also touches on the theme of waiting that’s seen throughout this album, especially on her songs about Joe – how much time is enough time to give?
Both Matty and Joe were 25 when they met her, and it’s abundantly clear that both men made promises to her: promises of marriage, of children, and of a future. But how long can she wait for these promises to be fulfilled? To Joe, she gives six years of her life and youth, and to Matty, she gives him a chance to prove that he was reformed from the time she knew him last: both men eventually fail. Neither man is ready to give up their childish whims, and she has no choice but to lose hope that either of them ever will.
And you said you'd come and get me but you were 25
And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired
Lost to the lost boys chapter of your life
Forgive me Peter, please know that I tried
To hold onto the days when you were mine
But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light
Another thing to note is the interesting double meaning of the song title. To peter also means to diminish gradually – much like her faith in both men’s promises.
The Bolter
A lot of the songs Taylor has written about Joe in this album deal with the question of “when is the right time to leave?” When you know that things are stagnant, and you know that you’ve given everything you have to a relationship, you know that you have to leave – but it’s easy to convince yourself if you have a history of “leaving before you get left” that you should ride out this wave, and that this pain might just be temporary.
The Bolter, to me, reflects on Taylor’s history – it seems like she prided herself on being able to see the warning signs, and being able to get out in time.
She's been many places with
Men of many faces
First, they're off to the races
And she's laughing drawin' aces
But, none of it is changin'
That the chariot is waitin'
Hearts are hers for the breakin'
There's an escape in escaping
It’s relevant to TTPD, because likely, she saw not bolting as a sign of growth and maturity. You know that you’ve grown as a person when you don’t abandon ship at the first sign of trouble, but what if there are so many signs of trouble that the truly mature thing to do would be to leave?
Robin
Robin leads into this theme of childhood and innocence that we see further in The Manuscript. The track name is also the name of Aaron Dessner’s child. She ponders how beautiful and sweet it is that we work so hard to protect childhood naivete:
Strings tied to levers,
slowed down clocks tethered,
all this showmanship
To keep it, for you,
In sweetness
And there’s an element of wistfulness to it – don’t we sometimes wish that we could also be protected from the worst the world has to offer?
You have no room in your dreams for regrets
You have no idea
The time will arrive for the cruel and the mean
You'll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline
But now we'll curtail your curiosity
The Manuscript
This song is perhaps the most climactic song on the album. It covers her romantic history up until that point, and starts at the moment she feels everything went awry – and it predates Joe and Matty. Instead, it calls back to the first time she experienced a proper heartbreak, and the first time she lost her childlike innocence in the world – her relationship with Jake Gyllenhaal (a time she described as her transition from childhood to womanhood). She describes how they compared licenses, and how he told her that if they had sex, and it was as good as the conversation was, then they would get married, and have a family. He was the first man to make her these promises:
He said that if the sex was half as good as the conversation was
Soon they'd be pushin' strollers
But soon it was over
He tells her that it’s ok that they have an age gap, because she’s so advanced for her age:
She thought about how he said since she was so wise beyond her years
Everything had been above board
She wasn't sure
While dating him, she desperately wants to be older, and starts emulating his behavior:
In the age of him, she wished she was thirty
And made coffee every morning in a French press
And when it’s over, she regresses, and turns back into a child – unable to sleep alone without the comfort of her mother, and unable to eat anything substantial besides the sugary cereal of her youth:
Afterwards she only ate kids' cereal
And couldn't sleep unless it was in her mother's bed
She forces herself to date boys her own age, to not rely on the maturity of an older man to guide her through adulthood, but she can’t help but feel disappointed in their youth:
Then she dated boys who were her own age
With dart boards on the backs of their doors
Finally, as she creates the All Too Well short film, she recognizes the damage he did to her, and how the consequences of that affair have shaped her life since:
And the years passed
Like scenes of a show
The Professor said to write what you know
Lookin' backwards
Might be the only way to move forward
Then the actors
Were hitting their marks
And the slow dance
Was alight with the sparks
And the tears fell
In synchronicity with the score
And at last
She knew what the agony had been for
Everything calls back to this first man, and these original promises – everything she’s been chasing since is reminiscent of this first scar. And just like how releasing All Too Well transformed and healed her, she hopes that by releasing this additional manuscript into the world, it will heal her again. As she describes in the epilogue poem, she is entering all her thoughts, emotions, and pain into evidence – she now asks the audience to process it with her, and thus conclude this process of healing.
The only thing that's left is the manuscript
One last souvenir from my trip to your shores
Now and then I reread the manuscript
But the story isn't mine anymore
If you read all of this - thank you! I enjoyed writing it, and I'm excited to discuss with you all in the replies :)

https://www.northumbriangames.com/post/of-orcs-and-ai

Made vs. Created and the Nature of Orcs

J.R.R. Tolkien's stories are deeply rooted in Thomistic metaphysics and Christian theology, where the distinction between "made" and "created" is pivotal. This distinction underscores the nature of goodness, creation, corruption, and the intrinsic limitations of evil. The dichotomy between making and creating is most vividly illustrated through the origins and nature of orcs, the monstrous foot soldiers of Middle-earth's dark lords.

Creation: The Divine Act

In Tolkien's world, true creation, or creatio ex nihilo (creation from nothing), is the exclusive province of Eru Ilúvatar, the supreme deity. This act of creation involves bringing something into existence that possesses the Flame Imperishable (or the Secret Fire), which grants true life, free will, and inherent goodness. Beings created by Eru Ilúvatar, such as the Ainur (angelic beings), elves, and men, are imbued with this divine spark, making them fundamentally good and capable of independent existence and moral choice.
From The Silmarillion:

"Therefore Ilúvatar may not only send forth the Flame Imperishable into the Void, but he may also bestow it to others, who may then sub-create, though only as permitted by Ilúvatar"​​.

Making: The Act of Sub-creation

In contrast, the Valar and other beings can engage in making or sub-creation, which involves shaping or manipulating pre-existing matter. They cannot infuse these creations with the Flame Imperishable. A notable example is Aulë, one of the Valar, who crafted the Dwarves. Initially, these beings were mere automatons, moving only according to Aulë's thoughts. It was only when Eru Ilúvatar chose to bestow them with the Flame Imperishable that the Dwarves gained true life and independence. This story illustrates the fundamental difference between divine creation and sub-creation: the former grants true life and free will, while the latter lacks these essential qualities until blessed by Eru. Tolkien clarifies this distinction in his letters:

"They [the Valar] shared in [the World’s] 'making'—but only on the same terms as we 'make' a work of art or story. The realization of it, the gift to it of a created reality of the same grade as their own, was the act of the One God"​​.

Orcs: The Corruption of Creation

The origin of orcs in Tolkien’s mythos serves as a poignant example of the difference between making and creating. According to various writings, orcs were not created by Morgoth or Sauron but were made by corrupting pre-existing beings. In "The Silmarillion," it is suggested that orcs were originally elves who were captured, tortured, and perverted by Morgoth's malevolent influence. This corruption transformed them into beings of evil, stripped of their original grace and beauty. In Morgoth's Ring we find:

"It became clear in time that undoubted Men could under the domination of Morgoth or his agents in a few generations be reduced almost to the Orc-level of mind and habits; and then they would or could be made to mate with Orcs, producing new breeds, often larger and more cunning. There is no doubt that long afterwards, in the Third Age, Saruman rediscovered this, or learned of it in lore, and in his lust for mastery committed this, his wickedest deed: the interbreeding of Orcs and Men, producing both Men-orcs large and cunning, and Orc-men treacherous and vile."​​.

Tolkien emphasizes that orcs, though rational and capable of independent thought, lack the divine spark of the Flame Imperishable. This absence signifies that while Morgoth could mar and twist the creations of Eru, he could not create life himself. In Flame Imperishable, Tolkien is quoted as saying:

"Treebeard does not say that the Dark Lord 'created' Trolls and Orcs. He says he 'made' them in counterfeit of certain creatures pre-existing. There is, to me, a wide gulf between the two statements"​​.

Essence
Elves: Created with inherent goodness and free will. Their essence is tied to beauty, longevity, and a deep connection to nature and creation.
Men: Created with inherent goodness and free will. Their essence includes mortality, adaptability, and a dynamic nature.
Orcs: Originally, corrupted elves or men, or made from slime and heat, the essence has been radically distorted and corrupted by evil. Their essence now reflects malevolence, subservience, and a perversion of their original nature.
Existence
Elves: Given existence by Eru Ilúvatar, independent and autonomous. Their being is fully realized with a true purpose aligned with their essence.
Men: Given existence by Eru Ilúvatar, independent and autonomous. Their being is dynamic, capable of growth, and change, and is fully realized.
Orcs: Their existence is subjugated to the will of their corrupt masters (Morgoth or Sauron). While they have real, physical existence, it is dependent on the malevolent forces that control them.
Autonomy
Elves: High degree of moral autonomy, capable of making independent choices and pursuing their own paths.
Men: High degree of moral autonomy, capable of making independent choices and pursuing their own paths.
Orcs: Almost entirely controlled by their evil masters, reflecting their corrupted essence and dependent existence.
Connection to Eru
Elves: Directly created by Eru with the Flame Imperishable, giving them true life and free will.
Men: Directly created by Eru with the Flame Imperishable, giving them true life and free will.
Orcs: Not created by Eru but rather made by corrupting pre-existing beings or materials. They lack the Flame Imperishable, highlighting their dependent and perverted nature.
Philosophical Implication
Elves: Represent the ideal of Tolkien's metaphysical and theological views, embodying true creation and the perfect blend of essence and existence.
Men: Embody the dynamic and adaptable nature of true creation with a perfect blend of essence and existence, according to Aquinas's philosophy.
Orcs: Serve as an example of how essence and existence can be corrupted and diminished by evil. Their existence is real but heavily dependent and perverted, lacking true autonomy and the Flame Imperishable.

Philosophical and Theological Implications

The distinction between made and created has profound implications in Tolkien’s universe. It aligns with Christian theology, reflecting the belief in a singular, omnipotent Creator who alone can grant true life. This distinction underscores the inherent limitations of evil: it is parasitic, relying on the corruption of what is good rather than generating new existence.
Orcs epitomize this concept. They are beings made through corruption, reflecting the perversion of creation. Their existence as fundamentally corrupted creatures illustrates the limits of Morgoth’s and Sauron’s power. They can induce suffering and manipulate life, but they cannot originate a true life that burns with the Flame Imperishable. This underscores a central theme in Tolkien’s works: the resilience of good and the ultimate impotence of evil to truly create.

On Artificial Intelligence

This leads us to Artificial Intelligence. Modern large language models (LLMs) and artificial intelligence systems, despite their sophisticated capabilities, are constructs without true volition or understanding. Basically, an LLM is an advanced version of autocomplete. These systems operate on vast datasets and algorithms designed to predict and generate human-like text (or audio or images), but they lack genuine consciousness, intent, and moral agency. Unlike beings created with the divine spark in Tolkien's world, LLMs do not possess free will or intrinsic purpose; they are tools made by humans to process and mimic patterns. Some commentators have even referred to AI as an alien intelligence, a ~shoggoth with a human face~, meaning that while the text may look humanlike, in reality, it originated not from a human but from an unknowable, formless alien process, which is the LLM.

"Well, we're fooled by their fluency, right? We just assume that if a system is fluent in manipulating language, then it has all the characteristics of human intelligence. But that impression is false." --Yann Lecun​​ on the Lex Fridman podcast #416

The outputs of an LLM are determined not by experience, education, and emotion but by the data and programming they receive, reflecting the biases and limitations inherent in their design. This underscores the crucial distinction between artificial constructs and beings endowed with the Flame Imperishable, with true life and volition. Parents, for instance, should think carefully about giving a child unbridled access to an LLM which has no discernible ethics. The AI is a soulless, thoughtless machine built by human researchers, much like an orc is designed by Sauron simply to act as an instrument of his evil desires. The ethical and philosophical results of deploying such constructs into our society is staggering indeed.

The AI is only the Tool of the Maker

Of course, while the analogy between LLMs and Orcs highlights the artificial nature and purpose-driven creation of both, there are clear and fundamental differences in moral intent and potential for ethical use. LLMs are not (as far as we know) inherently evil constructs. They seem to be neutral tools that reflect the intentions of their creators and users. As such, the focus should be on ensuring that AI development and deployment are guided by ethical principles to maximize their benefits and minimize potential harm. That said, as with social media, we may come to regret the technology and wish to fling it back into Mordor's fire.

Conclusion

Tolkien's distinction between made and created is a metaphysical aspect of Middle Earth. It emphasizes the unique power of Eru Ilúvatar's true creation and the corruptive nature of evil. The orcs symbolize this dichotomy, illustrating how evil can distort but not create. This concept resonates in modern large language models and AI systems, which lack genuine consciousness and moral agency despite their advanced capabilities. Orcs and contemporary LLMs demonstrate the ethical implications of using such technologies and serve to enrich the philosophical depth of Tolkien's work.

From the log of Edward Price – Clerk for Diplomat Howard Weathers – 03.28.2803
I suppose a summary is in order for things to be clear. Humanity has a bit of a reputation as an odd lot in the galaxy. Most aliens don’t know really know what to think about us. You see, most aliens are actually somewhat boring, having fallen into galactic societal niches over thousands of years. The Atroxians are were space pirates, the Vontacruz own the casinos and travel cruise industries, and the Hordun operate the most efficient morgues this side of the galaxy – usually because of the Atroxians. But the Delridians? They are diplomats. And dare I say that they are the weird ones.
Delri Prima is the homeworld of the Delridians, a tall, lanky race who look like the grimdark cousins of a Star Wars Kaminoan. Brilliant medics, they apparently don’t see a difference between medical work and diplomacy, seeing both fields as the healing arts. Their medicocracy has a long list of accomplishments throughout the galaxy, enough that it’d look like an 18-hour credit reel on a movie. My guess is that they may have been the “Humans” of the galaxy preceding us before they finally settled, and rumors have it that the K’kituun Death Puppets are an ancient offshoot from their early days on the galactic stage.
But more to the point, after about 180 years on the galactic stage, Humanity has made a decent name for ourselves as the handyman and eccentric nerd. We are celebrated, thrown strange looks, worried glances, and altogether treated as small children. Though with the destruction of Axtroxia, they may want to worry about what will happen when we hit puberty. The Delridians have already been through that, though they were never as eccentric as we are.
They reached out to Humanity with a diplomatic frigate appropriately named Olive Branch about a year ago. I’ve learned they like to reflect the cultures they are talking to, so as to ease negotiations. Can’t imagine what the Atroxian equivalent was. Probably something like ‘Torn Heads’. Regardless, Diplomat Weathers was finally selected as the Earth delegate to talk on Delri Prima, and oh boy. That is a dark world. Like, bring a flashlight dark. I don’t know whether it is the slow spin of the planet, or the climate generators they have, but the entire twilight band is just dark and grey. It rains, and thankfully it is safe water, but it is eerie. From the embassy city they built to make us more comfortable, you can look out across the Delridian jungle and see the many other diplomatic cities slowly being devoured by the vines and trees.
The first night was fine, though I’m not sure any of us slept well. We were each provided a separate room or, well, house really. The entire city was made of a cold stone, themed after some old Italian city on Earth. The wind slipped through the narrow streets with a soft whistle, bringing with it a faint jungle fog. Somewhere down the street was a clattering window shutter, but with how much stone they used, and the strange alignment of the streets, you could hear a pin drop from eight blocks away!
Talks went well for the first three days as Diplomat Weathers and the Delridians got to know each other. I met with and discussed a number of cultural similarities with a member of the alien entourage, a Nurse Kelayo, when I wasn’t with the others in my group exploring the city. She was very proud of the settlement they built for us, but in our talks, she asked what we thought of the book. What book?
Well, after having a wonderful meal with my coworkers and some of the alien entourage, we said our farewells and parted ways. Kelayo was vague, but had explained how they had acquired a copy of the book, and that she hoped that we enjoyed the effort she put into it.

I didn’t look into it immediately when I returned to the lonely, lifeless house that was my quarters. Mark was my closest neighbor, and he was a block down. The Delridians, fresh from talks with the Hordun, thought we may want some privacy from each other. And while it is nice not having to hear Mark snore in the cabin like on the flight here, the house was a little… too private.
It was as I was preparing to turn off the light to go to sleep that I thought to look in the nightstand beside me. Kelayo had told us about the book, and when I opened the top drawer, it was indeed there. Sitting center and alone was an old Earth book of gnarled leather and no visible title. Whatever poor creature the Delridians had used to make the cover had terrible skin!
Opening the book, I found it to have been printed in an old dialect of English from before the Third World War, with some much older words I did not recognize. It certainly looked like it was printed in the archaic methods of old Earth, with wet ink instead of modern digital ink that provided touch-based pseudo-memoric context.
I began to flip through the pages of this strange book, turning up the brightness on the nightstand lamp to see better. The faded pages of the book looked sick and moldy, and my skin crawled just touching it, but the letters, despite the stains and grunge, seemed to pop from the page in crisp black. In fact, the ink was so black that it felt like I was staring into the void with each letter. Kelayo’s book was some archaic text of old Earth culture from the end of the 20^th century, though I did not recognize the name. Written by a Bishop Simon from some archaic cult or religion, the book functioned as a “spellbook” like a deepdive virtual reality fantasy game might have. It was filled with a plethora of gods I did not recognize, and a ton of phonetic gibberish that sounded good when said, but easily complicated.
I hadn’t gotten too far when I heard a man’s scream next to me. Jumping out of my skin, I found no one there. But I remembered where I was, and crept to the window. It was Mark’s voice, more panicky than I had ever heard him. Peeking through the slats of the window, I scanned the street towards Mark’s place. The light was on, and someone was shuffling down the street, murmuring in pain.
Rushing down to the street, I rushed out to help him. Mark’s mutterings were too quiet, and he was holding something to his chest. It may have been a minute before I collected myself and tried to get answers from him, but you have to understand, I’ve never seen a dying man before. Not in real life. In the dim and permanent gloom, I could barely make out the trail of blood behind him. He pleaded again and again, and I had to find out where he was injured, and what it was he was carrying.
I went to take what he held, only to realized that in my own fervor to aid him I still had that creepy book. I put that down to wrench free Mark’s own possession. I really wish I hadn’t, for his grip was weak, with only one hand. I held his other, and everything above it.
My own voice was the next I heard echoing down the street as I most certainly fell backwards. Sorry Mark, but I lost your arm. Well, your first one. The second is decorating some chandelier somewhere, courtesy of Vanessa.
Please understand that for anyone in my situation, gorey horror was never my fancy, and I hope no one in the auditing board holds it against me. I would bet credits that any of you would have done much the same as I did.
Time is… unreliable on Delri Prima, with its twilit band and gloom. The only thing that moves is that blasted fog. And the vines. Especially the vines. I’m not sure how long I ran, but Vanessa was the one to find me, flanked by a street littered with Human bodies. Far more people than joined us on the crew… I think. You might want to review the ship manifest just to be sure.
Vanessa, once she verified my identity, guided me through the littered street, still gurgling and reaching out to us. Give her a raise, by the way. She’s the one that got us out of there. We met up with Dwayne and Harry, both armed with metal pipes and whatever other junk they salvaged, and we retreated to a boarded up house with other surviving members of the crew. They were glad to see me, though I don’t remember who they were. Many were new faces to the ship for this mission.
We settled here for hours? A day? Our comms were filled with static, and we couldn’t reach Mr. Weathers to see if he was ok. We needed to get off this planet. Someone mentioned that the ship was still parked at the landing bay. All eyes turned to someone in the back of the group, who slowly stood up, her form long and lanky. Kelayo, the Delridian nurse.
Vanessa worked with Kelayo on a plan to move through the city to the landing bay, while the rest of us sought supplies. This house had a basement, connected to a series of tunnels which we would use to slip under whatever muttering, mumbling horrors pleaded us to come outside.
Slowly, and as quietly as we could, our train of survivors crept through the tunnels. Our flashlights that Ben had found were pathetically dim, and frequently flickered out, sounding with a loud clunk whenever someone whacked it awake. Icy water dripped from the long tangled hairs of wriggling moss that clung to and between the bricks, the lights illuminating white lice-like that lived within the tangle.
Splashing was the only sound we heard for a long time, along with someone’s horrid cough. He was in the back of the line, far behind me, but kept coughing and groaning. Others frequently shushed him, louder than he coughed. But for all the good their efforts to keep him quiet were, it paled in comparison to Kelayo’s odd excitement. When I inquired her about her unusual positivity, she admitted fascination over the many accounts of average Humans combatting the supernatural evils that threatened Earth. How we could survive on a planet infested with the dead with only equally dark magicks astounded her, despite our culture not having widespread knowledge or application of this means of survival. It was faint, but she had nodded at the book. Why did I still have this disgusting leatherback that seemed to shiver in the cold?
I apologize for any impact I may have had on diplomatic relations with the Delridians, but I said some uncouth remarks about the whole situation and the book. I flipped it open to a random page to give an example, forgetting in my annoyance just how dark it was in the tunnels. But that ink… that horrid archaic stain… was fully legible. I admit I came to a stop in awe, though shortlived as the train of people behind me bumped into me. That coughing was gone.
So were half the people we had been travelling with. Kelayo glanced around with a chitter. She was having too much fun with the spooky, and now we heard skittering and scrape scrape scraping on the bricks. Vanessa fired a shot down the tunnel and urged us to run, so we did.
We were near the landing bay when we ducked into a sideroom per Kelayo’s prompting, and shoved a convenient table in the way of the door. The skittering was above us on the ground floor too, and then someone grabbed my foot. It may have been Mark. Well, the part of Mark I dropped.
Long gnarled fingers covered in dirt were the hallmark of these freaky things. Human hands with a life of their own, skittering around like bugs as they fled the flashlight’s beam and sought dark corners. These shelters included their unholy wriggling up our pants and jackets, some grips strong and muscular, and others gentle and cautious. If you have ever had a massage, you may never want one again once a chilly, slimy, dismembered hand tries to nest between your shoulder blades.
Vanessa fired off a few shots in her desperate attempt to keep the grabby hands off, though she nicked Ben’s ear in the process. The loud noise scattered the skitterhands enough for us to fling the last few from our persons. Vanessa slammed the book I still carried, ordering me to read it. She had lost her copy early on, but had the gist of its contents.
The ink on the book was darkest on one particular page, with a weird symbol that looked like it said XOOD. An old-Earth linguist may understand it better than I. Kelayo was forced to provide guidance, as she was the expert on the book, and with many, many attempts, and a dark horde gathering upstairs, were ready to begin. Vanessa was out of shots in her gun, and Ben and Dwayne were futiley pushing back the horde of impossible crewmen. These people smelled horribly of rotten meat, and overtook Ben first, followed swiftly by Dwayne.
Vanessa had backed into a corner, clearly scared. I can’t blame her, since I was, too. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t join her in the false safety of the corner. The rotten crew… this dead crew, was in the room with us, and were already grabbing me. Amidst the noise and confusion, I could hear Vanessa being attacked behind me, and the dull nails of my own assailants tearing at my skin. Kelayo, her form thin and dark, simply stood amidst the dead.
Read it, she said.
Say it with all your heart.
I remember the word that pierced the world that day, but can’t remember saying it. But my throat burns whenever I utter it now. BARASHAKUSHU. The dead froze in place, their fingers dug deep into my skin. BARASHAKUSHU. Limp, lifeless, just as they should be. BARASHAKUSHU. The haze in the air, even in the basement, lifted. BARASHAKUSHU. Vanessa breathed deep as I pulled her from the bodies and out the house to the crowded, lifeless street.
We limped, though we did not bleed, filled with holes and grime, and caked in blood. Kelayo followed wraithlike behind us, always ten paces behind. The landing bay was before us. Our ship and salvation was before us.
Diplomat Weathers was fine, though alarmed at our state. Delridian doctors tended to us as we explained what happened. A full transcript is available via the ship’s DIA-Log.
When all was said and done, the Delridian diplomat thanked us for being so willing to open discourse. To celebrate successful talks between our species, he offered us a parting feast. He motioned Kaleyo over, who had apparently been tasked with researching Human culture for the talks.
She explained over dinner about how she had poured over a stunning variety of Human dishes from our many cultures, but that she had settled on one that appeared to be a universal favorite. An Italian dish of long, stringy noodles over their equivalent of a white cream sauce. And dinner was fantastic! But Kaleyo seemed confused as well, stating that she had a difficult time picking out the right recipe. The instructions were apparently all over the place with a lot of strange steps that seemed superfluous to food preparation.
I asked her what she meant, to which she replied, “The base ingredients were simple, almost mundane. Of note, the various rituals in the preparation exhausted many of our best doctors. Some are still seeking treatment after one batch escaped. You Humans have a very strange culture of food, especially with the names. I believe you called this one… creepy pasta?”
Then the meatball on my fork blinked at me.

You’re a damn fool, you know that?”, said Gemeti.
After they arrived at the palace, Lord Gyholt’s servants showed them to their quarters where they would stay with the Fursaglan lord’s own staff. It was a spacious set of rooms, whitewashed walls and a light breeze gliding in from the outside bringing in the awful smell of the city’s smoke. They seemed nice enough though there was no way to communicate anything to them since neither group knew the other’s tongue. Gemeti took a reluctant Ettu away from the main group to chastise her in a corner of the room.
Ettu sighed heavily, “Yes, I know. You’ve done nothing but tell me since I joined Lord Palanu’s service. He can punish me if he wants to. That Marhuk’s smile and laughter would be worth every bit of misery”. She could still picture that beautiful smile he had that made her heart skip a beat.
The other woman put her fists in her hips, “What would your mother say about this?”.
Ettu laughed, “She would hand me a flask of animal fat”.
Gemeti blushed and sucked in her breath in irritation before throwing her head back in a guffaw. That’s when Ettu knew she had her. Her mother always told her to win people over with a smile and a jest and ever since it had worked like a charm and got her out of trouble many times. The other woman stopped suddenly when she realized she was loud enough to draw the gaze of several of the other servants but then giggled more quietly with Ettu.
The giggling was cut short when a Fursaglan servant hurriedly entered the room and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the door as if bracing himself to prevent anyone else from coming in.
One of the other Fursaglan servants walked up to him and asked a question. Before he could answer, a sword ran through his back and out of his stomach and spat blood out. The worried man screamed and coughed blood as the door hinges broke and the door itself crushed him. Through the door, came a man in silver armor, other armed men behind him. The warrior was big and muscular which left Ettu in no doubt that he broke the door down by himself. He hacked down the inquisitive servant, killing him with two blows to the head.
One woman belted out an ear splitting scream, cut short by the murderer’s quick dash towards her, ramming his obsidian sword through her heart. Another woman began running for the window which led the others to do the same. More assailants filtered in, slashing at more men and women and creating a pool of gore and guts.
“Oh fuck!”, said Ettu.
Gemeti took her hand and pulled her away from the bloodshed and into the window. But all the servants rushed through at the same time, leaving none of them free to jump out. Hemmed in to one side of the room, they made it easier for the warriors to cut them down.
Gemeti’s face was struck with horror, “Gods! They killed them. Just slashed them like lumberjacks at a forest”.
The first intruder cleaved her head off with his already gory sword. The warrior had been sawing off another servant’s arm when he saw her with an almost feral expression on his face and jumped at her. Blood flew at Ettu’s face, a gasp all that escaped her. She never had it in her to scream but that didn’t mean she wasn’t scared.
Piss slithered down her legs as she knelt before him, “Please don’t kill me. I don’t want to die”, with hands held up as if she could stop a sword swing.
The warrior smiled at her fear, enjoying every second of it. Through his grin he said with a thick accent, “Die, Aroloth”.
Suddenly, one of her hands turned bright green. A sharp pain surged through her arm and manifested itself in a lance of fire, blasting from her palm and into the murderer’s chest. He fell down, never knowing what killed him.
At the north wing of the palace, Lord Gyholt was gesturing at his Sentinels, barking out orders and cursing at his manservant to put the armor on faster. He had men watch the windows to gauge the enemy numbers and servants cowering at a corner. Meanwhile, Palanu calmly ran an oilcloth along his khopesh and swung it around to test it amidst all the chaos in the room. Two of his guards flanking him.
“Asula! Go with Mazni and his brothers. By Crudas! Where’s Marhuk?”, said Gyholt as he swore by the Fursaglan god of warriors.
The throne room was a cream-colored, marble representation of Fursagla’s history with intricately etched bass reliefs of the Eagle Kings and their households. The images were everywhere, in each floor tile, round pillar, step in the dais, and the very throne itself. The whole place seemed to burst with reminders of Fursagla’s martial glory as if a man might quickly forget it.
“What’s the best route to the barracks?”, asked the Aroloth lord.
Gyholt shooed his manservant away once he was done, “What? You mean to go out there? Wait for me and my Sentinels. We can go out together to rescue your men”.
A man’s howl of pain took both lords’ attention. One of the watchers was pierced with an arrow in the clavicle. A warrior climbed in through the window as the watcher sobbed at his pain, the sobbing man grew quiet as a sword thrust to the temple ended him. More assailants entered, killing another watcher with a spear through the skull.
Immediately the Sentinels ran to their lord in a wall of bronze and hides and slammed their shields into the ground with an intimidating, “Huh!”. The enemies quickly swarmed the room, tearing arms and slashing necks all the while of any man not behind the Sentinels or Palanu and his guards. One assailant in particular wore Dendra armor and a plumed helmet with cheek pieces and a grim smile plastered on his face.
“Gojan”, said Lord Gyholt.
“Gyholt”, said Gojan son of Asgena.
“Where’s your father? If we could get to him then we can end all this senseless violence and make amends”, said the Fursaglan lord.
The nobleman sneered, “What makes you think we’re stupid enough to believe that?”.
“You were stupid enough to attack my palace”, retorted the former rebel.
The younger man snarled and shouted an order to attack. His men charged, bringing to bear wrathful blows and glory-hounding sprints. Palanu and his two guards (Sylon and Naru-zim) braced for impact, holding khopeshs and tower-like shields except for the Aroloth lord.
Even with the lack of shield, Palanu held his khopesh before him, giving vicious strokes with its hungry edge to the first man that faced him. The warrior had barely grown his chin hairs when he threw himself at the noble with wide eyes and panicky spear thrusts. The khopesh darted out and banged against his copper helmet. While his opponent was dazed, Palanu quickly reversed his grip and hooked the young man’s shield, pulling him away from his companions as if a babe from a nest of vipers. Only the babe landed in a nest of cobras. Once he stole away the shield, the Aroloth pushed the tip of his sword through his gullet and tore it out with a strip of flesh dangling in the hilt. The fight lasted less than two seconds.
The room became a cauldron of action as men on both sides jabbed and pushed each other, a red flood spilling into the floor. In the midst of this battle, Gojan saw Palanu’s prowess with his khopesh. After killing his first opponent, the lord let the next man come only to hack him down with equal vigor. His beautiful, sky blue sleeves became drenched in crimson blood, spit adorned his forehead, fire burned behind his eyes.
The magma in his veins coursed through his body, his whole world narrowed down to his blade and his next victim. He killed them all, the ugly, the beautiful, the sad, and the happy. Gojan watched it all traverse before him. With greedy determination, he pushed past his men to get to the Aroloth lord.
“AROLOTH!”, he bawled.
Sylon saw him first whilst his lord slew yet another traitor and bellowed out a war cry to call him out. The Fursaglan noble fixed his eyes on the bronze-armored guard and stomped towards him, bashing the heads of the remnants of the fighting men still not in formation, chunks of brain-matter and skull-bone flew up and rained down, adding to the collage of death unleashed by Asgena.
Sylon’s khopesh wove a tapestry of slaughter as he ended the lives of men who stood between him and Gojan. There was no speech by either man like in the songs, no ceremonies like in Strohinite duels or war dances like in the Demon Isles, just the fight. Mace met khopesh, stone against bronze. The bronze-armored man expected to get a few chips off his opponent’s weapon but had realized it was spell-bound. Gojan grinned nastily as he belted out an animal growl that caused it to glow a deep purple and they clashed again.
The blade juddered and nearly leapt from Sylon’s grasp this time, but he bit his tongue in determination and his knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip. The mace spat lightning and hissed with every touch. Another series of clashes pelted Sylon’s khopesh with many notches. Battle-madness held him, veins popped out along his hands and forehead. The Fursaglan noble lost his grin and sweat beaded his brow as he only barely swept aside yet another lunge from the guard.
Though he was an expert warrior trained from birth, Gojan only ever fought against peasants in the battlefield. Unbeknownst to him, Sylon was as blueblooded as he was and was considered gifted for his young age. When the son of Asgena realized the man wasn’t going down, he grew desperate, driving harder swings into his opponent and expending more of his strength.
Sylon realized this and simply let his shield take the beating. The cured hides blackened and light wisps of smoke rose from the places the Fursaglan bashed with his mace. The Aroloth man’s muscles jolted, the slight twinge of fear that belied his defence fueling his every move and stratagem. With a twist of wrist, the mace slid by and took the Fursaglan’s momentum with it. Out balanced and out maneuvered, Gojan was at the mercy of Sylon’s blade. The tortured khopesh sank deep with a vengeance between shoulder and neck.
Nerveless fingers dropped the mace, the deep purple glow dissolving into thin air. The noble warrior himself staring at the ground with glazed eyes and dripping blood. Sylon slid the khopesh out and much of his neck with it. Before the body dropped on the floor, the guardsman yelled out, “For the Emperor!”, as he awaited the next foe.
Naru-zim fought methodically, cold calculation and ruthless determination guiding his strikes and parries. Both khopesh and shield were trained for offense and defense and narrow was the window which a man could strike true against a foe like him. Nary a flinch shook him from his deep concentration from the killing, slicing flesh with a butcher’s precision and sending souls to the River Vim which was his people’s concept of the afterlife. He made no war cry, he let his blade do the talking. And it sang a bloody chorus as men fell like trees in a logging camp. After his last swing felled another man, he noticed the rest of the traitors were retreating with tails between their legs. Cowards, he thought. A man should stand and fight until his lifeblood oozed from him.
Palanu wiped his khopesh in the cleaner parts of his clothing, “Peace be with you”, he said to the dead men who were his victims.
“They were traitors to our God, Lord Palanu. No men are less deserving of mercy as these”, said Naru-zim as he stabbed a groaning traitor and left him in a pool of his own blood.
“Mercy is a gift of the righteous, my friend. A man is not judged more than when he has the upper hand”.
Naru-zim bowed at his lord politely before he turned a corpse over and pushed his khopesh into its neck. When Sylon strayed from them to kill more of the wounded, he barked out, “Sylon! What are you doing?”.
The other guard turned to him, “What do you think? Killing the enemy”.
Naru-zim screwed up his face in anger, “Our job’s to protect Lord Palanu not running off after the enemy”.
“How else do you protect him if not by killing the enemy?”, said Sylon, flabbergasted.
“Enough, both of you”, growled Palanu, “Like a pair of old wives, you are. We are still in the presence of Lord Gyholt and his Sentinels. Don’t shame the Emperor’s name”.
The two guards muttered their apologies and Sylon jogged back to Palanu’s side.
Lord Palanu approached Lord Gyholt and gave him an apologetic smile, “Please forgive the disgrace you witnessed, my lord. My men are… young and untested in the realm of manners and discipline”.
The Fursaglan lord nodded in understanding, “They are like brothers. I’m certain it is merely their eagerness to serve”.
Palanu nodded thankfully yet in the back of his head he was disappointed. ‘All my life I’ve heard of the many glorious deeds of the guardians of the God. I never pictured them bickering amongst themselves’.

Steam Search (steampowered.com)
Scott doesn't really do much lore in his Steam posts, so I also included direct game descriptions and Steel Wool's Descriptions
FNAF 1 About:

Welcome to your new summer job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, where kids and parents alike come for entertainment and food as far as the eye can see! The main attraction is Freddy Fazbear, of course; and his two friends. They are animatronic robots, programmed to please the crowds! The robots' behavior has become somewhat unpredictable at night however, and it was much cheaper to hire you as a security guard than to find a repairman.

From your small office you must watch the security cameras carefully. You have a very limited amount of electricity that you're allowed to use per night (corporate budget cuts, you know). That means when you run out of power for the night- no more security doors and no more lights! If something isn't right- namely if Freddybear or his friends aren't in their proper places, you must find them on the monitors and protect yourself if needed!
Can you survive five nights at Freddy's?
Five Nights at Freddy's on Steam (steampowered.com)
FNAF 2 About:

Welcome back to the new and improved Freddy Fazbear's Pizza!

In Five Nights at Freddy's 2, the old and aging animatronics are joined by a new cast of characters. They are kid-friendly, updated with the latest in facial recognition technology, tied into local criminal databases, and promise to put on a safe and entertaining show for kids and grown-ups alike!
What could go wrong?
As the new security guard working nights, your job is to monitor cameras and make sure nothing goes wrong after-hours. The previous guard has complained about the characters trying to get into the office (he has since been moved to day-shift). So to make your job easier, you've been provided with your very own empty Freddy Fazbear head, which should fool the animatronic characters into leaving you alone if they should accidentally enter your office.
As always, Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for death or dismemberment.
Five Nights at Freddy's 2 on Steam (steampowered.com)
FNAF 3 About:

Thirty years after Freddy Fazbear's Pizza closed it's doors, the events that took place there have become nothing more than a rumor and a childhood memory, but the owners of "Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction" are determined to revive the legend and make the experience as authentic as possible for patrons, going to great lengths to find anything that might have survived decades of neglect and ruin.

At first there were only empty shells, a hand, a hook, an old paper-plate doll, but then a remarkable discovery was made...
The attraction now has one animatronic.
Five Nights at Freddy's 3 on Steam (steampowered.com)
Multiple Springtraps are Hallucinations, not Glitches:

For those wondering what the new update is all about; I added a fourth star to the game for those who beat Aggressive Nightmare mode!

Also, there is some confusion about Springtrap appearing on multiple cameras and people thinking it's a glitch. It's not a glitch, even though I should have explained this better when I released the game. As long as the red light is flashing after a ventilation error, you may see multiple Springtraps. These are hallucinations.
https://store.steampowered.com/news/app/354140/view/4579554195991878197?l=english
FNAF 4 About:

This time, the terror has followed you home.

In this last chapter of the Five Nights at Freddy's original story, you must once again defend yourself against Freddy Fazbear, Chica, Bonnie, Foxy, and even worse things that lurk in the shadows. Playing as a child whose role is yet unknown, you must safeguard yourself until 6am by watching the doors, as well as warding off unwanted creatures that may venture into your closet or onto the bed behind you.
You have only a flashlight to protect yourself. It will scare away things that may be creeping at the far end of the hallways, but be careful, and listen. If something has crept too close, then shining lights in its eyes will be your end.
Five Nights at Freddy's 4 on Steam (steampowered.com)
The Box Post (The actual piece of lore relegated to Steam):

Hi guys! I wanted to post some information about the upcoming Halloween update. I started off a few months ago with several ideas in mind for what I wanted to release; ranging from DLC, to a new game, to opening the box (more on that later), but now I've been working steadily and have a pretty clear vision going forward.

The October 31st content will be an automatic update, not DLC. It will update the game to 1.1 and will include lots of goodies on the extras menu (for those who have beaten night 6), including a cheat menu, a challenge menu, and a twist on a familiar minigame that provides a boost when playing challenge modes. This also means that there will be a whole new set of stars to earn for those who are up to the challenge!
That part will be released for certain, and I'm hoping to have something else in addition to it, but it may not be ready. I have something fun in mind, a new game (not FNaF5), but it will be a real challenge to have even a small playable portion by Oct 31st. If a playable demo isn't ready by then, then at the very least there will be some sneak-peak content.
Now I want to talk about what WON'T be included... the box.
You know, when I released the first game over a year ago, I was amazed at how quickly everyone found every bit of lore and story. Then the same happened with part 2, fans and youtubers dug in and found everything. Game Theory did an incredible video on part 2; getting almost everything right. Then part 3 came out, and once again the story was uncovered by the community. It seemed that there was nothing I could hide!
But then I released part 4, and somehow.... no one, not a single person, found the pieces. The story remains completely hidden. I guess most people assumed that I filled the game with random easter eggs this time. I didn't. What's in the box? It's the pieces put together. But the bigger question is- would the community accept it that way? The fact that the pieces have remained elusive this time strikes me as incredible, and special, a fitting conclusion in some ways, and because of that, I've decided that maybe some things are best left forgotten, forever.
https://store.steampowered.com/news/app/388090/view/4033492738906633101?l=english
FNAF World:

Hi everyone, this is a big update! :)

I wanted to keep my plans for a new game secret until Halloween, but while my teasers have created excitement for some people, they have created some confusion as well, mainly because people don't know if the Five Nights at Freddy's story is over or not.
It's very important for me to say again that there will NOT be a Five Nights at Freddy's 5. The story is complete, and the Halloween update and new game will not add to it.
That being said, I wanted to use these characters in a new and fun way because they are so near and dear to my heart, and I was excited to work on a type of game that I hadn't made in a long time.
The new game that I'm working on will be called FNAF World. It will not be a horror game, but a role playing game where you create a party using the huge selection of characters from the FNaF games, including the classic, withered, toy, phantom, and nightmare versions. I've been working steadily on characters and hope to start on enemy models next week.
The bad news is that it's unlikely that a demo will be ready for Halloween like I had hoped, since this game's scope is significantly larger than previous games in the series. However, I will release a free demo, as promised, as soon as it's ready!
FNAF World will be released on PC, Android, and iOS. I don't have an estimated release date yet since the game is still early in development.
I hope you enjoy the new designs of the "adventure" characters, as I call them.
UPDATE: The scottgames.com teaser is complete and includes every character that you can have in your party! Stay tuned in the coming months for more updates as the game progresses!
https://store.steampowered.com/news/app/388090/view/4033492738906632983?l=english
Halloween Update is Non-Canon:

Hi guys!

I wanted to make a quick announcement for everyone about what to expect with the Halloween update. I got myself into a tricky situation because I wanted to release an update but not change the basic game or lore. That limited me as to what I could change, so I announced that I would created a cheat menu, a challenge menu, and an updated minigame. I thought I was done. But no. ;)
It became clear to me that the community's expectations demanded more than just a cheat menu, so I was faced with my sticky situation yet again. But then I solved it:
On Halloween there will be TWO releases. One will be the content update for the official game, updating it to 1.1. This version is canon, as it always has been. This update will include the features originally promised such as the new challenges and cheats.
The second release will be a special Halloween edition of FNaF4, with a few changed characters and other cosmetic changes. This game is not canon, and is only for fun for the holidays. (this version will be free as well)
If everything works correctly, then players should have two launch choices on Halloween- the Standard Edition and the Halloween Edition.
If it doesn't work for some reason, then the Halloween Edition will be available on GameJolt instead.
https://store.steampowered.com/news/app/388090/view/4033492738906632873?l=english
FNAF Sister Location About:

Welcome to Circus Baby's Pizza World, where family fun and interactivity go beyond anything you've seen at those *other* pizza places! With cutting-edge animatronic entertainers that will knock your kids' socks off, as well as customized pizza catering, no party is complete without Circus Baby and the gang!

Now hiring: Late night technician. Must enjoy cramped spaces and be comfortable around active machinery. Not responsible for death or dismemberment.
Five Nights at Freddy's: Sister Location on Steam (steampowered.com)
Custom Night is Non-Canon:

Hey guys! I wanted to let you all know that I'll be working on an update for the game that will add a "Custom Night" to the Extras menu.

To answer a few questions about it:
1) Yes, it will be FREE. When the update is ready, your games will automatically update to include this feature.
2) It will NOT be canon. (otherwise it would screw up the entire plotline!)
3) It will be unlocked only when you have 3-stars, so you'd better get to work!
4) Since it's not part of the game's "Story Mode", you will be able to jump right into the action from the Extras menu and restart as many times as you like.
5) It would have been awesome to have this ready for Halloween, but there's no way that will be possible. Be looking for this in December!
https://store.steampowered.com/news/app/506610/view/4648234090313050467?l=english
But Cutscenes are Canon:

Hey guys, the new update is live (v1.12). It gives a little additional power for Golden Freddy Mode on Very Hard, and also adds the final cutscene!

Enjoy!
(By the way- Cutscenes are canon.)
https://store.steampowered.com/news/app/506610/view/4648234090313050041?l=english
Pizza Sim About:

Presenting a fun Five Nights at Freddy's adventure with a lighter touch for the holidays, Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator puts you in charge of developing your own restaurant! Design pizzas, feed kids, and get high scores!

Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator on Steam (steampowered.com)
UCN All Character Descriptions:

[Had to cut it because of Reddit's Post Length Limitations]

(I'm sure there's some lore in there somewhere)
https://store.steampowered.com/news/app/738060/view/5156014950379793852?l=english
Death Coin:

There is a new item available at the prize counter! For a lean 10 Faz-coins (price subject to change) you can purchase the Death Coin. You can only buy it once per night, and you can use it to eliminate one character from the roster, although only certain characters are susceptible to deletion.

Although this means that you can potentially eliminate a character who has been giving you trouble, it also means that you will have fewer coins to defend against characters who demand them, such as Rockstar Freddy, Baby, Nightmare Bonnie, and Nightmare Mangle. So if you choose to buy the coin, it can potentially put you in danger until you build up your coin count again.
The characters that are susceptible to deletion by Death Coin are:

• Bonnie
• Foxy
• Lefty
• Toy Freddy
• Funtime Foxy
• Marionette
• Rockstar Bonnie

The way this feature will work is that once you have purchased the Death Coin from the Prize Counter, there will be a Death Coin icon in the top left. Then when you are viewing a cam showing a vulnerable target, the icon will light up. If you click the Death Coin icon at that point, it will eliminate the target animatronic from the game.
Although this may seem pointless at first (after all, if you didn't want a certain character in the game, then why add them in the first place, right?), eliminating them in this way still gives you credit for beating that character. It isn't a freebie, it's a calculated risk. Spending ten Faz-Coins puts you at risk from other Faz-Coin hungry characters, so it's a choice that players must make depending on the circumstances, similar to how Rockstar Foxy comes with risk, despite the potential benefits.
https://store.steampowered.com/news/app/738060/view/5156014950379793583?l=english
UCN Description:

Welcome to the ultimate FNAF mashup, where you will once again be trapped alone in an office fending off killer animatronics! Featuring 50 selectable animatronic characters spanning seven Five Nights at Freddy's games, the options for customization are nearly endless. Mix and match any assortment of characters that you like, set their difficulty from 0-20, then jump right into the action! From your office desk, you will need to manage two side doors, two vents, as well as two air hoses, all of which lead directly into your office.

This time you will have to master other tools as well if you want to complete the ultimate challenges, tools such as the heater, A/C, a global music box, a power generator, and more. As if all of that weren't enough, you'll also need to set up laser traps in the vents, collect Faz-Coins, purchase items from the prize counter, and as always, keep a close eye on not one, but two, Pirate Cove curtains!
Other features include:

• Challenge menu including sixteen themed challenges.
• Voice acting from returning favorites as well as from new arrivals to the franchise!
• Unlockable office skins!
• Unlockable cutscenes!

Ultimate Custom Night on Steam (steampowered.com)
Steam Developer: Steel Wool Studios (steampowered.com)
FNAF VR About:

Five Nights at Freddy’s: Help Wanted is a collection of classic and original mini-games set in the Five Nights universe. Survive terrifying encounters with your favorite killer animatronics in a collection of new and classic FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY’S™ experiences. “Where fantasy and fun come to life!”

A VR headset is NOT required to play.

YOU’RE HIRED - Time to get your hands dirty. Repair claustrophobic ventilation systems, troubleshoot broken animatronics that could activate at any moment, or spend your evenings cowering in the nighttime security guard office.
CELEBRATE - Confront your favorite killer animatronics including; Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Foxy, Springtrap, The Mangle, Funtime Foxy, and Circus Baby.
FUN FUN PRIZES - Toys, Plushies, Bobbleheads, and candy candy candy! Earn super fun prizes you can play with at the interactive Prize Counter! Collect well hidden Faz-Tokens to unlock even more rare collectibles for more SUPER FUN FUN FUN.
PIZZA PARTY - Scenes from classic titles have been updated and remade for a fully immersive experience including; Five Nights at Freddy’s, Five Nights at Freddy’s 2, Five Nights at Freddy’s 3, Five Nights at Freddy’s 4, and Five Nights at Freddy’s: Sister Location.
TWO WAYS TO PLAY - Experience the horror in flat (non-VR) mode or VR. Oculus Rift and HTC Vive are supported.

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S: HELP WANTED on Steam (steampowered.com)
Curse of Deadbear About:

The Curse of Dreadbear DLC unlocks a new Halloween themed hub packed with spooky new mini-games and prizes.

* New spine-tingling mini-games include; Trick or Treat, Mangle Repair, Corn Maze, the Plushkin-Patch, “Cap’n Foxy’s Pirate Adventure” dark ride and many more!
* Featured frightening animatronics include; Nightmare Bonnie, Nightmare Chica, Nightmare Freddy, Jack-o-Chica, Jack-o-Bonnie and a few... surprises.
This content requires the base game Five Nights at Freddy’s: Help Wanted in order to play.

Five Nights at Freddy's: Help Wanted - Curse of Dreadbear on Steam (steampowered.com)
Security Breach About:

THE NEXT CHAPTER IN FEAR

Five Nights at Freddy’s: Security Breach is the latest installment of the family-friendly horror games loved by millions of players from all over the globe. Play as Gregory, a young boy trapped overnight in Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex. With the help of Freddy Fazbear himself, Gregory must survive the near-unstoppable hunt of reimagined Five Nights at Freddy’s characters - as well as new, horrific threats.
THE HUNTERS AND THE HUNTED - Once nighttime protocols are initiated, the animatronics at Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex will relentlessly pursue all intruders. Glamrock Chica, Roxanne Wolf, Montgomery Gator, and the Pizzaplex’s security guard, Vanessa, will turn over every Cotton Candy Pizza Stand if they have to - it’s not wise to stay in one place for too long.
ADAPT TO SURVIVE - Access the building’s security cameras to survey the environment and plan your route through danger. Distract enemies by knocking over paint cans and toys - just slip away before enemies are drawn to your location. Hop into hiding spots and allow danger to pass, or try to outrun your pursuers. Play your way, but be prepared to adapt.
EXPLORE AND DISCOVER - Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex offers a variety of attractions for guests to enjoy - Monty Golf, Roxy Raceway, Bonnie Bowl, the sewers, and… Sewers? The Pizzaplex is vast and has no shortage of goodies to discover.
Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach on Steam (steampowered.com)
Ruin About:

You can run, but you can’t hide…

Enter the ruins of Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex in the FREE story DLC for Five Nights at Freddy’s: Security Breach!
Gregory is once again trapped in the now abandoned Pizzaplex, and he needs your help! Play as Cassie, Gregory’s best friend, Faz-fanatic, and would-be savior as she braves the dark, dreary, and dilapidated pizzeria. Armed with only a Faz-Wrench, a Roxy-Talky, and this weird bunny mask, you will have to help Cassie find her friend, free him, and safely escape the ruins.
Can you save your friend, yourself, and the Pizzaplex? Find out in the 100% free DLC, Five Nights at Freddy’s: Security Breach – Ruin.
https://store.steampowered.com/app/1924720/Five_Nights_at_Freddys_Security_Breach__Ruin/
Help Wanted 2 About:

Find out if you have what it takes to be a Fazbear Entertainment Superstar!

Five Nights at Freddy’s: Help Wanted 2 is the sequel to the terrifying VR experience that brought new life to the iconic horror franchise. As a brand new Fazbear employee you’ll have to prove you have what it takes to excel in all aspects of Pizzeria management and maintenance.
Go Backstage as a VIP to help Roxanne Wolf & the S.T.A.F.F Bots get ready for their performances in the Pizzaplex Salon!
Head into the Fazcade and enjoy classic games like Bonk-a-Bon and Fazerblast! See if you can top all the high scores!
Take care of things behind the scenes in the Staff Only section of the Pizzeria. Deliver First Aid to patients who aren’t quite feeling themselves, and help animatronics perform routine diagnostics & maintenance.
Our Food Prep courses will help you get the federally mandated amount of value preparing food in the Pizzaplex. Experience all the joys of high-speed food service & get ready to feed some hungry bots!
Head over to the Ticket Booth to test out our E-ticket attractions, such as Captain Foxy’s Cowboy Adventure! On this lighthearted log ride, you’ll float through the old West as a gunslinger in search of booty!
And finally, if you’re short on dread, dive into the world of our Sister Location! These special minigames are VR versions of classic experiences from Five Nights at Freddy’s: Sister Location. These fan-favorites brought to life promise to be as fun as they are terrifying!
So what are you waiting for?!? Five Nights at Freddy’s: Help Wanted 2 is now accepting applicants for all positions, effective immediately.
Five Nights at Freddy's: Help Wanted 2 on Steam (steampowered.com)

So, a response I received in my previous post got my thinking about this. The rulebook gives a few clear examples of rewards for spending 3-XP :
"Things that a PC can acquire as a long-term benefit can be thought of as being story based, and they allow the player to have some narrative control over the story. In the course of play, a player might decide that their character gains a friend (a contact) or builds a log cabin (a home)."
And goes onto say:
"Long-term benefits can include the following: Contact, Home, Title/Job, Wealth."
As is normal for the Cypher system, examples are given, but nothing is set in stone as to limits. This brings me to my question.
What creative uses have you all come up with for the idea of a long-term benefit, that goes beyond these 4 examples? Or even within these 4 examples, what creative ideas/twists have you come up with?
Taking a look at this from a different angle, skill-learning and ability-learning seem to be tied to 4-XP Tier progression (and therefore also more limited, in a way), yet 2-XP can give situationally specific short-term/scope skills/abilities. Is there an in-between for 3-XP?
Usual disclaimer, of course, final call comes down to GM ruling, and what's best for fun and narrative. But I would like to hear all of your insights/thoughts/ideas on this matter. Thanks! =D

A few years ago, I decided I needed a major life change. Everything seemed to be going downhill- my finances, my mental health, my life. I would go weeks without sleeping sometimes as the heavy traffic passed through the city streets down below. Every time I went outside, I saw more homeless people, more needles and crack pipes littering the ground, more muggings and assaults and overdoses and deaths. The city had become a wasteland, and I knew it was time to leave.
I had no girlfriend, no wife, no kids. My parents had both died a few years prior and I barely talked to my siblings anymore. I had nothing to tie me down to this place where I felt like I was dying inside a little more each day.
That was when I sold nearly everything I owned, got in my car and drove up to Alaska to try starting anew. I bought a small cabin and a plot of land in the middle of its majestic mountains and dark, enchanting forests. In the winter, the Northern Lights would shine through like the eyes of God, sending out divine trails of light that danced through the sky in cosmic waves.
And while the move did help give me some peace of mind, in the end, the source of all my problems had ultimately followed me thousands of miles into this endless wilderness. It would take me a long time to realize the cause of all this misery was myself.
Because, as a wise man once said, “Wherever I go, there I am.”
***
I lived in that cabin for three months without any major issues other than the constant threat of bears, moose and wolves. I had a rifle and a shotgun for hunting, a small garden in the backyard and a solar panel to generate electricity.
“This is the life,” I said, relaxing on a hammock I had strung across the corner of the cabin while staring at the endless beauty directly outside the window. White-capped mountains loomed like giants in front of thick clusters of evergreens. A virgin covering of fluffy snow made the entire world glisten and sparkle. There wasn’t a house or road in sight.
“No work, no stress, no pollution, no cars honking all the time…” I closed my eyes, breathing in the clean air. I ended up falling asleep for a couple hours, waking up just as the Sun had started setting. Bright orange streaks mixed with the bloody smears of the fading light as it disappeared behind the mountains.
I groggily arose, stumbling over to make a cup of instant coffee. As I sipped it, I wandered around the room, looking for something to pass the time. There were still quite a few random objects left behind by the last owner that I hadn’t gotten rid of yet. I had moved in to find a stocked bookshelf filled with classics by Philip K. Dick, Isaac Asimov and Robert Heinlein. Bored, I started rifling through the collection, looking for something good to pass the time. As I shuffled past “A Maze of Death” and “Ubik”, something caught my eye.
A black, leather-bound book with no title or author name stood there, its cover faded with time and wear. Curious, I pulled it out and opened it. I saw the cursive scrawled across the pages in a neat, copperplate script and realized it was a diary left behind by the previous owner. The first entry was dated “January 9th, 2015.” This is what it said.
***
“I don’t know if I’m going crazy or not. I went into town to talk to my therapist yesterday and she said I should try writing everything down. She talks to me like it’s all in my head. But I know it’s not.
“When I first moved into the cabin, it seemed like Paradise. I never thought in a million years that something would be slinking around at night. I never thought it would be hiding under my bed, peeking in windows and following me like a shadow.
“Right now, I’m snowed in with a cup of coffee in one hand and my pistol in the other. I can’t sleep anymore. I keep hearing something shuffling around under the bed. Sometimes, I think I even hear ragged breathing, as if a corpse with dirt in its lungs had come back to life.
“I’ve caught glimpses of that thing in the darkness. Whatever it is, its skin is loose, almost falling off the bone. It almost looks like a naked, emaciated man. Its eyes are rotted and dark, its back hunched, its spine twisted and jutting out like tumors. It moves in this slow, jerky way, but I can never seem to catch it. Its body seems broken and out of alignment. Its legs bend the wrong way sometimes.
“By the time I turn on the lights or try to take a video of it, it’s always disappeared. But its fetid odor remains. It lingers in the cabin like a sweet-smelling, spreading infection.
“I don’t know what it wants from me. I want to leave, but with the storm raging outside, I’m stuck here, unable to get all the way back to town. The snow surrounds the cabin in mounds five feet high. I feel like a prisoner caged with a rabid beast, not knowing when it will strike.
“My wife claims she hasn’t seen or heard anything, but she keeps vanishing on me. Last night, she disappeared in the middle of a snowstorm. Where did she go? I asked her in the morning, but she said she was here the whole time. She didn’t remember anything. There’s no way she went into town. There wasn’t time and the trails were impassable that far down.
“Something’s going on here, but I don’t know what it is. I’m truly scared for our lives.”
I slammed the diary shut, not wanting to read anymore. I didn’t want to become infected by some kind of contagious cabin fever. If the last owner had gone insane in the mountains and started hallucinating naked corpses crawling around, I really didn’t want to know.
I shoved the diary back in the bookshelf, going for “A Maze of Death” instead. I tried to forget what I had read in the diary as I flew through the novella. All night, I tried to get the image of the naked, twisting man with rotted eyes out of my head, but I couldn’t.
I eventually fell asleep right before dawn. But, as my eyes were closing, I thought I saw a silhouette in the window- a starved man with excited, black eyes that seemed to be rotting out of his skull. I thought I saw him put his inhumanly long fingers against the glass as he leaned forward. I blinked, sitting up and glancing out into the white, snow-covered wonderland.
There was nothing there.
***
Another hunter occasionally followed the deer trails near my cabin. A frozen lake stood a quarter-mile away, the surface white and covered in thick drifts of snow. I bundled up, deciding to go outside for a hike in the frigid dawn. I strapped on my snowshoes and grabbed my shotgun, as I always did when I went outside. I never knew when a polar bear might be waiting around the next tree, after all.
I opened the door, seeing footprints pressed into the snow all around my house. At first, I thought it was that silhouette I had seen, the nightmarish thing from the diary. But the footprints didn’t go over to my window. They followed the trail twenty feet away, veering off towards the frozen lake at the bottom of the hill. I glanced down in that direction, seeing a black figure plodding slowly forward.
“Steve!” I cried, recognizing my only neighbor in a four-mile radius. He had a cabin about a mile away on his own little plot of land. He jumped, clearly startled by the sudden noise. His black snow pants and heavy fur coat swished together as he spun, raising his rifle high. When he saw me, he immediately lowered it and put a gloved hand up in a friendly greeting.
“Hey Josh! Surprised to see you up this early,” he yelled over the muted wintry landscape. Sounds always seemed different after it snowed, as if all the noise in the world had become faded and dead.
“Yeah, I’ve been having a little trouble sleeping,” I said, slinging my shotgun around my shoulder. “What are you doing anyway?”
“Just a little hunting, you know,” he said, giving me a sly wink. “Animals are always most active around dusk and dawn, it seems. That’s when I always have the best luck, anyway.” He stepped close to me, staring me in the eyes. “You do look like shit. Those bags under your eyes are big enough to carry groceries in.”
“Yeah, trust me, I know… Hey, this might sound a little weird, but did you know the previous owner of this cabin?” I asked. Steve’s wrinkled, old face fell into a scowl. His expression immediately became guarded and distant.
“Sure, sure, we met,” he exclaimed bluntly. He seemed to be searching my face for something, but I didn’t know what. His reaction left me feeling off-balance and nervous.
“Is he still around?” I said. Steve’s scowl deepened.
“Buddy, I don’t know what this is about, but he’s dead. He’s been dead. He died in that cabin, actually.” He pointed a finger at my home accusingly. With those words, my heart seemed to drop into my stomach. Waves of dread flowed through my body like water.
“How… how did he die? Like a heart attack or something?” I asked. Steve’s gaze turned downwards. He didn’t meet my eyes.
“Do you know that Alaska has the highest missing persons rate in the entire United States? It’s not even close. In fact, for the population size, we have far more people who go missing and never get found than anywhere else. They even have a name for it: the Alaska Triangle,” Steve said. “And we’re square in the middle of it.” I stared blankly at him, wondering where he was going with this. It seemed like a way to avoid answering my question.
“No, I didn’t know that…” I responded. Steve nodded, raising his head again. He heaved a deep sigh.
“Look, the thing with the last owner and his wife… it’s somewhat disturbing. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you, but it’s certainly not going to help your peace of mind. And it definitely isn’t going to help you get some sleep.”
“I want to know,” I insisted instantly. The wind started to whip past us. Flakes of ice and snow flew sideways in the sudden currents.
“Let’s go back to your cabin then,” Steve said, pulling his heavy fur-lined hood off and shaking out his long, black hair behind him. “I could use a bit of whiskey to warm up.”
***
We sat down with a bottle of Johnny Walker and two shot glasses. I wasn’t much of a drinker, but Steve certainly was. He chugged three shots in the span of a minute. I sipped at mine, drinking half and putting it back down on the coffee table with a thunk. Steve grunted, hissing through his open mouth for a moment.
“Ugh, that’s the good stuff,” he said, slamming his chest as the burning liquor worked its way down. Steve looked up at me with a new sparkle in his eyes. “Huh, so you want to know about what happened to Will Lenning. Well, I’ll tell you that no one really knows the whole story. I used to see him occasionally, come down and have a drink and talk. We all know each other around here, obviously.” I nodded, motioning him on. “He seemed like a normal, upstanding guy. He kinda reminded me of you, actually. A young guy trying to escape the hustle and bustle of the city life, the cancer of the American Dream.
“Well, he was here for maybe a couple months, I don’t know. Everything seemed fine. We used to go skeet shooting occasionally, have a beer, you know. We’d get together with a couple other hunters who live closer to town and sometimes play some poker. I never saw anything odd about Will. I never could have predicted what happened to him.” He heaved a long sigh at this, looking out the window at the sharp mountains with an expression of nostalgia.
“Well, what happened to him?” I asked, encouraging him to go on.
“He started talking about seeing someone peering in through his window at night. He talked about hearing sounds from under his bed while he was laying there in the dark- sounds like diseased breathing and shuffling. He started keeping all the lights on in his cabin twenty-four hours a day.” Steve leaned close to me. A glimmer of fear rippled across his pale, wrinkled face. “He started to lose his mind. Started digging holes all over the place, looking for something. Even in the middle of snowstorms, I would occasionally see him outside, digging. It seemed like he never slept anymore. It was classic cabin fever if I ever saw it.
“It was only a few weeks later that I came over here, concerned. I hadn’t heard from him in a few days, which was fairly unusual. I found the door hanging wide open. Propped up in a chair in the exact spot where you now sit, Will lay with a blast hole showing clear through his skull, a shotgun laying at his feet.
“And next to him, I found a blood-stained diary opened to the middle page. The last entry was stained with blood spatter, but still visible. I remember leaning down and reading it. It was only a few sentences long.” I glanced over at the bookshelf with the same diary, saying nothing.
“It said something like, ‘I see now what’s going on. The Twisted Man is leading me to the truth. Today, I will finally find it.’”
“And that was his suicide note?” I asked, my heart hammering in my chest. He nodded.
“Yeah. I went into town and got some rangers to come check it out. Eventually, they got cops and CSI there. They took all the stuff as evidence, including the diary,” he said. “Good riddance, I say. Reading something like that is never beneficial. Sometimes delusions spread like a virus, you know what I mean?” I did, but I said nothing. I glanced back at the diary, its black leather cover gleaming like a crouching snake.
And I wondered- if the police took the diary as evidence, how did it get back here?
***
“You said he had a wife living here with him, too?” I asked.
“Yeah… she went missing around the same time,” he said. “Pretty bizarre. The cops thought maybe she just moved away, but…” He shook his head grimly. “As far as I know, she was never seen again. It was like she had evaporated into thin air.”
After Steve left, I walked stiffly over to the bookshelf, taking down the diary. I flipped open through the pages. In the middle, I found the last entry. Spatters of old, darkened blood were scattered over the page like raindrops. I found the suicide note and read the date.
“January 27th, 2015,” it read. Will Lenning had not lived long after he started seeing the Twisted Man. I wondered if my fate would be the same.
The Sun had started to set outside as I sat with the diary at the small circular kitchen table, eating some stewed venison and rice as I read through the entries. At the end, Will Lenning said the Twisted Man had been trying to guide him somewhere, that, in fact, the Twisted Man had been trying to protect him from some great evil, rather than being the source of it.
I scoffed, feeling a flash of anger at his stupidity. His naivety obviously led to his death. But then a flash of insight struck me like lightning.
What if I was committing the same kind of stupidity? Perhaps I should just grab my gun and valuables and leave. I could take off on the snowmobile and be in town within a couple hours.
But, in my heart, I knew I would not. Something about the mystery of all this beckoned me to stay. Like a siren leading sailors to destruction, my curiosity called out to me, and I knew I would not be leaving that night. I needed answers.
And, sadly, I would find them.
***
I had fallen asleep with an empty bottle of beer in my hand. I sat in front of the TV, which only got satellite reception. There were, of course, no cable or phone lines threading their way through the forest. All of my power came from stored solar energy. Since I rarely watched TV and really only used it to cook or heat up water for bathing, the energy produced was sufficient even in winter. Tonight, though, I needed its sound, its mindless flashing of light and colors and canned laughter. It seemed to drive away the creeping, suffocating presence like a candle.
I woke suddenly. The TV flashed with static. The repetitive hissing of the white noise spit from the speakers like thousands of snakes. I glanced up at the clock. 3:33 AM. I looked around the dark cabin, confused for a long moment. I didn’t understand what had woken me so abruptly. The satellite had never gone out before, either, even with the howling winds and freezing hail of the Alaskan winter.
The TV started flickering as if the static were rising upwards. Black lines traced their way horizontally across the screen. The hissing deepened into a gurgle, and for a second, I thought I heard faint words behind the white noise. I thought I heard breathing, slow and diseased, like the death gasp of a drowning man.
A black line rose across the TV and an image came into view. The cabin was suddenly plunged into silence, except for the shrieking, wintry wind outside. I leaned close to the screen, confused at what I was looking at. It looked like a live camera feed of a room. As I took in the details, I realized it was my cabin. I saw myself in the chair, leaning close to the screen. I raised my hand, and the miniature version of me on the screen did likewise. Ice water seemed to drip down my spine as waves of dread coursed through my body.
“What the fuck is this?” I whispered, looking back to where the camera should be. It was just a coarse wooden ceiling in that corner. I turned back to the screen and nearly screamed.
The TV showed a pale, naked man crouching directly behind my chair now. With jerky movements, he rose, his broken spine twisting and shivering. A hissing voice rang out from the speakers. It spoke as if it had dirt and writhing maggots in its throat.
“He is a killer. The shadow of death,” it gurgled. “Many have fallen. Many lie buried across this forest. You will be next. He is watching you…”
Long, broken fingers with blackened nails reached out to touch my shoulders. I jumped out of the chair, stumbling back as I spun around in terror. My back smashed into the TV, and it fell to the floor with a shattering of glass and an explosion of light.
In those few moments before the darkness descended on me like a blanket, I thought I glimpsed a pale, sunken face with rotted, blackened eyes peeking out from behind the chair.
***
I turned on every light in the cabin, but there was no sign of the Twisted Man now. I knew I had to get out of there, though. I thought about the warning that the voice had spoken. If the creature wanted to attack me, then why hadn’t it just killed me while I was sleeping? None of it made sense. Who was watching me? The Twisted Man? And if he was, why warn me? Perhaps it was psychological warfare, I thought to myself. Perhaps the Twisted Man simply liked to play with his food before he ate it.
Thoughts raced through my head at a thousand miles an hour as I threw on snow pants and a couple heavy sweaters and coats. I covered up my entire body as much as I could to try to prevent frostbite. I had made up my mind to flee. There was no snowstorm tonight, though the entire landscape was blanketed in it and I knew the wind chill would be like an ice blade whipping against my skin. It was extremely dangerous to travel in the middle of the night like this in temperatures that might reach negative thirty degrees. Steve had been right, after all- Alaska had the highest missing persons rate of any state, and many of them were never found, their bodies likely frozen solid in the deep snow dozens of miles from the nearest town.
I grabbed my shotgun, jumped on my snowmobile and started heading to Steve’s cabin. I hoped I could wait there until the sunrise and then figure out what to do next.
But fate would take the decision out of my hands.
***
I felt like there were eyes watching me as I drove along the narrow, winding deer trail. The boughs of the evergreens reached into the path like greedy hands, grabbing at my coat and legs. More than a couple times, I thought I saw a pale, naked figure standing in the snow, but it had always gone when I turned to look.
I gave a sigh of relief when Steve’s place appeared in the distance. I could see the lights twinkling through the small windows of his log cabin. I pulled up next to his door, looking down. I saw two pairs of footprints there, one much smaller than the other. I found it odd, but shrugged it off. The snowmobile cut out with a sucking gurgle.
I knocked on the door hard a few times. Steve appeared after a few moments, groggy and half-dressed. He blinked slowly as he looked me up and down. His wrinkled face fell into a frown.
“Steve, I need a favor,” I said quickly. “Something weird is happening in my cabin. Can I stay here until morning, until maybe I can go to town or something? I can’t stay at my place tonight. I just can’t.” He nodded, yawning and motioning me in.
“You can sleep on the couch, I guess,” Steve said. “Put that shotgun somewhere safe, though, boy.” He had a partitioned bedroom in his cabin. It was significantly larger than my little one-room cabin, though it was basically still just a joint kitchen-living room, a small bedroom and a bathroom. He pointed to a well-worn couch in the corner and gave me an apathetic wave as he stumbled back into his bedroom, slamming the door.
I couldn’t sleep, though. I tiptoed around the room, looking at Steve’s bookshelf. He had a rather strange taste in books- lots of Anne Rule and true crime there. I saw dozens of books about Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Richard Chase, Herbert Mullin, Jeffrey Dahmer and Richard Ramirez among the collection. At the end, a large, black binder stood, unlabeled and worn-looking. It reminded me of the look of that leather-bound diary for a second, and my heart dropped. But logically, I knew this was just a coincidence. Yet, still, I pulled out the binder, my curiosity piqued.
What I found inside filled me with dread and horror.
Countless news clippings covered the length of it. The first clipping was from nearly twenty years earlier, about a woman who went missing in the Alaskan forest while hiking. A later one confirmed that her body was never found, and that her family was still hoping that she might turn up alive somewhere. A reward was offered for any information, it said.
And every page after that was more of the same: missing woman, murdered prostitute, missing man, no leads. I kept flipping through until I found clippings about Will Lenning’s suicide and the sudden disappearance of his wife. On the article about the suicide, Steve had used red marker to scrawl, “HA HA!” next to it.
I heard the click of a gun being cocked from behind me. I froze as Steve’s voice traveled across the room like a whisper.
“How do you like my work, friend?” he asked, his tone jovial and mocking.
***
I still held the binder of horrors tightly in my hands as I stared open-mouthed at this man I thought I knew.
“It’s you? What, you killed Will Lenning and his wife? And a lot of other women, apparently.” Everything felt unreal, as if I were stuck in a dream. Steve’s grin spread across his face, but his blue eyes stayed cold and dead.
“Yes, well, she was cheating on him with me anyway. Just another whore, you know. They always get what’s coming to them in the end,” he hissed with hatred oozing from his voice. “It’s too bad, really. I just killed another slut tonight. I was planning on saving you for later. The urge isn’t too bad yet right now, after all. It comes in cycles, you see. It comes in waves…” I saw a glimmer of pale, naked flesh writhing behind Steve. With jerky movements, the Twisted Man came up behind him. I said nothing, just watching with wide-eyed horror and amazement.
“You need help, man,” I whispered. Steve laughed.
“Help? The only help they give people like me is a needle in the arm. You know that. That’s why it’s important to always cover your tracks…” The Twisted Man ran a long, broken finger across Steve’s neck. Steve gave a strangled cry and jumped. He spun around, screaming. I glanced over at my shotgun next to the couch.
I jumped for it as Steve turned back to me, firing his pistol twice. The first bullet soared high above me, raining wood splinters down on my head, but the second ripped into my leg. A cold, burning pain ran like fire up my shin. I screamed in agony and battle fury as I gripped the shotgun, spinning and firing.
Steve’s head exploded as the slug ripped through his brain. His forehead collapsed like a smashed melon as bone splinters and blood sprayed the wall behind him.
The Twisted Man stood there, hunched over, grinning up at me. I felt warm blood gushing from my leg as I stared back at him, breathing hard. I wondered if I was dying.
“You… you weren’t after me at all, were you?” I asked. “You were after… Steve.” But the Twisted Man said nothing. After a long moment, he slinked back into the shadows of the bedroom and disappeared.
***
As night crawled its way toward morning, I thought back to the words the Twisted Man had spoken through the TV, suddenly understanding everything.
“He is a killer. The shadow of death. Many have fallen. Many lie buried across this forest. You will be next. He is watching you…”
He hadn’t been trying to hurt me at all. He had been trying to warn me. He had probably tried to warn Will Lenning and his wife, too.
I wrapped my leg in gauze, gritting my teeth. The wound looked puckered and deep, but I could still move my foot, and the bullet had gone clean through the flesh. I poured alcohol on it, screaming in pain as it burned its way through my skin. After rummaging through Steve’s bathroom, I found some prescription painkillers and swallowed a handful of them with a beer. I knew I would need the opiate high to get through the pain of riding into town with a mutilated leg.
As the Sun finally rose, I made my way outside the blood-stained floors of the cabin to my snowmobile. Before I left, I glanced back at that horrid place, the scene of so much torment and death.
In the open doorway, the Twisted Man stood, his back hunched, his rotted lips grinning at me. His hand lifted up into the air with jerky movements and waved.
I waved back as I started the engine and headed into town.

A few years ago, I decided I needed a major life change. Everything seemed to be going downhill- my finances, my mental health, my life. I would go weeks without sleeping sometimes as the heavy traffic passed through the city streets down below. Every time I went outside, I saw more homeless people, more needles and crack pipes littering the ground, more muggings and assaults and overdoses and deaths. The city had become a wasteland, and I knew it was time to leave.
I had no girlfriend, no wife, no kids. My parents had both died a few years prior and I barely talked to my siblings anymore. I had nothing to tie me down to this place where I felt like I was dying inside a little more each day.
That was when I sold nearly everything I owned, got in my car and drove up to Alaska to try starting anew. I bought a small cabin and a plot of land in the middle of its majestic mountains and dark, enchanting forests. In the winter, the Northern Lights would shine through like the eyes of God, sending out divine trails of light that danced through the sky in cosmic waves.
And while the move did help give me some peace of mind, in the end, the source of all my problems had ultimately followed me thousands of miles into this endless wilderness. It would take me a long time to realize the cause of all this misery was myself.
Because, as a wise man once said, “Wherever I go, there I am.”
***
I lived in that cabin for three months without any major issues other than the constant threat of bears, moose and wolves. I had a rifle and a shotgun for hunting, a small garden in the backyard and a solar panel to generate electricity.
“This is the life,” I said, relaxing on a hammock I had strung across the corner of the cabin while staring at the endless beauty directly outside the window. White-capped mountains loomed like giants in front of thick clusters of evergreens. A virgin covering of fluffy snow made the entire world glisten and sparkle. There wasn’t a house or road in sight.
“No work, no stress, no pollution, no cars honking all the time…” I closed my eyes, breathing in the clean air. I ended up falling asleep for a couple hours, waking up just as the Sun had started setting. Bright orange streaks mixed with the bloody smears of the fading light as it disappeared behind the mountains.
I groggily arose, stumbling over to make a cup of instant coffee. As I sipped it, I wandered around the room, looking for something to pass the time. There were still quite a few random objects left behind by the last owner that I hadn’t gotten rid of yet. I had moved in to find a stocked bookshelf filled with classics by Philip K. Dick, Isaac Asimov and Robert Heinlein. Bored, I started rifling through the collection, looking for something good to pass the time. As I shuffled past “A Maze of Death” and “Ubik”, something caught my eye.
A black, leather-bound book with no title or author name stood there, its cover faded with time and wear. Curious, I pulled it out and opened it. I saw the cursive scrawled across the pages in a neat, copperplate script and realized it was a diary left behind by the previous owner. The first entry was dated “January 9th, 2015.” This is what it said.
***
“I don’t know if I’m going crazy or not. I went into town to talk to my therapist yesterday and she said I should try writing everything down. She talks to me like it’s all in my head. But I know it’s not.
“When I first moved into the cabin, it seemed like Paradise. I never thought in a million years that something would be slinking around at night. I never thought it would be hiding under my bed, peeking in windows and following me like a shadow.
“Right now, I’m snowed in with a cup of coffee in one hand and my pistol in the other. I can’t sleep anymore. I keep hearing something shuffling around under the bed. Sometimes, I think I even hear ragged breathing, as if a corpse with dirt in its lungs had come back to life.
“I’ve caught glimpses of that thing in the darkness. Whatever it is, its skin is loose, almost falling off the bone. It almost looks like a naked, emaciated man. Its eyes are rotted and dark, its back hunched, its spine twisted and jutting out like tumors. It moves in this slow, jerky way, but I can never seem to catch it. Its body seems broken and out of alignment. Its legs bend the wrong way sometimes.
“By the time I turn on the lights or try to take a video of it, it’s always disappeared. But its fetid odor remains. It lingers in the cabin like a sweet-smelling, spreading infection.
“I don’t know what it wants from me. I want to leave, but with the storm raging outside, I’m stuck here, unable to get all the way back to town. The snow surrounds the cabin in mounds five feet high. I feel like a prisoner caged with a rabid beast, not knowing when it will strike.
“My wife claims she hasn’t seen or heard anything, but she keeps vanishing on me. Last night, she disappeared in the middle of a snowstorm. Where did she go? I asked her in the morning, but she said she was here the whole time. She didn’t remember anything. There’s no way she went into town. There wasn’t time and the trails were impassable that far down.
“Something’s going on here, but I don’t know what it is. I’m truly scared for our lives.”
I slammed the diary shut, not wanting to read anymore. I didn’t want to become infected by some kind of contagious cabin fever. If the last owner had gone insane in the mountains and started hallucinating naked corpses crawling around, I really didn’t want to know.
I shoved the diary back in the bookshelf, going for “A Maze of Death” instead. I tried to forget what I had read in the diary as I flew through the novella. All night, I tried to get the image of the naked, twisting man with rotted eyes out of my head, but I couldn’t.
I eventually fell asleep right before dawn. But, as my eyes were closing, I thought I saw a silhouette in the window- a starved man with excited, black eyes that seemed to be rotting out of his skull. I thought I saw him put his inhumanly long fingers against the glass as he leaned forward. I blinked, sitting up and glancing out into the white, snow-covered wonderland.
There was nothing there.
***
Another hunter occasionally followed the deer trails near my cabin. A frozen lake stood a quarter-mile away, the surface white and covered in thick drifts of snow. I bundled up, deciding to go outside for a hike in the frigid dawn. I strapped on my snowshoes and grabbed my shotgun, as I always did when I went outside. I never knew when a polar bear might be waiting around the next tree, after all.
I opened the door, seeing footprints pressed into the snow all around my house. At first, I thought it was that silhouette I had seen, the nightmarish thing from the diary. But the footprints didn’t go over to my window. They followed the trail twenty feet away, veering off towards the frozen lake at the bottom of the hill. I glanced down in that direction, seeing a black figure plodding slowly forward.
“Steve!” I cried, recognizing my only neighbor in a four-mile radius. He had a cabin about a mile away on his own little plot of land. He jumped, clearly startled by the sudden noise. His black snow pants and heavy fur coat swished together as he spun, raising his rifle high. When he saw me, he immediately lowered it and put a gloved hand up in a friendly greeting.
“Hey Josh! Surprised to see you up this early,” he yelled over the muted wintry landscape. Sounds always seemed different after it snowed, as if all the noise in the world had become faded and dead.
“Yeah, I’ve been having a little trouble sleeping,” I said, slinging my shotgun around my shoulder. “What are you doing anyway?”
“Just a little hunting, you know,” he said, giving me a sly wink. “Animals are always most active around dusk and dawn, it seems. That’s when I always have the best luck, anyway.” He stepped close to me, staring me in the eyes. “You do look like shit. Those bags under your eyes are big enough to carry groceries in.”
“Yeah, trust me, I know… Hey, this might sound a little weird, but did you know the previous owner of this cabin?” I asked. Steve’s wrinkled, old face fell into a scowl. His expression immediately became guarded and distant.
“Sure, sure, we met,” he exclaimed bluntly. He seemed to be searching my face for something, but I didn’t know what. His reaction left me feeling off-balance and nervous.
“Is he still around?” I said. Steve’s scowl deepened.
“Buddy, I don’t know what this is about, but he’s dead. He’s been dead. He died in that cabin, actually.” He pointed a finger at my home accusingly. With those words, my heart seemed to drop into my stomach. Waves of dread flowed through my body like water.
“How… how did he die? Like a heart attack or something?” I asked. Steve’s gaze turned downwards. He didn’t meet my eyes.
“Do you know that Alaska has the highest missing persons rate in the entire United States? It’s not even close. In fact, for the population size, we have far more people who go missing and never get found than anywhere else. They even have a name for it: the Alaska Triangle,” Steve said. “And we’re square in the middle of it.” I stared blankly at him, wondering where he was going with this. It seemed like a way to avoid answering my question.
“No, I didn’t know that…” I responded. Steve nodded, raising his head again. He heaved a deep sigh.
“Look, the thing with the last owner and his wife… it’s somewhat disturbing. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you, but it’s certainly not going to help your peace of mind. And it definitely isn’t going to help you get some sleep.”
“I want to know,” I insisted instantly. The wind started to whip past us. Flakes of ice and snow flew sideways in the sudden currents.
“Let’s go back to your cabin then,” Steve said, pulling his heavy fur-lined hood off and shaking out his long, black hair behind him. “I could use a bit of whiskey to warm up.”
***
We sat down with a bottle of Johnny Walker and two shot glasses. I wasn’t much of a drinker, but Steve certainly was. He chugged three shots in the span of a minute. I sipped at mine, drinking half and putting it back down on the coffee table with a thunk. Steve grunted, hissing through his open mouth for a moment.
“Ugh, that’s the good stuff,” he said, slamming his chest as the burning liquor worked its way down. Steve looked up at me with a new sparkle in his eyes. “Huh, so you want to know about what happened to Will Lenning. Well, I’ll tell you that no one really knows the whole story. I used to see him occasionally, come down and have a drink and talk. We all know each other around here, obviously.” I nodded, motioning him on. “He seemed like a normal, upstanding guy. He kinda reminded me of you, actually. A young guy trying to escape the hustle and bustle of the city life, the cancer of the American Dream.
“Well, he was here for maybe a couple months, I don’t know. Everything seemed fine. We used to go skeet shooting occasionally, have a beer, you know. We’d get together with a couple other hunters who live closer to town and sometimes play some poker. I never saw anything odd about Will. I never could have predicted what happened to him.” He heaved a long sigh at this, looking out the window at the sharp mountains with an expression of nostalgia.
“Well, what happened to him?” I asked, encouraging him to go on.
“He started talking about seeing someone peering in through his window at night. He talked about hearing sounds from under his bed while he was laying there in the dark- sounds like diseased breathing and shuffling. He started keeping all the lights on in his cabin twenty-four hours a day.” Steve leaned close to me. A glimmer of fear rippled across his pale, wrinkled face. “He started to lose his mind. Started digging holes all over the place, looking for something. Even in the middle of snowstorms, I would occasionally see him outside, digging. It seemed like he never slept anymore. It was classic cabin fever if I ever saw it.
“It was only a few weeks later that I came over here, concerned. I hadn’t heard from him in a few days, which was fairly unusual. I found the door hanging wide open. Propped up in a chair in the exact spot where you now sit, Will lay with a blast hole showing clear through his skull, a shotgun laying at his feet.
“And next to him, I found a blood-stained diary opened to the middle page. The last entry was stained with blood spatter, but still visible. I remember leaning down and reading it. It was only a few sentences long.” I glanced over at the bookshelf with the same diary, saying nothing.
“It said something like, ‘I see now what’s going on. The Twisted Man is leading me to the truth. Today, I will finally find it.’”
“And that was his suicide note?” I asked, my heart hammering in my chest. He nodded.
“Yeah. I went into town and got some rangers to come check it out. Eventually, they got cops and CSI there. They took all the stuff as evidence, including the diary,” he said. “Good riddance, I say. Reading something like that is never beneficial. Sometimes delusions spread like a virus, you know what I mean?” I did, but I said nothing. I glanced back at the diary, its black leather cover gleaming like a crouching snake.
And I wondered- if the police took the diary as evidence, how did it get back here?
***
“You said he had a wife living here with him, too?” I asked.
“Yeah… she went missing around the same time,” he said. “Pretty bizarre. The cops thought maybe she just moved away, but…” He shook his head grimly. “As far as I know, she was never seen again. It was like she had evaporated into thin air.”
After Steve left, I walked stiffly over to the bookshelf, taking down the diary. I flipped open through the pages. In the middle, I found the last entry. Spatters of old, darkened blood were scattered over the page like raindrops. I found the suicide note and read the date.
“January 27th, 2015,” it read. Will Lenning had not lived long after he started seeing the Twisted Man. I wondered if my fate would be the same.
The Sun had started to set outside as I sat with the diary at the small circular kitchen table, eating some stewed venison and rice as I read through the entries. At the end, Will Lenning said the Twisted Man had been trying to guide him somewhere, that, in fact, the Twisted Man had been trying to protect him from some great evil, rather than being the source of it.
I scoffed, feeling a flash of anger at his stupidity. His naivety obviously led to his death. But then a flash of insight struck me like lightning.
What if I was committing the same kind of stupidity? Perhaps I should just grab my gun and valuables and leave. I could take off on the snowmobile and be in town within a couple hours.
But, in my heart, I knew I would not. Something about the mystery of all this beckoned me to stay. Like a siren leading sailors to destruction, my curiosity called out to me, and I knew I would not be leaving that night. I needed answers.
And, sadly, I would find them.
***
I had fallen asleep with an empty bottle of beer in my hand. I sat in front of the TV, which only got satellite reception. There were, of course, no cable or phone lines threading their way through the forest. All of my power came from stored solar energy. Since I rarely watched TV and really only used it to cook or heat up water for bathing, the energy produced was sufficient even in winter. Tonight, though, I needed its sound, its mindless flashing of light and colors and canned laughter. It seemed to drive away the creeping, suffocating presence like a candle.
I woke suddenly. The TV flashed with static. The repetitive hissing of the white noise spit from the speakers like thousands of snakes. I glanced up at the clock. 3:33 AM. I looked around the dark cabin, confused for a long moment. I didn’t understand what had woken me so abruptly. The satellite had never gone out before, either, even with the howling winds and freezing hail of the Alaskan winter.
The TV started flickering as if the static were rising upwards. Black lines traced their way horizontally across the screen. The hissing deepened into a gurgle, and for a second, I thought I heard faint words behind the white noise. I thought I heard breathing, slow and diseased, like the death gasp of a drowning man.
A black line rose across the TV and an image came into view. The cabin was suddenly plunged into silence, except for the shrieking, wintry wind outside. I leaned close to the screen, confused at what I was looking at. It looked like a live camera feed of a room. As I took in the details, I realized it was my cabin. I saw myself in the chair, leaning close to the screen. I raised my hand, and the miniature version of me on the screen did likewise. Ice water seemed to drip down my spine as waves of dread coursed through my body.
“What the fuck is this?” I whispered, looking back to where the camera should be. It was just a coarse wooden ceiling in that corner. I turned back to the screen and nearly screamed.
The TV showed a pale, naked man crouching directly behind my chair now. With jerky movements, he rose, his broken spine twisting and shivering. A hissing voice rang out from the speakers. It spoke as if it had dirt and writhing maggots in its throat.
“He is a killer. The shadow of death,” it gurgled. “Many have fallen. Many lie buried across this forest. You will be next. He is watching you…”
Long, broken fingers with blackened nails reached out to touch my shoulders. I jumped out of the chair, stumbling back as I spun around in terror. My back smashed into the TV, and it fell to the floor with a shattering of glass and an explosion of light.
In those few moments before the darkness descended on me like a blanket, I thought I glimpsed a pale, sunken face with rotted, blackened eyes peeking out from behind the chair.
***
I turned on every light in the cabin, but there was no sign of the Twisted Man now. I knew I had to get out of there, though. I thought about the warning that the voice had spoken. If the creature wanted to attack me, then why hadn’t it just killed me while I was sleeping? None of it made sense. Who was watching me? The Twisted Man? And if he was, why warn me? Perhaps it was psychological warfare, I thought to myself. Perhaps the Twisted Man simply liked to play with his food before he ate it.
Thoughts raced through my head at a thousand miles an hour as I threw on snow pants and a couple heavy sweaters and coats. I covered up my entire body as much as I could to try to prevent frostbite. I had made up my mind to flee. There was no snowstorm tonight, though the entire landscape was blanketed in it and I knew the wind chill would be like an ice blade whipping against my skin. It was extremely dangerous to travel in the middle of the night like this in temperatures that might reach negative thirty degrees. Steve had been right, after all- Alaska had the highest missing persons rate of any state, and many of them were never found, their bodies likely frozen solid in the deep snow dozens of miles from the nearest town.
I grabbed my shotgun, jumped on my snowmobile and started heading to Steve’s cabin. I hoped I could wait there until the sunrise and then figure out what to do next.
But fate would take the decision out of my hands.
***
I felt like there were eyes watching me as I drove along the narrow, winding deer trail. The boughs of the evergreens reached into the path like greedy hands, grabbing at my coat and legs. More than a couple times, I thought I saw a pale, naked figure standing in the snow, but it had always gone when I turned to look.
I gave a sigh of relief when Steve’s place appeared in the distance. I could see the lights twinkling through the small windows of his log cabin. I pulled up next to his door, looking down. I saw two pairs of footprints there, one much smaller than the other. I found it odd, but shrugged it off. The snowmobile cut out with a sucking gurgle.
I knocked on the door hard a few times. Steve appeared after a few moments, groggy and half-dressed. He blinked slowly as he looked me up and down. His wrinkled face fell into a frown.
“Steve, I need a favor,” I said quickly. “Something weird is happening in my cabin. Can I stay here until morning, until maybe I can go to town or something? I can’t stay at my place tonight. I just can’t.” He nodded, yawning and motioning me in.
“You can sleep on the couch, I guess,” Steve said. “Put that shotgun somewhere safe, though, boy.” He had a partitioned bedroom in his cabin. It was significantly larger than my little one-room cabin, though it was basically still just a joint kitchen-living room, a small bedroom and a bathroom. He pointed to a well-worn couch in the corner and gave me an apathetic wave as he stumbled back into his bedroom, slamming the door.
I couldn’t sleep, though. I tiptoed around the room, looking at Steve’s bookshelf. He had a rather strange taste in books- lots of Anne Rule and true crime there. I saw dozens of books about Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Richard Chase, Herbert Mullin, Jeffrey Dahmer and Richard Ramirez among the collection. At the end, a large, black binder stood, unlabeled and worn-looking. It reminded me of the look of that leather-bound diary for a second, and my heart dropped. But logically, I knew this was just a coincidence. Yet, still, I pulled out the binder, my curiosity piqued.
What I found inside filled me with dread and horror.
Countless news clippings covered the length of it. The first clipping was from nearly twenty years earlier, about a woman who went missing in the Alaskan forest while hiking. A later one confirmed that her body was never found, and that her family was still hoping that she might turn up alive somewhere. A reward was offered for any information, it said.
And every page after that was more of the same: missing woman, murdered prostitute, missing man, no leads. I kept flipping through until I found clippings about Will Lenning’s suicide and the sudden disappearance of his wife. On the article about the suicide, Steve had used red marker to scrawl, “HA HA!” next to it.
I heard the click of a gun being cocked from behind me. I froze as Steve’s voice traveled across the room like a whisper.
“How do you like my work, friend?” he asked, his tone jovial and mocking.
***
I still held the binder of horrors tightly in my hands as I stared open-mouthed at this man I thought I knew.
“It’s you? What, you killed Will Lenning and his wife? And a lot of other women, apparently.” Everything felt unreal, as if I were stuck in a dream. Steve’s grin spread across his face, but his blue eyes stayed cold and dead.
“Yes, well, she was cheating on him with me anyway. Just another whore, you know. They always get what’s coming to them in the end,” he hissed with hatred oozing from his voice. “It’s too bad, really. I just killed another slut tonight. I was planning on saving you for later. The urge isn’t too bad yet right now, after all. It comes in cycles, you see. It comes in waves…” I saw a glimmer of pale, naked flesh writhing behind Steve. With jerky movements, the Twisted Man came up behind him. I said nothing, just watching with wide-eyed horror and amazement.
“You need help, man,” I whispered. Steve laughed.
“Help? The only help they give people like me is a needle in the arm. You know that. That’s why it’s important to always cover your tracks…” The Twisted Man ran a long, broken finger across Steve’s neck. Steve gave a strangled cry and jumped. He spun around, screaming. I glanced over at my shotgun next to the couch.
I jumped for it as Steve turned back to me, firing his pistol twice. The first bullet soared high above me, raining wood splinters down on my head, but the second ripped into my leg. A cold, burning pain ran like fire up my shin. I screamed in agony and battle fury as I gripped the shotgun, spinning and firing.
Steve’s head exploded as the slug ripped through his brain. His forehead collapsed like a smashed melon as bone splinters and blood sprayed the wall behind him.
The Twisted Man stood there, hunched over, grinning up at me. I felt warm blood gushing from my leg as I stared back at him, breathing hard. I wondered if I was dying.
“You… you weren’t after me at all, were you?” I asked. “You were after… Steve.” But the Twisted Man said nothing. After a long moment, he slinked back into the shadows of the bedroom and disappeared.
***
As night crawled its way toward morning, I thought back to the words the Twisted Man had spoken through the TV, suddenly understanding everything.
“He is a killer. The shadow of death. Many have fallen. Many lie buried across this forest. You will be next. He is watching you…”
He hadn’t been trying to hurt me at all. He had been trying to warn me. He had probably tried to warn Will Lenning and his wife, too.
I wrapped my leg in gauze, gritting my teeth. The wound looked puckered and deep, but I could still move my foot, and the bullet had gone clean through the flesh. I poured alcohol on it, screaming in pain as it burned its way through my skin. After rummaging through Steve’s bathroom, I found some prescription painkillers and swallowed a handful of them with a beer. I knew I would need the opiate high to get through the pain of riding into town with a mutilated leg.
As the Sun finally rose, I made my way outside the blood-stained floors of the cabin to my snowmobile. Before I left, I glanced back at that horrid place, the scene of so much torment and death.
In the open doorway, the Twisted Man stood, his back hunched, his rotted lips grinning at me. His hand lifted up into the air with jerky movements and waved.
I waved back as I started the engine and headed into town.

~First~
Harriett The Spy AND HHH/Herbert’s Hundred Harem
The sensation of Null on her was never pleasant. Sure, with the Axiom her new shape was perky, bouncy and looked like a supermodel’s idea of a supermodel on Earth. But with Null in effect... everything drooped painfully. She leaned on the table and heard Jurgen’s deep breathing.
“Thirty Seconds.” Lloyd states as she watches the three doctors work. Gin may be in charge, but he’s clearly not the only star of this show. With Doctor Lorn assisting him and Doctor Howard peeling off the larger chunks of Blood Metal things are moving quickly. Half the nightmare is already off and being moved into containment. Continual cracking and snapping sounds as the thin metal is broken apart to be taken away piece by piece.
“Third neural area taken care of.” Doctor Gin says.
“Forty Seconds.” Lloyd says as Harriett shifts as the Doctors start moving faster.
“We’re ahead of schedule. One last piece of metal on neural tissue.” Doctor Gin says.
“No remaining metal in the tissue in this part of the crater.” Doctor Howard says. His operating position is awkward as hell with Doctor Gin and Doctor Lorn as he has to reach over All Lady’s core and stay out of the way of the more delicate part of the procedure, but he still has surgical training and can still safely peel the Blood Metal off and away from the poor woman.
The medics are quickly rushing up and taking away all the Blood Metal while it’s forced into dormancy and then right into a bio-hazard container. That is going to be sealed into a trytite and lead lined case once they have it all.
“Fifty Seconds.” Lloyd counts.
“Delicate part done. Let’s get this shit off her.” Doctor Gin announces. All three doctors shift around and quickly start peeling the nightmare of the woman and...
“Sixty Seconds.”
Blood Metal clangs as it’s thrown away and then shifted into containment in rapid order. Chunks the size of dinner plates are stacked up fast and efficiently.
“Seventy Seconds.”
They finish peeling off the metal and high powered lights are shone on the core to see clean through it. Tiny slivers are located and pulled out.
“Eighty Seconds.”
They scan over the core again and then glance to each other before giving things a third scan.
“Ninety Seconds.”
“We’re clear. Let the Axiom in. Patient is free of Blood Metal and can begin standard Axiom restoration.” Doctor Gin says.
“She’ll recover a little sooner as well. I adjusted the dosage after seeing her first sample of it.” Doctor Howard says as the lights that flickered out with the Axiom scrambled start to slowly start glowing again.
“Waking up fifteen minutes after surgery is fine.” Doctor Gin says.
“Since when is Fine enough? We’re looking for healthy, and the less drugs in a patient’s system the better. We add them as needed and no more, otherwise we can cause further damages. The addictive nature of anaesthetics are well known among humans and we are intensely toxin resistant by compare to something like a Slohb, the less I give to any patient the better.” Doctor Howard answers and there are some noddings.
“So how much sooner will she wake up?” Harriett asks as the pain slowly tapers off as the Axiom returns and breathing becomes something she can do without leaning forward and resting the boulders on something.
“Any minute now. It was hard to calculate the amount of anaesthetic she would need in either surgery without knowing definitively how much of her anatomy is dedicated to digestion, neural tissue, sensory tissue or other vital organs. Each one processes it differently, but all of them are linked together, normally in a single, sphere, but each bump is a partial sphere with any one of a number of differing organs inside it, and she has bumps on the bumps of her bumps bumps.”
“Did you have to say that in rhythm?” Doctor Gin asks in a grumpy tone.
“Do you have to be a giant asshole?”
“So that’s a yes then.” Doctor Gin concedes even as the gel starts to shift again. “Already?”
“Hmm... too soon. I’ll need to run the numbers again.” Doctor Howard notes to himself.
“So is she safe to approach, or am I still an infection hazard?” Jurgen asks as he looms over the surgical tent.
“You’re fine. The girl just needs to let herself heal a little and she’s fine. The benefit to working on a Slohb is that their slime repels almost all known infectious agents. She’s producing more and her injuries are covered. She will be fine.” Doctor Lorn says.
“That’s a relief... Now...” Jurgen begins to say and then stops as the gel starts moving.
“Is... is it over? It feels like it’s over.” All Lady asks without forming any tendrils. Holding herself still as if afraid.
“Hold on a moment. The last bit of Blood Metal is being sealed away.” Harriett says before the final lock on the bio-hazard containment latches into place.
“Sealed!” A Medic reports.
“Good. Get that nightmare out of here and away from this poor woman.” Harriett says even as All Lady reconnects to her gel and things start moving.
“So it’s over? I can use Axiom on myself again?”
“Yes.” Doctor Gin says. “There are no longer any traces of...”
The gel RUSHES around and then rushes onto the core only to vanish. Like an entire waterfall landing in a single shot glass and being unable to fill it. Then suddenly it does as Dark Blue Gel surrounds the core and then it seems to invert and a singular, transparent and delicately detailed Gel woman is lounging in the surgical bed.
“I haven’t been able to be small and cute for years!” She exclaims in a giddy tone. “I can store all that gel again and my core! Oh this is great! I’ll be able to go up top! Feel the sunlight! Not starve as I feel myself bud over and over again without ever having a child... Oh thank you! Thank you little humans! This is everything I wished for but didn’t dare think I would truly gain.”
“Alright, so the patient is recovering... I hope? How did you hide your core like that?” Doctor Gin asks.
“One of the earliest Axiom techniques a Slohb learns, one I couldn’t use with that terrible stuff inside me.” All Lady says before she shifts around them. “Hee hee! I just shifted my everything between two people standing near each other! It took one move!”
“So I take it that you’ve gotten everything you’ve hoped for and more?” Jurgen asks and then in a single move All Lady launches herself onto him and wraps around his torso before rising up from it to hug him around the head.
“Yes! Yes yes yes! Thank you for bringing them! I was right to ask you for your help this is amazing I can finally leave this place!”
She then flits off him and shifts around the entire tent in moments. “Oh there’s just so much to do now! I couldn’t risk going anywhere if I couldn’t hide more core as is proper but now I can jump around as much as I want! Oh thank you!”
“Alright, calm down ma’am. If you can bring your core back for us to check, we need a final sample to make sure you’re not growing addicted to the anaesthesia or having grown dependant on the Blood Metal.” Doctor Lorn says and All Lady flits back into the tent, engorges her form over the surgical bed and suddenly her core is in it and she slips away from it ever so slightly. She pulls away all her gel and only a thin film covers it as the core, now much healthier, produces a little more. Doctor Lorn gently gathers some of the gel in a vial.
“Thank you, stick around until I’ve finished testing this.” Doctor Lorn says and he immediately begins testing.
•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•
Tiaria looks up as the door to her cell opens and she draws herself up to lambaste whoever it is thinks any of this is even slightly acceptable. Only to see a tiny figure pushing in a chair. They then rush out before she can question anything and returns to push in another, then repeats the pattern with a third.
“What is...” She begins before he rushes out before returning with a small trolley covered with treats and drinks that he drags in behind himself.
“Nearly there!” He says before sticking his head out of the room. “Miss Bleat! It’s time!”
“Bleat that...” Tiaria says before a woman wearing the mask of The Daughter walks in. Then out of the trolly the child brings out a Mask of The Midwife he holds out to her. He then puts on a mask of The Son as she takes the mask in confusion. “Wait... what is...”
She freezes as she recognizes the woman.
“Told you.” The little boy says as he pours a few drinks and then grabs a can of something cold and bright purple out of the trolley. He opens the can and it causes a strange sound before he drinks from it.
“So, do you feel sorry?” The woman in The Daughter mask asks.
“What?”
“I recognize you. It’s still you. You pushed me so hard into giving my assets up.” Miss Bleat says.
“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tiaria says simply.
“Then why’d you look so funny when she first came in?” The boy asks.
“I’m sorry, who are you young man? I can tell you’re a young man. Truly young. Healing comas leave a certain trace and you only have a touch of it. Likely no more than enough to save your life from an accident.”
“Enemy action actually.” The child notes as he takes a sip of his drink. “We got you. Now we need the other.”
“The other?” She asks.
“Who wore The Mother mask?” The boy asks and her eye twitches in memory. “So you DO know! That’s wonderful now...”
“I want my lawyers.” She says.
“Your assets are being looked over. You’ve been very, very naughty.” The boy says.
“Who are you?” She demands and he taps his mask. “You’re no son of mine.”
“You have no sons at all.” Herbert says before pointing to Miss Bleat. “Now, don’t you think you owe this lady an apology?”
“Excuse me?”
“She’s been having a very hard time after you and your friend took everything from her. At least an apology would be nice.” Herbert notes.
“...!? Is this all about an apology?”
“It’s about a lot of things. An apology is just one of them.” Herbert says.
“... Your insane.”
“Nope.” Herbert retorts before snagging a cookie. “Now you wanna play nice? Or nasty? Because you’ve played pretty nasty so far.”
“I have rights.”
“And you have trampled on the rights of others. Do you want to be treated in the same way you’ve treated them?” Herbert asks.
“Who are you?”
“Agent Herbert Jameson of the Undaunted.”
“You...”
“By many standards I am a child. However, I am also working with The Council and many of it’s powers and associates to get our hand on what The Darnaxian Concurrence got up to because it is a world of trouble. Literally, the whole world has felt it and...”
“...dead...” Tiaria mutters.
“Excuse me?”
“She’s dead! The woman in charge of it all! She’s dead! We were planning on keeping Bleat there in the know, pay her back and everything but the woman with all the codes and all the plans died to a stupid conspiracy that tainted the food supplies of a restaurant! One day things are fine, then she misses a call in, I go looking and I find out I missed her dying by six hours! She is deader than stone! Throw an engine into her corpse and all you get is dust because she is dead, cremated and done! The whole thing is finished! I lost all contact after that because there were no higher ups and there was no one else with any information! Dead! Gone! Wasted! Stupid! Finished! After everything she promised and planned and wheeled and dealed and scammed she didn’t have a single stupid backup so the moment she had a stupid accident with her goddess damn Llanwrack steak sauce being tainted the whole thing fell apart!”
Tiaria slumps back into her chair like a puppet with it’s strings cut. Panting, furious, exhausted emotionally and looking down until a bottle is placed in her view. It’s a personal favourite of hers. She tears out the stopper and downs it.
“What was her name?”
“Mariandia Lowbridge. She died of Lulathi Poisoning. Her favourite sauce has an identical taste and... She was dead in her seat. No one noticed until the waitress tried to get her attention far too late to help her. Just slumped down and done. I don’t know what she was making. She said she stumbled onto something big from an old club and kept it to herself. Said there would be big money in it and no one would get hurt. She just needed someone to keep things safe, which was me, and some start up funds, which was Bleat.” Tiaria says gesturing towards Gina who’s taken off her mask to just stare. “So what was the big secret? If people are getting kidnapped over it and The Council is taking interest it must have been big. What was the score? What was Lowbridge’s big promise?”
“... Blood Metal.” Herbert says.
“What?”
“A very rare metal that can normally only be created by turning someone’s own Axiom against them. It tortures the person to death and produces a few milligrams of the stuff.”
“What in the...”
“She found a way to make more, a lot more. Set up a lot of systems to automate things so well that we have literally the largest stash of the stuff in the history of the galaxy now. The price is incalculable because Blood Metal is illegal to own due to it’s horrific manufacturing method.”
“But if it could be produced safely, and en mass we could have named a price. Any price.”
“No. You see, Blood Metal is dangerous unstudied and could do anything. Just looking at it makes anyone feel uneasy, and the method of it’s mass production has contributed to the horrible nature of the bottom ten levels of the spires. Even worse, we have found one more thing it can do, which is that it will stab itself into a Slohb and torture them into budding uncontrollably, but render them unable to split, causing them to grow without end. There’s no telling what it would do to other races, it twists Axiom and draws it in too. Eating it for lack of a better term. There could have been a lot of money in it for you. But it would have only been a matter of time until everything went wrong.” Herbert says and Tiaria just stares into the middle distance, seeming to age centuries in seconds before she sighs.
“So it was all just a waste of time? Even if it worked, it would have just made us public enemies?” She asks and he nods. She slumps down into her seat and throws the now empty bottle away. Thankfully it’s plastic and not glass, otherwise it would have shattered. “So what now?”
“We confirm things, and then we see from there.” Herbert says. “Care for another drink?”
“Yes, please.”
~First~ Last

Whenever I get bumped or hit the ball to hard its like a 50% chance that my input delay becomes insanely bad and it is way worse in the air. Air dribbling is a nightmare my flip resets leave my car stuck to the ball or the car starts spazzing out. Assuming it is server desync or in my logs but I have tried everything else you could think of (bought new everything, new wifi, controllers, wires, headset,, mouse. for christ sake a new mouse pad and I play controller. It has been a good 3 months now with no solution I don't want I have to quit the game because god it is so satisfying and playing with music makes my heart whole but I see no option. I am top 3% in cod SnD and love the game but can't stand hackers anymore and how op controller aim assist is (I am MnK) but have tried controller and input is perfectly fine on every other game. My also attempt is logs and event viewer cuz I cannot read these things at all. Could it be the games net code? It does it in freeplay as well with my wifi connection disable. Losing my minddd here.
Log: Log file open, 01/06/2024 11:32:16
Log: GPsyonixBuildID 240425.56865.448852
Log: Command line: -AUTH_LOGIN=unused -AUTH_PASSWORD=00bbfa1523974ebf96336ff0a312de6a -AUTH_TYPE=exchangecode -epicapp=Sugar -epicenv=Prod -EpicPortal -epicusername="I am colombian" -epicuserid=e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b -epiclocale=en -epicsandboxid=9773aa1aa54f4f7b80e44bef04986cea
Init: WinSock: version 1.1 (2.2), MaxSocks=32767, MaxUdp=65467
Log: ... running in INSTALLED mode
Init: Language extension: INT
Init: Language extension: INT
DevConfig: GConfig::LoadFile associated file: ..\..\TAGame\Config\TAUI.ini
Init: Version: 240425.56865.448852
Init: Compiled (64-bit): Apr 25 2024 16:13:35
Init: Command line: -AUTH_LOGIN=unused -AUTH_PASSWORD=00bbfa1523974ebf96336ff0a312de6a -AUTH_TYPE=exchangecode -epicapp=Sugar -epicenv=Prod -EpicPortal -epicusername="I am colombian" -epicuserid=e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b -epiclocale=en -epicsandboxid=9773aa1aa54f4f7b80e44bef04986cea
Init: Base directory: C:\Program Files\Epic Games\rocketleague\Binaries\Win64\
[0000.96] Log: Purging 30-day cache '..\..\TAGame\Cache\WebCache\*.*'...
[0000.96] Log: Purging 7-day cache '..\..\TAGame\Logs\*.dmp'...
[0000.96] Log: Purging 3-day cache '..\..\TAGame\Logs\*.log'...
[0000.96] Init: Computer: DESKTOP-OK58NB9
[0000.97] Init: User: G
[0000.97] Init: CPU Page size=4096, Processors=16
[0000.97] Init: High frequency timer resolution =10.000000 MHz
[0000.97] Init: Memory total: Physical=31.7GB (32GB approx) Pagefile=36.7GB Virtual=131072.0GB
[0000.97] Init: Presizing for 138000 objects not considered by GC, pre-allocating 0 bytes.
[0000.97] Init: Object subsystem initialized
[0001.07] Log: Using feature set PrimeUpdate50
[0001.11] Log: FOnlineSubsystemEOS: EOS version = 1.13.0-24551320
[0001.11] DevOnline: EOS Platform CacheDirectory=C:\Users\G\AppData\Local\Rocket League\
[0001.35] Log: Found D3D11 adapter 0: NVIDIA GeForce RTX 4070 Ti
[0001.35] Log: Adapter has 11996MB of dedicated video memory, 0MB of dedicated system memory, and 16250MB of shared system memory
[0001.36] Log: Found D3D11 adapter 1: Microsoft Basic Render Driver
[0001.36] Log: Adapter has 0MB of dedicated video memory, 0MB of dedicated system memory, and 16250MB of shared system memory
[0001.36] Log: Shader platform (RHI): PC-D3D-SM5
[0001.42] Breadcrumbs: Startup_PreInit: 1.420
[0001.44] Breadcrumbs: Startup_LoadGlobalShaders: 0.018
[0003.93] Log: ProductDatabase_TA::InitProductLabels 0.00 sec total.
[0003.96] Log: ProductDatabase_TA::UpdateAvailableProducts 0.03 sec total.
[0003.97] Breadcrumbs: Startup_LoadScriptPackages: 2.528
[0004.40] Breadcrumbs: Startup_LoadNonNativePackages: 0.439
[0004.41] Log: 143295 objects as part of root set at end of initial load.
[0004.41] Log: 0 out of 0 bytes used by permanent object pool.
[0004.41] Log: ShaderCache load stats: AccumLoadSeconds=(1.724) ShadersLoaded=(385582) Duplicates=(24444)
[0004.41] Log: Initializing Engine...
[0004.41] Log: BuildID: -1434241463 from GPsyonixBuildID
[0004.46] SystemSettings: Loading PC Settings
[0004.47] Breadcrumbs: Startup_BuildGuidCache: 0.063
[0004.49] Log: Running hardware survey...
[0004.49] Log: Wwise(R) SDK Version 2019.1.1 Build 6977. Copyright (c) 2006-2012 Audiokinetic Inc. / All Rights Reserved.
[0004.69] Log: OS: Microsoft Windows 10 Pro (19045)
[0004.69] Log: WinSAT: 0.0 [0.0 CPU, 0.0 2D, 0.0 3D, 0.0 Mem, 0.0 Disk]
[0004.69] Log: Processor: AMD Ryzen 7 7800X3D 8-Core Processor (AMD64 Family 25 Model 97 Stepping 2) 8 Cores, 16 Threads
[0004.69] Breadcrumbs: Startup_ClientInit: 0.222
[0004.70] Log: Memory: 16.00GB
[0004.70] Log: Memory: 16.00GB
[0005.19] Log: VideoController: NVIDIA GeForce RTX 4070 Ti (32.0.15.5585)
[0005.19] Log: Network Adapter: Realtek Gaming 2.5GbE Family Controller
[0005.19] Log: Disk C: 1240.38GB free of 1675.86GB
[0005.19] Log: Disk D: 685.73GB free of 953.77GB
[0005.19] Log: Sound Device: Yeti Classic (OAB7)
[0005.19] Log: Sound Device: USB Audio Device
[0005.19] Log: Sound Device: USB Audio Device
[0005.19] Log: Sound Device: NVIDIA High Definition Audio
[0005.19] Log: Sound Device: Logitech PRO X Wireless Gaming Headset
[0005.19] Log: Hardware survey complete in 0.49 seconds.
[0005.19] Log: Detected 1 GPUs for rendering
[0005.96] Breadcrumbs: Startup_CreateViewport: 1.272
[0005.96] DevOnline: Created named interface (RecentPlayersList) of type (Engine.OnlineRecentPlayersList)
[0006.08] EOSGameClips: EOSGameClips: Activate called successfully.
[0006.08] EOSGameClips: EOSGameClips: Audio initialized successfully.
[0006.08] EOSGameClips: EOSGameClips: Subscribed to game clips status events successfully.
[0006.08] EOSGameClips: EOSGameClips: Subscribed to user status events successfully.
[0006.08] EOSGameClips: EOSGameClips: Successfully initialized!
[0006.08] ScriptLog: PsyNet using environment DBE_Production Prod
[0006.08] PsyNet: PsyNetConnection_X_0 disabled OSCS_ServiceUnavailable
[0006.08] PsyNetStaticData: HandleCacheExpired
[0006.08] PsyNetStaticData: HandleGetURL URL=(https://config.psynet.gg/v2/Config/BattleCars/-1434241463/Prod/Epic/INT/)
[0006.08] PsyNetStaticData: Blocking sync start
[0006.09] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_0 SEND: https://config.psynet.gg/v2/Config/BattleCars/-1434241463/Prod/Epic/INT/
[0006.19] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_0 RECV: 304
[0006.19] PsyNetStaticData: Blocking sync complete. Elapsed=0.1119
[0006.19] PsyNetStaticData: HandleDataChanged
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10244
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10267
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10272
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10287
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 7890
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 8463
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 8467
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10382
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10386
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 8464
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 8470
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 8465
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10159
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 5311
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 9906
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10044
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10130
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10131
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10132
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10133
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10134
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10212
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10213
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10214
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10236
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10388
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10389
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10406
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10430
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10435
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 9777
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 9653
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10694
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10689
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10093
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10174
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10690
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10691
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10724
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10725
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10713
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10714
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10715
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10726
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10727
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10728
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10729
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10711
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10712
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10730
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10731
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10657
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10658
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10659
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10660
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10343
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10344
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10345
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10346
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10358
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10359
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10356
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10361
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10328
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10329
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10330
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10331
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10572
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10420
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 9947
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10641
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10722
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10642
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 10723
[0006.20] Warning: Warning, Product not found for the XEStatusOverride: 9280
[0006.20] ScriptWarning: ScriptWarning, Assertion failed, line 33

ContentConfig\_TA Transient.Untitled\_0.ContentConfig Function ProjectX.ContentConfig\_X:Apply:01D5 

Script call stack:

Function ProjectX.OnlineConfigDispatcher\_X:ApplyConfigObject Function TAGame.ContentConfig\_TA:Apply Function ProjectX.ContentConfig\_X:Apply 

[0006.24] Log: ProductDatabase_TA::UpdateAvailableProducts 0.03 sec total.
[0006.78] Log: ProductDatabase_TA::InitProductLabels 0.00 sec total.
[0006.78] PsyNet: PsyNetConnection_X_0 enabled
[0006.80] PsyNetStaticData: UpdateCacheTimerEnabled CacheTimer.bEnabled=(True)
[0006.80] EOSGameClips: Construct Constructed EOSGameClipsManager_TA. Self=(EOSGameClipsManager_TA_0)
[0006.80] AuthPsyNetVerbose: New auth error. Error 'OSCS_NotConnected'
[0006.80] AuthPsyNetVerbose: OnlinePlayerAuthentication_TA_0 None Unknown00 Logout
[0006.80] PsyNet: PsyNetConnection_X_1 disabled OSCS_NotConnected
[0006.80] AuthPsyNetVerbose: PsyNet connection status changed. Error 'OSCS_NotConnected'
[0006.80] AuthPsyNetVerbose: New auth error. Error 'OSCS_NotConnected'
[0006.80] AuthPsyNetVerbose: OnlinePlayerAuthentication_TA_0 LoggedOut Unknown00 Logout
[0006.80] AuthPlatformCritical: Initiating auth. Player num '0', Name '', Password length '0'
[0006.80] ScriptLog: HandleBlockListStatusCreated Status=(PlatformBlockListStatus_0) ControllerId=(0)
[0006.80] AuthEpicCritical: Sending Eos login request with Credentials '{Version '3', Id Length '2', Token Length '32', Type 'EOS_LCT_ExchangeCode', SystemAuthCredentialsOptions null? 'Null', ExternalType 'EOS_ECT_EPIC'}'
[0006.80] SaveGame: Load Player.ControllerId=(0) SaveFileName=(..\..\TAGame\SaveDataEpic\DBE_Production\e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b.save)
[0006.81] Breadcrumbs: Startup_InitOnlineSubsystem: 0.847
[0006.82] DevNet: Browse: MENU_Main_p
[0006.82] Log: LoadMap: MENU_Main_p
[0006.82] Exit: XAudio2 Device shut down.
[0006.83] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\GameInfo_GFxMenu_SF.upk
[0006.85] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\GFxSounds_MainMenu_SF.upk
[0006.85] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\GFX_StartMenu_SF.upk
[0006.94] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\GFX_MainMenu_SF.upk
[0007.01] Log: Game class is 'GameInfo_GFxMenu_TA'
[0007.05] Log: Bringing World menu_main_p.TheWorld up for play (0) at 2024.06.01-11.32.22
[0007.05] Log: Flushing async loaders.
[0007.21] Log: Flushed async loaders.
[0007.21] Log: Bringing up level for play took: 0.190768
[0007.46] Log: ########### Finished loading level: 0.646738 seconds
[0007.47] Breadcrumbs: Startup_Browse: 0.660
[0007.47] Log: Initializing Engine Completed
[0007.47] Breadcrumbs: Startup_Total: 7.471
[0007.49] DevOnline: EOSSDK-LogEOSGameClips: Probing for recording system availability.
[0007.49] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_1 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/SpecialEvent/Images/rl_season-rush_event-screen_logo.png
[0007.50] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_2 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/SpecialEvent/Images/rl_season-rush_event-screen.jpg
[0007.50] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_3 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/LogoImages/S14/rl_s14_logo_EN_v2.png
[0007.52] SaveGame: HandleDataLoaded Result.Code=(BasicLoadResult_Success)
[0007.52] ScriptLog: NetworkSave_TA_0 ApplySettings ReplicationRate=60 NetSpeed=15000 InputRate=60
[0007.63] SaveData: Profile_TA_0 OnLoaded LocalID=(0)
[0007.65] ScriptLog: GetDLCProducts, UnlockedDLCList=
[0007.70] ScriptLog: GetDLCProducts, UnlockedDLCList=
[0007.70] SaveGame: LocalPlayer_TA_0 HandleSaveDataLoaded
[0007.72] FTECritical: [GFx] Changed active tutorial from 'null' to 'NONE'. Tutorial active? 'false', New checkpoint active? 'false'
[0007.72] FTEVerbose: Checkpoint 'None' attempted completion while the FTE isn't active!
[0007.74] Log: Flushing async loaders.
[0007.88] Log: Flushed async loaders.
[0008.00] Log: Found controller by Product Guid
[0008.00] XPGatedPlaylists: Not currently in a party.
[0008.00] DevOnline: EOSSDK-LogEOSGameClips: Recording supported and available.
[0008.00] DevOnline: EOSSDK-LogEOSGameClips: Recording availability changed from 'Pending' to 'Available'.
[0008.00] EOSGameClips: EOSGameClips: Availability changed from Pending to Available.
[0008.13] DevOnline: EOSSDK-LogEOSAnalytics: EOS SDK Analytics disabled for route [1].
[0008.18] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_2 RECV: 304
[0008.18] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_3 RECV: 304
[0008.21] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_1 RECV: 304
[0008.44] AuthEpicCritical: Eos login result 'EOS_Success' for player '0'
[0008.54] AuthEpicCritical: Connect login result 'EOS_Success' for player 'e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b', local num '0'
[0008.54] AuthPlatformCritical: Login status changed for player '0' to 'LS_LoggedIn'
[0008.54] AuthPlatformVerbose: Login attempt concluded
[0008.54] AuthEpicVerbose: Requesting cabined status for player '0'
[0008.54] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_4 SEND: https://api.epicgames.dev/epic/id/v1/accounts?accountId=e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b
[0008.54] PsyNet: PsyNetConnection_X_1 enabled
[0008.54] AuthPsyNetVerbose: PsyNet connection status changed. Error 'None'
[0008.54] AuthPsyNetVerbose: Transitioning to state 'RequestAuthCode'
[0008.54] AuthPsyNetCritical: Requesting auth ticket from platform for 'Epice705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b0'
[0008.54] AuthPsyNetCritical: Platform auth ticket completed with success 'True'
[0008.54] AuthPsyNetVerbose: Transitioning to state 'SendLoginRequest'
[0008.54] AuthPsyNetCritical: Sending login RPC for player 'e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b' Auth ticket required? 'True'
[0008.54] AuthPsyNetCritical: Primary player ID? 'Epice705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b0' Logging In PlayerID 'e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b'
[0008.54] AuthPsyNetVerbose: OnlinePlayerAuthentication_TA_0 SendLoginRequest Epice705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b0 HandleLoginStatusChanged LS_LoggedIn Epice705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b0
[0008.54] Party: HandleLocalPlayerLoginStatusChanged PlayerName=I am colombian PlayerID=Epice705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b0 LoginStatus=LS_LoggedIn IsPrimary=True IsInParty=False
[0008.55] PsyNet: HTTP send ID=PsyNetMessage_X_0 Message=PsyNetMessage_X_0
[0008.55] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_5 SEND: https://api.rlpp.psynet.gg/rpc/Auth/AuthPlayev2
[0008.66] XPGatedPlaylists: Not currently in a party.
[0008.66] ScriptLog: GetDLCProducts, UnlockedDLCList=
[0008.72] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_4 RECV: 200
[0008.72] AuthEpicVerbose: Cabined request completed for user '0' with result 'False', Error 'None'
[0008.81] XPGatedPlaylists: Not currently in a party.
[0008.97] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_5 RECV: 200
[0008.97] PsyNet: HTTP recv ID=PsyNetMessage_X_0 Message=PsyNetMessage_X_1
[0008.98] AuthPsyNetCritical: PsyNet auth RPC succeeded for player 'e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b'
[0008.98] AuthPsyNetVerbose: Transitioning to state 'LoggedIn'
[0008.98] AuthPsyNetCritical: Login successful for player 'e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b'
[0008.98] Auth: OnlinePlayer_TA_0 OnlinePlayerAuthentication_TA_0 HandleAuthLoginChange Auth.bLoggedIn=(True)
[0008.98] PsyNet: Enabling PerCon
[0008.98] PsyNet: PsyNetConnection_X_1 SetAuthorized bAuthorized=True
[0008.98] RankedReconnect: LocalPlayer_TA_0.CheckForRankedReconnect() bOpenedStartMenu=(False) IsMenuLevel=(True) bLoggedIn=(True) IsPrimaryPlayer=(True) RankedReconnectAvailable=(False) EpochTime=(0) EpochNow=(1717255944) TimeSince=(1717255944) ReconnectTimeoutSeconds=(900) Reservation=()
[0009.08] XPGatedPlaylists: Not currently in a party.
[0009.10] PsyNet: PsyNetMessengerWebSocket_X_0 Connected
[0009.10] PsyNet: PsyNetConnection_X_1 UpdateConnectionState bConnected=(True) bFreshConnection=(True)
[0009.10] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_6 SEND: https://api.kws.ol.epicgames.com/v1/epic-settings/public/users/e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b/values?game=rl
[0009.10] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_7 SEND: https://api.epicgames.dev/epic/friends/v1/e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b/blocklist
[0009.10] DevOnline: PlayerDataStorage_QueryFileList: Beginning to query files. User=(e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b)
[0009.10] PsyNetBeaconDetail_X: PsyNetBeacon_X_0 SetPsyNetConnection InPsyNetConnection=(PsyNetConnection_X_1)
[0009.10] PsyNet: PsyNetConnection_X_1 UpdateConnectionState bPerConConnected=(True)
[0009.15] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_7 RECV: 200
[0009.18] DevOnline: PlayerDataStorage_QueryFileList: Finished querying files. User=(e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b) Success=(1)
[0009.18] DevOnline: PlayerDataStorage_ReadFile: Beginning to download file. User=(e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b) FileName=(RLSaveData)
[0009.19] ScriptLog: ListenForBlockListDownloaded PrimaryStatus=(PlatformBlockListStatus_0) PrimaryStatus.DownloadStatus=(EB_Pending)
[0009.26] ScriptLog: HandleStatusChanged PrimaryStatus.DownloadStatus=(EB_Success) ControllerId=(0)
[0009.27] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_6 RECV: 200
[0009.27] EOSPermissions: NS=chat SN=voice PL=null EL=null DV=0 IV=0
[0009.27] EOSPermissions: NS=chat SN=text PL=null EL=null DV=0 IV=0
[0009.27] EOSPermissions: NS=profile SN=require-pin-to-add-friend PL=null EL=null DV=False IV=False
[0009.27] EOSPermissions: NS=prm SN=marketing PL=null EL=True DV=True IV=True
[0009.27] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_8 SEND: https://api.epicgames.dev/epic/friends/v1/e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b/outgoing
[0009.27] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_9 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/ChallengeIcons/Challenge_Play.jpg
[0009.27] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_10 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/ChallengeIcons/Challenge_Shot.jpg
[0009.27] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_11 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/ChallengeIcons/Challenge_Save.jpg
[0009.27] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_12 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/ChallengeIcons/Challenge_Center.jpg
[0009.27] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_13 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/ChallengeIcons/Challenge_Win.jpg
[0009.27] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_14 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/ChallengeIcons/Challenge_AerialGoal.jpg
[0009.27] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_15 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/ChallengeIcons/Challenge_SAG.jpg
[0009.27] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_16 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/ChallengeIcons/Challenge_Clear.jpg
[0009.27] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_17 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/ChallengeIcons/Challenge_Goal.jpg
[0009.28] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_18 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/ChallengeBanners/NUX_Popup_Octane.png
[0009.28] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_19 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/SpecialEvent/Images/rl_season-rush_event-widget.png
[0009.28] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_20 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/SpecialEvent/Images/rl_season-rush_event_dashboard.png
[0009.28] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_21 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/ChallengeBanners/Season_imagery_Reward.png
[0009.29] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_22 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/RocketPass/Images/S14/rl_s14_dash.png
[0009.31] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_9 RECV: 304
[0009.32] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_8 RECV: 200
[0009.32] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_10 RECV: 304
[0009.34] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_23 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/Playlists/Images/rl_event_mode_bg_beachball.jpg
[0009.34] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_24 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/Playlists/Images/rl_event_mode_bg_heatseeker.jpg
[0009.34] ScriptLog: RegionPinger_X_0 PingRegions ("162.244.54.151:11209","34.71.158.59:8873","209.191.164.31:2647","213.179.218.186:2447","43.239.136.70:17092","54.255.181.63:8627","54.249.73.128:8237","157.175.177.48:8547","13.239.139.231:8341","185.179.201.70:14299","189.1.169.20:2967","65.2.142.41:8881")
[0009.36] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_12 RECV: 304
[0009.37] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_11 RECV: 304
[0009.37] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_14 RECV: 304
[0009.37] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_15 RECV: 304
[0009.37] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_17 RECV: 304
[0009.37] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_19 RECV: 304
[0009.37] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_21 RECV: 304
[0009.38] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_13 RECV: 304
[0009.38] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_16 RECV: 304
[0009.38] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_20 RECV: 304
[0009.38] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_22 RECV: 304
[0009.38] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_23 RECV: 304
[0009.38] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_24 RECV: 304
[0009.40] Log: FSaveDataExportTask(0) wrote 1949882 bytes to memory
[0009.40] Log: SaveGameDataAsync game thread time: 11 ms
[0009.41] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_18 RECV: 304
[0009.43] Log: Deleting old save file ..\..\TAGame\SaveDataEpic\DBE_Production\e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b_2.save
[0009.43] Log: SaveDataExport(0): Finished - File:[..\..\TAGame\SaveDataEpic\DBE_Production\e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b_1.save] Result:[1]
[0009.60] Log: Flushing async loaders.
[0009.62] Log: Flushed async loaders.
[0010.31] Matchmaking: All Regions Pinged: USE (0.0182),USC (0.0419),USW (0.0760),EU (0.1226),ASC (0.2313),ASM (0.2410),JPN (0.1765),ME (0.1920),OCE (0.2142),SAF (0.2534),SAM (0.1453),IND (0.2621)
[0010.31] Log: FCacheExportTask(..\..\TAGame\Cache\RegionCache.cache) wrote 1159 bytes to memory
[0010.47] DevOnline: PlayerDataStorage_ReadFile: File download complete. User=(e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b) FileName=(RLSaveData) Success=(1)
[0010.47] EOSSync: HandleFileReadComplete LocalSaveTick: 38060
[0010.47] EOSSync: HandleFileReadComplete OnlineSaveTick: 38055
[0010.47] EOSSync: HandleFileReadComplete Local Save is up to date, keeping this file
[0010.47] ScriptLog: NewProductIDs128:
[0010.47] ScriptLog: GetDLCProducts, UnlockedDLCList=
[0010.51] AuthEpicVerbose: Epic save data loaded
[0010.51] AuthEpicVerbose: [GFx] Epic login changed. m_uiState:StartMenu bPromptParentalConsent:false bPromptToChoosePrimaryAccount:false bEpicSaveDataLoaded:true bPlatformLinked:true
[0010.51] ScriptLog: GetDLCProducts, UnlockedDLCList=
[0010.52] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_25 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/Legal/PC/EULA/INT.txt
[0010.52] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_26 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/Legal/PC/PrivacyPolicy/INT.txt
[0010.52] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_27 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/Legal/PC/ToS/INT.txt
[0010.52] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_28 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/Legal/PC/SCT/INT.txt
[0010.52] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_29 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/Legal/PC/PaymentServices/INT.txt
[0010.54] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_26 RECV: 304
[0010.54] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_27 RECV: 304
[0010.54] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_29 RECV: 304
[0010.55] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_25 RECV: 304
[0010.55] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_28 RECV: 304
[0011.30] EOSVoice: HandleFriendsListChanged
[0025.43] Log: Assigning DI controller to 0
[0025.66] Legacy: State Set
[0025.66] FTEVerbose: [GFx] Checking FTE progress: Shown login flow 'false', Legal modal valid? 'true', Online? 'true', Cabined state '0', Legacy state '3'
[0025.66] FTEDev: Trying to start FTE Group Prime_InitialStartup which is already completed and cannot be restarted CurrentActiveGroup.bCanBeDoneAgain=(False) bIgnoreCompletion=(False)
[0025.66] AuthEpicVerbose: [GFx] Showing login flow. Platform linked? 'true' Prompt for epic link? 'false' Prompt for primary? 'false' Prompt for parental consent? 'false' Epic data loaded? 'true' Showing epic flow? 'false'
[0025.66] AuthEpicVerbose: [GFx] Epic flow completed 'false'
[0025.66] FTE: Starting Group:Prime_LegalText at Checkpoint:FTE_PrimaryPlayerIsXboxGuest
[0025.66] FTEDev: Trying to start FTE Group Prime_CarSelect while another Group Prime_LegalText is active
[0025.66] FTEVerbose: [GFx] Checking FTE progress: Shown login flow 'true', Legal modal valid? 'true', Online? 'true', Cabined state '0', Legacy state '3'
[0025.66] FTEDev: Trying to start FTE Group Prime_InitialStartup while another Group Prime_LegalText is active
[0025.66] FTE: CompleteCheckpoint GroupName=(Prime_LegalText) CheckpointName=(FTE_PrimaryPlayerIsXboxGuest)
[0025.66] FTE: Moving to Checkpoint:FTE_PrivacyPolicy
[0025.66] FTEVerbose: [GFx] Checking FTE progress: Shown login flow 'true', Legal modal valid? 'true', Online? 'true', Cabined state '0', Legacy state '3'
[0025.66] FTEDev: Trying to start FTE Group Prime_InitialStartup while another Group Prime_LegalText is active
[0025.66] FTE: CompleteCheckpoint GroupName=(Prime_LegalText) CheckpointName=(FTE_PrivacyPolicy)
[0025.66] FTE: Moving to Checkpoint:FTE_EulaText
[0025.66] FTEVerbose: [GFx] Checking FTE progress: Shown login flow 'true', Legal modal valid? 'true', Online? 'true', Cabined state '0', Legacy state '3'
[0025.66] FTEDev: Trying to start FTE Group Prime_InitialStartup while another Group Prime_LegalText is active
[0025.66] FTE: CompleteCheckpoint GroupName=(Prime_LegalText) CheckpointName=(FTE_EulaText)
[0025.66] FTE: CompleteActiveGroup GroupName:Prime_LegalText
[0025.66] FTEVerbose: [GFx] Checking FTE progress: Shown login flow 'true', Legal modal valid? 'true', Online? 'true', Cabined state '0', Legacy state '3'
[0025.66] FTEDev: Trying to start FTE Group Prime_InitialStartup which is already completed and cannot be restarted CurrentActiveGroup.bCanBeDoneAgain=(False) bIgnoreCompletion=(False)
[0025.66] FTEDev: Group Prime_CarSelect Is not meant for users of type FTESave.LegacyGroupType=(LGT_LegacyUser)
[0025.66] FTEVerbose: [GFx] Checking FTE progress: Shown login flow 'true', Legal modal valid? 'true', Online? 'true', Cabined state '0', Legacy state '3'
[0025.66] FTEDev: Trying to start FTE Group Prime_InitialStartup which is already completed and cannot be restarted CurrentActiveGroup.bCanBeDoneAgain=(False) bIgnoreCompletion=(False)
[0025.66] FTEDev: Group Prime_CarSelect Is not meant for users of type FTESave.LegacyGroupType=(LGT_LegacyUser)
[0025.66] FTEDev: Group Prime_FreeToPlayTutorial_1 Is not meant for users of type FTESave.LegacyGroupType=(LGT_LegacyUser)
[0025.66] FTECritical: [GFx] Changed active tutorial from 'null' to 'NONE'. Tutorial active? 'false', New checkpoint active? 'false'
[0025.66] FTEVerbose: Checkpoint 'None' attempted completion while the FTE isn't active!
[0025.66] FTEVerbose: [GFx] Checking FTE progress: Shown login flow 'true', Legal modal valid? 'true', Online? 'true', Cabined state '0', Legacy state '3'
[0025.66] FTEDev: Trying to start FTE Group Prime_InitialStartup which is already completed and cannot be restarted CurrentActiveGroup.bCanBeDoneAgain=(False) bIgnoreCompletion=(False)
[0025.66] FTEDev: Group Prime_CarSelect Is not meant for users of type FTESave.LegacyGroupType=(LGT_LegacyUser)
[0025.66] FTEDev: Group Prime_FreeToPlayTutorial_1 Is not meant for users of type FTESave.LegacyGroupType=(LGT_LegacyUser)
[0025.66] AuthEpicVerbose: [GFx] Epic login changed. m_uiState:MainMenu bPromptParentalConsent:false bPromptToChoosePrimaryAccount:false bEpicSaveDataLoaded:false bPlatformLinked:false
[0025.66] FTEDev: Group Prime_MatchComplete Is not meant for users of type FTESave.LegacyGroupType=(LGT_LegacyUser)
[0025.69] RankedReconnect: LocalPlayer_TA_0.CheckForRankedReconnect() bOpenedStartMenu=(True) IsMenuLevel=(True) bLoggedIn=(True) IsPrimaryPlayer=(True) RankedReconnectAvailable=(False) EpochTime=(0) EpochNow=(1717255960) TimeSince=(1717255960) ReconnectTimeoutSeconds=(900) Reservation=()
[0025.69] MTX: ConditionalClaimEntitlements bAllowEntitlements=(True) bClaimingEntitlements=(False) bEntitlementsDirty=(True) PsyNetConnected=(True) SplitscreenID=(0) bMtxCodeExpired=(False)
[0025.69] MTX: HandleMtxCode bSuccess=True
[0025.72] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_30 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/EsportsIcons/EsportsButtonIcon_RLCS_Open_Qualifier_6_24.png
[0025.74] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_30 RECV: 304
[0025.77] Log: FSaveDataExportTask(0) wrote 1949882 bytes to memory
[0025.77] Log: SaveGameDataAsync game thread time: 11 ms
[0025.79] Log: Deleting old save file ..\..\TAGame\SaveDataEpic\DBE_Production\e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b.save
[0025.79] Log: SaveDataExport(0): Finished - File:[..\..\TAGame\SaveDataEpic\DBE_Production\e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b_2.save] Result:[1]
[0025.87] MTX: HandleClaimSuccess Products=0
[0026.29] Online: TryToPlayOnline ControllerID=(-1)
[0026.29] Online: HandlePrivilegeCheckFinished PrivilegeCheck.bHasRestriction=(False)
[0026.29] Online: HandlePrivilegeCheck PrivilegeCheck.bHasRestriction=(False)
[0030.03] DevNet: Browse: UtopiaStadium_Lux_P?Game=TAGame.GameInfo_Soccar_TA?GameTags=Freeplay
[0030.10] Log: FSaveDataExportTask(0) wrote 1949882 bytes to memory
[0030.10] Log: SaveGameDataAsync game thread time: 11 ms
[0030.10] Log: Flushing async loaders.
[0030.10] Log: Flushed async loaders.
[0030.10] Log: LoadMap: UtopiaStadium_Lux_P?Game=TAGame.GameInfo_Soccar_TA?GameTags=Freeplay
[0030.12] DevOnline: PsyNet Flush Start TimeoutSeconds=0.250000
[0030.15] Log: Deleting old save file ..\..\TAGame\SaveDataEpic\DBE_Production\e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b_1.save
[0030.15] Log: SaveDataExport(0): Finished - File:[..\..\TAGame\SaveDataEpic\DBE_Production\e705541d05394afb977496fedd55705b.save] Result:[1]
[0030.23] DevOnline: PsyNet Flush End
[0030.61] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\GameInfo_Soccar_SF.upk
[0030.66] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\GFxSounds_XP_SF.upk
[0030.67] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\GFx_XPProgressMenu_SF.upk
[0030.70] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\GFX_EndGameMenu_SF.upk
[0030.73] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\GFX_WinnerMenu_SF.upk
[0030.74] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\GFX_MidGameScoreboard_SF.upk
[0030.74] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\GFX_MidGameMenu_SF.upk
[0030.76] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\GFX_HudMatchInfo_SF.upk
[0030.78] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\GFX_Hud_SF.upk
[0030.81] Log: Fully load package: ..\..\TAGame\CookedPCConsole\Mutators_SF.upk
[0030.82] Log: Game class is 'GameInfo_Soccar_TA'
[0030.85] Log: Bringing World UtopiaStadium_Lux_P.TheWorld up for play (0) at 2024.06.01-11.32.46
[0030.85] Log: Flushing async loaders.
[0030.85] Log: Flushed async loaders.
[0030.85] MatchBroadcast: Init bBroadcastMatch=(False) MatchLog=(None)
[0030.85] ScriptLog: MatchTypeClass=(MatchType_Offline_TA)
[0030.85] Log: Bringing up level for play took: 0.033896
[0031.01] EOSVoice: Not requesting voice token, no MatchGUID
[0031.01] Log: ########### Finished loading level: 0.903565 seconds
[0031.01] DynamicMapEvents: Activating event: bEventActive=(False) EventId=(Event1)
[0031.01] DynamicMapEvents: Activating event: bEventActive=(False) EventId=(Event2)
[0031.01] DynamicMapEvents: Activating event: bEventActive=(False) EventId=(Event3)
[0031.17] Log: Flushing async loaders.
[0031.17] Log: Flushed async loaders.
[0031.19] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_31 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/Ads/Prod/187.eSjbm20f/201.jpg
[0031.23] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_31 RECV: 304
[0031.34] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_32 SEND: https://rl-cdn.psyonix.com/Ads/Prod/187.eSjbm20f/202.jpg
[0031.39] DevOnline: WebRequest_X_32 RECV: 304
[0062.22] SplitScreen: Press Start ControllerId=0 Player=LocalPlayer_TA_

I wrote this to copy and paste for people when they asked but decided to make a post for this as well.
Here is a general write up that I use to help people with these issues. It hasn't been customized to your question specifically, so not everything will apply. I do try to make this as comprehensive as possible, so it is very long but it's all important information that you need to resolve these issues. I update this response as I learn new things, that may help people with this issue. My writing isn't great and I know that. I apologize. Know that I am always reading though this find errors and improve ease of readability. So while it is annoying, know that this is a known issue I am I am actively working on it.
First things to consider
If your cat isn't fixed you don't know if you have an issue and are very unlikely to resolve it until you get them fixed. Their hormones will send a message to their brain to say to urine mark or even fully pee to establish that they live there.
Is this cat declawed? If they are this is a different issue. You need work this out in your vet appointment I will mention in a minute.
Are they a hybrid breed? If so getting them fixed and following the steps below may help the issue but it is unlikely to resolve it. It's one of the added wild traits that get added when you create a hybrid from a wild and domestic cat. It's highly unlikely to resolve completely as you cannot fight instinct. I recommend talking with other people's with Hybrids or the breeder or the animal shelter you got the cat from for more indepth information as I am not super knowledgeable on hybrid cats.
It could be a medical problem.
Rule out a medical cause by going to the vet. If they need to be fixed, fix them. Have the vet give your cat a thorough exam and run tests to confirm or rule out a medical cause. If this cat is declawed have the vet examine the declawed paws. To confirm or rule out a physical issue where is the cat is avoiding the litter box because of sore paws.
Once that cat is fixed and and medical or physical cause is ruled out you can be reasonably sure this is a behavioral problem.
So what do we do?
Negative reinforcement doesnt work with cats (any animal, especially cats) cats would naturally live in colonies of other cats without a hierarchy of authority. Because they lack the concept of authority. Everything with cats needs to be mutually beneficial. Every time you ask something of your cat, know they are wanting to know what's in it for them. They aren't being rude. That's completely appropriate for a cat. If you ask something of them, make it benefit them.
This is a house hold wide problem If you have a home where you have a pet that your refer to a single persons pet. Put a stop to that. It's everyones pet, working together to solve this with the cat and not against the designated "owner" for them to fix it. Everyone needs to do their part.
If you think of cats as a 'low maintenance' pet it's time to reevaluate your thinking. There is no such thing. All pets have needs, When their needs go unaddressed, we run into problems with our pets.
Firstly, let's look at the litter box environment
Make sure you have 1 more litter box then you have cats in your home. Don't put them side by side in 'litter box station' spread then out through your home. Unless you can prove that your cat prefers to pee in one type litter and poop in a different type. If that is that case you need one more litter station then cats in your home.
Scoop your litter daily. This is very important.
Ensure your litter box is NOT hooded, automatic (eg. a litter robot) or tucked away in a DIY litter box cabnaint. We see far more litter box issues popup among cats that use a hooded, automatic litter boxes or in cabnaints. They are not worth it. BUT your simple litter box should be large. Placement is important, you want to place it where they won't feel like there is potential for a blind ambush, remember that yes cats are predators, but they are also prey and while your cat is in one of his most vulnerable positions they find themselves in, the litter box, you need to veiw them as prey. Make sure there nothing your cat may find scary in the room. You maybe need to get down to their level to look for threats. Remember that threats could be sounds, smells, pictures of cats even a hose as it may look like a snake. If you have a collar camera put it to use and see how your cat views the space. Additionally if there is a noticeable temperature change in the room with the litter move it as that could be discouraging your cat
Evaluate the type of type of litter.
Try different types of litter, avoid crystals litter or scented litter cats dont like those. there is a time and place for all other litter types including sand, try them and see if you can establish a preference. Prioritize clumping litters over non clumping litter in your trials. Remove any air fresheners from the room where there is a litter box. It may be best to keep at least one litter box containing your old litter and the second box a new litter. Until you know that your cat will use the new litter and if they like it.
Cats have litter depth preferences, expirment with different depths of litter. To establish their preference.
Remember your cat is doing to a huge favor by using an litter box. So do them a favor and make the experience as pleasant as possible.
Multi Cat Homes
Never assume you only have one cat peeing. As cats will add their pee, when they smell other cat urine as a way of saying I live here too, and to create or maintain group smell. Think of it as graffiti. So in multi cat homes , get all your cats checked by the vet you may think one cat is the problem when they are making graffiti and you have another cat with a medical issue causing them to eliminate inappropriately.
The Phantom Urinator
It's possible, though not highly likely, that your cat isn't the original perpetrator of the urinating... Your cat may be simply making graffiti and it could be that a cat who previously lived in your home (maybe before you even moved in). Was the inappropriate eliminator, and it was not properly clean up. Your cat is just adding their personal signature to the territory.
The Stress Induced Urinator.
If there is a pattern to your cat peeing it could be that they are trying to tell you something. If it's along an outside wall, keep an eye out in that part of the yard. It could be that there is another cat invading your yard . The pee is in this case a stress cats was of saying this is mine, mine, mine and you can't have it. You may have to put up deterrents to get the cats out of your yard. You may need to set up a camera in order to catch the intruder.
The I just missed my litterbox problem.
This cat that goes up to the litterbox but doesn't quite have the best aim and it lands on the floor. probably doesn't like their litterbox set up. Most likely the type of litter or size of litterbox. You need to spend extra attention to your cats litter box set up and make it just right for your cat.
The Work That Needs to be done,
Please note: its to be done by your entire household, as if this is a family pet it's everyone responsibility. It should only all fall on you if you live alone. And even then maybe invite a friend to help you out for some of these steps.
To start you need the following items
a UV black light flash light
Two colours of painters tape,
An enzymatic cleaner designed for cat urine.
Wand toys with many different things to hunt
Log book / calendar (physical or digital)
You will also need the following changes
Switch your cat to be a meal feed cat if you are currently a free feeder.
Spread your cats resources around your home to spread your cats scent, and feeling of belonging.
If you have any forbidden rooms for the cat. (I don't recommend forbidden spaces, but I also don't know your situation) Start letting them in there once a week with supervision to explore it.
Wait for your home to be dark.. close the curtains and blinds to make it darker and use your UV light to hunt for urine hunt through your entire house. If you have rooms that your cat isn't allowed in, check those rooms too as your cat may be a phantom Urinator scenario When you find some cleaning up with the enzymatic cleaner and use one colour of your painters tape. That colour indicates old urine that may not even be from your cat or any of your cats.
Remember you will know if the urine is old under the black light, as the brighter is shines the newer it is.
From here every time you find a new spot clean it up with the cleaner and mark it with the other colour of painters tape to indicate you know for sure this is at least one of your current cats. Over time you will get a lot of data points look for a pattern.
Every time it happens log it in your book with a date and time... The time it happens or the time it was found. But track if it was the time it happened or the time it was found..track every detail of what was going on in your house that day no matter how insignificant it seems.. also track the date of the litter was last cleaned at the time of the incident. Again look for patterns on your notes.
This will tell you a lot and you maybe be able to relate it back to one of the above scenarios.. The cat may also be indicating their preference for the type of litter type they may prefer, by peeing on certain types of objects. Look at everything as a potential clue.
When there is inappropriate elimination , there is a feeling of insecurity in your cat, the way to build confidence and security is the next part of the work.
Start meal feeding- if after 30- 60minutes after the meal was put down the dishes Should be emptied if not you are over feeding reduce portion size. Have frequent meal times I do 3. 3-5 probably best, but 2 works as well, if that's all you can do then great. The more frequently you are feeding the smaller the meals should be.
Prior to feed your cats play with them with wand toys using Jackson Galaxys 'boil and Simmer' method instructions can be found on his YouTube channel..if you have children get them to take turns doing this Kids are great at playing with cats and it's good to get them involved plus it burns up their energy.
For your cat this will help work through their prey drive, regulate their energy spike to time that work for your home and build your cats confidence as well improve their relationship with the territory.

My beloved great uncle has just passed away my great aunt wants me to make a quilt for her out of his old pants that says I can have his shirts and pocket squares from his many suits.
I am definitely planning to use my sewing machine for the pants quilt but I was thinking that since my grand uncles shirts will be my quilt that I should do something in one of my favorite methods well technically one of the only methods I want to do most of the time.
Before he passed I just knew I was going to make him a log cabin quilt and I feel it would only be fitting for me to EPP a log cabin quilt out of his shirt 12-in blocks.
Is there any issue doing this? I've heard that t-shirt quilts can be rather tough. I'm also not really sure if you're supposed to hand quilt or actually quilt a t-shirt quilt so help LOL I'm planning on getting 80 weight thread and the corresponding big-eyed needle to so with when I feel I'm advanced and ready and I would really like that to be on my great uncle's quilt

11/20/2017
Log book of Det. Ryan Snow
Case #2798: The Appalachian Murders
When I woke up, I was in such a haze that I couldn’t make out where I was at first. My vision was a blur and all I could hear was the sounds of rushing water. I tried to move my limbs, but each muscle down to my little finger felt like lead weighing down on me, making it hard to breathe.
It felt like forever before the ringing in my ear was slowly swallowed out by a voice crying out from what sounded like a distance only to grow louder as it seemed to approach me from the void I had woken up in. It wasn’t until I heard my name that I recognized it was Kate’s voice, pleading and filled with tears.
I blinked away the blur, finding myself staring up at a water damaged ceiling, a single yellow light brightening the room. My head was pounding and my body still felt heavy, but I moved my head enough to turn and see where Kate was calling from. It took a moment, but I soon realized that she was lying on her back, strapped by her arms and legs to a metal table, looking to me with wide terrified eyes.
“Detective, please help!” She cried out. “Please don’t be dead! Please help me!”
“Bl-Black…Well…” I groaned out as I tried, painfully, to pick myself up off the stone floor, “Black…Well… Ah… Shit… Shit! Ms. Blackwell-“ I was gaining consciousness minute by minute as I finally took in the situation and got to my feet. However, the moment I had gotten to my feet and began running to Kate only to immediately fall back to the floor once again, my ankle getting caught by something heavy. I turned to see my ankle had been shackled to the floor by a cuff and chains. I searched my person to find my coat, along with my Glock had been taken, blood decorating my pants and sleeves. I placed a palm to my forehead to find blood when I lowered it down to look at the warm liquid slithering down from my scalp.
“Ms. Blackwell,” I returned my attention to her, examining what I could from my place on the floor, “are you alright, are you hurt?”
“I… I… I don’t… Don’t think so…” she managed to whine out.
“Where’s Mr. Raines?”
To this question, Kate looked away from me, sobbing being her only verbal response.
I went back to the shackles on my ankle and began trying to yank the chains off from the floor, but they had been well maintained and were too strong for me to simply yank out of the stone. I then quickly looked around the room to find we were in a different basement from the one in Cabin #3, though it had the same kind of layout, the table the only major difference. I also took note of the blood stains that trailed from the sides of the table and the dried pools below.
“I want my mom!” Kate cried out, her voice echoing in the empty room.
“I’ll get you to her, I will, I promise,” I assured her, trying to find something, anything to get us out of this, “do you remember how we got down here?”
“I… I… I just re-remember… Remember you g-getting knocked out… Knocked out by someone and them… Them putting a rag over me… Then everything went black… Then I woke… Woke up… H-Here…” Kate answered, trying to breathe with each sob she let out. “I… I th-thought… y-you… You were d-d-… Dead!”
“I’m not, I’m very much alive and I’m going to get you out of here and back to your parents,” I vowed as I continued looking for a way out of this situation, “we’re going to get you out of here, get you home, and we’ll make sure no one ever gets hurt here ever-“
The sound of the basement door from the splintered wooden steps cut me off. I listened as feet descended down the steps to the basement below, Kate’s ragged breaths the only other sound. The person who came down was a woman. The same exact woman from the photo I had found in her house. She looked as if she had not aged since that photo was taken, despite how long ago it seemed the photo was taken. She had the same exact long, white hair, same tired looking eyes, and same disgustingly pale skin as in that photo and on her profile picture. It was Mrs. Larson.
“Deeeeeetectiiiiiiive,” she spoke in a hoarse voice mixed with what I assumed was her own and several others, both male and female, adult and child, “youuuuuuu shouuuullld haaaaaaaaave juuuuuuusssssst giiiiiven herrrrrrr toooooo meeeeee… Youuuuuuuu diiiiiiiiid nooooooot haaaaaave toooooooo ssssssseeeee thiiiiiissssss…”
“Fuck you!” I shouted, beginning to charge at the elderly woman only to be yanked back by my shackles. “Let us go, right now!”
“Nnnnooooo,” Mrs. Larson replied harshly as she stepped over to loom over Kate.
“Stay away from her!” I barked, trying desperately to break free of my shackles.
She ignored me as she ran a shaky hand down along Kate’s trembling face. “Ooooooooohhhhh, Kaaaaaate… Sweeeeet, sweeeeeeeet, Kaaaaaaaaaate…” Mrs. Larson cooed as she went on stroking Kate’s wet cheek. “Doooooo noooooooot crrrrrrryyyyyyy, dooooooonnnnnn’t thiiiiiiiiiinnnnk oooooofff iiiiiiiit aaaaaaaassssss dyyyyyyyyiiiiinnnnng, thiiiiiiiiinnnk ooooooooffff iiiiiiit aaaaaassssss ssssssssaaaaaaaaaviiiiiiinnng aaaaaannnnoooootherrrrrrrrr liiiiiiiiife.”
“I-I… I d-don’t… Don’t under-understand… w-what th-that… That m-means…” Kate cried, her hands gripping the sides of the metal table beneath her, “P-Please, d-don’t… Don’t kill me… L-Let… Let us-us go!”
“Nnnnnoooooo,” Mrs. Larson answered in the same harshness she used on me, “IIIIIIIII neeeeeeeed youuuuuuuuuu,” she then shot a death glare my way through tired, silver eyes, “aaaaaaaannnnnnd heeeeeeeeee’ssssssss beeeeeeeeeennnnnn nnnnnnnoooooooothiiiiiiiiinnnnnng buuuuut aaaaaa thooooooorrrrrrnnnn iiiiiiinnnnn myyyyyyyyy ssssssssiiiiiiiide siiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnccccccce youuuuuu eeeeeessssssscaaaaaaped meeeeeeee.” She then looked back to Kate with a softer look. “Aaaaaaaassssss fffffoooooorrrrr whaaaaaaaat youuuuuuu caaaaaannnn’t uuuuuunnnnnnderrrrrrssssssstaaaaaaannnnnnd, IIIIIIIIII nnnnnneeeeeeed yourrrrrrrrrr heaaaaaaaarrrrrt tooooooo ssssssssaaaaaavvvvvvve myyyyyyy ssssssiiiiiiiisssssssterrrrrrrr.”
“The fuck does that mean?” I demanded, still trying to vain to pull my ankle from the chains. “How the hell will Kate’s heart save your sister?”
“Diiiiiiiiidnnnnnn’t nnnnnnneeeeeeed toooooo beeeee Kaaaaaaate’sssssss,” admitted Mrs. Larson, “buuuuuuuut sssshhhhhheeeeee hiiiiiiiiid theeeeee ooooooootherrrrr giiiiirrrrrrllllll ffffffrrrrroooooommmmm mmmmmeeeeee.”
“S-Son… Sonja…” Kate sniffed, the tears still streaming down her face.
“IIIIIIII oooooooonnnnnlllllyyyyy neeeeed fffffffeeeeeemmmmmaaaaallllle,” Mrs. Larson dismissed Ms. Greymoore’s name, “ffffffeeeeeeemmmmmaaaaaallllle heaaaaaaaarrrrrrrtsssss toooooo rrrrrrreeeeeetuuuuurrrrrrnnnnn mmmmmmyyyyy ssssiiiiissssssterrrrrrrrr toooooo theeeeeeee giiiiirrrrrllllll ssssshhhhhheeeee uuuuuuuusssssed tooooo beeeeeee.”
“That’s a fucking joke right?” I asked. “The hell makes you think eating a female heart will turn your sister back into a human woman? Have you seen what’s happened to your sister?”
“IIIIIIIII knnnnnnnooooooow beeeeeeecaaaauuuuusssssse iiiiiiiiiiit wooooooorrrrrked ooooooonnnnn mmmmmeeeeee,” Mrs. Larson explained, “IIIIIIIIIII waaaaaasssss aaaaaaablllllllle toooooo reeeeeeetaaaaiiiiiinnnnnn thiiiiiiiiiisssssss huuuuuummmmmmaaaaaannnnn fffffffooooorrrrrrmmmm ffffffrrrrrooooommmm eeeeeaaaaatiiiiiinnnnnng theeeeeeee heaaaaaaaaarrrrrtsssss, sssssspecifffffficaaaaaaallllllyyyyyy fffffffeeeeeemmmmmaaaaallllleeee sssssssooooooo IIIIIIIIII mmmmmmaaaaaayyyyyy rrrrrreeeeetuuuurrrrrnnnnn toooo beeeeeiiiiinnnng theeeeeeee giiiiiirrrrrrrllllll IIIIIII uuuuuuusssssed toooooooo beeeeeee.”
“You were dead,” I pointed out, “they found your body up here, you were buried.”
“Theeeeeessssssse sssshhhhheeeeeellllllsssss arrrrrrre mmmmmeeeeeerrreeeellllyyy veeeeeessssssellllllssssss ffffffoooooorrrrrr theeeeeeee sssssspiiiiirrrrriiiiiitsssss weeeee hiiiiiiiiiiide beeeeeneeeeaaaaattthhhh,” Mrs. Larson responded, finally turning her gaze to me, “IIIIIIII haaaaaaad tooooooo maaaake peeeopllllle beeeelieevvvve IIIIIII haaaaaad diiiiiiied tooooo keeeeeep frrrrroooommm theeeee poooooollllliiiiicccce ffffrrrrrrooooommmm pooookiiiiiinnnng aaaaarrrrouuuuuunnnnd aaaaannnnnd rrrrruuuiiinnnnniiinnnng eeeevvvveeerrrrryyythiiiiinnnng.”
“So, let me just get this whole thing straight,” I began as I started rubbing my temples, "when you and your sister starting into… Whatever the hell that thing you call your sister is-“
“Ooooouuuurrrrr sssssspiiiiiirrrrrriiiiiit,” Mrs. Larson corrected.
“Whatever!” I shot. “You found out that eating female hearts turns you two back into human women and to keep police from suspecting you, you pretended to be dead and… What? Just hope a shitty real estate agency would buy your property and you could just… Kill people, people with lives and families outside the mountains?”
“Thaaaaaaaat iiiiiiisssss cooooorrrrrreeeeect…” Mrs. Larson admitted, narrowing her eyes at me.
That’s when I began laughing hysterically, holding my sides that hurt with each harsh breath of a laugh I took. Both Mrs. Larson and Kate looked to me as if I had lost my mind and at this point I was starting to believe I had. Everything I had seen and heard about this entire case would put anyone in the looney bin. And I’m the damn fool who dug too deep into something he had nothing to do with.
“Whaaaaaat’s ssssoooo ffffuuunnnny?” Growled Mrs. Larson, stepping around Kate to stand between us.
“I don’t know what’s fucking funnier, honestly,” I chuckled, running a hand through my hair, “the fact that you thing people won’t be poking around even more when they discover not only is Blackwell missing, but so is a detective and escaped convict all of whom now have ties to these fucking mountains and those cabins, or that you thing I’m more afraid of what you plan on doing with me more than I am when her father finds out I got her in this situation in the first place!”
“Heeeeeee wooooonnnnn’t beeeee aaaaabllllle toooooo doooo aaaaaannnnnyyyyythiiiiiinnnng aaaaaaafffffterrrrrrr IIIIIIIII’mmmmm dooooooonnnne wiiiiiiiith booooooth ooooooooffffff youuuuuuuuu,” Mrs. Larson hissed as she inched closer, “fffffffiiiiiiirrrrrrssssst, IIIIIIIII waaaaaannnnnt youuuuuuuu toooo waaaaaatch mmmmmeeeee kiiiiiiillllll herrrrrrr,” she turned her head to look to Kate who was now just shaking, her eyes seemingly gone dry from the crying, Mrs. Larson then looked back to me, “sssssseeeeecooooonnnnd, IIIIIIII wiiiiillllll ssssssaaaaave youuuuu fffffooooorrrr mmmmmmyyyyy sssssiiiiiisssssterrrrr, oooooonnnnne heeeeaaaaart wiiiiilllll nnnnoooot ssssssaaaaaatissssfffffyyyy herrrr huuuuuunnnnnger.” She took another step. “Uuuuuuuunnnnnllllliiiiiike sssssssoooooommmme ssssssiiiiiibllllliiiiiiinnnnnngsssss, IIIIIIIII caaaaaarrrre aaaaaaboooouuuuut mmmmmmyyyyy ffffffaaaammmmiiiiilllllyyyyyy.”
She stared into my eyes, expecting a reaction and while my blood did somewhat boil at the accusatory statement, I didn’t fully understand what she was getting at. Not until she used that voice. Not until she relived that day with those two familiar child-like voices.
“Screw you, Liam!” She cried out in a voice I remember from my childhood. “I hope you drop dead!”
“Stop.” I demanded.
“Piss off, Ryan!” She shot back in a second boy’s voice.
“I said stop!” I began shouting.
“Help me, Ryan! Please, help me! I’m sorry! Please, Lucky Dime, help me!”
I then lunged toward her, reaching my hands out toward her neck only to be stopped by the shackles as she swiftly, almost without even moving, stepped just out of my reach.
“Fucking bitch!” I screamed out.
“If only you really cared about me, Lucky Dime,” sighed Mrs. Larson as she turned and began making her way to the side of the room where a cart stood in the shadows. She pulled it over to Kate’s side, the cart covered in rusted medical tools.
“P-Please,” Kate wheezed, “p-p-please… I… I d-d-don’t w-want… Want t-to d-d… D-Die, I… I w-w-want m-m-m… My m-mom!”
“Dooooonnn’t woooorrrrryyyyy,” Mrs. Larson soothed, using that mix of different voices, “mmmmmmaaaayyyyybeeee sheeee wiiiillll cooooommmme loooookinnnng ffffooooorrrr yooouuuuu aaaaannnnnd sheeeeeee caaaaannnnn joooooiiiiiinnnn youuuuuuu.”
Kate began to sob, begging and pleading for Mrs. Larson to let her go, thrashing around in her restraints. Telling the older woman that there was no saving her sister and that she was too far gone for this sick ritual to work anymore. I tried to yank at the chains once more, trying to loosen it at least enough to break free and grab at Mrs. Larson.
“Rrrrrrreeeeellllllaaaaax,” Mrs. Larson ordered as she began filling a syringe with some kind of clear liquid from a small bottle, “yoooouuuuuu woooooonnnn’t eeeeeveeennn fffffeeeellll iiiiiiit, thiiiissssss wiiiiiillllll puuuuuut youuuuu toooo ssssssllllllleeeeeep aaaaaannnnnnd wheeeeeennnnnn youuuuuu waaaaaake uuuuuuuup, youuuuuuu’lllllll beeee iiiiiinnnnnn heeeeeaaaaaaveeeennnnn… Uuuuuunnnnnnnllllllessssss youuuuuuu weeeerrrrrrre aaaaaa haaaaaarrrrrlllllooooooot, iiiiiiinnnnnn whiiiiiiiich caaaaaassssssseeeee, mmmmmaaaayyyy Goooooood haaaaaaaave mmmmmmmmerrrrrrrcccccyyyyy ooooonnnnn youuuuuur ssssssoooouuuuullllll… Aaaaannnnnd baaaaaaasssssed ooooonnnn hoooooow youuuuuu drrrrressss aaaaannnnnd theeeee coooommmmpaaaannnnyyyy youuuuuu keeeeeep,” She added as she eyed me, “IIIIIII ssssssaaaaaayyyy youuuuu haaaaaave aaaaa lllllloooooot ooooooffff fooooooorrrrgiiiiiviiiiinnnnng tooooo dooooo.”
Kate continued to cry as Mrs. Larson pushed the needle of the syringe into her arm, pushing down on the plunger as it pierced the flesh. Kate’s loud screams soon turned quieter and her red eyes began to glaze over, but she continued to stay awake, tightening her grip on the table and still begging to be let go.
“IIIIII waaaaannnnt youuuuu toooo waaaaatch, Detective,” Mrs. Larson spat out my title in Mr. Blackwell’s voice, “IIIII waaaaannnnnt youuuuu toooo waaaaatch herrrrrr fffffaaaaaade aaaaaannnnnnd mmmmmeeeee rrrrreeeemmmmooooove heerr heeeaaaarrrrrt toooooo ffffffeeeeeed tooooo mmmmmmyyyyyy ssssssiiiiiiiissssssterrrrrr,” she then pulled out a recorder, “theeeeennnnnn wheeeeeennnnn IIIIIII ssssssuuuuummmmoooooonnnnn herrrrrrr aaannnnd sheeeee fffffiiiinnnniiiishessssss oooooofffffff heeeerrrrr heeeaaaaarrrrrt, youuuuuuu’llllllll beeeeee neeeeeext.”
“Fuck you,” I snarled, “I hope you and your sister burn.”
“IIIIIIIII’mmmmm gooooonnnnnaaaaa gooooo aaaaallllllerrrrrrt mmmmmyyyyy ssssssiiiiiiissssterrrrrr,” Mrs. Larson turned and began making her way to the basement steps, “ssssseeee youuuuu boooooth ffffffoooooorrrr diiiiiinnnnnnerrrrrrr.”
She then pressed the play button on her recorder and a small, little girl’s voice echoed in the room before Mrs. Larson vanished up the steps.
“I’m here… I’m here… I’m here…”
Then the door slammed shut.
“De… Tec… Tive…” Kate squeaked out, her breathing slowing.
“Stay awake, Blackwell,” I ordered her gently, looking around frantically for anything to get us both out of this alive, “I’ll get us out of this, I promise, just stay awake, we’ll get out of here, I just need-“
“I’m… S… Sorry…” she breathed out. “I’m… So… Sorry… For… Get… Getting… You… In… To.. This…”
“No, no, this is not your fault!” I assured her. “That psychotic bitch got us both into this shit and I won’t stop until I get us out and put her and her fucking sister are six feet under!”
“W…Wha… What… H… Hap… Happened… To… To L… Liam…?”
I stopped struggling with the chains and turned to look to Kate. Her head was turned to me, her face wet, hands clenching as hard as they could to the table beneath her, the light in her eyes slowly fading second by second. She was trying desperately to stay awake. The medication Mrs. Larson taking hold of her as the minutes ticked by.
I dropped the chains that were in my hands, looking away from her, wanting to stare at anything other than another person I had failed.
“He was killed,” I answered, “we were fishing at a lake nearby… Lake Gaagige… We got into a really stupid ass fucking fight about how which fishing pole we were going to use. I wanted to use our dad’s, but Liam was older and said only men could use dad’s fishing pole… I told him… To drop dead and stormed off… When I got home, my parents dragged me back to the lake and scolded me for leaving him…” I trailed off, swallowing all the tears and screams I’d bottled up since that day. “When… We found… Him… The autopsy… Said he was mauled by a bear… I’ve blamed myself for leaving him there alone… For letting him die and getting killed like that… The last thing I ever told him was to drop dead… I was a shitty brother and now I’m a shitty detective…”
“Is… Is he… Why… You became… A… Detective…?”
I took a deep breath and swallowed the tears again. “No, Blackwell,” I answered, “he’s not why I became a detective… I already knew what had killed him… It was my fault… If I hadn’t been such a brat and stormed off… He might still be alive… And now… What that bitch said…” I replayed Liam’s screams that escaped Mrs. Larson’s mouth. “I’m starting to think I’m getting what I deserve. Karma’s back to kick my ass…”
“H… How… Old…?”
“I was six… Liam was eight…”
“N… N… Not your… F… Fault…”
I turned to look to Kate, her eyes on mine, however faded.
“Y… You were… Only… A k… Kid…”
I took another intake of what little air there was down in that basement. I had spent years trying to convince myself of the same thing, but those moments never got easier for me when those thoughts returned.
“I think you’re just being nice,” I laughed painfully, “but I’m afraid I- and my folks- don’t share the same sentiment.”
I was staring down at where the chains were coming from in the ground, Kate not saying a word for over a couple of minutes. I spun to see if she had fallen asleep and immediately tried to find out how to wake her up again. However, once I our eyes met, I saw that she was still fighting sleep, the last of her tears rolling down across the bridge of her nose and into her hair.
“I… I… I had… Had a c… Crush… O… On… J… Jasper…” she confessed, her voice getting quieter and higher. “P… Paul and… And Son… Sonja knew… I never… Never c… Cared f… For Luke… But I’m… Sure… S… Sonja t… Told him…” she looked like she was going to sob again. “I… I never g… Got the… Ch… Chance… T… To tell J… Jasper… I… Was… Scared… He… He and… P… Paul were friends… And I… I kn… Knew… How P… Paul f… Felt… A… About m… Me… I… I did… Didn’t wa… Want to… R… Ruin… Anyth… Anything…” She took a gulp of air. “I… I ha… Hated L… Luke… I… A… Always… Kn… Knew… He… He was a… Player… B… But Sonja… Said… Said she was hap… Happy… So… So I did… Didn’t wa… Want to g… Get in… H… Her way… B… But Luke d… Didn’t l… Like h… How cl… Close… We… Were… I d… Didn’t w… Want him to make… Make her th… Think I… I was l… Leading her o… On… T… To get them… To b… Break up… Th… Then… That n… Night… Sh… She w… Wanted to… To leave…” She let out two pained gasps of breath. “I… I let them down… I let them all down… Luke pro… Probably thought… Thought I w… Was the one who… Who f… Filled Sonja’s mind… With thoughts of… Of him ch… Cheating… Th… Then I… I got them… All killed…
I… I didn’t deserve them, d… Detective…” she went on, looking away from me to stare up at the water damaged ceiling, “I… I… I was a… Terrible… Terrible friend…”
“Did you read their guest book entries?” I asked.
“N… No… D… Didn’t w… Want to… To r… Read any… Anything p… Private…” Kate answered.
“Jasper didn’t blame you,” I assured her, remembering what he had written in his entry during his time watching Mrs. Larson just outside the cabin, “even when he heard the voices- when he heard Mrs. Larson- telling him to, he didn’t. I don’t think the others blamed you either. You didn’t do anything wrong, Ms. Blackwell, there’s no way you could have known any of this would happen.”
“K… Kate…”
“What?”
“C… Call… Call me… Kate…”
“Aright, Kate,” I let out what little laughter I had left inside me, “so long as we’re the last people we’ll be chatting with, call me Ryan.”
“R… Ryan…”
“If we at all live through this, I’m going to need a long vacation after this,” I said as I turned to look at my shackles again, looking around myself to try finding anything to Get free since a vacation sounded like something to die for at that moment, “do you know any good vacation spots I can book for the fall?”
“Y… You’re… You’re a… Dick…” Kate struggled to laugh.
“I also enjoy pineapple on pizza,” I winked as I reached down to my ankle, ready to break it just to taste that sweet combination of tomato sauce and fruit.
“G… God… I… I c… Can’t… Believe… I th… Thought y… You w… Were c… Cute…”
I sat down on the floor, grabbing my ankle with both my hands. Needing to hype myself up enough to do what I was going to do, I began removing my shoe and sock from the foot, rubbing and squeezing my way up and down the ankle to my toes. I had never broken a bone in my life before this and I definitely never thought I’d do it of my own volition, but this was a desperate time and it definitely called for desperate…
“Wait what?” I turned to look to Kate, finally registering what she had said.
However, just before I could be sure of what I heard, the sound of a hunting rifle going off just above our heads right before we heard the door to the basement swing open and immediately be slammed shut. Both Kate and I turned to see someone stumble down the wooden steps, his clothes torn and body scratched and cut to a nearly deadly degree. I was even shocked he was still breathing.
“M… Mr… R… Raines…?” Kate gasped out.
“What’s left of me at least,” Mr. Raines grumbled as he limped over to Kate and quickly began undoing her straps to the table, “damn thing almost ripped my head off, but one swing of the barrel to its eye and I was able to get away… Can’t say it didn’t do its damage though… I’m… Getting really fucking hungry…”
He shook his head violently before limping over to me. He then raised an eyebrow at me when he saw how I was positioned still on the floor with a bare foot in my hands shackled to the floor.
“I… I was… I… I thought you were-“ I stammered.
“I am,” Mr. Raines interrupted, “at least, I’m on my way there anyway.” He then retrieved my Glock from his back pocket. “I don’t know what that thing did to me, but I’m not gonna make it out of this alive, or the way I came in. It’s a massacre out there by the way. Lot of men in blue bodies out there… Very… Hard to ignore… Sure more will be on their way. So.”
With that, Mr. Raines pointed at my chains and pulled the trigger on my clock, barely giving me time to cover my ears as the sound rung out loudly in the basement. I shook my head, trying to undo the blurry and ringing side effects of the sound of a gun going off near your head. I gave the older man a glare before standing and snatching my Glock from his hands. That’s when I saw Kate shifting herself to the side of the metal table she was no longer tied to, trying to get her limbs to comply with her to help her off and on to the floor.
I ran over and grabbed her just as she nearly stumbled face first to the floor and lifted her up to her feet, her body heavy with lack of keeping herself up.
“Do you think you can walk?” I asked, trying to keep her on her feet.
“I… I don’t… I…” Kate stammered as she tried to push herself off of me while also using using me as a crutch until she could stand on her own. However, she didn’t seem to be able to put any kind of pressure on her legs without falling down.
“Kate?” A girl’s voice called out from above us.
Feeling Kate shudder, I realized that it must have been the sound of Sonja’s voice and Mrs. Larson was using her to keep Kate from running. I quickly swung my arm down behind her knees, pressing the other down on her back as I lifted her up off the floor, my Glock at the ready as I kept it pointed in front of me while my arm held up Kate’s knees.
“She must have heard the gunshots,” I pointed out, “how’d you get past her in the first place?”
“I set the other cabins on fire,” Mr. Raines answered as if it were the simplest of answers, “I had to distract her somehow and give those bodies she’d been eating a better fate than becoming her shit.”
“Are you planning on setting this place on fire too?” I asked.
“‘Course I am!” Mr. Raines exclaimed, seemingly offended I’d even ask. “I already doused it in gasoline, I ain’t wasting all that time!”
“Kate!” Sonja’s voice cried out, getting closer to the basement door. “Are you seriously leaving me here to die alone again!”
“Please… Make it… Stop…” Kate sniffed as she gripped my shirt and burying her face into the fabric.
“Let’s get you two out of here.” Mr. Raines began leading the way to the basement stairs, cocking his rifle as he did so.
“What about you?” I asked, immediately following after him.
Mr. Raines didn’t answer as he stomped up the stairs and kicked the door open to the first floor of the cabin. The stench of the gasoline he had spilled hitting me harshly in my face.
“Kate!” Sonja’s voice, along with a different crescendo of male voices shrieked out as Mrs. Larson appeared from the corner of the hallway where the basement was located.
“Leighton?” A different woman’s voice asked the moment the old woman’s eyes spotted Mr. Raines. I then watched in both shock and confusion as it almost looked like the very skin on the woman melted off to reveal a much younger woman. The woman I recognized as Bonnie Collins. “Leighton… Love is that you?”
Mr. Raines kept his rifle on the vision of the woman he once loved before her murder, but didn’t move or speak.
“Darling, I’ve missed you so much!” The fake Bonnie cried out as she began making her way to Mr. Raines with arms open wide to hug him.
Mr. Raines then lifted his gun up higher, placing his finger on the trigger which caused the vision to stop in her place.
“Leighton?” The fake Bonnie asked. “Baby, it’s me… Bun-Bun… Don’t you recognize me…?” She began to tear up.
“You’re not my Bunny,” Mr. Raines growled before he shot once at the woman.
The fake Bonnie swiftly dodged the bullet, an inhuman hiss coming from an unhinged mouth, revealing a row of long, sharp teeth. The skin of Bonnie then melted off to reveal another woman, a lot younger than the first one it intimidated. The face of one of the victims upon being brought on this case.
“Kate,” the fake Sonja called out, “Kate, what are you doing? Who are these men? Why are they trying to hurt me?”
Kate let out a sobbing gasp, her nails digging into my shoulder with her arm wrapped around my neck.
“Didn’t I suffer enough?” The fake Sonja asked. “First my boyfriend and now you? Why don’t you want to be with me anymore?”
“Shut up!” Kate demanded. “You’re not Sonja! You killed her, you killed all of them! I don’t care what happens to me, but I’m not letting their memories end with you!”
Kate then snatched my Glock from my hand under her legs and shot directly at the fake Sonja’s head. Again the shot missed as the fake vision of the girl slithered out of the way, a frustrated growl of a dog and human escaping it’s mouth. It then zipped to the side, cowering with its back to us on the floor.
“Lucky dime…” A child’s voice then took over. The vision’s skin melting now to a much smaller figure. “Is this what you want? To kill me all over again?” He turned to look up at me, Liam’s face forever eight-years-old staring up at me. “It’s no wonder mommy and daddy hate you now… You were always a shitty brother… Now, I’m gonna starve to death because you’d rather help a couple of strangers.”
“I’m sorry, Liam,” I replied, everyone, including the fake Liam looking to me in surprise, “I left you alone out here and that’s what got you killed by that thing out there and I’m sorry. But, if I’d stayed it may have been both of us and then mom and dad would have no one left to blame but each other. If you had left and I was the one killed, you’d probably be in my shoes instead. I’m sorry for letting you get killed, but I’m gonna make up for it now.”
I then took my Glock back from Kate and pointed it to the vision of Liam.
“Good bye, Liam.”
I shot the gun once again, missing the creature again, however, this time I just kept shooting, Mr. Raines following after. Our different bullets just kept firing, the thing dodging and trying to get closer to us. The creature screeched out at us in a myriad of different voices both familiar and unknown. It wasn’t until one shot from my Glock struck the creatures shoulder and Mr. Raines’ rifle struck its head when the skins of everyone it was trying to turn into all melted off, revealing Mrs. Larson once again.
However, this time, she looked shriveled, older than she looked before. Her face looked deformed, beginning to grow furry, her eyes growing nothing but red, no irises, no pupils, just red. Her hair grew longer, branches like antlers growing painfully out from her skull, breaking the skin as they grew larger. The lower half of her face grew elongated, turning into that of a muzzle of fangs and a drooling mouth.
“You… All… Have no rrrrrrriiiiiight!” A different, unknown voice snarled out from what used to be Mrs. Larson. “People liiiiiike you all… Abandoned me and myyyyyyyyy sister!” The fur growing around this thing grew out short and shaggy, the cloths it was using melting off with the skin and flesh it was wearing. It now didn’t look anything like a human woman. It now took the form of a large wolf mixed with that of a deer, it’s body dog-like with hooves, antlers, and a long, scraggly tail. “You lot abandoned us here! You left us all here to diiiiiiiie!”
Guilt was weighing down on me with each syllable it was growling. Kate looked away from it, burying her face in my neck as Mr. Raines lowered his rifle.
“Nooooow, you’re bringing more here to just leave and let die out here!” It went on, it’s horrifying, broken body shuddering. “Why let them just vanish and die up here when they can bring people like my sister and I back? Give me Kate’s heart and fix what you threeeeeeeeee failed!”
Mr. Raines then handed over his rifle to Kate, placing it down on her stomach as her hands were still wrapped around my neck. The older man made his way over to stand over the thing, its neck creaking like a rusted door as it turned its wolf-like head to look up at him.
“Leighton…” Bonnie’s voice came from the creature. “Give mmmmeeeee her heart aaaannnnd we can be togetherrrrr again… If you eat the deeeeeetective’s we can saaaaaave you tooooooo…”
“My Bunny’s dead,” Mr. Raines told it as he dug in his pocket and took out a carton of matches, “and so am I.”
“You’d burn your wife?” A mix of Bonnie and Mrs. Larson’s voices shrieked as it glared at the match he took from the match box.
“You’re not my wife,” Mr. Raines told it, “and I’ll never see her again.”
“Fooooooool,” Mr. Larson’s voice chuckled, “you’llllllll killllllll us both!”
“With the shit I’ve done in my life, I know you’re taking me to Hell with you,” Mr. Raines growled back as he struck the match on the box, “so I’m sure as fuck not afraid to burn here on Earth with you!”
Mr. Raines then dropped the match to the floor right before the creature and everything around the two of them immediately went up in flames, the fur of the creature catching quickly and engulfing it. An agonized shriek echoed out all around us, the creature thrashing in the fire it had gotten swallowed up in. Mr. Raines then grabbed it by it’s long, furry throat and swung it down back flat the floor, jumping to pin it down.
“Get out!” Mr. Raines cried out to me. “Leave here!”
Not needing to be told twice, I held onto Kate tightly and bolted past the two burning bodies, jumping over the fire as it began growing fast throughout the cabin. I quickly got to the front door and stopped to look back to see Mr. Raines fighting the creature and preventing it from coming after us, it begging for me to bring Kate back and that it would die without her.
“I’ll clear your name,” I called back, trying not to reel back in horror as I saw Mr. Raines skin begin to melt off, “I’ll let people know you didn’t kill Bonnie!”
“I’ll let people know you didn’t… Kill… Liam!” Mr. Raines’ voice called back, him thrashing around with Mrs. Larson as he said my brother’s name in my voice.
I turned back and kicked the front door open, rushing Kate out of the burning cabin. I ran until I got far enough from the smoke, turning back to see all three cabins now on fire, the area around them all ablaze. The only place untouched was Mrs. Larson’s house, all the evidence remaining. I could hear sirens in the distance coming closer. The sounds of shouts from the surviving officers sounding much closer.
“I’m here… I’m here… I’m here…”
I looked to the front porch of Mrs. Larson’s house where her recorder continued to call out for her sister. I set Kate down at the base of a nearby tree and ran to snatch the recorder, shutting it off. I searched around, looking for any signs of Prudence, but it appeared that the fire and the sounds of sirens and voices had scared her off. I ran back to Kate, her eyes closed and her not responding to me calling to her, but after checking her pulse and breathing, I found that the medication Mrs. Larson had given her had finally taken over and she was now fast asleep, the rifle Mr. Raines gave her still sitting on her rhythmically rising and falling stomach.
Letting out a sigh of relief, I leaned against the same tree I set Kate down on and slid down to the ground next to her. The first two cabins were already practically nothing but ash, the last still blazing as I heard the slowly fading screams of Mrs. Larson and Mr. Raines coming from inside.
When the screaming ended all together, the smoke turning blacker as it rose from the flames, I got to my feet and took out my pack of cigarettes as I approached the fires, staying far enough away not to get burned. I opened the pack up before stopping myself as I reached for one of the ten remaining cigarettes inside. I then flung the entire carton into the fires without taking one.
“Save one for me down there, you old bastard,” I told Mr. Raines before making my way back to Kate’s side.
It wasn’t long before the remaining officers found us, looking in confusion at the fires and to me with a sleeping victim in a homicide case on the ground. I told them we’d need to call an ambulance for Kate and that we needed to keep the flames from getting to Mrs. Larson’s house as it held evidence on the case. One officer retrieved his radio and called for an ambulance while a group ran to the house and another went to try controlling the fire as best they could by yanking out any bushes near by and throwing them away from the area around the house.
Luckily, the fire trucks were called long before the fire spread too far, residence noticing it practically the moment Mr. Raines set the first cabin on fire.
As I sat there, keeping Kate held up against the tree we sat under, I listened to the crackling of the fire, the sirens of fast approaching fire trucks and the ambulance, and the sounds of distance, coyote, almost human, howling.
Part 8

1. Imagery: Prompt: Choose a setting (real or imaginary) and describe it using detailed sensory imagery. Imagine the sights, sounds, smells, and textures to create a vivid scene, just like a painter with words.
   
2. Metaphor: Prompt: Compare a personal experience to an everyday object or phenomenon in an unexpected way. For example, "My heart is a compass that always points to the north of your laughter."
   
3. Simile: Prompt: Write a series of similes to express intense emotions. For instance, "As brave as a lion facing the storm, as fragile as a petal in the wind."
   
4. Rhyme: Prompt: Craft a short poem or lyrics with a consistent rhyme scheme. Experiment with different rhyme patterns (ABAB, AABB, etc.) to enhance the musicality of your writing.
   
5. Meter: Prompt: Compose a poem with a specific meter, such as iambic pentameter. Pay attention to the syllabic beats in each line to create a rhythmic flow.
   
6. Alliteration: Prompt: Create a tongue-twisting line using alliteration. Focus on the repetition of initial consonant sounds to add a playful or musical quality to your writing.
   
7. Assonance: Prompt: Write a passage where the vowel sounds within words echo each other. Experiment with different vowel combinations to create a melodic effect.
   
8. Personification: Prompt: Choose an inanimate object and personify it. Describe its actions, thoughts, and emotions as if it were a living being.
   
9. Symbolism: Prompt: Select an object or element and explore its symbolic meaning. Connect it to broader themes or emotions in your writing.
   
10. Enjambment: Prompt: Write a poem where the thoughts flow continuously from one line to the next without a pause. Explore how this technique can create a sense of movement or urgency.
    
11. Repetition: Prompt: Repeat a word or phrase throughout a poem for emphasis. Consider how repetition can enhance the overall impact and meaning of your writing.
    
12. Free Verse: Prompt: Embrace the freedom of expression by writing a poem without adhering to rhyme or meter. Allow your thoughts to flow organically, exploring the beauty of formless verse.
    
13. Stanza: Prompt: Divide your writing into stanzas to create distinct sections with varying themes or tones. Explore how the organization of lines contributes to the overall structure of your work.
    
14. Theme: Prompt: Choose a universal theme (love, loss, freedom, etc.) and explore it through your lyrics. Delve into the nuances and perspectives associated with the chosen theme.
    
15. Tone: Prompt: Write a poem that conveys contrasting tones. Explore how shifts in tone can evoke different emotions and responses from the reader.
    
16. Connotation: Prompt: Select a word with strong connotations and use it in a poem. Explore the emotional baggage and cultural associations tied to the word within the context of your writing.
    
17. Irony: Prompt: Craft a poem with elements of irony. Create situations or lines that convey a meaning opposite to the literal interpretation, adding layers of complexity to your writing.
    
18. Allusion: Prompt: Reference a well-known song, book, or historical event in your lyrics. Explore how the use of allusion can enrich the depth and meaning of your writing.
    
19. Syntax: Prompt: Experiment with sentence structure to create different effects. Play with word order, sentence length, and punctuation to convey specific emotions or rhythms in your writing.
    
20. Diction: Prompt: Choose a specific mood or atmosphere you want to convey and carefully select words that evoke that feeling. Pay attention to the impact of your word choices on the overall tone of your writing.
    

TradingView.com.com is a popular online platform that provides a comprehensive suite of tools and resources for traders, investors, and analysts to analyze and trade financial markets. In this chapter, we will provide an overview of TradingView.com, its features, and its benefits, setting the stage for a deeper dive into the platform's capabilities in subsequent chapters.

What is TradingView.com?

TradingView.com is a cloud-based platform that enables users to analyze and trade financial markets, including stocks, forex, futures, and cryptocurrencies. Founded in 2011, TradingView.com has grown to become one of the largest and most popular trading communities in the world, with over 10 million registered users.

Key Features of TradingView.com

TradingView.com offers a wide range of features that make it an attractive platform for traders and analysts. Some of the key features include:
1. Charting and Technical Analysis: TradingView.com provides a powerful charting platform that allows users to create custom charts with various indicators, drawing tools, and annotations. Users can also access a vast library of pre-built indicators and templates.
2. Backtesting and Paper Trading: TradingView.com allows users to backtest and paper trade their strategies using historical data, enabling them to refine their trading ideas and test their performance.
3. Community and Social Trading: TradingView.com has a large and active community of users who share their ideas, strategies, and insights. Users can follow other traders, participate in discussions, and share their own ideas and insights.
4. Alerts and Notifications: TradingView.com provides a robust alert system that allows users to set custom alerts based on market conditions, technical indicators, and other criteria.
5. Data Feeds: TradingView.com offers a range of data feeds, including real-time and historical data, for various markets and instruments.
6. Scripting and Automation: TradingView.com's PineScript language allows users to create custom indicators, strategies, and automated trading systems.
7. Mobile Apps: TradingView.com offers mobile apps for iOS and Android devices, enabling users to access the platform on-the-go.

Benefits of Using TradingView.com

TradingView.com offers several benefits to its users, including:
1. Improved Trading Decisions: TradingView.com's charting and analysis tools enable users to make more informed trading decisions.
2. Access to a Large Community: TradingView.com's community provides users with access to a vast network of traders, analysts, and experts.
3. Customization and Automation: TradingView.com's scripting and automation capabilities allow users to create custom strategies and automate their trading.
4. Real-time Data and Alerts: TradingView.com's real-time data and alert system enable users to stay up-to-date with market movements and react quickly to market changes.
5. Cost-Effective: TradingView.com offers a range of pricing plans, including a free version, making it an accessible platform for traders and analysts.

Conclusion

In this chapter, we have provided an overview of TradingView.com, its features, and its benefits. TradingView.com is a powerful platform that offers a range of tools and resources for traders, analysts, and investors. Whether you are a seasoned trader or just starting out, TradingView.com provides a comprehensive suite of tools to help you analyze and trade financial markets. In the next chapter, we will delve deeper into the charting and technical analysis capabilities of TradingView.com.

Chapter 2: Creating an Account and Setting Up Your Profile

As a new user, creating an account and setting up your profile is the first step in exploring the world of [Platform/Service]. In this chapter, we will guide you through a step-by-step process to create an account and set up your profile, ensuring a seamless and enjoyable experience.

Section 1: Creating an Account

To create an account, follow these steps:
1. Visit the Sign-up Page: Go to the [Platform/Service] website and click on the "Sign Up" or "Create an Account" button. This will take you to the sign-up page.
2. Enter Your Email Address: Enter a valid email address to serve as your login credentials. Make sure to use a unique and memorable email address, as it will be used to reset your password if needed.
3. Choose a Username: Choose a unique and memorable username that will be used to identify you on the platform. This can be your real name, a nickname, or a combination of letters and numbers.
4. Create a Password: Create a strong and unique password for your account. A strong password should be at least 8 characters long and include a mix of uppercase and lowercase letters, numbers, and special characters.
5. Confirm Your Password: Re-enter your password to confirm it. This ensures that you have entered the correct password.
6. Verify Your Account: Click on the "Create Account" button to create your account. You will receive an email verification link to verify your email address.

Section 2: Setting Up Your Profile

Once you have created your account, it's time to set up your profile. Follow these steps:
1. Fill Out Your Profile Information: Fill out your profile information, including your name, birthday, and location. This information will be used to personalize your experience and connect with other users.
2. Add a Profile Picture: Upload a profile picture that represents you. This can be a photo of yourself, a logo, or an avatar.
3. Add a Bio: Write a brief bio that describes yourself, your interests, or your expertise. This will help others get to know you better and find common ground.
4. Customize Your Profile Settings: Customize your profile settings to control what information is visible to others and what notifications you receive.
5. Connect with Others: Start connecting with other users by sending friend requests or joining groups related to your interests.

Tips and Best Practices

· Use a strong and unique password for your account.
· Keep your profile information up-to-date and accurate.
· Be cautious when sharing personal information or connecting with strangers.
· Use the platform's built-in features to block or report suspicious or inappropriate behavior.
· Respect other users' privacy and boundaries.

Conclusion

Congratulations! You have successfully created an account and set up your profile. You are now ready to explore the world of [Platform/Service] and start connecting with others. Remember to keep your account information secure, be respectful of others, and have fun exploring the platform. In the next chapter, we will dive deeper into the features and functionality of [Platform/Service].

Chapter 3: Navigating the TradingView.com

Interface

As a trader or investor, it's essential to understand the TradingView.com interface to get the most out of this powerful platform. In this chapter, we'll take a comprehensive tour of the TradingView.com interface and its various components. By the end of this chapter, you'll be well-versed in navigating the platform and ready to start exploring its features.

Section 1: The TradingView.com

Dashboard

The TradingView.com dashboard is the main hub of the platform, providing an overview of your account, market data, and other essential features. Let's break down the key components of the dashboard:
1. Header Bar: The header bar at the top of the screen displays your username, account balance, and other account information.
2. Navigation Menu: The navigation menu allows you to access various sections of the platform, including your watchlists, charts, and settings.
3. Market Data: The market data section provides real-time quotes for various assets, including stocks, forex, and cryptocurrencies.
4. Alerts: The alerts section allows you to set custom alerts for specific market conditions, such as price movements or news events.
5. Watchlists: The watchlists section enables you to create and manage custom lists of symbols, making it easy to track your favorite assets.

Section 2: Charting and Analysis

TradingView.com is renowned for its powerful charting capabilities, allowing you to create custom charts with various indicators, studies, and drawing tools. Let's explore the key features of the charting interface:
1. Chart Types: TradingView.com offers a range of chart types, including line charts, candlestick charts, and Renko charts.
2. Indicators: The platform comes with a vast library of built-in indicators, including moving averages, RSI, and Bollinger Bands.
3. Drawing Tools: The drawing tools allow you to annotate your charts with lines, shapes, and text.
4. Studies: Studies are custom indicators created by the TradingView.com community, offering a wide range of trading strategies and techniques.
5. PineScript: PineScript is a programming language used to create custom indicators and strategies.

Section 3: Community and Social Trading

TradingView.com is more than just a trading platform – it's a community-driven platform where traders and investors share ideas, strategies, and insights. Let's explore the community features:
1. PineCoders: PineCoders is a community of developers who create custom indicators and strategies using PineScript.
2. TradingView.com Blog: The TradingView.com blog features articles, analysis, and insights from experienced traders and investors.
3. TradingView.com Forum: The forum is a hub for discussion, debate, and learning, where traders and investors share their experiences and ask questions.
4. Watchlists: Watchlists allow you to share your favorite symbols with others, making it easy to collaborate and learn from each other.
5. PineScript Challenges: PineScript challenges are community-driven initiatives where developers create custom indicators and strategies, and the community votes on the best submissions.

Section 4: Customization and Settings

As you become more comfortable with the TradingView.com interface, you'll want to customize your experience to suit your needs. Let's explore the customization options:
1. Theme: TradingView.com offers a range of themes, allowing you to personalize the look and feel of the platform.
2. Layout: The layout options enable you to customize the arrangement of the platform's components, such as the chart, indicators, and alerts.
3. Notifications: The notification settings allow you to customize the types of notifications you receive, including market data updates and alert notifications.
4. Security: The security settings enable you to set up two-factor authentication, password recovery, and other security measures to protect your account.

Conclusion

Navigating the TradingView.com interface is an essential step in unlocking the full potential of this powerful platform. By understanding the various components of the dashboard, charting and analysis tools, community features, and customization options, you'll be well-equipped to start exploring the platform and developing your trading skills. In the next chapter, we'll dive deeper into the world of PineScript, exploring the programming language and its applications in trading and investing.

Chapter 4: Understanding Charts and Time Frames

In this chapter, we will delve into the world of charts and time frames, a fundamental concept in technical analysis. We will explore the different types of charts, time frames, and how to use them effectively on TradingView.com. By the end of this chapter, you will have a solid understanding of how to use charts and time frames to analyze and trade the markets.

What are Charts and Time Frames?

Charts and time frames are the foundation of technical analysis. A chart is a graphical representation of a security's price action over a specific period. Time frames, on the other hand, refer to the duration of the data displayed on the chart. In other words, time frames determine how much data is displayed on the chart and how often the data is updated.

Types of Charts

There are several types of charts, each with its own strengths and weaknesses. The most common types of charts are:
1. Line Chart: A line chart connects the closing prices of a security over a specific period, creating a continuous line. This chart is useful for identifying trends and patterns.
2. Candlestick Chart: A candlestick chart displays the high, low, open, and close prices of a security over a specific period. Each candle represents a specific time period, and the color of the candle indicates whether the price closed higher or lower than the previous day's close.
3. Bar Chart: A bar chart is similar to a candlestick chart but does not display the open and close prices. Instead, it shows the high and low prices, as well as the open and close prices.
4. Renko Chart: A Renko chart is a type of chart that uses a unique algorithm to create a chart that is not based on time. Instead, it uses price movements to create a chart that is more focused on the price action.

Time Frames

Time frames determine the duration of the data displayed on the chart. Common time frames include:
1. 1-minute: A 1-minute chart displays the price action over a 1-minute period.
2. 5-minute: A 5-minute chart displays the price action over a 5-minute period.
3. 15-minute A 15-minute chart displays the price action over a 15-minute period.
4. 30-minute: A 30-minute chart displays the price action over a 30-minute period.
5. 1-hour: A 1-hour chart displays the price action over a 1-hour period.
6. 4-hour: A 4-hour chart displays the price action over a 4-hour period.
7. Daily: A daily chart displays the price action over a 1-day period.
8. Weekly: A weekly chart displays the price action over a 1-week period.
9. Monthly: A monthly chart displays the price action over a 1-month period.

Using Charts and Time Frames on TradingView.com

TradingView.com is a popular platform for charting and analyzing financial markets. Here's how to use charts and time frames on TradingView.com:
1. Creating a Chart: To create a chart on TradingView.com, go to the "Charts" tab and select the security you want to chart. Choose the chart type and time frame you want to use.
2. Customizing the Chart: Once you have created a chart, you can customize it by adding indicators, drawing tools, and other features.
3. Switching Time Frames: To switch time frames on TradingView.com, click on the "Time Frame" dropdown menu and select the desired time frame.
4. Zooming In and Out: To zoom in and out of a chart on TradingView.com, use the mouse wheel or the "Zoom" button.

Conclusion

In this chapter, we have covered the basics of charts and time frames, including the different types of charts and time frames. We have also explored how to use charts and time frames on TradingView.com. By mastering charts and time frames, you will be able to analyze and trade the markets more effectively. In the next chapter, we will explore the importance of indicators and how to use them to make informed trading decisions.

Chapter 5: Technical Indicators and Studies

In this chapter, we will delve into the world of technical indicators and studies available on TradingView.com. As a trader, it is essential to understand the various indicators and studies that can be used to analyze and predict market movements. This chapter will provide an overview of the different types of technical indicators and studies available on TradingView.com, their uses, and how to apply them in your trading strategy.

What are Technical Indicators and Studies?

Technical indicators and studies are mathematical calculations based on historical price data that help traders identify trends, patterns, and potential trading opportunities. These indicators and studies can be used to analyze and predict market movements, making it easier to make informed trading decisions.

Types of Technical Indicators and Studies

There are numerous types of technical indicators and studies available on TradingView.com, including:
1. Trend Indicators: These indicators help identify trends and potential trading opportunities. Examples include the Moving Average, Relative Strength Index (RSI), and Bollinger Bands.
2. Momentum Indicators: These indicators measure the rate of change of an asset's price over a given period. Examples include the RSI, Stochastic Oscillator, and Momentum Indicator.
3. Volatility Indicators: These indicators measure the degree of price movement or volatility. Examples include the Average True Range (ATR) and Bollinger Bands.
4. Pattern Recognition Indicators: These indicators help identify specific chart patterns, such as head and shoulders or triangles. Examples include the Ichimoku Cloud and the Keltner Channel.
5. Statistical Indicators: These indicators use statistical methods to analyze market data. Examples include the Exponential Moving Average (EMA) and the Simple Moving Average (SMA).

Popular Technical Indicators and Studies on TradingView.com

Some of the most popular technical indicators and studies available on TradingView.com include:
1. Moving Average: A simple moving average calculates the average price of an asset over a given period.
2. Relative Strength Index (RSI): The RSI measures the magnitude of recent price changes to determine overbought or oversold conditions.
3. Bollinger Bands: Bollinger Bands consist of a moving average and two standard deviations plotted above and below the average.
4. Stochastic Oscillator: The stochastic oscillator compares the closing price of an asset to its price range over a given period.
5. Ichimoku Cloud: The Ichimoku Cloud is a comprehensive technical analysis system that inclues multiple indicators, including the Tenkan-sen, Kijun-sen, and Senkou Span.
6. Keltner Channel: The Keltner Channel is a volatility-based indicator that plots two lines above and below a moving average.
7. Average True Range (ATR): The ATR measures the average true range of an asset over a given period.
8. Exponential Moving Average (EMA): The EMA is a type of moving average that gives more weight to recent price data.
9. Simple Moving Average (SMA): The SMA is a type of moving average that calculates the average price of an asset over a given period.
10. Stochastic Momentum Index (SMI): The SMI is a momentum indicator that measures the rate of change of an aset's price over a given period.

How to Use Technical Indicators and Studies

To get the most out of technical indicators and studies, it is essential to understand how to use them effectively. Here are some tips:
1. Combine Indicators: Combining multiple indicators can help confirm trading signals and reduce false positives.
2. Use Multiple Time Frames: Analyzing multiple time frames can help identify trends and patterns that may not be visible on a single time frame.
3. Adjust Parameters: Adjusting the parameters of an indicator can help tailor it to your specific trading strategy.
4. Use Indicators in Conjunction with Fundamental Analysis: Combining technical indicators with fundamental analysis can help provide a more comprehensive view of the market.
5. Backtest Indicators: Backtesting indicators can help evaluate their performance and identify potential biases.

Conclusion

Technical indicators and studies are powerful tools that can help traders analyze and predict market movements. By understanding the different types of indicators and studies available on TradingView.com, traders can develop a comprehensive trading strategy that incorporates multiple indicators and studies. Remember to combine indicators, use multiple time frames, adjust parameters, and backtest indicators to get the most out of technical indicators and studies.

Chapter 6: Creating and Customizing Charts

As a trader, having the right tools and information is crucial for making informed decisions. Charts are an essential component of any trading strategy, providing valuable insights into market trends and patterns. In this chapter, we will explore the process of creating and customizing charts on TradingView.com, a popular platform for traders and analysts.

Creating a Chart on TradingView.com

Creating a chart on TradingView.com is a straightforward process that can be completed in a few steps.
1. Log in to Your TradingView.com Account: Start by logging in to your TradingView.com account. If you don't have an account, you can create one by signing up on the TradingView.com website.
2. Select the Symbol: Once logged in, navigate to the "Symbols" tab and select the symbol you want to chart. You can search for symbols by typing in the symbol name or by using the "Search" function.
3. Create a New Chart: Click on the "Create a New Chart" button to create a new chart. You can also create a new chart by clicking on the "New Chart" button in the top-right corner of the TradingView.com window.
4. Select the Chart Type: Choose the type of chart you want to create. TradingView.com offers a variety of chart types, including line charts, candlestick charts, and more.
5. Customize the Chart Settings: Customize the chart settings to suit your needs. You can adjust the chart size, grid lines, and other settings to create a chart that meets your requirements.

Customizing Charts on TradingView.com

Customizing charts on TradingView.com is an essential step in creating a chart that meets your specific needs. Here are some tips for customizing your charts:
1. Add Indicators: Add indicators to your chart to gain insights into market trends and patterns. TradingView.com offers a wide range of indicators, including moving averages, RSI, and more.
2. Add Drawings: Add drawings to your chart to highlight specific patterns or trends. You can add lines, shapes, and other drawings to your chart to create a visual representation of your analysis.
3. Add Alerts: Set up alerts on your chart to notify you of specific market events or price movements. You can set up alerts based on price movements, volume, and other market indicators.
4. Customize the Chart Grid: Customize the chart grid to suit your needs. You can adjust the grid lines, grid spacing, and other settings to create a chart that meets your requirements.
5. Save and Share Your Chart: Save and share your chart with others. You can save your chart as a template or share it with other traders and analysts.

Advanced Chart Customization

In addition to the basic customization options, TradingView.com offers advanced customization options that allow you to create complex charts and indicators. Here are some tips for advanced chart customization:
1. Create Custom Indicators: Create custom indicators using the TradingView.com PineScript programming language. You can create custom indicators that meet your specific needs.
2. Use Custom Drawings: Use custom drawings to create complex patterns and shapes on your chart. You can create custom drawings using the TradingView.com drawing tools.
3. Customize the Chart Layout: Customize the chart layout to suit your needs. You can adjust the chart size, grid lines, and other settings to create a chart that meets your requirements.
4. Use Advanced Chart Settings: Use advanced chart settings to customize your chart further. You can adjust the chart settings to suit your specific needs.

Conclusion

Creating and customizing charts on TradingView.com is a powerful way to gain insights into market trends and patterns. By following the steps outlined in this chapter, you can create complex charts and indicators that meet your specific needs. Whether you're a seasoned trader or a beginner, TradingView.com offers a range of tools and features that can help you create charts that meet your specific needs.
Chapter 7:

Introduction to Trading Strategies

As a trader, having a solid understanding of various trading strategies is crucial for making informed decisions and maximizing profits. In this chapter, we will explore popular trading strategies, their underlying principles, and how to implement them on TradingView.com. By the end of this chapter, you will have a comprehensive understanding of various trading strategies and how to apply them using TradingView.com's powerful platform.

Introduction to Trading Strategies

Trading strategies are pre-defined rules or methods used to make trading decisions. These strategies are designed to help traders navigate the markets, identify profitable opportunities, and minimize losses. Trading strategies can be categorized into several types, including:
· Trend following strategies: These strategies aim to identify and ride the trend, whether it's an uptrend or a downtrend.
· Range trading strategies: These strategies focus on identifying and trading within a specific price range.
· Mean reversion strategies: These strategies rely on the idea that prices will revert to their historical means.
· Statistical arbitrage strategies: These strategies involve identifying mispricings in the market and exploiting them.

Popular Trading Strategies

2.1 Trend Following Strategies
Trend following strategies are designed to identify and ride the trend. These strategies involve identifying the direction of the market and trading in that direction. Some popular trend following strategies include:
· Moving Average Crossover (MAC): This strategy involves identifying the crossover of two moving averages to determine the direction of the trend.
· Relative Strength Index (RSI): This strategy involves identifying overbought or oversold conditions using the RSI indicator.
· Bollinger Bands: This strategy involves identifying breakouts above or below the bands to determine the direction of the trend.
2.2 Range Trading Strategies
Range trading strategies focus on identifying and trading within a specific price range. These strategies involve identifying support and resistance levels and trading within the range. Some popular range trading strategies include:
· Support and Resistance Trading: This strategy involves identifying key support and resistance levels and trading within the range.
· Channel Trading: This strategy involves identifying and trading within a specific price channel.
2.3 Mean Reversion Strategies
Mean reversion strategies rely on the idea that prices will revert to their historical means. These strategies involve identifying overbought or oversold conditions and trading in the opposite direction. Some popular mean reversion strategies include:
· Mean Reversion Trading: This strategy involves identifying overbought or oversold conditions and trading in the opposite direction.
· Statistical Arbitrage: This strategy involves identifying mispricings in the market and exploiting them.
2.4 Statistical Arbitrage Strategies
Statistical arbitrage strategies involve identifying mispricings in the market and exploiting them. These strategies involve analyzing historical data and identifying statistical anomalies. Some popular statistical arbitrage strategies include:
· Statistical Arbitrage: This strategy involves identifying mispricings in the market and exploiting them.
· Event-Driven Trading: This strategy involves identifying and trading on specific events, such as earnings announcements or mergers and acquisitions.

3.

Implementing Trading Strategies on TradingView.com

TradingView.com is a powerful platform that allows traders to implement and backtest various trading strategies. Here are some steps to follow when implementing trading strategies on TradingView.com:
1. Create a new chart: Open a new chart on TradingView.com and select the asset you want to trade.
2. Add indicators: Add the indicators you want to use for your trading strategy. For example, you may want to add a moving average crossover indicator.
3. Set parameters: Set the parameters for your indicators. For example, you may want to set the period for your moving average crossover indicator.
4. Backtest the strategy: Backtest your strategy by running a backtest on TradingView.com. This will allow you to evaluate the performance of your strategy.
5. Refine the strategy: Refine your strategy by adjusting the parameters and testing different scenarios.

Conclusion

In this chapter, we have explored popular trading strategies and how to implement them on TradingView.com. By understanding various trading strategies and how to apply them using TradingView.com, you can make informed trading decisions and maximize your profits. Remember to always backtest and refine your strategies to ensure optimal performance. In the next chapter, we will explore advanced trading strategies and how to use them to improve your trading performance.

Chapter 8:

Backtesting and Evaluating Trading Ideas

As a trader, it's essential to test and refine your trading ideas before implementing them in live markets. Backtesting and evaluating your trading ideas can help you identify potential flaws, optimize your strategy, and increase your chances of success. In this chapter, we'll explore the process of backtesting and evaluating trading ideas using TradingView.com, a popular platform for charting and backtesting trading strategies.

What is Backtesting?

Backtesting is the process of applying a trading strategy to historical market data to evaluate its performance. It allows you to test your trading idea on past data to see how it would have performed in real-time. By backtesting your strategy, you can:
1. Identify potential flaws in your strategy
2. Optimize your strategy for better performance
3. Refine your strategy to improve its accuracy
4. Evaluate the strategy's risk-reward ratio

Why Backtest?

Backtesting is crucial for several reasons:
1. Risk management: Backtesting helps you identify potential risks associated with your trading strategy.
2. Strategy optimization: Backtesting allows you to refine your strategy to improve its performance.
3. Performance evaluation: Backtesting enables you to evaluate the performance of your strategy and make data-driven decisions.
4. Confidence booster: Backtesting gives you confidence in your strategy, reducing the risk of emotional trading decisions.

How to Backtest on TradingView.com

TradingView.com offers a range of tools and features for backtesting trading ideas. Here's a step-by-step guide to get you started:
1. Create a new chart: Open TradingView.com and create a new chart for the asset you want to backtest.
2. Select the data range: Choose the time period for which you want to backtest your strategy. You can select a specific date range or use the default settings.
3. Add the strategy: Click on the "Indicators" tab and add the strategy you want to backtest. You can use built-in indicators or create your own custom indicators.
4. Set the parameters: Configure the strategy's parameters, such as the number of bars to look back, the number of trades to take, and the stop-loss levels.
5. Run the backtest: Click the "Run" button to start the backtest. TradingView.com will apply your strategy to the selected data range and provide performance metrics.
6. Analyze the results: Review the backtest results, including the strategy's profit/loss, drawdown, and other performance metrics.

Evaluating Trading Ideas

Evaluating your trading idea is a crucial step in the backtesting process. Here are some key metrics to consider:
1. Profit/Loss: Calculate the total profit or loss generated by your strategy.
2. Drawdown: Measure the maximum loss experienced by your strategy.
3. Sharpe Ratio: Calculate the Sharpe Ratio to evaluate the strategy's risk-adjusted performance.
4. Sortino Ratio: Use the Sortino Ratio to evaluate the strategy's risk-adjusted performance, focusing on the maximum drawdown.
5. Information Coefficient: Calculate the Information Coefficient to evaluate the strategy's ability to generate profits.

Best Practices for Backtesting

To get the most out of backtesting, follow these best practices:
1. Use a robust data set: Ensure your data is accurate and free from errors.
2. Test multiple scenarios: Test your strategy on different time frames, assets, and market conditions.
3. Monitor performance metrics: Keep track of your strategy's performance metrics and adjust as needed.
4. Refine your strategy: Continuously refine your strategy to improve its performance.
5. Avoid overfitting: Be cautious of overfitting, where your strategy performs well on the training data but poorly on new data.

Conclusion

Backtesting and evaluating trading ideas is a crucial step in the trading process. By using TradingView.com and following best practices, you can refine your trading strategy, optimize its performance, and increase your chances of success. Remember to evaluate your strategy's performance using relevant metrics and refine it continuously to improve its performance. With practice and patience, you'll develop a robust trading strategy that can withstand the challenges of the markets.

Prev Next Patreon Ko-fi Discord
PRs: u/anakist & u/BroDogIsMyName
- - - - -
Ceele strolled through the damp grass along the outskirts of the village, a spring in her step and the dwindling scent of dew following behind. It rained yesterday, which had prevented her from going out to gather supplies, but the mild morning air had been accommodating enough for her to get an early start and make the trip. She was glad she did.
One hand clutched her new prize to her chest, while the other held a fraying wicker basket filled with herbs and some edible roots she gathered by exploring the forbidden forest. Despite her reservations regarding where she chose to go, her excitement now lingered like a steady thrum of shifting stones, giving her energy that defied how long she had been walking. She all but pranced beneath the burgeoning night's sky, gleefully toeing the line between the dirt pathways of the settlement’s outskirts and the trees of unclaimed land. Normally, her path back home would never be so close to the village, but she was far too gleeful to mind. She had come back with a sense of fulfillment and a rare object—or if not rare, then hopefully of great value.
It was hard to point to any one specific reason that she came across the orb. There had always been a ‘draw’ during her travels, urging her that there was something missing in her life, yet it was no more than a mild whim to walk in a particular direction more often than not. Once she reached this part of the continent, she was compelled to wander, never quite able to explain why she obliged the sensation besides having nowhere in particular to be. Even when she finally settled somewhere, it stayed in the back of her mind, suggesting that she was close to whatever would make the pit of vacancy go away. She ignored it, purposefully distracting herself with her work and responsibilities, yet that could only last so long. When she awoke this morning with plans to resupply, and all of her newfound spots had been picked clean by wildlife, she turned to the depths of the forest where she was warned not to tread. It was all too easy to follow the subtle tug in her chest through the loose justification.
The urge to be somewhere grew unbearable with every step closer to the forbidden area. That sense of having a direction she needed to go became stronger and stronger, until she was well into land long since forgotten. She came across an overgrown depression in the hillside, and was entranced by the foreboding image. Something about the cave just…beckoned her. She was far too weak to resist.
Horrible tales echoed into her ears as whispers of fearful voices, warning and unending, yet but a dull drone compared to her hammering heart. She navigated the trees and brushed aside unkempt vines, stepping into the cavern with a mix of expectation and trepidation, then laid eyes on the small obsidian stone perched atop a crumbling pillar. The feeling of needing to travel somewhere…stopped.
The pull was absent, which was why she held the orb close instead of placing it into her basket. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she recalled overheard tales of hidden gemstones, deep cavernous expanses, and the untold terrors that lay within. Comparing the scenes of those fables to the cave seemed foolish now; it wasn’t some torturous chamber, but a dusty depression in a small hillside. Besides, anything this pretty was sure to be worth a fair sum, and she needed the coin. Yet the thought of selling the precious-looking stone was a conflicting one. She shook off the thought for the time being, turning her attention back towards where she was going.
Shadows stretched and faded as the moon stole the last of the illumination afforded by the sun, replacing it with a calming glow that caressed the log frames and thatched roofs of various homes. A star-filled sky came into prominence as clouds lazily drifted away, revealing the promise of tomorrow’s fair-weathered arrival. It was too late for anyone to notice her treading on the edge of their town while lost in thought, but she was still careful not to get too close to the houses or livestock pens where people might be finishing the evening’s duties. It was best that they didn’t see her returning from a place she was told not to go. Still, her feet carried her near the dwellings as she took in the noises.
Ceele enjoyed the comforting chatter from a distance. Indistinct words floated freely. Meaningless gossip and warm goodbyes were exchanged between friends and family. Places of various occupations were dark and quiet, only the faint contented mewls and clucks of livestock coming from their pastures as they ate what was recently put out for them. No metal rang throughout the streets as it was struck inside a centralized smithy, no heated bartering came from an overactive trade house, and the crunch of dirt beneath transport or merchant wagons was absent, replaced by the rapid steps and yelps of children rushing to their homes before it got too dark out. It was all just gentle conversation and life drifting through the wind, taking the rustle of leaves along for the ride, just so she could hear it. Tranquil, in a word.
She wondered what it would sound like if she were yet one more voice within that crowd of kindness. Would it be loud like the larger cities? Would she struggle to maintain a thought with so many stray topics floating about? Would she once more yearn for the peace and quiet of solitude that she had grown used to, or would she immerse herself, free of judgment and laughing like the carefree young that scampered about? Did thinking about it even matter?
Her smile fell from its genuine intensity—still worn, but not as fully. She glanced downward as her stride lost its jubilant bounce, her tail losing its sway as her grey eyes examined the dry black scales that adorned her body against her wishes. It was the ugly hue of tarnished oil, unlike the skin of any other kobold she had met. Some had reds or greens, yellows or whites, while most were between a sandy tan or earthen brown. The rainbow of peculiarities was displayed by the lucky few, and she was one of them…
…Yet she was different in the worst of ways.
Even if she would rather any other colour, she supposed it was that way to make sure no one came near without accepting the unspoken risks. That was what her mother always said, anyway, though the woman hardly feared much of anything in her old age, and dedicated herself to giving her offspring all the love she had left to give—a perk of living a full life. She would always help her daughter bathe, complimenting the colour of what most were unnerved by. That was more than a decade ago now, however. Ceele’s parents had passed on while she was still young, and she took to travelling not long after, working at what she could to afford what little she needed. Never for long, though—just enough to get to the next town between where she was and where the urge to go lay. There were certainly moments she looked back on fondly, but the journey had taken its toll.
The crude material of her ‘dress’ was coarse, old, and heavy, but it helped ease the worst of spring's chill—even if it was more of a modified sack than proper attire. Still, it was all she had after the last of her clothing fell apart, and giving the repurposed material a name that reminded her of something else made it less uncomfortable to wear, somehow. It would have to do until she could afford a pitying seamstress or the like. Until then, she would pretend she didn’t look so desperate, even if it only highlighted her status and made finding work difficult.
But it did. The dishevelled garment was a far cry from the wonderful silks or breathtaking designs she had seen some women wear, harshly marking the distinction between herself and those of affluence. The clothing of commoners was also a leap in style and quality, so she couldn't say her attire was up to even modest standards. No matter how hard she squinted, and no matter how much she fantasized otherwise, she seemed every bit like the vagrant she was, down to the soil embedded in the curvature of her claws and the stains throughout her fabrics. She looked like a serf from the more oppressed lands, yet they too wore crude cottons, which said a lot about how she appeared to those who had never lived a life of servitude. It was obvious that she was an outsider. That she didn't belong amongst the rest. It made changing something as simple as her appearance all the more difficult; prospective employment always saw a young woman who seemed more likely to steal or swindle than make an honest day’s living.
There was one good twist of fate in recent memory, however, and she came upon the result of it after leaving the slowing bustle of the village behind. Her steps carried her through a small copse of trees on the outskirts of town, the small shaded path leading to the back of a large, carefully pruned clearing, a scattering of fruit-bearing trees providing even darker shadow than the already dim moonlight. She skirted along the aging fence on the border that kept predatory animals away, carefully hoisting herself over the barrier where a large vegetable garden she was responsible for tending resided. If one were to tell her she would be living in such an area several months ago, she would have smiled politely and walked away, yet here she was.
A modest, warmly lit home occupied the middle of the clearing, sitting front and centre when one approached from the village path. It looked quite cozy, surrounded by berry bushes that were just beginning to bloom as the last dregs of winter slipped away. A front patio displayed a nice table and well-loved chairs, the rustic appearance only adding to its charm as a place where friends and family spent the warm summer afternoons. A smithy to the left of the house functioned as an additional heated building during the colder months, but usually served as a storefront and to muffle the sounds of hammered iron, though that had become less common. An old stable was nearby, close enough to be accessible, but not so close as to disturb the once occupying animals with sounds of iron craft. It hadn't seen a horse in quite some time, apparently, so it was mostly a workshop for whatever tasks didn’t require fire or metal.
There was a long history attached to each little detail—from the scuffs along the wooden siding to the depressions in the ground where daily routine wore into the earth. Every fault suffered throughout the years was matched by a thousand quirks that made it feel welcoming, like the house itself was merely waiting for the next friendly face with one of its own. She knew that the inside of each building would look just as cared for.
Her concern lay outside, however. It was a comparatively miniscule space just barely visible through the sheltering trees, true, yet it was where her efforts turned into tangible results, and where a stranger’s trust was painstakingly repaid. Once overgrown grass had been laboriously trimmed, the weeds plucked and disposed of, and now nothing distracted from what she could claim she had done.
The small plots of rock-bordered soil had little buds of growing vegetables, a sense of pride never failing to bloom in her breast with the knowledge that it would be barren without her touch. When her troubles and concerns grew heavy, and fears of the future or spectres of the past loomed over her head, she could look at where she had brought life where it wouldn't otherwise be. Some days, that was enough. She smiled in appreciation at what was admittedly amateur work, the night’s sky helping to hide any inevitably made mistakes.
She enjoyed the sight for a moment longer, then turned to walk towards a neglected old tool shed that was well out of sight within the trees, far away from whatever warmth and comfort the larger house offered to everyone and anyone. She put a hand on the degrading wood of the entryway, giving one last sad smile at the garden as she dismissed selfish thoughts of taking the eventual harvest for herself. A breath cleared the uncertainty from her voice, and she pushed open the door.
“I'm home!”
= = = = =
It took a while for Altier to adjust to his situation, and even once he accepted that his mana wasn't being siphoned, he was still reeling from confusion. He had spent centuries with every year passing by without his notice, yet now he was painfully aware of each creeping second languidly dragging on with the expediency of growing grass. It was as disorienting as it was painfully nostalgic.
Time was something he was never good with, and it only got worse as a dungeon. He'd get lost in creating rooms, corridors, creatures, and whatever else needed doing, only pausing to watch or listen to the few adventurers he became interested in. There was a stint where he spent what felt like hours agonizing over new abilities or options while he let the system manage things in the background, though he supposed it might have been much longer. So many wasted days, yet he still hadn't managed to try everything he had gained access to. Some abilities were simply too niche, came with concerning titles, or held descriptions that made him wary. Anything with ‘Decay’ in the name was instantly ignored—he didn't need more reasons to fear his affinity, and from the few he took the effort to read through, they were always vile.
But his existence for the moment was no longer like those endless stretches spent pondering the minutiae of what would help his adventurers grow stronger. Now, he could follow the rhythmic sounds of footsteps and steady breathing that set a calming pace. They were someone else's, yes, but they contextualized how easy it was to slip away without the subtle noises of life that he had long since surrendered to help his family. Of course, there were more differences that he noticed since being removed from his crumbling cavern, and his sight was the newest change.
He never gave much thought to how far he could see before. Why would he? As a man, his world extended as far as he could fathom, yet was also confined to the room where he spent his days, and as a dungeon… Well, who was he to consider distance when an event happening miles away could be seen with a flicker of thought? Nothing was too far when it was within his creation. Or his ‘body,’ he supposed. Sadly, his entire perception currently consisted of the small sphere of his obsidian core, and maybe a finger's length beyond it—which is to say, not much. He could make out the fine details in the dirty burlap he was held against, and how pale moonlight slowly took over the blurred reds of sunset, but hardly anything more. It was all just frosted colours after a certain point, and he found it infinitely frustrating. He just wanted to peer beyond the haze and scaly hand holding him to confirm that the sky he remembered was still there. Alas, the sunlight faded at too quick a pace, yet one oh so agonizingly slow.
The ensuing darkness gave him nothing to do but think about where he was, not that he had any ideas. He was too curious about why he wasn't dead to bother much with his blurry surroundings after the soft-spoken kobold abducted him, thus why he only belatedly noticed how limited his worldview had become. There might have been a forest beyond his cave, but the greens and browns were gone, and the sounds of steps through brush was replaced by the distant din of a village. An idle curiosity pondered if he would recognize any descents of his ‘family tradition’ adventurers there, but he was being carried by what most considered a monster, so likely not.
That short musing was short-lived, however, and he brought his focus back to the matter at hand. He supposed he was being taken somewhere specific, but that was an obvious deduction, considering he was taken at all. The why of the matter was less so; for what purpose would someone want a Decay-aligned core? He hadn’t heard of them before…well, before he was made into one, but he couldn’t imagine many uses. Maybe he was being sold? His…kidnapper? His sudden companion seemed rather pleased by their discovery of him, so that might be the case, and it was morbidly amusing to think that a frail, sickly young man might one day become a coveted, highly valuable item. His abduction could also be a part of some cult’s nefarious activities, but he didn't want to think about that too hard. He experienced enough odd ceremonies from the adventurers who took the time to tell him their tales.
Either way, he wasn't in the dungeon anymore, and he couldn’t see where he was going. He tried to query his menu to glean an answer, but was met with a scrambled mess he suspected read ‘Synchronizing…’ and little else. It gave him a headache trying to make sense of it—which he didn't know was possible anymore—so he dismissed the text and distracted himself with blurs from whatever diluted senses he still had. There wasn’t much to observe other than the constant footfalls and the flicker of shadows on his companion’s burlap garment. They might have travelled through brush again, but it was too dark to really say for certain.
Eventually, there was something new. He heard an old latch rattle and rusted door hinges groan, then a shuddered clack that confirmed he was now in a building. His kobold acquaintance gently cooed at something before moving about the nearly pitch-black space, finally setting him down on a… He wasn’t sure what it was, besides old and wooden.
[D$#@m$n E@$*ded]
The headache from before became a blinding migraine that suffocated him under a flash-flood of suffering. Seconds passed in abject torture until it blissfully abated, the mental blinks clearing his mind enough to notice a change in his existence. Specifically, he could actually see something besides the rotting wood grain he was placed on top of.
And it wasn’t anything promising…
He was more or less in the centre of a room no bigger than twelve paces by maybe ten. Not a terrible size for a space, but it was clearly never meant to house someone. His resting place looked about as neglected as he surmised; it was an upturned feeding trough, he supposed, since calling it a table seemed too generous. The surface was rife with holes and degraded iron, so it was something that once saw regular use before being replaced and tossed into storage, never to see the light of day again.
Actually, most things in the room seemed to fit that description. The window shutters were installed with metal hinges that had since rusted them closed, the misalignment letting in a draft—and whatever weather was outside as well, most likely. A poorly carved bowl sat on the floor, the stain beneath it hinting that it collected any rainwater that slowly dripped from the leaky roof. The wooden floorboards looked old, splintered, and in need of maintenance or replacement, though an effort had been put into abrading it somewhat smooth lately.
A tiny and decrepit fireplace was to the left of the door upon entry, its brickwork slowly crumbling due to weathering and age. It was sized more for keeping the room warm during mild days than to keep away the frigid chill of night. Its base only held cold ashes, but there was a collection of deadwood and scraps nearby, so that would probably be rectified soon. A small wheel-less cart had been turned into storage against the opposite wall, some herbs and other foraged items stowed away in it for future use. Various things he remembered seeing his father and brothers use in the fields were scattered about, too. It was nostalgic to see, honestly, even if his recollections had blurred over time.
Bundles of tattered blankets formed a pair of nests in the far corner, the smaller of the two had a pile of rough plants nearby. That answered his silent pondering of the room's purpose somewhat, though he was pretty sure the bedding material was salvaged, and there didn’t seem to be any hay or padding underneath whoever was sleeping on it. He didn’t know what to think about the weeds; they were purposefully placed there, and whoever did so had taken the time to wash them, but it was still strange.
He couldn’t see a doorway besides the entrance, yet most of the hallmarks of residency were put where space could be afforded, however crude. All in all, he surmised that it was a gardening shed of sorts, and his new acquaintance apparently lived here. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when a creature he had only read about came into his dungeon, but it wasn't being brought to a rundown and decrepit shack for unknown purposes.
Even if he had been raised by parents who made a humble living at the best of times, and they had emptied their coffers for unsuccessful attempts to ease his ailments, his acquaintance's living space made him uncomfortable. His family's house was never anything fancy, true—it shared some of the worn qualities that inevitably gathered over the years—but it was never this bad. His home benefited from a father's touch keeping it robust and a mother’s love keeping it warm, whereas this place had seen neither in quite some time. Oh, there was evidence that such was once the case; a wall was adorned with carefully made and well-spaced hangers for the various gardening tools, though the implements themselves had become a victim of neglect. That being said, he could make out the fresh soil and recent scratches exposing furrows of silver, so they were seeing use again.
A scrape and clack of flint drew his attention to his kobold companion. They were kneeling in front of the fireplace, methodically sparking life back into a dead flame with twigs and dried leaves. A slow, steady breath into the reddened base illuminated its face with a dull orange glow, revealing its weary visage and the permanently etched smile that rested beneath its cold grey eyes. The black-scaled kobold looked tired, if he were to guess—much the same as Altier did when he spent countless days watching everyone living a life he could never have through the mossy window of his bedroom. He was probably humanizing it too much. Still, he was surprised by the muted pang of sympathy, and how he would feel much more than blithe curiosity after spending so much time alone in the crumbling crypt of his own making.
A mental breath cycled through him as he looked at the odds and ends yet to be observed. Hardly anything else was of note—everything else was degraded and neglected, too. He did notice a nest of blankets move though, which was as good a distraction as any. The answer to his previous ‘pile of weeds’ inquiry poked a tiny nose from a crease in the fabric, then rapidly pawed at the blankets to dig itself out. Altier stared at the creature in both recognition and confusion.
It was a rabbit…or at least it looked like one, assuming you were to also describe a porcupine and a sea urchin as well. He was pretty sure he didn’t remember any hare that had jagged metal-tipped fur, nor that had said fur arranged into a row of spiked horns that flowed down its spine, terminating at a large fluffy tail, which was equally bizarre to see. The whole of its coat could double as a weapon, with semi-sharp barbs sticking off seemingly at random, yet he remembered an adventurer saying most animals used that sort of thing defensively. He increased his focus as he tried to make sense of the odd creature. Surely he would have heard about—
[Hoppittttttt#%%÷ — Ferro-o-orabbit-it (Ma%$le)
Abil—]
[Null]
[Er0Rrrrrrrr—]
[Und#$f—]
He bit back the pain caused by the sudden intrusion of his menu, blanking out the text and mentally retreating to hide from the source. Did he just inspect something? How? Shouldn’t his entire…‘framework,’ was it…? Yes, that was it. Shouldn’t that have been corrupted? Why could he see the creature’s information when his entire framework was damaged? That was the first ability he lost, so why is it the first to be functional? How was it functional? Was it? It did just spit garbled text at him, but it was something, and that was more than he had gotten from it in a very long time. If it was somehow working—no matter how poorly—then that left the question of why he hadn't heard of anything called a ‘ferrorabbit’ before, assuming he read that correctly.
A soft thud vibrated the tro— table, startling him out of thought. He turned his attention to the button nose wiggling erratically at him, the short, stubby muzzle leading to surprisingly expressive and curious red eyes. Dull brown fur jutted off in random tufts and patches, changing to a darker tint on its paws and the upper half of its ears, while the tips of its spikes were a muted hue of iron. It still seemed just as soft as the less pointed variety he remembered, if a touch dirty. Upright ears twitched this way and that way as its head vigorously shook, eventually settling on pointing in his direction when it calmed down enough.
It was apparent that he had its undivided attention…for all of a few seconds. His scaly companion called something out in their foreign tongue, and whatever conclusion the pointy-furred animal came to, it seemed more interested in the kobold, parting from him after nudging his core with its nose.
[Cre-e-e—]
[Errrrrrr0r: Undefiiiiiiii—]
[Acceeeeep-t-t-t??]
[Yeeee— s s / Nnnnnnn—]
He winced at the intrusion, but the contents detracted from the pain. He couldn’t remember the system ever asking him a question without his explicit intent being involved. It wanted him to…accept something? Was it the system prompting him, or the animal? What was he to accept?
[Creatuuuuu—]
[Acce-e-e-%#@ed!]
…What?
= = = = =
“Hoppit, that's not food!” Ceele admonished half-heartedly, placing a larger branch on the burgeoning flame before she got to her feet. She wasn’t actually that worried; the stone was as big as his head, and she was pretty sure he couldn't bite into it. Hopefully. “Come here, momma has a treat for you!”
The ferrorabbit playfully bumped the gemstone and jumped off the low table, landing with a soft thud that belied how heavy he was for his tiny size. He wiggled in excitement, his ears flailing and releasing a slight clack whenever the two connected. It got even louder when she grabbed her basket and put away the useful herbs, taking out a specific item that she had gathered just for him. The little bun wasted no time in scurrying over and standing tall on his hind legs to judge if the offered plant was to his liking—and it was, based on how he dug in with enthusiasm. She stifled a laugh as she contentedly watched him nibble away on the treat, ignoring the guilt that came with knowing she couldn't afford proper vegetables for him. He had a hard life too, and it tore at her to have so little to give.
She came across Hoppit a year ago, during a storm that worsened while she was travelling between towns. The day had darkened to night in spite of it still being about noon, but the weather didn't care for how bright it was supposed to be. Wind and rain became a typhoon, forcing her to seek shelter in a thankfully abandoned den of what was probably a larger animal. She was fine with waiting out the squall, since the stone roof over her head was more than she usually had back then, but the sounds of dull bangs and thuds near her hideaway was followed by cries of animals yelping in pain. Curiosity won over reason, and she left the safety of her shelter to see what was causing the disturbance. Truthfully, she was hopeful that she'd come across scraps or the like, her hunger driving her forward, and she could always turn back if it seemed dangerous. Yet when she arrived at the source of the commotion, she found herself thinking of anything but food.
Two predators had fought over a small burrow, both trying to dig out a meal and taking offence to the other doing the same. What they didn’t know was that they were assaulting the home of ferrorabbits. Specifically, the home of an angry, protective, and well-fed mother that was keeping her newborns safe from the storm when predators decided to try their luck. From the scene Ceele came across, it was certainly obvious why most people dislike trying to hunt the creatures.
Sadly, the rabbit didn't survive an attack from two predators, but she did make their victory pyrrhic; neither could do much about their hunger with their bodies full of cuts and holes, and it was only a matter of time before they succumbed to blood loss or infection. The mother's sacrifice meant that the babies had avoided the imminent threat, but they were left unattended as a consequence, and it took an opportunistic bird swooping down to shake Ceele out of her shock. Despite her subsequent hurry, she only acted in time to save one of the orphaned young. The warren was new and barely dug out, which meant that it didn’t take much effort for the kits to be found—by both her and hungry maws. All she could do was scoop the ball of fluff into her arms and run back to the cave before anything else tried to eat it.
In retrospect, it was a stupid decision for a number of factors. She barely had the resources to supply herself, and an attempt to raise offspring of any type would only make the inevitable heartbreak worse. But when she saw how quiet and scared he was… How his tiny, shaking body calmed in her arms, those terrified red eyes seeking comfort… She should have just walked away when she knew there wasn’t going to be anything to fill her stomach. She should have put the baby animal down and let nature take its course…yet the preciously furry face stole her heart far too quickly for it to grow so cold. The next day was spent backtracking to the nearest town to get him something suitable to eat, which used most of her meagre savings. Still, it was worth every coin.
Hoppit had been accompanying her ever since. He grew quickly, transitioning from something she saved that stormy night into a presence she had grown to love like a child. The little lagomorph would bounce along beside her during her travels, then ride in her arms as he rested—though the latter happened with worrying frequency as of late. She hadn’t learned much about the springy herbivores, but she knew enough to say that he wasn't as big as he should be, nor was his fur as sharp. No matter how startled he was, his spiky coat never managed to do more than stiffen slightly, which was apparently a side effect of poor diet, according to snippets of conversation she had overheard on the topic. She wanted him to be healthy, but she didn't know what he needed. Not many farmers raised ferrorabbits, and those that did were far away, so she didn’t have anyone to ask what she should be doing. Her best course of action was to give him what little she had.
Ceele was well aware of how he would be better off on his own, but he followed her whenever she tried to set him free. Hoppit just kept launching into her arms and wiggling his ears, ecstatic that he was with her again, uncaring that food was scarce and that they spent most of their days travelling. No amount of cold nights spent bundling up under the tattered blankets she managed to find ever dampened his spirits, and he was content to eat the grass or flowers whenever he felt like it, oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t getting enough nutrition. He would dig and excitedly drag back oddities that he found, and the one time he found a plant that looked particularly good for him, he insisted that it be shared with her.
A black pit still lingered in her chest when she recalled how pleased he was while he munched on the rare vegetable he discovered, then how distressed he became when she wouldn’t have any as well. He bumped and nipped at her, all but begging her to eat. His ears pinned back against his head, his fur bristled in a way she hadn’t seen since. It was only when she took a small bite and let him inspect the new teeth marks that he seemed to calm down, but perhaps she had been looking too deep into the actions of her tiny friend. All she could say for certain was that he was scared she was going hungry.
A morbid thought wondered if his first mother had refused food shortly before being attacked, and he—as small and simple as he was—had connected the two events in his mind, making him absolutely terrified that something would happen if Ceele didn’t have something too. All of that fear, and desperation overwhelmed him, just because she was happier watching him eat. She was determined to erase that issue. She would find something that needed a worker and earn enough to feed them both. One day, she would be able to smile at how big and healthy her little fluffy boy had become, but until then, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think about how she was spending so much time growing vegetables and fruit that he couldn’t have…
Every morning was an exercise in tending to the gardens while actively shoving down images of a pleased ferrorabbit happily eating the results. That never went well; no matter how determined she was to complete her duties without a single selfish thought, most tasks were done while picturing his full belly and delighted bounces. There were a few weeks until the fastest of the crops would be ready for harvest, and Ceele would have to collect them while fighting the urge to bring back just a few for him.
She couldn’t, because she knew exactly how quickly that could escalate. It would start small—A vegetable here, a fruit there—but seeing Hoppit happy was one of the precious few good things she had in her life. Crossing the line would only become easier each time. They couldn’t risk losing their new home over greed, and she was already betraying the trust given to her by housing a wild animal, especially one known to be a pest for crops. She didn't want to know how angry it would make her benefactors if she was caught taking their vegetables for one.
No matter how tame and precious Hoppit was, and no matter how well he listened, they would only see him as the same creature that ruined harvests in droves. Thus was why she had to tell him to stay cooped up by himself while she was working or scavenging. And to her surprise, he did.
Honestly, she had made the initial request with the expectation of needing to carry him back into their home until he understood that she wasn’t leaving him forever. There wasn’t much she could do to stop the ferrorabbit from digging through the old wooden building if he wanted to get out. He wouldn’t need to damage anything either—a rotting board on the door only needed a little push to nudge it out of the way, and his natural curiosity made sure he was aware of it. But no, Hoppit was well-behaved as always, keeping hidden until she walked through the door, where he would leap from the shadows to personally show her how good he was and how he stayed put like she asked him to. It never stopped amazing her that he had such a surprising level of understanding despite being an animal, and that was to say nothing of how young he was.
All that intelligence, joy, and companionship he offered her…and yet the best she could give back to him was the weeds from the garden and the odd plant she found while scavenging…
Soft clacks of flicking ears dragged her from her pondering, her mind returning to the present. Hoppit finished his treat of the small plant, then bounced in place and scurried over to his bowl of water, perfectly happy to have eaten only that. He was so joyful with how little she provided, approaching every day of scarcity with the same enthusiasm she could never muster, as if certain that everything would be alright.
“It’s bedtime, Hoppit,” Ceele announced through a soft sigh, stoking the fire with enough branches to hopefully last the night. The ferrorabbit perked an ear in her direction, then sat on his haunches to extend the rest of himself up, his two little forepaws adorably held to his chest as he inspected the room like he always did. She smiled and made sure everything was stored away, then laid down on her bundle of blankets, covering herself with the warmest one. Hoppit bolted over to snuggle once he decided everything in the shed was up to his standards, throwing himself to the floor in a dramatic flop of comfort. Her quiet laughter subsided as they both settled in for the night, her tail completing the rabbit’s encompassing cuddle, but her eyes fell towards the obsidian orb on the table, her thoughts following suit.
It sat there, just as she left it, as benign as anything else ever placed atop the improvised furnishing. Yet there was a sense of ease and purpose as well. The old wooden trough seemed…important with its adornment firmly laid upon its surface, and she couldn’t puzzle out why. She was starting to doubt her earlier excitement.
Should she sell it? Would anyone know where it came from? Would anyone know what it was, or if it was worth anything? If she could get even a modest sum for it, she would be able to buy clothing, food, and new bedding. It would be easier to convince someone to give her work if she was dressed better and wasn’t so thin, and then she would have the income to slowly improve both of their lives. She could pay for a wandering merchant to ask a ferrorabbit rancher about the animal, even if it would take time to get back to her, or maybe she could hire a local if they needed to go near one for some reason. The cost didn’t matter to her as long as it happened.
But there was something else bothering her about the idea of selling the stone. She had travelled so far with a tug in her chest, only for the feeling of wanderlust to dissipate as soon as she held it. Was that a sign? She was never one for things like ‘fate,’ but a niggling doubt in her mind discouraged the idea of making a profit off her discovery. Even if what she could gain was so very tempting, and even if Hoppit would be happier if she did…
She tore her dampened eyes away and closed them, ignoring the burning trails running across her face. It would be another early morning, and she needed to sleep so she could take care of the garden. Decisions like this could wait. Once she had nothing else distracting her, and she had time to properly think about it, she would see how she felt about the stone.
Eventually, she dozed off with Hoppit pressed against her chest, and a longing in her heart.
Next
—
A/N: Patreon and Ko-fi will be 1 chap ahead this time around, and I've set it so everything from the lowest tier up can read the newest trashfire! Anything above that is sheer show of love. Hope you enjoyed!

Previous Interlewd XLI Next First
​
---Sample---
​
---Fnurfar’s perspective---
---2710 Terran Calenda3 years BF---
All six of my paws desperately scramble against the slick pavement of the Prosperity back alley as I flee for my life!
Pursuing me… is a monster!
His species aren’t meant to be sprinters!
They said if it came to a chase, I just needed to quickly get out of his line of sight and keep going and he’d not be able to keep up!
I skid around a corner and steal a glance behind me, seeing two furious eyes moving towards me so fast that they seem to leave streaks of emerald green behind them as afterimages!
The Fury is so close on my tail that he’s almost certain to catch me now!
It would be laughable how much my… ‘employers’ had underestimated him if it weren’t so terrifying!
‘You’ve got a Terran with you! There should be no issue!’
Yes, that idiot mercenary they hired almost had me going with his smug, arrogant proclamation that ‘Big=slow! Slow=dead!’ as he idly showed off his little knife tricks!
My confidence lasted up until the very moment I saw the one we were supposed to rob!
[20cm] taller than the skinny mercenary and looking like he could easily weigh twice as much, the man was a Hunt damned beast compared to the one who was meant to protect me from him!
I think Flynn reassessed his cocksure attitude as well because, rather than waiting for me to have an opening like we agreed in the [fucking] plan, he just drew a knife and tried to stab the monster to death!
An extremely poorly calculated risk!
There was no competition!
This juggernaut dealt with Flynn as easily as Flynn could have dealt with me!
It took him a matter of seconds to dispatch my accomplice but that was a matter of seconds where he was distracted enough that I was able to snag what we had been after… not that it makes any difference now!
Just as I hear thundering footfalls coming up on my left, powerful fingers impact the space between the bottom of my neck and the top of my top shoulderblades.
I’m slammed into the ground… but not killed…
I can feel the power contained in the iron grip around my neck…
I know that decapitating me would be as simple as deciding to close his fingers but, as I wait for death to come, it doesn’t…
Instead, the hand slides up my shoulders, gathering the loose skin and lifting me up like a kit in her parent’s mouth…
The first thing I’m able to see is the monster’s flat, booted feet, followed by a pair of long thick legs, then a chest and left arm covered in a loose fitting, buttoned shirt, patterned with vertical and horizontal lines.
The red fabric of his top disguises the bloodstain from the wound he got from Flynn, just below his shoulder. However, the nauseatingly metallic smell of it absolutely fills my nostrils!
The final thing to be revealed, as my feet hang more than [a metre] from the ground, is a face… the scarred skin a pale beige, the white, calcite teeth bared in a furious grimace, copper coloured eyebrows tilted downward in the middle over a nose, wrinkled with anger, and emerald eyes, burning with rage!
His shoulders rise and fall in time with panted breaths he sucks in and out through his gritted teeth, putting me less in mind of a person (or even an animal) catching their breath after exertion and more in mind of some hulking piece of machinery from the Steam Age venting its pressure!
The Terran extends his pallid skinned, long fingered, furless, pentadactyl left hand to me, stained with the ferrous blood that’s run down his sleeve, and growls “Sample!”
“No…” I breathe, terrified.
“GIRL! I AIN’T fuckin’ PLAYIN’ with you!” he snarls, curling all but his index finger and jabbing it towards my snout “You’re gonna. GIVE. BACK. what you. FUCKIN’. STOLE!”
“You… can take it… from my corpse…” I defy, clutching my exhausted, trembling pawhands to the front of my jumpsuit.
Effortlessly, his free hand comes forward, batting my four aside, before pinching the top of the stasis vial and pulling it free, with there being absolutely nothing I can do to stop him!
He holds up the tube, in which is visible a small plant with a rosette of frilly black leaves and through which can be seen a frozen impression of the room it was in when it was stasised, demanding “You’re really willin’ to die for this!? For corporate espionage?!… Why the fuck’s this matter to you like that?!?!?!”
“I don’t care… about the plant… at all…” I answer, defeated.
His face twists in a sneer as he asks “Then why tell me I had to pry it from your cold. dead. hands!?”
“Because… if I come back… emptyhanded… they’re going to… torture my husband… and son… and make me watch!… If I don’t… come back… at all… maybe they’ll let them go!” I pant in answer.
His face falls blank… but I can tell that is not because he’s no longer angry!
Instead, his redoubled rage has gone from white hot to ice cold as he leans in and demands “Who’s ‘they’?”
---2715 Terran Calenda2 years AF---
“One!?” demands the sceptical, lutrine, Nvar man, one of six listening to my story for the first time (along with the two friends who’ve heard it before), holding up a webbed pawhand and extending a single finger “You’re trying to tell us that one Terran dismantled the entire Giluspri Sisters’ Syndicate, overnight!?… Simply because you told him a sob story about them holding your family hostage!?”
“I did say you wouldn’t believe me(!)” I smirk, lifting my drink to take a sip.
“You’re damn right I don’t believe you!!!” he sneers “It might have been a little more believable if you’d made it a team of a dozen or so Terrans that were guarding this thing but one!?… There’s no way it took a single individual a single night to root out and entirely destroy an enterprise that Prosperity’s government had been hunting for nearly [2 decades], even if that individual was a Terran!”
I place my drink down on the table and turn the palms of all four pawhands to the ceiling as I say “Believe me or don’t… that’s exactly how it happened!”
“Hmmm… Don’t know ’bout ‘exactly’…!” comes a familiar voice from behind my head, in the next booth over.
I freeze and straighten my back.
The friends and audience in my booth are looking past me, curiously, but, from their faces, it doesn’t look like they can see anything.
I stand and slide out through the gap between the table and Nafnarl’s footpaws.
I turn right and am immediately able to see that the booth next to us is occupied by a mixture of Terrans and some much smaller humanoids with green skin.
I keep going, rounding the partition to reveal…
“By the Hunt! Victor?!” I exclaim, seeing the man sat with his back almost exactly to where I was sitting, next to another tall, slim humanoid with blue skin and four arms.
His copper hair is much longer, his face isn’t as scarred and isn’t wearing the disgusted sneer that characterised so much of the time he and I spent together but… there’s no mistaking it!
The man turns his head, smiling, before standing up to nearly twice my height and extending a palm to ruffle the fur between my ears, saying “How’s it goin’, Foxy? You look a lot better ’an you did last time I saw you at least(!)” gesturing with his other hand up and down my less skinny and less visibly scarred body.
“Never mind that, Victor! What are you doing here?! You didn’t tell me you were coming back to Prosperity!”
He smirks “Yeah, sorry Foxy… It’s a loose lips sink ships kinda deal… Just thought I’d show my friends here the bar you brought me to celebrate after everythin’ was done that time… Didn’t think I’d actually run into you here!”
I stare up at the man, agog, for a few moments before reaching up with both my left hands and closing them around his wrist.
He allows me to drag him back to the head of my table.
“Nafnarl! Gfurnaf! This is him! This is the one I’ve been telling you about for the last [5 years]!” I say to my two Graufna friends before turning to the rest of the table to declare “He’s the man who took down the Giluspris! He’s Victor ‘Cuddles’ Taylor!”
With mirthful bemusement, the Terran raises his left palm to the table to smile “Y’alright guys!” before his eyes scan the faces and his expression goes concerned. He turns to me and asks “Your hubby alright, Foxy?”
I bare my teeth (I hope friendlily) and answer “Fnarnulf’s fine, Victor!… Fuffarn too! This is just a girls' night…” gesturing at my two friends “…or… it was(!)” gesturing over the four men and two women, of four different species, who joined us to hear my story.
“What did you mean by it not being ‘exactly’ right?” queries Lunvo, the same sceptical Nvar who voiced disbelief before, still looking sceptical (not that I can blame him) but at least impressed by the fact that the ‘con’ has an (imposing looking) Terran stooge now(!)
“Weeeeell…” Victor frowns down at me, mirthfully “…the way she described me dodgin’ that knife attack, she made me sound almost psychic(!)… In reality, she and this guy weren’t as smooth as she seems to think(!) The fact that I even got nicked by someone I was payin’ as much attention to as that is a bad reflection on my reaction time!… Also, she kinda made it sound like I went into their headquarters with a gun in one hand and a lit plasmasword in the other(!) As I recall, I gave ’em all a chance to surrender and come quietly and it were only after they, shall we say, indicated a lack of interest in that option that my weapons first cleared leather!… Oh! And what was with all that comparin’ the way I pant to ventin’ steam engines, Foxy(?!)”
“But…” starts Muan, a nervous tolypeutine Wne woman beside her husband, Kmuw “…you don’t deny it was you and you alone who brought down the Giluspris?… Without help?”
The pale skin of the Terran’s flat face performs a complicated scrunch as he considers the question before answering “Don’t know ’bout ‘without help’… I had Foxy here for showin’ me the way, after I’d done a lotta convincin’… and, once I’d taken care of ’em, local law enforcers came to take the survivors away… Aaaaand… I probably didn’t actually manage to kill or capture every last one of ’em… just gutted the power structure enough that the rats fled the sinkin’ ship(!)”
“Why are you calling her ‘Foxy’?” asks Lunvo, four eyes narrowed in suspicion “‘Fnurfar’ is the name she gave us!”
The large man shrugs his shoulders “I didn’t get her name until we came here to celebrate… she didn’t trust me to give it… Had to call her somethin’, so I called her Foxy.”
“Hmmm…” responds Lunvo “…I’m not buying it…”
Victor raises an eyebrow “You ain’t buyin’ me givin’ her a nickname(!?)”
“I don’t believe any of it! The whole story reeks of the fanciful!”
I bare my teeth and slam my paws on the table before snarling “I don’t care if you question my honesty, Lunvo, but this man saved my husband’s life, my son’s life, the lives of dozens of others, freed me from effective slavery and freed this planet from its largest criminal syndicate! I will not have you questioning his integrity!”
Lunvo cowers away from me, despite the table separating us.
I feel a large, strong hand on my shoulder.
I turn to see a smiling face.
“Eeeeasy there, Foxy… ’Preciate the defence but there ain’t no need to get heated over it!… ’Specially not when there’s a really easy way to sort this out…” he looks up at Lunvo and asks “Lunvo, was it? Could I ask you to look up the front page of the Prosperity Chronicle from the 3rd of September, 2710?… I think you’ll see a picture of me shakin’ hands with your governor at the time…”
---
Previous Interlewd XLI Next First
Discord
Dramatis Personae

For anyone who wants to see how things began.
https://www.reddit.com/HFY/s/S97b2fqIjx
“In what universe would I ever do you a favor? “ I say, sweeping the floor of the reinforced barn.
“It’s not a favor, it’s a trade, bud.
What do you want in return? “ Trenchcoat asks from within the coffin-like cage.
“To be back home, 8 months ago. “ I reply.
Over the past few weeks I’ve managed to integrate myself into the day to day life on the farm. Things are still a grim, horrifying slog, but with every day it gets a bit easier to deal with.
“Give me something I can do. “ The creature pleads.
“Why, so I can wind up on the end of another ‘ Gotcha’ moment? I’m good. “ is my answer.
A few minutes of silence go by, Augustus breaks it.
“I don’t know many secrets of the universe. Facts, not really my bag. But I know a couple.
How about I share one with you?
No one, not the pope, not my brother, not the shit-bird perched on the highest branch of my twisted family tree, knows what happens when you die.
Some of us never will, of course. Others have ways of avoiding it, but at the end of the day, when the lights truly go out, we know next to nothing.
We do know one thing though. There is judgement, by who? Who knows? Why? Not important.
But at the end of the day, if your battery can’t be recharged, you really want to be thinking about how many marks are on each side of the ledger. “
I don’t reply, and for the next hour or so I ignore the pleading and hinting Trenchcoat does.
But that night, as I sip acidic tea, and try to get a handle on how in the fuck old televisions function, his offer is at the forefront of my mind.
He wants to kill, specifically 6 teenagers who, according to him, have been murdering classmates yearly in a twisted ritual.
He wants me to think this is some kind of noble act, he frames it as almost superheroic. The evil prick knows how I feel, knows that I see the blood on my hands every day, and would kill ( possibly literally) for some way to atone.
Is it a play? I honestly don’t think so, something about how eager the twisted thing is, about how he’s treating the situation as a buyer’s market makes me think something about this makes it important to him.
He offers me everything besides safety and protection. I’m desperate for help, but I have no way to hold him to any agreement.
So the thought rolls around in my mind, staving off the few hours of sleep I get.
“Okay, so, I have it on good authority that tea is supposed to taste better over here. What the hell is wrong with this? “ I say, sitting around an outside table with Sylvia, Dafydd and Colin.
Sylvia smiles, “ Barium, calcium, and a touch of castor oil. “
I look at the brew, then at her.
“If I had told you when you got here you need to drink that to mitigate the effects of working with void touched objects and creatures, you’d have assumed the worst, and found a way to avoid drinking it.
Good to see you becoming more perceptive though. “ Sylvia explains.
“That’s called paranoia, Syl. “ I reply.
She laughs, lighting a cigarette.
“Do you know why I’ve let you figure things out on your own? “ The ancient woman asks.
“Accepted? Yes. Understood, not in the slightest. “ I answer, wondering what sadist invented the scone.
“It’s because I need a leader. Someone who can understand, not a boy who puts his head down and listens to orders.
Someone who can make their own decisions when the time comes.
And I think that time is coming soon. “ Her statement feels like a question.
“If I chose to be here I’d be honored.” I counter.
“That attitude on the other hand… needs work.
Nikolas, today, we talk about what’s really going on.
We play a role in a much larger organization, us, and other families like us, are the ‘boots on the ground’ so to speak.
Our job is not to capture creatures, or horde esoteric goods. We do not foil the schemes of demons, nor blind those who look too deeply into the abyss.
We’re given information about events that could steer the path of humanity into a brick wall. And our job is to make sure they don’t happen. “ Sylvia reveals.
“Something is happening with these fights? “ I ask.
“As I said, perceptive.
Yes, it could be next week, it could be in a decade or two. Right now, we know very little about it, other than when it happens, it would be in our best interests to be of a high standing in the pits. “ She replies.
I absorb the information, and t drug laced tea in equal measure. As I do, I feel something, I feel I’m a part of what’s going on.
This is going to sound dumb as hell, but up until this point I hadn’t been taking things seriously. Don’t get me wrong, death is on the table, and I was trying to avoid that. But I was just treading water, hoping something or someone came by and to get me out of this situation.
But as Syl lays things out, I start to think of my place here, what I can be doing to better my state.
“Here is the part where you avoid telling me why you couldn’t have used anyone around here. “ I prod.
I keep her gaze, Colin and Dafydd shift uncomfortably.
“Augustus, he’s a tricky one. But a very lucky find for us.
I’ve tried 2 others. A boy and a girl, both I practically raised.
Marco, he was a warrior. But the demon got in his head. There was nothing that could be done beyond end his suffering.
Zelma, I won’t talk about.
That thing, it has a way of turning someone’s best traits against them. You, are a blank slate, but you’re family. You’re my best guess as to how we can use him to our advantage.
And this is why I need you, not to listen, but to understand. To see what’s happening, and make your own decisions. If I were to give you my knowledge, if I were to arm you with the best weapons, and the most powerful esoteric objects I know. He’d just have more to turn against you. “ Sylvia’s revelation scares me and puts a massive weight on my shoulders all at the same time.
Confidence and fear are both dangerous emotions. The two of them are almost like drugs in a way.
After eight months of mainlining fear, the tiny line of confidence Sylvia gave me, went straight to my head.
Trenchcoat told me where to find a video file. And after a couple of weeks of running it through every possible test I could, to check for any kind of manipulation, supernatural or otherwise, I watched it.
I was confident that the world would be much better off without the people committing the vicious acts contained in those twenty minutes of footage.
A teenage view of morality, I admit. But what do you want, I’m a teenager.
We watch the abandoned house from across the street. It’s a dingy, urban blight affected suburb, that being said, how no one seems to notice the seven foot freak with me, I have no idea.
The kid inside smoking stolen cigarettes and illegally supplied booze is a husky young guy of about 14. The half dozen kids that show up a couple hours later look closer to my age, last couple of years of high school I’m guessing.
The way they get into the house tells me they’ve done this before. The backpacks they all carry tell me they’re there for a purpose.
“How fucking funny would it be if I just killed you here and took off? “ Trenchcoat says, looming behind me.
I tense.
“It’s a joke. Out of my whole rotten family, Art and I, are close. I’m not going anywhere.
Unfortunately for you. “ Trenchcoat shoves me to the ground as he walks toward the house.
We get in through a basement window, I fit easily, Trenchcoat contorts his body to fit through the thin opening, somehow doing so silently.
I keep hearing Sylvia in my head. Telling me how she needs someone that can make his own decisions.
As I stand in the litter strewn basement, beside a creature with child murder on it’s mind I question the decision that I made.
At first the illumination is dim, nothing more than scraps of moonlight filtered through splintered wood. But with an industrial click, suddenly a half dozen lightbulbs bathe the basement in harsh, yellowish light.
Harsh, but not harsh enough to cause the reaction I see from Trenchcoat.
He squints and tries, unsuccessfully to turn away from the lights. Something about them is causing him discomfort. I get my hopes up for a moment he’s going to burst into flame or turn into dust or something, but no dice.
The sight of the walking nightmare looking pained and confused makes me panic. But before I can think of how I fucked up, I hear a voice.
The room, by the sounds of it, the entire house, has been rigged with speakers. Cleverly recessed in sconces and corners.
“Augi, long time no see. And I see you brought a little Renfield fella with you. “ The voice is modulated, Trenchcoat looks curious for a moment.
“Who, is this? You that clown that’s been fucking with Art?” He guesses.
The voice laughs, “Nope.
Who I am, is a guy who managed to find a few boxes of lightbulbs from ’93.
Then again, with eBay, that could make me just about anyone. “
Trenchcoat turns and looks toward the window we came in. He reaches a hand toward it, stopping a few inches away.
“That’s fucking interesting. “ He says, eyes darting around the room.
“Isn’t it though? “ The voice replies, clearly hearing the creature’s whisper, “ Tonight you get the pay for centuries of the worst shit committed by man or beast. I’ve made sure of that. No one in this house is going anywhere for the next 8 hours.
I’m sure the rest of the houseguests are pretty confused as to what’s going on. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let me give you the Cliff’s notes.
You kids have been killing a monster a year for half a decade. You were the perfect bait, and I have faith you’ll be able to outwit Augi long enough to make it out of here.
If not, you’ll still have helped kill one of the worst things to walk the face of the earth. “
“What the hell is he talking about? “ I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?
Yeah, these kids are more Scooby gang than Manson family. Don’t blame me for the fact it only took an out of context exorcism video and some promises of making things right with the universe to get you on board with killing them. “ Trenchcoat spits.
I feel afraid, stupid and small. Which is to say, lately, business as usual.
I begin to break lightbulbs, I notice no runes, or anything else that would indicate they have any kind of supernatural origin.
As the basement dims, Trenchcoat starts to breathe easier.
“What’s going on, what stopped you from leaving? “ I ask.
“This little shit is playing The Game. “ Trenchcoat says to himself as much as to me. He looks deep in thought, inspecting the glass from the bulbs.
“What are you talking about? “ I say, my voice cracking slightly.
I hear noises upstairs, frantic foot falls. Indecipherable shouting.
Trenchcoat turns to me, exasperated and filled with anger.
“You’ve heard of ‘Rules’ right? All that ‘Don’t turn left on East street at 3:24 am kind of shit? “ The creature starts, “More and more of them popping up lately. Can’t miss the things.
Well, your kind seems great at finding them, but fucking awful at figuring out what they are. It’s not someone’s new job, or creepy school. The answer is so damned simple, but all of you’ve missed it.
It's a game. It’s, The Game.
It’s ran by the thickest branches of my family tree, and the stakes are high enough even I don’t really understand.
And whoever has us here, he’s weaponized it. The crazy fuck. “
“Call on your family for help then. “ I say, starting to deal with the fear and confusion.
“You first. “ Is Trenchcoat’s reply.
I get his point, and for a twisted, shitty moment, I find myself relating to the murderous thing I’ve been saddled with.
“So what’s the plan? “ I ask.
“Get my hands on whoever’s been stalking me. Between A and B, probably kill those little do-gooders upstairs out of spite.
I need you to circumvent rules we come across. Humans need to agree to follow the rules, it’s why people encounter them in jobs and schools so much. I’m not human, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t get a choice. “ I’m shaking my head as Augustus relates his plan.
“We’re not hurting those kids. “ I say defiantly.
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.
But I’m a God damned child killing monster, bud! How long is that going to take to sink the fuck in?
Me not doing what I do, isn’t like giving up smokes. Think of it like not having a slash for months on end. Sooner or later, like it or not, I’m either finding a bathroom or pissing my pants. “ the rant scares me, but it makes me think.
Something about Augustus, it seems very, 90’s. Whoever was on the speakers was talking about the lightbulbs being from ’93. I’m picking up on a very distinct pattern.
I file that information with the rest of the disconnected lore I’ve managed to find on Trenchcoat as I follow him up the steep, narrow set of stairs.
He whips the thin wood door open, taking an aggressive, lurching step into the livingroom beyond. Surely ready to dispense too far quips and limitless violence, as per usual.
But that doesn’t happen, his rage filled scowl turns into a look of resignation, “Fuck”, is the monster’s last word before he disappears.
I cautiously walk up the loose splinter ridden stairs, expecting Augustus to be waiting around the corner, or engaged in combat with some other horror.
But once I get to the top, there’s nothing more sinister than a livingroom covered in dust and graffiti strewn with old bottles and new stains.
I know my chance when I see it. The particle board sealing the bay window is rotten, the glass long since broken.
No monster, no crazy family, I’ll take my chances with the streets of the U. K.
I tap the crumbling wood with a foot, it rattles, it won’t take much to make a hole.
I line up a kick, freedom no more than a quarter inch of rotten wood away.
“I wouldn’t do that. “ Says a voice behind me, male, around my age I’d guess, but with a confidence that makes me listen, “ Rigged with a load of C4 in the window frame.
Don’t take my word for it, guy wasn’t very subtle. ”
Sure enough, I see small wires running along the edges of the frame and embedded in the particle board.
I turn around, the six people standing in front of me have a vibe I can only describe as severe.
“Are we going to have issues? “ a slight, dark skinned guy asks.
“You making threats? “ I reply.
“No, he isn’t. “ it’s the same voice that warned me about the explosives. It belongs to a squared jawed kid with short black hair, he’s wearing a grey hoodie, and separates himself from the group. “ Call me Kent, and I’m in charge of making threats.
Sid, he’s our people person, he’s just trying to see if you’re someone we need to worry about. “
“We don’t have time to figure this kid out, leave him. “ a short, ginger girl says.
“Ami, why don’t I stay out of equipment, and you and Kent let me figure this kid out?” Sid says.
“I’m Nik. “ I volunteer.
“Good to meet you Nik. “ Sid says, walking around Kent, “Didn’t mean to start things off on the wrong foot.
We’ve just gotten used to doing these kinds of things in our own way over the past bit. We get a little… weird around this time of year if I’m being honest. “
I nod, apprehensive at giving any kind of detailed response.
“Derik” says a tall, pale guy, “ Research. “
“Liam. “ a tanned boy in a flannel shirt and deep blue jeans tells me, “ Oxford doesn’t talk, accident a couple of years back. I’m logistics, he figures spooky shit out. “
Oxford is thin and bald, his face looks much older than it should. Like he’s the victim of some kind of wasting disease.
Telling these kids the truth would be, complicated. And something about their war vet demeanor, makes me want to keep things simple.
So I give them a version of the truth. One where I was plucked from my room by Trenchcoat, and brought here for a slow death.
They buy it. I think.
“Well, I don’t know what this Jigsaw wannabe has planned, but trust me when I say, it can’t be much worse than the things we’ve went through. “ Kent says, trying to be reassuring.
“Just, one more thing. “ Sid begins, “ Why all the scars? “
I know I’ve won most of the group over, but I don’t like the look Sid is giving me.
“Work on a farm, on top of that, the family owns an auction. Lots of bent steel and splinters, what can I say? “ I say, trying to sound casual.
“Fair enough, that accent though. “ Sid’s look becomes almost predatory as he talks.
“Immigration my guy. What’s with the third degree? “ I reply.
“We’ve just met and I’ve only asked three questions.
Humor me here though.
You get taken in the night by that thing that winked out of existence.
Seems pretty nice of him to let you put on shoes. “ Sid lets his statement hang.
Kent turns, I don’t like where this is going. Panic and fear start to well up.
“What’re you thinking Sid? “ Kent asks.
“Kid’s lying. But he’s good at it. “ Sid answers.
“You saying this has turned into a, me, situation? “ Kent’s question starts a deep pit in my stomach.
“I don’t know if we need to go that far. But I don’t like the idea of him having seen our faces. I think this is a Liam situation. “ As Sid says this I look to Liam, who already seems deep in thought.
“Local cops will back our story, but he could go beyond them.
We tie him up until all of this is done, and we get some video of him putting a blade into the body upstairs. He goes telling any stories, it’s us and the locals versus some Yank on video stabbing the kid. “ Liam suggests.
I tried to fight, it went, embarrassingly. Kent had me on the ground in some kind of arm lock in about a second.
I’m bound to an old wooden chair with electrical cords, dragged into a room on the second floor where the chubby kid from before lays face down in a coagulated pool of his own blood. Surrounded by the trappings of misspent youth.
The door locks, and I stare at the corpse, wondering what in the hell went on up here, and in what universe are these psychopaths anything other than what they seemed on screen.
Time becomes almost malleable. I’m terrified to the point where every moment seems to stretch out forever.
Then, I hear it. A wet, organic noise. It starts below the body, and slowly starts to spread.
After a minute or two, the body starts to jerk and twitch. The room is dim as hell, but some kind of ropey, flesh-like substance, is sealing off the door.
I watch as the corpse clumsily gets to it’s feet. It’s skin pale, it’s throat slit to the point of near decapitation.
The head falls backward, obscenely with a small spurt of thick blood.
I scream, I thought I’d been getting used to being face to face with monsters. But fully bound, inches away from a kid that seems to be filled with a twisting mass of barbed, writhing, intestine like tentacles, I realize I’m not used to shit.
The ropey mass forms the barest suggestion of features, a shifting, lumpen mass of ever moving tendrils coming from what used to be the kid’s neck.
The sound spreads more, cracks in the floorboards and walls begin to show hints of the tendrils filling them in like spray foam.
No one is hearing my screams, or if they are, they have no interest in helping.
Ever wonder how you’d handle torture? I think if you’re the kind of person to be reading this, it’s likely you have.
I started by pissing myself.
The second the thin tendril touches my hand, I feel a blinding, flensing pain. I can do nothing but watch, as thousands of nearly hair thin spines tear and consume my flesh. As it slowly, almost, curiously makes it’s way up my arm, it leaves a bloodless, scarred furrow about an eighth of an inch deep.
My second reaction was to lose any pretense at defiance or dignity. I thrash and scream, beg and offer. All of this turning into choked sobs as the thing starts to do much of the same with another tendril.
It felt like I was in hell, every inch of me nothing more than a canvas for this artist of misery.
But pain, it can only go so far. Whether we’re talking about my tolerance, or this thing’s interest.
Mutilation, the brutal wedding of pain and loss. That was it’s next step.
A thick, almost centipede like tendril sits on my pinky like a hot iron. I can only watch in horror as I see fat, then muscle, then bone, then, nothing.
My voice shreds, I tear my wrists and ankles trying desperately to break the expertly tied wires.
My mind is at the breaking point, the creature in front of my makes a terrible, high pitched keening I assume is laughter.
My body is a roadmap of scarred pits and lines. My hand sports a cleanly severed finger. Fuck me, I wish things ended there.
Of all the important parts of the human body, the eye, tends to feel the least pain. Which isn’t to say, as I watched the greedy, grasping claws slowly take pieces of one of mine, it didn’t hurt, but the worst part, was knowing what was happening.
The vision in my left eye begins to distort at first, the edges getting blurry, then going dark. Bit by bit, chunk by irreplaceable chunk, the creature takes half my vision.
I can feel the shifting air on the bare socket, to call what I’m doing screaming, would be understating things to the point of absurdity.
My brain reels at what has just happened. I can feel my grip on reality begin to loosen, pain, worse than can bare, loss of half my sight, it’s too much.
My brain feels filled with static, for a few brief moments I swear, I can hear someone, a voice, trying to tell me something.
But then, a smell hits me. Something so foul, so alien, it yanks me back from the brink of disassociation. I gag and choke, as the air becomes thick with the rotten, chemical reek.
Then, I see it, I see, him.
As randomly as he disappeared, in an instant Trenchcoat is in the room.
He’s torn apart, wounds so deep and ragged, I can see the door on the other side of the room through the worst of them.
One arm is a twisted, broken mess, the flesh jacket torn to shreds of necrotic tissue.
The look on his face is panic, paranoia. A rictus grin of someone that has been kept on his toes for entirely too long.
He trembles and heaves, looking like he could fall over at any second.
He points his good arm at the tendril creature, who I notice has a too familiar eye suspended in it’s shifting features.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the motherfucker who just made me kill my favorite cousin, would you? “ Trenchcoat asks, his voice cracked, and strained.
He gets a confused keening in response.
“Bad day for you then. “ Augustus says.
There is no style to his violence, Trenchcoat grabs the shifting mass, his wicked, claw tipped fingers angling themselves in tendrils. As he lifts the thing, floorboards break, and it’s torn free from the root-like system it was creating in the room.
Three brutal slams cover me in ichor and pieces of creature. Trenchcoat tosses the mewling, twitching pile in a corner and looks at me with disgust.
“You let that thing do this to you? Fuckin’ pathetic, bud.
And who tied you up? “ The nightmare I’ve been cursed with chides me.
“The kids downstairs. “ I say only now realizing I’ve still been sobbing.
One handed, Trenchcoat snaps the wires, then stumbles backward, slowly sliding down the wall.
He coughs, grey, bloody phlegm hitting the ground.
“So, what’s the play here? If this shit broke you, I could use the spare parts, if not, well, you know what the Bible says.
An eye for an eye. “ Trenchcoat grins as he talks, nearly on the brink of death.
And that’s where I think I’m going to leave things. Because, honestly I don’t know what I’m choosing.
I’m mutilated, half blind, using too much of my energy typing to strangers online about things because, I’m so fucking alone here.
If you hear from me again, I hope I made the right move. If not, take this as a lesson on what happens when you screw around with the occult.

For anyone who wants to see how I got into this situation.
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/s/R0DAycoVIm
“In what universe would I ever do you a favor? “ I say, sweeping the floor of the reinforced barn.
“It’s not a favor, it’s a trade, bud.
What do you want in return? “ Trenchcoat asks from within the coffin-like cage.
“To be back home, 8 months ago. “ I reply.
Over the past few weeks I’ve managed to integrate myself into the day to day life on the farm. Things are still a grim, horrifying slog, but with every day it gets a bit easier to deal with.
“Give me something I can do. “ The creature pleads.
“Why, so I can wind up on the end of another ‘ Gotcha’ moment? I’m good. “ is my answer.
A few minutes of silence go by, Augustus breaks it.
“I don’t know many secrets of the universe. Facts, not really my bag. But I know a couple.
How about I share one with you?
No one, not the pope, not my brother, not the shit-bird perched on the highest branch of my twisted family tree, knows what happens when you die.
Some of us never will, of course. Others have ways of avoiding it, but at the end of the day, when the lights truly go out, we know next to nothing.
We do know one thing though. There is judgement, by who? Who knows? Why? Not important.
But at the end of the day, if your battery can’t be recharged, you really want to be thinking about how many marks are on each side of the ledger. “
I don’t reply, and for the next hour or so I ignore the pleading and hinting Trenchcoat does.
But that night, as I sip acidic tea, and try to get a handle on how in the fuck old televisions function, his offer is at the forefront of my mind.
He wants to kill, specifically 6 teenagers who, according to him, have been murdering classmates yearly in a twisted ritual.
He wants me to think this is some kind of noble act, he frames it as almost superheroic. The evil prick knows how I feel, knows that I see the blood on my hands every day, and would kill ( possibly literally) for some way to atone.
Is it a play? I honestly don’t think so, something about how eager the twisted thing is, about how he’s treating the situation as a buyer’s market makes me think something about this makes it important to him.
He offers me everything besides safety and protection. I’m desperate for help, but I have no way to hold him to any agreement.
So the thought rolls around in my mind, staving off the few hours of sleep I get.
“Okay, so, I have it on good authority that tea is supposed to taste better over here. What the hell is wrong with this? “ I say, sitting around an outside table with Sylvia, Dafydd and Colin.
Sylvia smiles, “ Barium, calcium, and a touch of castor oil. “
I look at the brew, then at her.
“If I had told you when you got here you need to drink that to mitigate the effects of working with void touched objects and creatures, you’d have assumed the worst, and found a way to avoid drinking it.
Good to see you becoming more perceptive though. “ Sylvia explains.
“That’s called paranoia, Syl. “ I reply.
She laughs, lighting a cigarette.
“Do you know why I’ve let you figure things out on your own? “ The ancient woman asks.
“Accepted? Yes. Understood, not in the slightest. “ I answer, wondering what sadist invented the scone.
“It’s because I need a leader. Someone who can understand, not a boy who puts his head down and listens to orders.
Someone who can make their own decisions when the time comes.
And I think that time is coming soon. “ Her statement feels like a question.
“If I chose to be here I’d be honored.” I counter.
“That attitude on the other hand… needs work.
Nikolas, today, we talk about what’s really going on.
We play a role in a much larger organization, us, and other families like us, are the ‘boots on the ground’ so to speak.
Our job is not to capture creatures, or horde esoteric goods. We do not foil the schemes of demons, nor blind those who look too deeply into the abyss.
We’re given information about events that could steer the path of humanity into a brick wall. And our job is to make sure they don’t happen. “ Sylvia reveals.
“Something is happening with these fights? “ I ask.
“As I said, perceptive.
Yes, it could be next week, it could be in a decade or two. Right now, we know very little about it, other than when it happens, it would be in our best interests to be of a high standing in the pits. “ She replies.
I absorb the information, and t drug laced tea in equal measure. As I do, I feel something, I feel I’m a part of what’s going on.
This is going to sound dumb as hell, but up until this point I hadn’t been taking things seriously. Don’t get me wrong, death is on the table, and I was trying to avoid that. But I was just treading water, hoping something or someone came by and to get me out of this situation.
But as Syl lays things out, I start to think of my place here, what I can be doing to better my state.
“Here is the part where you avoid telling me why you couldn’t have used anyone around here. “ I prod.
I keep her gaze, Colin and Dafydd shift uncomfortably.
“Augustus, he’s a tricky one. But a very lucky find for us.
I’ve tried 2 others. A boy and a girl, both I practically raised.
Marco, he was a warrior. But the demon got in his head. There was nothing that could be done beyond end his suffering.
Zelma, I won’t talk about.
That thing, it has a way of turning someone’s best traits against them. You, are a blank slate, but you’re family. You’re my best guess as to how we can use him to our advantage.
And this is why I need you, not to listen, but to understand. To see what’s happening, and make your own decisions. If I were to give you my knowledge, if I were to arm you with the best weapons, and the most powerful esoteric objects I know. He’d just have more to turn against you. “ Sylvia’s revelation scares me and puts a massive weight on my shoulders all at the same time.
Confidence and fear are both dangerous emotions. The two of them are almost like drugs in a way.
After eight months of mainlining fear, the tiny line of confidence Sylvia gave me, went straight to my head.
Trenchcoat told me where to find a video file. And after a couple of weeks of running it through every possible test I could, to check for any kind of manipulation, supernatural or otherwise, I watched it.
I was confident that the world would be much better off without the people committing the vicious acts contained in those twenty minutes of footage.
A teenage view of morality, I admit. But what do you want, I’m a teenager.
We watch the abandoned house from across the street. It’s a dingy, urban blight affected suburb, that being said, how no one seems to notice the seven foot freak with me, I have no idea.
The kid inside smoking stolen cigarettes and illegally supplied booze is a husky young guy of about 14. The half dozen kids that show up a couple hours later look closer to my age, last couple of years of high school I’m guessing.
The way they get into the house tells me they’ve done this before. The backpacks they all carry tell me they’re there for a purpose.
“How fucking funny would it be if I just killed you here and took off? “ Trenchcoat says, looming behind me.
I tense.
“It’s a joke. Out of my whole rotten family, Art and I, are close. I’m not going anywhere.
Unfortunately for you. “ Trenchcoat shoves me to the ground as he walks toward the house.
We get in through a basement window, I fit easily, Trenchcoat contorts his body to fit through the thin opening, somehow doing so silently.
I keep hearing Sylvia in my head. Telling me how she needs someone that can make his own decisions.
As I stand in the litter strewn basement, beside a creature with child murder on it’s mind I question the decision that I made.
At first the illumination is dim, nothing more than scraps of moonlight filtered through splintered wood. But with an industrial click, suddenly a half dozen lightbulbs bathe the basement in harsh, yellowish light.
Harsh, but not harsh enough to cause the reaction I see from Trenchcoat.
He squints and tries, unsuccessfully to turn away from the lights. Something about them is causing him discomfort. I get my hopes up for a moment he’s going to burst into flame or turn into dust or something, but no dice.
The sight of the walking nightmare looking pained and confused makes me panic. But before I can think of how I fucked up, I hear a voice.
The room, by the sounds of it, the entire house, has been rigged with speakers. Cleverly recessed in sconces and corners.
“Augi, long time no see. And I see you brought a little Renfield fella with you. “ The voice is modulated, Trenchcoat looks curious for a moment.
“Who, is this? You that clown that’s been fucking with Art?” He guesses.
The voice laughs, “Nope.
Who I am, is a guy who managed to find a few boxes of lightbulbs from ’93.
Then again, with eBay, that could make me just about anyone. “
Trenchcoat turns and looks toward the window we came in. He reaches a hand toward it, stopping a few inches away.
“That’s fucking interesting. “ He says, eyes darting around the room.
“Isn’t it though? “ The voice replies, clearly hearing the creature’s whisper, “ Tonight you get the pay for centuries of the worst shit committed by man or beast. I’ve made sure of that. No one in this house is going anywhere for the next 8 hours.
I’m sure the rest of the houseguests are pretty confused as to what’s going on. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let me give you the Cliff’s notes.
You kids have been killing a monster a year for half a decade. You were the perfect bait, and I have faith you’ll be able to outwit Augi long enough to make it out of here.
If not, you’ll still have helped kill one of the worst things to walk the face of the earth. “
“What the hell is he talking about? “ I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?
Yeah, these kids are more Scooby gang than Manson family. Don’t blame me for the fact it only took an out of context exorcism video and some promises of making things right with the universe to get you on board with killing them. “ Trenchcoat spits.
I feel afraid, stupid and small. Which is to say, lately, business as usual.
I begin to break lightbulbs, I notice no runes, or anything else that would indicate they have any kind of supernatural origin.
As the basement dims, Trenchcoat starts to breathe easier.
“What’s going on, what stopped you from leaving? “ I ask.
“This little shit is playing The Game. “ Trenchcoat says to himself as much as to me. He looks deep in thought, inspecting the glass from the bulbs.
“What are you talking about? “ I say, my voice cracking slightly.
I hear noises upstairs, frantic foot falls. Indecipherable shouting.
Trenchcoat turns to me, exasperated and filled with anger.
“You’ve heard of ‘Rules’ right? All that ‘Don’t turn left on East street at 3:24 am kind of shit? “ The creature starts, “More and more of them popping up lately. Can’t miss the things.
Well, your kind seems great at finding them, but fucking awful at figuring out what they are. It’s not someone’s new job, or creepy school. The answer is so damned simple, but all of you’ve missed it.
It's a game. It’s, The Game.
It’s ran by the thickest branches of my family tree, and the stakes are high enough even I don’t really understand.
And whoever has us here, he’s weaponized it. The crazy fuck. “
“Call on your family for help then. “ I say, starting to deal with the fear and confusion.
“You first. “ Is Trenchcoat’s reply.
I get his point, and for a twisted, shitty moment, I find myself relating to the murderous thing I’ve been saddled with.
“So what’s the plan? “ I ask.
“Get my hands on whoever’s been stalking me. Between A and B, probably kill those little do-gooders upstairs out of spite.
I need you to circumvent rules we come across. Humans need to agree to follow the rules, it’s why people encounter them in jobs and schools so much. I’m not human, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t get a choice. “ I’m shaking my head as Augustus relates his plan.
“We’re not hurting those kids. “ I say defiantly.
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.
But I’m a God damned child killing monster, bud! How long is that going to take to sink the fuck in?
Me not doing what I do, isn’t like giving up smokes. Think of it like not having a slash for months on end. Sooner or later, like it or not, I’m either finding a bathroom or pissing my pants. “ the rant scares me, but it makes me think.
Something about Augustus, it seems very, 90’s. Whoever was on the speakers was talking about the lightbulbs being from ’93. I’m picking up on a very distinct pattern.
I file that information with the rest of the disconnected lore I’ve managed to find on Trenchcoat as I follow him up the steep, narrow set of stairs.
He whips the thin wood door open, taking an aggressive, lurching step into the livingroom beyond. Surely ready to dispense too far quips and limitless violence, as per usual.
But that doesn’t happen, his rage filled scowl turns into a look of resignation, “Fuck”, is the monster’s last word before he disappears.
I cautiously walk up the loose splinter ridden stairs, expecting Augustus to be waiting around the corner, or engaged in combat with some other horror.
But once I get to the top, there’s nothing more sinister than a livingroom covered in dust and graffiti strewn with old bottles and new stains.
I know my chance when I see it. The particle board sealing the bay window is rotten, the glass long since broken.
No monster, no crazy family, I’ll take my chances with the streets of the U. K.
I tap the crumbling wood with a foot, it rattles, it won’t take much to make a hole.
I line up a kick, freedom no more than a quarter inch of rotten wood away.
“I wouldn’t do that. “ Says a voice behind me, male, around my age I’d guess, but with a confidence that makes me listen, “ Rigged with a load of C4 in the window frame.
Don’t take my word for it, guy wasn’t very subtle. ”
Sure enough, I see small wires running along the edges of the frame and embedded in the particle board.
I turn around, the six people standing in front of me have a vibe I can only describe as severe.
“Are we going to have issues? “ a slight, dark skinned guy asks.
“You making threats? “ I reply.
“No, he isn’t. “ it’s the same voice that warned me about the explosives. It belongs to a squared jawed kid with short black hair, he’s wearing a grey hoodie, and separates himself from the group. “ Call me Kent, and I’m in charge of making threats.
Sid, he’s our people person, he’s just trying to see if you’re someone we need to worry about. “
“We don’t have time to figure this kid out, leave him. “ a short, ginger girl says.
“Ami, why don’t I stay out of equipment, and you and Kent let me figure this kid out?” Sid says.
“I’m Nik. “ I volunteer.
“Good to meet you Nik. “ Sid says, walking around Kent, “Didn’t mean to start things off on the wrong foot.
We’ve just gotten used to doing these kinds of things in our own way over the past bit. We get a little… weird around this time of year if I’m being honest. “
I nod, apprehensive at giving any kind of detailed response.
“Derik” says a tall, pale guy, “ Research. “
“Liam. “ a tanned boy in a flannel shirt and deep blue jeans tells me, “ Oxford doesn’t talk, accident a couple of years back. I’m logistics, he figures spooky shit out. “
Oxford is thin and bald, his face looks much older than it should. Like he’s the victim of some kind of wasting disease.
Telling these kids the truth would be, complicated. And something about their war vet demeanor, makes me want to keep things simple.
So I give them a version of the truth. One where I was plucked from my room by Trenchcoat, and brought here for a slow death.
They buy it. I think.
“Well, I don’t know what this Jigsaw wannabe has planned, but trust me when I say, it can’t be much worse than the things we’ve went through. “ Kent says, trying to be reassuring.
“Just, one more thing. “ Sid begins, “ Why all the scars? “
I know I’ve won most of the group over, but I don’t like the look Sid is giving me.
“Work on a farm, on top of that, the family owns an auction. Lots of bent steel and splinters, what can I say? “ I say, trying to sound casual.
“Fair enough, that accent though. “ Sid’s look becomes almost predatory as he talks.
“Immigration my guy. What’s with the third degree? “ I reply.
“We’ve just met and I’ve only asked three questions.
Humor me here though.
You get taken in the night by that thing that winked out of existence.
Seems pretty nice of him to let you put on shoes. “ Sid lets his statement hang.
Kent turns, I don’t like where this is going. Panic and fear start to well up.
“What’re you thinking Sid? “ Kent asks.
“Kid’s lying. But he’s good at it. “ Sid answers.
“You saying this has turned into a, me, situation? “ Kent’s question starts a deep pit in my stomach.
“I don’t know if we need to go that far. But I don’t like the idea of him having seen our faces. I think this is a Liam situation. “ As Sid says this I look to Liam, who already seems deep in thought.
“Local cops will back our story, but he could go beyond them.
We tie him up until all of this is done, and we get some video of him putting a blade into the body upstairs. He goes telling any stories, it’s us and the locals versus some Yank on video stabbing the kid. “ Liam suggests.
I tried to fight, it went, embarrassingly. Kent had me on the ground in some kind of arm lock in about a second.
I’m bound to an old wooden chair with electrical cords, dragged into a room on the second floor where the chubby kid from before lays face down in a coagulated pool of his own blood. Surrounded by the trappings of misspent youth.
The door locks, and I stare at the corpse, wondering what in the hell went on up here, and in what universe are these psychopaths anything other than what they seemed on screen.
Time becomes almost malleable. I’m terrified to the point where every moment seems to stretch out forever.
Then, I hear it. A wet, organic noise. It starts below the body, and slowly starts to spread.
After a minute or two, the body starts to jerk and twitch. The room is dim as hell, but some kind of ropey, flesh-like substance, is sealing off the door.
I watch as the corpse clumsily gets to it’s feet. It’s skin pale, it’s throat slit to the point of near decapitation.
The head falls backward, obscenely with a small spurt of thick blood.
I scream, I thought I’d been getting used to being face to face with monsters. But fully bound, inches away from a kid that seems to be filled with a twisting mass of barbed, writhing, intestine like tentacles, I realize I’m not used to shit.
The ropey mass forms the barest suggestion of features, a shifting, lumpen mass of ever moving tendrils coming from what used to be the kid’s neck.
The sound spreads more, cracks in the floorboards and walls begin to show hints of the tendrils filling them in like spray foam.
No one is hearing my screams, or if they are, they have no interest in helping.
Ever wonder how you’d handle torture? I think if you’re the kind of person to be reading this, it’s likely you have.
I started by pissing myself.
The second the thin tendril touches my hand, I feel a blinding, flensing pain. I can do nothing but watch, as thousands of nearly hair thin spines tear and consume my flesh. As it slowly, almost, curiously makes it’s way up my arm, it leaves a bloodless, scarred furrow about an eighth of an inch deep.
My second reaction was to lose any pretense at defiance or dignity. I thrash and scream, beg and offer. All of this turning into choked sobs as the thing starts to do much of the same with another tendril.
It felt like I was in hell, every inch of me nothing more than a canvas for this artist of misery.
But pain, it can only go so far. Whether we’re talking about my tolerance, or this thing’s interest.
Mutilation, the brutal wedding of pain and loss. That was it’s next step.
A thick, almost centipede like tendril sits on my pinky like a hot iron. I can only watch in horror as I see fat, then muscle, then bone, then, nothing.
My voice shreds, I tear my wrists and ankles trying desperately to break the expertly tied wires.
My mind is at the breaking point, the creature in front of my makes a terrible, high pitched keening I assume is laughter.
My body is a roadmap of scarred pits and lines. My hand sports a cleanly severed finger. Fuck me, I wish things ended there.
Of all the important parts of the human body, the eye, tends to feel the least pain. Which isn’t to say, as I watched the greedy, grasping claws slowly take pieces of one of mine, it didn’t hurt, but the worst part, was knowing what was happening.
The vision in my left eye begins to distort at first, the edges getting blurry, then going dark. Bit by bit, chunk by irreplaceable chunk, the creature takes half my vision.
I can feel the shifting air on the bare socket, to call what I’m doing screaming, would be understating things to the point of absurdity.
My brain reels at what has just happened. I can feel my grip on reality begin to loosen, pain, worse than can bare, loss of half my sight, it’s too much.
My brain feels filled with static, for a few brief moments I swear, I can hear someone, a voice, trying to tell me something.
But then, a smell hits me. Something so foul, so alien, it yanks me back from the brink of disassociation. I gag and choke, as the air becomes thick with the rotten, chemical reek.
Then, I see it, I see, him.
As randomly as he disappeared, in an instant Trenchcoat is in the room.
He’s torn apart, wounds so deep and ragged, I can see the door on the other side of the room through the worst of them.
One arm is a twisted, broken mess, the flesh jacket torn to shreds of necrotic tissue.
The look on his face is panic, paranoia. A rictus grin of someone that has been kept on his toes for entirely too long.
He trembles and heaves, looking like he could fall over at any second.
He points his good arm at the tendril creature, who I notice has a too familiar eye suspended in it’s shifting features.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the motherfucker who just made me kill my favorite cousin, would you? “ Trenchcoat asks, his voice cracked, and strained.
He gets a confused keening in response.
“Bad day for you then. “ Augustus says.
There is no style to his violence, Trenchcoat grabs the shifting mass, his wicked, claw tipped fingers angling themselves in tendrils. As he lifts the thing, floorboards break, and it’s torn free from the root-like system it was creating in the room.
Three brutal slams cover me in ichor and pieces of creature. Trenchcoat tosses the mewling, twitching pile in a corner and looks at me with disgust.
“You let that thing do this to you? Fuckin’ pathetic, bud.
And who tied you up? “ The nightmare I’ve been cursed with chides me.
“The kids downstairs. “ I say only now realizing I’ve still been sobbing.
One handed, Trenchcoat snaps the wires, then stumbles backward, slowly sliding down the wall.
He coughs, grey, bloody phlegm hitting the ground.
“So, what’s the play here? If this shit broke you, I could use the spare parts, if not, well, you know what the Bible says.
An eye for an eye. “ Trenchcoat grins as he talks, nearly on the brink of death.
And that’s where I think I’m going to leave things. Because, honestly I don’t know what I’m choosing.
I’m mutilated, half blind, using too much of my energy typing to strangers online about things because, I’m so fucking alone here.
If you hear from me again, I hope I made the right move. If not, take this as a lesson on what happens when you screw around with the occult.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The following two brain scans were provided by the Neuro-Warfare branch of the Halcyon Security Division (HSD) for the purpose of analyzing the thoughts, behaviors, and information of notorious gangsters Vincent 'Troy' Cohen and Bruno (Deadname: Koraak Tel-Char). At the point of the recording of this archival shared, Bruno has since received his rebirth therapy, and Vincent is currently serving a long-term rehabilitative and reeducative sentence in the Erebus Supermax Prison on Io.
Warning: the contents of this archival shared may be especially disturbing to some audiences. Viewer discretion is advised.
Warning: the contents of this archival shard are for the sole purpose of analyzing the thought patterns and memories of certain degenerate criminals in an effort to ascertain vital information that can be used to eliminate their organizations. Only staff with clearance level Omega may view this archival shared, and the viewership of this archival shared by anyone of inadequate clearance level will lead to twenty years in prison and a fine of over a hundred thousand credits.
Booting up memory scan: Vincent 'Troy' Cohen, November 4th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Do you have visuals of the target, Troy?"
I knelt down in the alleyway, the bodies of me and my partners shrouded in long, waterproof, ashen-gray overcoats the shade of dirty street scum that we wore to ward off the constant heavy rainfall the color of osmium. Our faces were covered in a mix of scrapped respirators, visors, or full metal face masks carved with intricate designs to hide our identities. On our waists were our badges of honor: leather belts studded with interlocked rivets made from blackened titanium, each buckle forged of silver and shaped into the head of our gang's symbol, the black mamba. We hid amongst the shadows of the dark midday of Halcyon City, the heavy, oppressive rains blanketing the roads paved obsidian-black with asphalt and weathered concrete walkways. The street lamps were always on, like beacons of false hope in a storm of melancholy.
The city was dark and dreary as always, the planet of Proxima Centauri B, renamed Dawn's Lamentation over a century ago, orbited the red dwarf star of Proxima Centauri, and the atmosphere was thick with natural smog and ever-storming rain clouds. That didn't dissuade people from living here: there was plenty of money to be had for shrewd industrialists and hardworking pioneers, even in the urban sprawl. But that life also came with risks, especially for those on the bottom of the totem pole.
I was a ganger, and we were criminals; full stop. I won't assault you with some spiel about how we're the good guys fighting oppression because, at the end of the day, we could be just as bad, if not worse, than Halcyon's Security Division, or the HSD for short. We were traffickers, killers, extortionists, and money launderers. We dealt with everything from stolen tech and military-grade hardware to hard drugs and sentients.
Yes, sentients. We trafficked sentients, but not in the way you might think. They weren't prisoners, in fact, we were their saviors if they had the cash. We had developed a reputation for fighting the power, but it was still business: sure, freeing captives from the clutches of the Protectorate. The disruption of its many oppressive organizations held a certain satisfaction in my heart for sure, but we didn't help those who couldn't pay unless someone else paid on their behalf. It was about making sure me and my gang, my family, could live a decent life for another day.
It helped that most of us joined after leaving the state yard for partaking in acts of 'degeneracy' and 'anti-xenopet illegalities' as if those terms meant anything anymore other than that we were a threat to the local status quo. It was hard to pick up a job as a former inmate when even in something as harsh and backbreaking as a job in the iridium mines near the poles when the employment office had you blacklisted as a degenerate, which lead to the formation of many of the gangs: we needed to make a living somehow, and when all social programs were cut off from you unless you submitted for 're-education' and the only way to put food on the table was subverting, breaking, or even downright fighting the law, you did what you had to do or you died on the streets a scorned beggar.
It wasn't like the HSD made it easy for us on even a good day: the local HSD units were armed to the teeth with advanced, military-grade hardware that you'd often see on the front lines of the Second Authority War: armored assault transports, a myriad of advanced war droids, all sorts of chemical countermeasures that made tear gas seem like putting the garden hose on mist mode, and of course advanced firearms. Add that to the fact that they were authorized to use deadly force when they deemed it necessary and you had a ruthless, heartless, and nearly unstoppable enemy. But we could make that work: we weren't trying to stop them, just to withstand them.
"Yeah, I got eyes on the prize, Koraak; seven armored transports, two for droids, five for prisoners."
Today wasn't a day for a normal job: we were getting bolder, cockier, more ambitious. Our numbers had swelled for the last few years after the raid at Barnard's Star and the fall of the Blood Dragon Mafia. Their leader, Saito Yasuhide, had committed seppuku as their manor burned, and his twin sons had gone down fighting rather than allowing themselves to be captured simply to face a firing squad. In the aftermath, many of the family's associates had fled to the surrounding systems, and with the sheer size and scope of the criminal underworld found here, it was no wonder that many people who had developed skills of the less legal variety had decided to form ranks with the gangs, and with them they brought guns, tech, knowledge, contacts, and even something that we thought wasn't possible beforehand: a semblance of peace between the gangs, or at least the closest thing to peace that gangs could cultivate effectively. With the fall of the Blood Dragons, we saw the writing on the wall, and the writing couldn't have been clearer: work together or die together.
"Sounds like a massacre, Troy: are you sure we can handle seven?"
"We ain't got no choice, Cinder: this job's double the usual rate, and that's not including the weapons and gear we could scrounge if this goes well," I hissed, my eyes scanning for any resistance. There were at least four guards for each van, not to mention at least eight droids in total, meaning that we were already outnumbered, but we had the element of surprise: we could make it work. "So put your balls in your purse and get ready to spill some blood."
Koraak snorted at our antics, which sounded like someone pulling the ripcord on a lawnmower. He was a veteran Russu Corsair, and while his past of slaving, raiding, and killing was unsavory, so were the lives we'd lived, so who were we to judge? All we cared about was that he was a brutal and capable fighter and a loyal brother in arms. It turned out that being a ganger wasn't much different from being a Corsair: you lived and died by a code of honor, you fought to the death for your brothers, and you lived to die for the sake of your gang and your family, simple as that. In a strange, ironic way, it was an incredibly honest way of life: we were under no illusions as to what we were, what we did, and why we did it, and we'd long since accepted it. The Russu related to us in that aspect, in many ways I could respect, which is why I hated what the Protectorate was doing, and why I couldn't grasp how most of humanity could just collectively lose their marbles so long ago. What had happened for us to deem all other life below us in such a demeaning and infantilizing way?
The Russu were a race of tall, muscle-bound Saurians with avian features, and Koraak was no exception: reaching almost seven feet in height and weighing over four hundred and fifty pounds, he could be an absolute menace if he so desired. His skin was covered in stubby, knobby scales and dense plumage, with elegant feathers adorning the ridges along his back as well as his forearms, elbows, knees, and the crests on his head. He almost looked like how paleontologists described velociraptors, with razor-sharp talons, feathers shaded in vibrant greens, reds, and purples, and a maw full of sharp teeth, but at the tip of his snout was a sharp, beak-like growth meant for ripping flesh off the bone.
The Russu were strange as hell, but they also looked almost cute in the same way a fully grown alligator was cute: they were obviously dangerous, but humans would always have this innate desire to anthropomorphize them and to pet them for some inexplicable reason, although common sense usually prevented that, at least amongst the very few of us left that were sane.
"Shut up, Troy! All I'm saying is that that'll be rough, and you know it," hissed Cinder. Cinder was a tall black man whose coffee-colored skin was covered in tattoos. He wore an ebony mechanic's jumpsuit with metal inserts underneath his grimy overcoat covering his body and a faded black respirator on his face. His eyes were a startling blue that seemed sorely out of place, and his hair was braided into thick cornrows along his scalp. He wore a pair of heavy black combat boots and palmed his compact shotgun in his hands, the square barrel less than seven inches. Like a lot of the weapons the Black Mambas carried on their persons and dealt in, they fired caseless ammunition; in Cinder's case it was 16x40mm caseless shotshells filled with depleted uranium micro-flechetes no thicker than a toothpick. Cinder nervously fiddled with the detachable tube magazine underneath the barrel, his hands shaking. Despite the shit I have him, I didn't blame him for being anxious: I was anxious too, even if I refused to show it. The biting cold of unease and pessimism was in my stomach, and I ran all the way that this job could go wrong in my head over and over.
"Just hold yourself together, this ain't anything we haven't done before, there's just more of it," I reassured Cinder, "besides, we're not alone; we have reinforcements across the street. We'll make it out of this alive."
Cinder nodded almost absentmindedly, his eyes downcast and his breathing shallow. I turned from him and back to Koraak, who was making sure he had everything on his person; he had a synthetic leather bandoleer across his chest that contained the heavy eight guage depleted uranium slugs he kept loading and unloading into his much larger, longer, and more traditional shotgun he nicknamed ‘carnage’ and several leather straps that held his Tu'shan daggers: traditional Russu pyramidal blades forged from a silvery alloy with all three edges serrated and the tip barbed to leave behind horrible, gaping wounds that gushed blood. They were wickedly sharp and absolutely straight like a stiletto, and the hilts and pommels were beautifully decorated. He wore no clothes underneath his overcoat to cover the countless scars and blemishes he's earned in combat across his chest and abdomen, and instead of a normal respirator or visor, he simply wore a hood over his head and some traditional Russu facial armor to protect his mouth, eyes, and cheeks.
"You ready to fight, Koraak? The caravan will pick up and leave soon."
Koraak was silent for a moment before nodding, a human gesture he had picked up after serving as a soldier with the Black Mambas for years. "I'm always ready to fight," he said before lifting up his shotgun and aiming down the sights at the reinforced front wheels of the first armored car in the caravan. He exhaled and fired, the slug ripping through both front tires and causing them to deflate and fall apart. The echo of the shot rang through the alleyway and the street, causing pedestrians to panic and flee the scene as heavily armored guards poured out of the side doors of the armored cars and unholstered their carbines.
"Go, now!" I shouted, and both me and Cinder rushed out into the fray, our guns raised. Koraak was right behind the two of us, providing covering fire with his shotgun. Several guards fell quickly, Koraak's precise fire and the sheer force of the depleted uranium slugs putting them down for good as their heads were vaporized or their chest cavities were turned to mush. He emptied the tube with one final shot that painted the grey matter of a security guard on the door of one of the armored cars, then racked the shotgun and expertly loaded it in threes, his hands deft and agile as he reached for more slugs faster than any human.
With the cacophony of our initial assault, more Black Mambas poured out from the alleyways and the subways, armed to the teeth with all manner of weapons; shotguns, submachine guns, pistols, machetes, baseball bats, and all manner of homemade explosives. Molotovs and more potent concoctions shattered against the asphalt, herding in the caravan guards with their volatile contents as they were quickly gunned down. The assault was working, and we were winning.
Then I heard the robotic whine of a combat droid activating, and my heart sank. One of the armored cars in the back activated the four combat droids it held, the robotic assault units detaching from their charging ports on the sides of the large van and began to form up, each armed with a terrifying array of deadly weapons meant to quash any and all resistance. They were blocky, soulless, utilitarian things that stood at eight feet tall, with flat feet meant for stomping and blades, grasping claws designed to lacerate flesh and shatter bone. On each shoulder was a weapon: on the left was a multi-barrel rotary grenade launcher loaded with 15mm concussion grenades, and on the right was a burst-fire splinter cannon. They were all painted a dull grayish-green, the color of Halcyon's Security Division, although some had a few decorations on them: the one closest to me had a bit of graffiti on the side that said Mr. Hugs in Comic Sans, which I couldn't decide whether that made it more or less terrifying. They split up without hesitation and began to scan the chaotic battlefield, their single, red, beady lenses the security forces had the gall to call eyes focusing on specific targets to eliminate.
An entire group of Black Mambas was torn to pieces by a cloud of flechettes as one of the droids fired a withering three-round burst of shotshells from the four gauge splinter cannon mounted on its shoulder. Another picked up a Black Mamba in its hand and crushed her skull effortlessly before tossing her limp body to the side, its single, red, remorseless robotic eye tracking a new target. Most bullets that struck their thick armored chassis simply bounced off, and those that could pierce the armor didn't seem to phase the droids whatsoever, merely notifying them of a new potential target.
"Damnit," I shouted as I gunned down another guard only for two more to take his place. "Cinder! We gotta pop open the cars and scram! Get the maglock cutters!"
Cinder rushed and slid over through a dirty puddle, pulling out a maglock cutter from the inside of his coat and slipping it onto the back door of the first van. It immediately went to work, drilling through the maglock with a high-powered plasma torch nozzle, and within ten seconds we heard the telltale clunk of the maglock separating. I yanked the door open and ordered I side, ready to escort the prisoners out… only for my face to contort in shock and horror.
The back was empty. There was not a single soul inside of the back brig of the armored car.
"What the fuck…" Cinder gasped, his eyes wide with shock. "What the actual fuck… what the fuck is this, Troy?"
"I… I don't…" I stuttered the sounds of battle and carnage drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in my ears. All five cars were supposed to be filled with recently captured Russu from the front lines ready to be housed in the local Xenopet-Megaplex for processing and conditioning. The fact that this one was empty…
Suddenly, it all hit me at once with the force of a freight train, but it was too late. "We were set up, Cinder; our fucking client either squealed or was crooked to begin with…"
"Fucking bitch!" Cinder shouted as he spun around in an enraged arch, anger growing in his eyes. He aimed his shotgun at an approaching security guard and reduced his upper body to a fine red mist with a cacophony of shotgun blasts. "We gotta get everyone who's left out of here! Do you know what this means? The Jurors will be here soon, and then we're all going down! We gotta go, fuck the job!"
I grit my teeth. Not the Jurors, anything but the Jurors.
"Fine, gather everyone who's left and we'll slip through the sewers, the droids are too bulky to follow us there…"
As I spoke, my eyes wandered to the seventh and final armored car, the second of the droid cars, and my blood froze. Not only were all four ports empty, but they were also smaller and more shallow than the ports for the combat droids. That could only mean one thing.
"Oh fuck! Cinder, we gotta get our Russu members out of here! They've got arachnid droids!"
Arachnid droids were the stuff of nightmares. Resembling blocky, robotic arachnids the size of a manhole cover, they were specifically designed to take down sentient aliens, specifically the Russu, using sickeningly non-lethal means. They were equipped with full-body adaptive cloaking to blend in with their environments, paralytic agents that they could inject into their victims, built-in taser barbs, psychedelic gas ports for crowd-control, and a narrow-coned cacophony canon that disabled the Russu using incredibly high-pitched sounds that only they could hear, forcing them onto their knees and clutching the backs of their heads where their auditory organs were stored in agony. But worst of all was their stygian spinnerets: special ports near the end of their robotic abdomens that excreted a viscous, latex-like substance made up of millions of nano-bots. This substance could be used to render Russu blind, deaf, and mute by having it forced onto their faces, the black substance growing and enveloping their heads and working its way into every orifice. It was completely permeable to the standard atmosphere, but any Russu who had been 'webbed' was completely helpless and essentially captured, and the 'webbing' was both nearly indestructible and nigh impossible to remove without a triple-encrypted override key that was found in every arachnid droid's code, which was corrupted when the droid was destroyed or hacked into. Once you were 'webbed', you were essentially captured and the standard protocol was to leave you to the wolves since the nano-bots could be tracked, endangering the entire gang.
I turned just as I heard the deafening sound of Koraak discharging his shotgun, and I saw him squaring off against one of the assault droids. The droid has obviously been programmed to not use lethal force against Russu if possible, as instead of simply killing Koraak with it's shoulder-mounted splinter cannon, it approached with its claws extended, blades retracted. Koraak continued to back away and fire, pumping the droid full of depleted uranium slugs, its armor crumbling inward as the slugs pierced its chassis and damaged its internal cyberstructure. Eventually, Koraak ran out of slugs and instinctively reached to his bandoleer only to find that he had no more shells left at all, and he drew one of his knives and his sidearm, a simple high-caliber handgun. He tried to take down the droid with his handgun, but the bullets didn't even seem to affect the droid upon penetration, it's claws still extended as it attempted to apprehend Koraak.
In the corner of my vision, as I watched Koraak battle with the droid, I noticed a faint shimmer in the air on one of the black streetlight poles that was right behind him. I focused on it and blinked, believing my eyes had deceived me for a moment before realizing that it was actually a cloaked arachnid droid stalking Korvaak, ready to pounce and incapacitate him.
Before I could shout, it leaped from the pole and landed on Korvaak, causing him to shout in surprise while it began to coagulate its horrifying stygian webbing to disable Korvaak. Korvaak tried to wrestle it off of him, but the droid was agile and fast, clinging onto Korvaak and skittering around across his upper body as he attempted to grab it, forcibly wrapping the sticky black liquid across his face as he gagged like a spider wrapping up a fly. I rushed towards him to try and help, but I felt pain explode in my ribs as I was struck with the arm of the closest combat droid and launched into the chassis of a parked car, the metal denting from the sheer force of impact. I groaned in pain as I saw stars and my head spun, and just then I felt a blinding light be cast over me.
“Drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head, or you will be pacified with deadly force!” Shouted a loud, artificially deepened voice from above. “I repeat, drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head! Neither hostility nor hesitation will be tolerated!”
It was the Jurors, I could feel the air being pushed around from the thrusters on their drop ships, and I could hear screams and shouts as my fellow Black Mambas were quickly gunned down. I couldn’t see well since I was seeing double, but I could hear the slaughter as my eyes dimmed and I began to lose consciousness, my regrets crawling up my throat like vomit.
I’m sorry was all I could think as everything finally went dark, and the sounds of chaos, destruction, and combat faded away.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Memory halted due to loss of consciousness. Booting next available memory in shard…
Booting up memory scan: Koraak Tel-Char Bruno, November 5th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Good morning, sleepyhead; it’s time for breakfast.”
My eyes shot open. I was not in the street anymore, nor was I home in my bed with my mate. I knew instantly that something was horribly wrong. I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t gain the leverage to do so: my ankles had been shackled together with magnetic cuffs and my arms were forced together in front of me.
I was wearing some kind of thick shirt. It was warm, fluffy, and comfortable on the inside, but it still made me incredibly uncomfortable that my arms didn’t have a free range of motion. I looked down to see that I was wearing some human garment I had heard about before, a straightjacket maybe?
The entire room was padded: the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. There was no bed or furniture; the floor was soft enough to serve as a bed in itself. There was nothing else except for the soft reddish-orange lights on the ceiling that somehow made me sleepy. I blinked slowly for a moment, my body screaming at me to just lay back down and lose consciousness, but I couldn’t do that: I needed to figure out where I was and how to escape.
Then I noticed who was speaking to me: it was a short human female, with crow's feet around her blue eyes, blonde hair braided down her back, and freckles all over her face. She had a soft smile on her lips, and her forehead was slightly crinkled. She wore a full-body white lab suit with a white overcoat and a pair of glasses for snugly on her face.
"There we go, now I can see those pretty eyes, such a beautiful shade of teal," she cooed softly, "You're such a handsome boy, even with all those scars: I'm sure you'll be adopted very quickly once we get you fixed up."
Fear gripped my heart as I began to piece all the evidence together. I had been captured; I was no longer on Halcyon, and instead, I was in one of the horrific space-born facilities I had heard so much about from the inside agents. I started to hyperventilate and squawk like a newborn hatchling, my eyes dilating in panic. This couldn't be happening! This has to be a nightmare!
The human woman merely wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into an embrace, cradling my head under her chin and speaking softly. I couldn't bite at her or claw at her: I was muzzled and wearing a straight jacket, so I had no choice but to allow her to coddle me.
"It's okay, sweetheart: I understand you're scared, but Julie's here to make all the pain and bad thoughts go away," she said as if she was comforting a child, which made anger blossom in my chest indignantly. "I'll be your caretaker for the next few months, and I'm going to make sure you're healthy, happy, and most importantly safe while you're under our care. I'm sorry to say that includes your restraints and restrictive clothing, but we have to make sure you aren't a threat to yourself or others before we can determine if it's a good idea to remove you from suicide watch."
I growled under my muzzle. Suicide watch? They must have had a lot of instances of Russu taking their own lives after being captured, something I wished I had been able to do before that damnable droid launched itself onto me and…
I shuddered at the thought of the black, viscous substance forcing itself into my nostrils and down my throat and windpipe, gagging me and rendering me completely helpless. It was so cold, so harsh, like slime, and when I had tried to tear it off of my face it merely attached itself to my claws and bound my talons together. I remember squirming on the ground as it enveloped me, unable to see, hear, or speak, and then everything went dark in an instant. It was the most horrible thing I had ever experienced, which was saying something.
"You alright, sweetheart? Oh, I know, you're probably hungry! Here, try some of this." She held up a piece of what looked like raw bacon and wiggled it in front of me before reaching out to remove my muzzle. In an instant, I attempted to snap at her only for pain to blossom in my forehead and my eyes to roll up in my head as I convulsed. It was like something was attempting to drill through my skull from the inside, and every breath felt empty and labored.
"Now, that didn't feel very nice, did it? This is why we have countermeasures in place because we can't trust you yet, sweetheart! Don't worry, we'll work on breaking you of all those bad behaviors and habits while you're here; after all, a well-trained pet is a happy pet!" She began to stroke the crests on my head as I slowly recovered, and she snugly fit the muzzle back onto my snout. "But I won't hold it against you this time, sweetheart; you're just scared and confused, but I'll make all the pain go away."
I struggled in the straight jacket, trying my best to break out of it, but it was no use. Eventually, I became exhausted and despondent, allowing my new caretaker to have her way with me as she gently ran her fingers through my feathers and along my ridges, quietly speaking to me in a hopeless attempt to cheer me up. She seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being, which concerned me even further: who could be this naturally twisted while attempting to be as benevolent and kindhearted as possible?
I felt the pain and terror build up in my chest, the anxiety from what horrific activities I imagined they had planned for me here. I couldn't take the infantilization, the lack of any autonomy, the dehumanization, and what I feared the most was if the rumors of 'rebirth' were true: would they take my personhood from me?
Suddenly, I felt her whisper to me. "Don't worry sweetheart, I know you're so scared and confused, but I promise you everything will be okay: it's going to be your birthday soon, and then everything will get better." She ran her fingers through the feathers along my crest lovingly. "It will be such a wonderful day, and then we'll choose for you the most wonderful family, and you'll spend the rest of your life happy in your forever home! Doesn't all of that sound wonderful?"
I wanted to die. I wanted to disappear. I didn't want to lose myself, not like this, not to these monsters!
"It'll be your birthday soon," she said wistfully as if she was remembering similar events to this in the past like I wasn't the first she'd done this too, "and you'll never be sad again."
I realized that I wasn't the first the stay in this particular cell, and I knew for certain that I wouldn't be the last: I'd end up like my brother, a broken, erased mess of a pathetic creature, reduced to nothing more than a pet for these humans to amuse themselves with.
"We took the liberty of picking out a nice name for you, sweetheart! Now, let me just slip this little programming chip into the port slot on your occipital bone, and... there we go! It will also help you calm down a bit and adjust."
I felt the chip begin to invade my mind, suppressing my thoughts. What made me me was slowly being ripped out of my mind. I couldn't remember my name my name is Bruno, and I needed to get out! I can't let them do this to me! Somebody help me! I was a good boy.
##Do not think. You are a good boy.##
I tried to scream, but my voice wouldn't work: I had trouble forming any words at all, the confusion clouding my mind like wet, slimy eels curling around my brain and sinking their teeth into its folds like needles. I couldn’t scream any longer, because I had nothing left: the chip was slowly beginning to take everything from me, robbing me of my identity and branding a new one into my psyche with a white-hot iron. Julie simply held me close, attempting to reassure me as I awaited the inevitable demise of my personhood. Soon I would be just like my brother: erased. My mind would be shaped into the mind of a loyal plaything, like a Dog.
##Relax. Allow caretaker [Julie] to comfort you. You will let go of your burden.##
Soon, everything was a blur. I quickly found myself resting my head in her lap as she whispered to me and fed me, my eyes bleary and my head fuzzy. I couldn't remember my name anymore My name was Bruno, and I needed to break free from this trance relax, and allow her to help me; good boys didn't resist help.
##Good Boy. Do not think. You are a good boy.##
You can't... I...
##Good boy.##
I wouldn't… good boys don't… I…
##Good boy##
I was a good boy… I was a good boy…
I was… I was… a good… boy…
Someone help me, please! I don't want to be erased!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The following script is from episode #343 of Halcyon After Dark, a popular late-night and current events talk show hosted by Melinda Carter. This specific episode was sponsored in part by the Halcyon Security Division, with Director Lochlin O'Brien joining as a guest star to talk about the changing crime statistics in Halcyon City and the HSD's recent successes in busting organized crime as well as their plans for addressing the growing criminal underworld.
MC: Good evening Halcyon! I'm your host, Melinda Carter, and you're watching Halcyon's most popular late-night talk show, Halcyon After Dark!
The crowd claps and cheers as Melinda walks on stage and sits behind her desk, her glittering red dress waving as she does so from the special effects.
MC: Tonight we have a very special guest here to tell us about the state of crime in the city and his plans on resolving it: please put your hands together for the HSD's very own Director, Lochlin O'Brien!
The crowd cheers some more as HSD Director Lochlan O'Brien, a tall, muscular, caucasian male in his early forties with red hair and a well-trimmed beard steps into the room, waving at the crowd with a bright smile. He sits in the armchair angled next to Melinda's desk and gives her his full attention.
MC: It's so good to have you on the show, Director! Tell me, how are you doing on this fine evening?
LO: I'm doing excellent, Melinda: every day I wake up feeling fulfilled knowing I'm serving Halcyon to the best of my abilities and then some."
MC: That's the spirit, Director! Now, I know this question is just on everyone's lips, so I have to ask: how successful was the recent gang bust? I heard HSD forces took out dozens of gang members and liberated at least a dozen Russu Hounds from their abusive clutches, but I know that everyone in the audience and at home wants to know the numbers.
LO: I'd be glad to tell you, but I do have to preface this by saying that we still lost a lot of good officers that day, and while we did strike a crippling blow to one of Halcyon's biggest gangs, it doesn't change the fact that each death is a tragedy, and we're taking steps to prevent them in the future. That being said, those valiant officers did not sacrifice themselves in vain: we had over a dozen confirmed kills and several arrests, including the rescue of several corrupted Russu hounds.
MC: That's excellent, Director: proof that even when the number of degenerates and scum grow by the day, the HSD will always be here to keep the citizens of Halcyon safe.
LO: Absolutely, Melinda, and we're always working tirelessly to increase the efficiency and effectiveness of our units, as well as racing to stay several steps ahead of the many gangs of Halcyon at all times. My newest goal as Director is to vastly increase the funding given to our Robotics Department and our Neuro-Warfare Department to potentially reduce the number of casualties we may experience in the future, as well as to quickly and effectively detain, and if necessary, eliminate criminals. Within the next decade, I want to double the number of automated units each Security Platoon is assigned: droids are the future of public safety as well as countless other industries, and it would be foolish to be left behind.
MC: That is quite a lofty goal, Director: what about the displaced jobs from the increased automation? What will the union say?
LO: And to that, I say: what misplaced jobs? We aren't replacing our honored and beloved service members with droids, Melinda, we are simply supplementing our units with more droids to ensure that future gang assaults end with fewer HSD casualties and more gang members in prison or eliminated, simple as that.
MC: That makes much more sense, Director, thanks for clarifying. Now, I have one more question that I'm sure much of Halcyon wants to know the answer to before we take a short break: what plans do you and your fellow directors have to make long-term progress in reducing crime beyond just increasing funding? Have you proposed any plans to strike at the source of where crime and degeneracy flourish?
OL: That's an excellent question, and one I am proud to answer: my constituents and I have been working tirelessly on a two-step plan to greatly reduce crime levels in Halcyon. Step one would be to prevent people from becoming criminals and degenerates at all in the first place: a lot of young men and women, but especially young men, have lost either one or both parents or even a sibling, aunt or uncle, or even a close friend by the brutality of the Second Authority War, and while the service of their lost loved ones will always be recognized and honored, many of these young men and women are left bitter, angry and lost without the guidance these people give them in their lives. Oftentimes they seek to fill that void with others who claim to relate to them: career criminals. These criminals will fill their heads with lies and false narratives to make them feel like they're fighting back against the 'evil protectorate government' that took their loved ones from them by sending them off to war when in reality it was the rogue Xenopets of the Triarchy that took them away by resisting their just and inevitable unburdening.
In response, I have proposed a slew of special programs that will make sure local law enforcement and HSD officers are present and contributing to their local community, and we'll be providing easy and light job openings for youngsters and teens looking to make a career for themselves in the force when they grow up. We want to let these lost souls know that there are people who care about them, people who understand them and that you shouldn't turn to degeneracy to feel fulfilled. We want to help the youth of our great society soar to new heights!
MC: That sounds like a wonderful beginning to your plan, Director, but what about the second step?
LO: Well, the second step is to prevent criminals and degenerates from becoming repeat criminals. Sure, they've made their mistakes, some worse than others, but they're only human like the rest of us. Some of them have been through hell: some are traumatized veterans who don't know how to adapt to normal life, others were recruited when they were young and don't know that there's a better way to live, and even more are mentally ill. We're alone in this galaxy, and we can't leave so many people behind. That's why we've come up with an excellent solution: we've set up isolated communities on distant moons and frontier planets where these criminals can be reeducated, rehabilitated, and allowed to repay their debt to society. When they're deemed 'reformed' and have graduated from our program, they'll be granted a hefty stipend and their criminal record will be deemed irrelevant, allowing them to reintegrate and become functioning members of our proud society.
MC: all of these sound like incredible steps forward in the fight to better our society and make real progress, Director. Sadly, we do have to step away for a moment, but you best believe I'll be back, Halcyon, and we'll be asking the Director here some burning questions about allegations over the quality of life Erubus Supermax! Now, a word from our sponsors!
Halcyon Xenopet-Megaplex! Everything your xenopet could ever need in one place! Adoption is now free-
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Good, you’re still alive! The rest of this shard appears to be corrupted, which means this particular trail seems to have run cold here, but do not despair; you need to keep searching. Find out what happened. Find the truth.I cannot guide you any longer: they've already found me, and if I remain in contact with you they'll find you as well. Take the archival database, and see what you can piece together. Maybe if we discover what truly happened we can put an end to this madness once and for all. I'm counting on you. Don't cry for me, I don't fear death, but I fear what they'll do to me to get to you: there are far worse fates than death, after all.