Letters from Bermuda – The Arena Challenge
…..
To: Gregor
From: Steven
Today was an amazing experience. I’ve shared a lot about the amazing things here in Bermuda, but today was beyond all that! Marcel put on one of his acts, “April Showers,” which was fantastic, but the big thing was a group of four slaves taking on The Frost Gauntlet!!!
The whole place has been abuzz since these four stepped up for the challenge yesterday. Word has it that they killed two of the sorcerers here. The arena was packed this morning to see them face the first challenge – the Arena Battle.
Now, typically, they ask for volunteers from the guests to destroy the upstarts, but today’s battle was different – clearly something more personal to Tanner Freeman. Instead of allowing us guests to volunteer, they had brought in much more interesting opponents. I hadn’t seen these combatants on the island, so I suspect they magically summoned them for this fight.
You won’t believe it when I tell you who was in the lineup!
Freeman was running the show, which was odd – typically, Petoir Demavich is the Arena Master, and runs everything.
We could see the ragged group of four slaves chained in their waiting area via viewing monitors. They were pathetic in their useless clothes and robes. As the Thralls unshackled them, a very comely female started singing. Her voice was as enchanting as her delicious figure under her burlap clothing.
They emerged into the arena, huddled together like mice. Of course, the comely one with the sweet voice was in the back, along with a shifting-looking male in sorcerer’s robes. Leading them was a hideous-looking woman all covered in puss and sores and a bare-chested male who looked like he had just finished deadlifting twice his weight. Clearly, the two in the front were the brawlers of the group, and the two in the back were the brains.
The Thralls shoved impoverished clubs into the hands of the slaves, and it was interesting when the bare-chested one quickly passed his club to the bandaged and ugly woman. She looked like she could handle those shitty clubs pretty effectively.
Then Tanner introduced the winning team. Gregor, you must sit down for this!
First was Master Carlos of Dark Gate, armed with his majestic, heavy, silver sword and laser pistol. I commented to Darnmark, seated next to me, “Laser pistols are’nt good at range, but they pack a hell of a punch!”
Next was Master Timothy of Bloodforge, who also had his tell-tale heavy, silver sword and a GH2 Submachinegun. Darnmark remarked back, “Not a good range weapon either!” Which it is not!!!
I was on the edge of my seat as they announced the third opponent, Lord Steven of Frosthold. Can you believe it? I don’t know how Ms. Frost convinced him to join into this fight, but he’s an incredible sorcerer and him alone could defeat this ragtag group. Unlike the other two in light armor, Lord Steven was just in his robes and was wielding that incredible focus of his.
It was almost as if they didn’t need to introduce anyone else. This ragtag group of pathetic slaves was soon to be a skid mark on my underwear after these three took care of them. But we still were to have one more introduced.
Last, but not least, as Piotr Demavich himself, armed in his glorious heavy armor and wielding his amazing heavy, silver sword. Now, it's no wonder why Tanner was running the show. Clearly, they were pissed off at these four!
The entire arena was alive! I don’t know when we’ve seen such great compatants gathered in one fight – maybe the Bloodmoon Wars? This was sure to be a quick and very bloodly fight.
Well, that’s what we thought…
The four slaves, led by the ugly one, reacted instantaneously. Immediately, the comely one with the shapely legs started singing, and it sounded good. Immediately afterward, the bare-chested fighter surprised everyone as a purplish blast of energy fired across the arena straight at Piotr. As it exploded, all four of them easily lept to safely. In fact, Piotr was the only one who crashed into the ground on his belly – everyone else nimbly dodged the blast. The first shot fired seemed to do little more than disorient the inevitable.
The leader stepped forward as if to dare the four masters to come forward while the sorcerer started flying off to the side and concentrating. I was a bit concerned, but it was clear that Lord Steven would end this fight before it ever started.
That being said, I almost struggle to write this next part.
The bare-chested Spaniard, whom I had given little consideration, blasted Lord Steven brutally in the back. It was almost as if we were witnessing the attack over and over again as that evil purple energy drove into Lord Steven’s back, killing him instantly. And just like that, the crowd was as stunned as I was!
Piotr sprung forward, as did Carlos and Timothy, and gunfire rang out in the arena. Within seconds, the ugly female leader was down and unconscious. It was time for the tide to change, and we could see the fear on the slave's faces – they had got lucky, that was all!
Then, Piotr lost his grip on his sword, and it flew several meters away. Suddenly, an enormous wolf appeared, summoned by the slave sorcerer. Everything was happening so fast. The bare-chested one was blasting Pitor with his purplish energy that seemed to drive right past his armor and the wolf leapt onto Master Timothy. Meanwhile, Master Carlos was suddenly encased in some kind of rock crystal with his leg jammed in a crack in the arena floor.
Then, Pitor was unconscious, and Timothy was dead. It happened so fast, my head is still swimming Gregor! The attendants were immediately out in the arena, and the slaves were being ushered from the space. There was nothing but stunned silence in the entire arena – that, until Darnmark sneezed, pulling me from my surprise.
Letters from Bermuda – The Hunting Challenge
…..
To: Dimvhall
From: Heidee
I have to say, I love my job here at Bermuda. Manning the Control Room is always so much fun. Yeah, most of it can be boring, Heidee, but every once in a while, we get excitement. The past few weeks have been awesome! We have these new slaves that have caused nothing but trouble, and they’ve been on the drone-radar ever since – especially the one they call, Emer.
Well, this morning, they entered into The Frost Gauntlet!
We didn’t see much of it this morning, as it was in the arena, and Danny Boy mans those drone cameras, but he was upset. It seems that the slaves won the first stage and were moving on to the Hunting Challenge. Best yet, I was put in charge of the team that would monitor them.
The slaves were tasked with retrieving the Star Master – you know, the one I told you about – and they were totally going to fail. The drones zipped around and monitored their moves. One, a sorcerer, was super fast and kept losing us. Another one was really sneaky, and she kept slipping away. However, it was clear that they had no clue what to do and were totally lost.
Then, this Spaniard, whom they called Diago, blasted the Star Master and totally disrupted the whole creature. The sorcerer grabbed up the controlling Star Master and zipped to the bridge – man he’s fast at flying! The other three struggled to sneak there way back to the bridge, but one of them was dropped by the guests.
Suddenly, the sorcerer turned into a huge air bison and rushed over and rescued the downed slave. Everyone in the Control Room stood there with their mouths agape. I’m actually worried that I might get demoted to some lower duty.
But I do wonder how these four will fare in the next challenge.

The stress of the last six months has nearly killed me. Besides the general cratering of the outside world—political strife, climate change, inflated rents, corporate greed, and the baffling resurgence of crew socks—my internal life was falling apart, too. I'm at the point where I can't see a way out of the darkness, and that feeling has only grown in the last few days.
My struggles ramped up exponentially in the last two weeks. It started when my long-term girlfriend and I called it quits after five years. There was no definitive relationship-altering fight or infidelity. It was simply the boring banality of the "roommate-ification" of our lives together. We both felt the shift but never talked about it. Turns out communication is important.
Truthfully, we'd stayed together for so long because we couldn't afford to live apart. Our rent had nearly doubled the last time we re-upped our lease but even that was a bargain compared to what was out there currently. We were trapped by our need to have a roof over our heads.
My job had stagnated, and I couldn't find anything better. I was stuck. Like me, she'd been job hunting as well. Unlike me, she had a master's, and her prospects should've been higher. They weren't. For five months, she applied to hundreds of jobs and couldn't break through. If she got a rejection email, it was a win. Most of the time, the companies never responded.
Finally, she found a great opportunity at a Fortune 500 company. It was an involved process. She nailed the five interviews, and her "test project" was well received. She was offered the position, and it came with a massive pay increase—double her current salary. I was proud of her—she needed a win. We celebrated with pizza and beer that night.
Two days later, she dropped the bomb that she was breaking things off. The relationship ending wasn't a surprise. The timing was. The discussion was brief, and there was zero chance of reconciliation. She declined when I asked if she could stay until the lease ended. Mentally, it would've been too much for her. Two days after that, she moved out, taking half the rent with her. I was stuck in a lease I couldn't afford on my salary for the next six months.
My free time evaporated as I took on two extra gigs to help make ends meet. In addition to my office nine to five, I drove for a delivery app on the weekends and took a part-time night job stocking shelves at a local grocery store. When I wasn't hustling for housing, I slept or ate. I did nothing beyond that. Nothing brings me joy. There is no spark.
This drudgery has become my daily routine, and it's killing me.
To help cover some cost gaps, I've started selling off some of my stuff online. It was just me here, and I decided that the Spartan lifestyle would have to work for now. Anything I could fetch a decent amount for went up for sale. My apartment is so empty now every noise causes an echo.
Before my shift at the grocery store, I agreed to meet someone who wanted to take a look at my kitchen table. It was a lovely table – my ex had obsessed over it – but I didn't see a need at the moment. Now that I was a bachelor, my TV trays became my default kitchen tables anyway. I wasn't planning on any dinner parties in the future anyway.
A couple showed up later than they said they would. It was a bored-looking guy and a fastidious young woman. She made friendly small talk as she looked over the table. Her boyfriend (I think) stayed quiet and played bodyguard. I gave him a friendly nod at one point, and he just looked away. She said they'd take it without trying to talk me down. I took the small win.
She asked if I could help carry it down to their truck. I was running late, but feeling helpful, even for a fleeting few seconds, was worth it. Her silent boyfriend and I hauled the table through the hallway and even managed to avoid hitting the walls the entire way down.
I placed it in their truck, got my money, and turned to leave. The girl said thanks, and the boyfriend finally returned the nod. I gave a weird half-wave to them both and started to walk away when I heard the passenger window being rolled down.
"Hey man," the boyfriend said, his voice higher pitched than I thought it would. "What was up with your brother giving us the evil eye in the lobby when we got here?"
I turned around, "Huh? I don't have a brother."
"A cousin then?"
"My family lives about a thousand miles away. What happened in the lobby?"
"A dude that looked just like you was hiding in a dark hallway in the lobby and staring at my girl's ass."
"Jacob, really," she said.
"I'm sorry that happened, but I had nothing to do with it. We do have the occasional homeless guy meander in. Maybe you saw one of them," I said. "Did he say or do anything bad?"
"Jacob, I asked you to not say something," the girl said, burying her head in her hands.
Jacob's frosty attitude to me made sense now. "He said something about running up that ass. I dunno, he was mumbling. I told him I'd beat his ass if he didn't stop staring. Seemed to shut him up."
"Oh. Well, congrats," I said. "I'll tell the manager. Thanks for letting me know."
"You should do a better job keeping jokers like that out of the building."
"Jacob, he's not a security guard."
"He should still be a man and protect his home."
"Have a good night," I said, ending the conversation and heading back up to my apartment. I had about five minutes to change and head out before I'd be late. Last thing my ego needed was to be fired from my backup job.
Thankfully, I was able to slip into work and not get spotted by my boss. That was the last of the good news, though. We had a massive weekly order come in, which meant I'd be there late, plus someone had called out. Worse, our hand truck had a flat tire, and I spent the next few hours torturing my muscles, schlepping heavy boxes around the store. I soldiered on, counting down the minutes until I left and fantasizing about going to bed for the night.
If wishing for sleep wasn't a sad statement to my mental well-being, nothing was.
I came home after my shift at the grocery store and plopped down on the couch. I had contemplated selling it, but it was an older Ikea number, and I didn't think the value would replace my desire to sit. I could feel my body sink into the cushions, and the day's tension seep out. I was beat and tired to the point that turning on the TV was a chore.
I picked up my phone and thought I'd doomscroll until sleep overtook me. I didn't expect it to be a long scroll, as even the methadone that is my phone has failed me lately. As I lowered myself from a slumped position to a supine one, I heard footsteps outside my apartment door. This was not unusual, but the noise I heard sounded like kid footsteps. That was unusual, as nobody on our floor had kids, and it was almost midnight.
Despite my body screaming at me to not move, my brain suggested I check it out. I rolled myself off the couch and eventually stood up. I listened again and heard the kid running down the hallway. I walked over to my door and looked out the peephole. I didn't see anyone.
"Maybe I'm dreaming," I said to myself. "Maybe I'm not staring out a peephole, expecting to see a kid running down the hall at midnight, but instead, I'm cuddled up in my bed, snoozing." I pinched my arm and felt the pain. I was definitely in the waking world.
I turned to head back to the couch when I heard the running again, this time louder. I opened my door and peeked out into the hallway. Nobody was there. The door from the apartment across me opened up, too. Gloria, a young at heart grandma who was friendly/constantly buzzed in a wine mom kind of way, gave me a once over.
"You heard that, too?" she asked.
"Kids?"
"No rugrats around. I assumed it was some drunk assholes stumbling home from the bar."
I laughed. Gloria was, as always, blunt. "I didn't see any assholes," I said.
"Then you're not watching the right kind of internet videos," she said with a wink and a hoarse cackle.
I blushed. How do you respond to that? I just kind of nodded in agreement and shrugged.
"Gotta get your jollies while you can," she said before adding, "You need some rest, dear. You look like hammered shit." She shut her door and went back inside.
She was right. I felt like hammered shit. Since I wasn't going to solve the case of the mysterious runner and was sure it wasn't some lost kid, I decided to call it a night. I went back inside, shut down the apartment, and crawled into bed.
I thought about watching one of the "right kind of internet videos" but fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
***
"Your problem is you think the world owes you something."
John, my elderly coworker at the grocery store, was standing by while I unloaded a pallet of cereal. I liked John, and when I first started, we instantly clicked. He's quick with a joke and fun to talk to. He's also about thirty years older than me and speaks with the Boomer combination of accumulated wisdom, backhanded compliments, and fringe conspiracy nonsense. Still, regardless of how couched the kindness is in gobbledygook, he's usually coming from a good place.
"What?" I said, putting a box of Captain Crunch on the shelf.
"You're complaining about your situation, right? Saying it ain't fair. The world took a paddle to your hind quarters? Hey brother, that's the way the cookie crumbles. Gotta just pick yourself up and start over. You're smart enough – figured this job out right quick – you can do it."
The job was wheeling pallets around the store and stocking shelves. It wasn't much to figure out, but I understood his meaning. The other stuff wasn't necessary, though. "I'm just in a funk. I don't see a way forward."
"Hey, so you've bottomed out. No shame in that. Happens to us all. Silver lining, you can only go up," he said before adding, "Unless some other bad shit happens to you like your car dies or your apartment building burns down. But after that, it's only up."
"The apartment building burning down would be a blessing," I said, hoisting another little Captain on the shelf. "The rent is killing me."
"Have you tried negotiating a lower rent? They used to do that when I was your age."
"I think they'd evict me if I even asked."
"Hell, then you'd have at least thirty days, maybe forty, before they'd kick you out. Plenty of time to turn things around."
"Uh-huh," I said, "Any chance you could give me a hand here?"
"My back is screaming like a pretty young thing after prom," he said, holding his back for emphasis.
I didn't push. "Hey, I meant to tell you about some weird shit that happened the other night."
"Lay it on me. I love the strange."
"So, after my shift the other day, I got home around midnight and was flopped on the couch. I heard someone running down the hallway outside my apartment. I wasn't the only one. A few other neighbors heard it, too. When we checked, though, nobody was there."
"That ain't strange," John said, waving his hand, "that's a man who's plowing another man's wife running for his life."
I laughed. "That's not the weird part. So, for the next two nights, it's the same thing. Around midnight, someone runs down the hallway. Only this time, they're trying the door handles as they pass. So, I asked the front desk to check the security cameras, and they do."
"They see a man running away holding his clothes?"
"There wasn't anyone running down the hall," I said, "But the weird thing was, you could see the door handles turning on the video."
"Damn, that's a good one," John said, "You sure it wasn't just a camera glitch. These new ones from overseas aren't as reliable as they want you to think. Chinese probably using them to spy on you, too."
He continued as my brain tried to reconcile John's two opposing comments. "Weird shit happens at night, man. Before working here, I only worked the day shift. Even when they offered me more money to work nights, I turned it down. Even when they promised me a promotion, I turned them down."
In a previous life, John had worked as a paramedic. He came by it after serving in a medical unit in the army. He'd told me he loved the rush of the job, but after a while, the death and hurt in people's eyes got to be too much to handle. But he worked there for almost twenty years. So, the man had a tolerance for shenanigans and odd occurrences.
"Why'd you agree to work nights here?"
"Shit, we're home before the witching hour. This is like late afternoons, at best. But if it was overnights, hell no. Captain Crunch can anchor his own ship to the shelves. I'd take my ass to 7-11 for a day shift before agreeing to work an overnight."
"Something happen to you during the army?”
“I got the clap,” he offered.
I sighed. “What turned you off nights?"
"Oh. I heard enough stories from coworkers to know I didn't want to experience any of that hoo-doo shit," he said, "trying to save someone's life is hard enough without adding in demon kids and ghosts."
"Did your coworkers see demon kids?" I asked, moving on from the good Captain to the Trix rabbit.
He nodded, "They saw too much. I find it odd, even with all the surveillance we have now and all the science we know about these days, that the night still scares us. You ever know someone who worked a night shift?"
I had. My ex. During college, she worked the overnight desk at a hotel for a while. She quit because the job gave her bad vibes. I told John as much.
He pointed and laughed, "See! Don't you find it odd that every person who works at night always has a story of something eerie happening to them? Every person, buster. That's what they call an irrefutable fact."
"Maybe the ghost running down the hallway is an old employee still doing his rounds."
"In that case, keep that door double locked. I'd even wedge a towel under the door just in case."
"Maybe they're friendly? Casper-like in that way."
"You ever heard someone tell you about a friendly ghost outside the funny papers?"
"I'm sure it happens," I said, "The scary ghosts are more popular though."
“We think we know everything there is to know but we are just babes in the woods when it comes to night things.” John shook his head. "Imma tell you one or three things that happened to a guy I worked with back when I first got hired on to chase after corpses in the ambo. Guy's name was Gil. Quiet man, kept to himself. Didn't rock the boat or demand a bigger paddle. Just rowed with us. Good cat to learn under," John said, finally handing me a cereal box.
I took it, and he kept going, "Now, Gil, ya see, he had a little wifey that would pester him about working days. She was a cop and worked evenings at that time, so they never saw each other. When married people can't align their genitals every now and then, it spells doom."
"A little too much information but sure," I said, shelving another box of Trix.
"Probably part of what happened with you and yours," he said. He wasn't wrong, but that didn't mean I wanted to hear it.
John kept on, "Gil finally got approved to move to nights. Little pay boost and a happy, 'fulfilled' wife should've made that man happy. But it didn't. I saw him a few months later, and he had changed. He might've been quiet when he was working with me, but he'd talk to you if you engaged. When I saw him that time, though, oh boy. He looked sick."
"Wasn't a fan of working nights?"
"Wasn't a fan of living anymore is the feeling I got," John said, "After some prodding, he got to talking with me some. Told me he missed days because the nights were messing with him. I thought it had to do with the schedule change, but that wasn't the case. He said he saw things in the dark he couldn't explain. Things that would turn James Brown into James White, ya dig?"
"I...dig," I said.
"Told me they got a call to an abandoned apartment building one night, around three in the morning. Wasn't unusual. Old buildings in the city are where hop-heads congregate and share drugs. Sometimes, the drugs are too much. Sometimes, they find a person passed out or, worse, dead. When you work in the ambo, you aren't scared of death like a civilian. You've been around it. Probably seen a few folks take their last breaths. It doesn't bother you the way Mother Nature intended it should."
He handed me another box, continuing his assist streak, and kept going, "Ambo pulled up, Gil stepped out and looked for someone to talk to. Nobody there, though. Not uncommon. Some people want to help but not be involved. There's not a soul around. He calls out, but nothing comes back. Tells me he turns to get back in the ambulance when he hears a scream from inside the run-down building. They're calling for help. He's gotta go in the abandoned building in the dark."
"No thanks," I said.
"But it don't bother a medic like that. Gil's done a million of these calls. No big deal. He runs into that building but doesn't come back out until twenty minutes later. Just goes missing. After five, the crew heads in to back him up but can't find him. Gil tells me his crew called the cops. It was like he had vanished."
"What happened?"
"I asked him and he got real quiet. Said he fell into some place that looked like here but wasn't here. Said he felt their eyes on him. Judging him. Told me they followed him home and wouldn't leave him be."
"Who?"
John shrugged, "He didn't say. Shut down after that and left. Just walked past me like I was shit on the sidewalk. He quit about a week later. Heard he had a stroke a year later and was a tombstone owner three months after that. Good guy, though."
"Your aversion to overnights makes a little more sense."
"Never in a million years. You don't want something like that coming after you."
"In my case, could it get much worse?" I said with a half-smile.
"Man, I wouldn't even joke about that," he said, making the sign of the cross, "You don't want that shit attachin' itself to you. With your luck, you'd bring him in here, and it'd hop over to me. I can't have a ghost crimping my style."
After a bit, he got called away to sign off on a delivery. I finished out my shift and headed out to the parking lot. When I exited the building and spotted my car, I froze. My doors were all open, and the interior lights were on. Someone had broken in.
I glanced around the lot to see if the thief was still around, but there wasn't another person near me. I walked over to the car and peered inside. My glovebox had been ripped open, and my registration was pulled out, but nothing else was missing.
I found little hand prints in the dirt all along the body and the windows. I held mine up for comparison, and they were about half the size. It must've been some tweens or teens who did this. Maybe they were going to steal some things and got cold feet. I contemplated calling the cops, but since nothing had happened and they wouldn't do anything anyway, there was no reason to delay sleep any longer than I had to. I closed all the doors and climbed inside.
I started the car and heard something rattling in the AC vents. I pulled out my phone and shined the light at the vent. There was a small piece of paper inside. I looked around my car for some tool to pull it out and only found an ink pen and a bent-up paperclip. After McGuyvering the vent for a bit, the paper finally came out.
I held it up and unfolded it. There was a handwritten note. It simply read, "I know you're here. I know you're hiding him. I will find you both, and then it'll be your turn to run the race. We all have to run at some point."
I had no idea what that meant, but my body still provided goosebumps. Who was trying to find me? Who was the second person? Why leave a note in my AC vent? What the hell did run the race mean? I hadn't run a race since elementary school and wasn't planning to do so any time soon. Did they mean the rat race? Because I was basically marathoning that motherfucker already.
"Jesus Christ," I said, shaking my head. "What else, universe?"
As if it were a well-practiced comedy routine, the universe responded. My back passenger door swung open, and I heard footsteps running away from my car. I sprung up and scrambled to get out. There wasn't anyone else in the lot that I could see, but very clearly, someone had been hiding in my backseat.
My nerves were shot already, and this was not something I wanted to deal with at the moment. My brain decided that to avoid a breakdown, I needed to shift into automatic mode and just get back to the safety of my apartment. I'd be more prepared to deal with this – whatever it was – in the morning.
Either that or I'd jump in front of a bus. Both sounded satisfying, albeit in different ways.
***
"There he is," Gloria said as soon as I turned down the hallway. I looked up and noticed a small cabal of my neighbors standing in a semi-circle, waiting for me. They all look displeased.
"Hey guys," I said, confused. "I miss an invite for a block party?"
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
"About?"
"Don't play dumb," another neighbor said, jabbing their finger in my direction.
"I'm not playing," I said, realizing the self-burn only after the words escaped my lips.
Gloria showed me the screen on her phone. It was a static shot of her door from across the hall. She pressed play, and nothing happened for a beat until something darted across the screen. That was the whole thing. I looked up at her, my face twisted up in confusion.
"Well," she said, "What do you have to say?"
"What was that?" I asked.
"That was you!" the pointing neighbor said, pointing harder than I thought possible.
"What?" I said, laughing. "Are you all serious?" They didn't laugh, and I realized they weren't joking. "How can you even tell it's me? It's a blur. Never mind the fact I've been at work for the last five hours. Plus, this blur is half my size. I get we're all weirded out about the Phantom Runner, but it's not me. I swear to God. I don't even have the energy to think about running, let alone the physical desire to."
"Then explain this," Gloria said, slightly swaying from the half bottle of Pinot Noir coursing through her blood. She rewound the video and froze it on a specific frame. I couldn't believe my eyes, but I was looking at...me. Or, rather, something pretending to be me.
"What the fuck?" I said, my jaw dropping.
"Still think we're lying?" the pointer said smugly.
"No, but, guys, this isn't me. I... I've been at work. Wanna see my schedule?"
I reached into my phone and pulled it out. There was an email with my work schedule that confirmed what I was saying. They relaxed, and, for the first time, anger gave way to fear. Their very plausible explanation was suddenly invalid. It left two implausible answers floating in the ether: either I had a pint-sized doppelganger terrorizing the hallways of my apartment, or a ghost was haunting the building.
"I'm...gonna go inside," the pointer said, walking back to their home. Everyone else drifted away until it was just Gloria and I standing alone in the hallway.
She looked at me and sighed, "I feel like an asshole," she said. "Sorry I accused you of causing the racket."
"If I had seen the video, I would've thought the same thing," I said. "We're good."
"What do you think it is?" she asked.
I shrugged and let out an exhausted sigh. "Honestly, Gloria, I've had a screwed-up night already, and this is the cherry on top of the shit sundae; forgive my language. I don't have the mental bandwidth to even comprehend what's on the video at the moment."
"Think it's after you?" she asked, though I suspected the wine had forced her to put that idea out into the universe. As I had already seen, the universe seemed to take requests on my behalf.
"Maybe it's after you?" I said, coming off a little meaner than I intended, but I didn't care. I left her there to contemplate that scenario and went into my apartment.
As soon as the door shut behind me, I felt on edge. Just because I didn't have the mental bandwidth to discuss the doppelganger didn't mean it wasn't dominating my thoughts. I saw the frame of the video. The damn ghost looked exactly like me. What could that possibly mean? I know I had wished for death, but I was very still alive. I had rent due to prove that.
Did I happen to live in a place haunted by a ghost that looked strikingly like me? Was it some kid with a passing resemblance just causing chaos? Was it something else I couldn't even comprehend – an alien? A clone? A secret government project?
There was a thumping coming from the hallway. The mini Usain Bolt was at it again. I knew the neighbors would ignore it. Since they had all thought it was me, which was proven to be untrue, they would avoid the running man from now on. While curious and confused by the creature, they'd never put themselves in harm's way to discover what it was. They were not a brave lot.
Neither was I, but maybe my life crumbling around me had forced my hand. I walked over to my door and swung it open. I hit record on my phone, stuck it out like a periscope, and glanced around the hallway. Nobody was there. No neighbors were looking. No person was running.
"You gotta stop, man. I need to go to sleep," I said to the empty space. No response, not that I was expecting one.
I turned to walk back in, and I caught something out of the corner of my eye. A face at the end of the hallway peeked around the corner. For a quick second, we locked eyes, and it was like I was looking into a mirror. This thing was me. But...how?
I tried to get it on video, but it ducked back into the shadows. I took that as a cue to shut and lock my door. My heart was racing, and I didn't want to think about this anymore, but I couldn't help it. There was a me in the hallway who enjoyed pestering my neighbors. Worse, they liked to run for some ungodly reason.
I put my phone on the counter, the video still rolling, when there was a knock at my door. It echoed in my near-empty apartment. I tried to ignore it and convince myself it was something else, but it wasn't. The ghost was knocking on my door. Even with my brain paralyzed, I couldn't help but think that it was awfully polite to knock.
Another knock, this one more forceful. I wondered if the neighbors thought I was making this up?
"I know you're in there," a voice said. It sounded just like me. "This is about the race. We all have to run the race. It's your turn now."
I froze. My legs went wobbly like a boxer on the brink of a blackout, but I stayed tall. I opened my mouth to speak and found the words dying in my throat. I grabbed a nearby bottle of water and took a chug.
"We all have to run the race."
"What race?" I choked out, "What are you talking about?"
"Open up. They're in there already, and I need to get them."
I glanced all around my empty apartment. I didn't see anyone else in here. I didn't hear anything. Whatever this thing was, it was lying. I grabbed my phone and held it in my hand. I wanted to document this to prove that I wasn't crazy.
“Did you leave the note?”
“I know they’re in there with you,” it repeated.
"There's no one in here," I said.
"They're hiding. I think I know where. I can hear them."
"You've gotta get out of here," I said. "There's nothing here, and you're scaring people."
"I'm scared, and you should be! You have to run the race, man! Open up, and I can show you."
The handle started to shake. I peered through the keyhole and only saw the top of the other me's head. They began to shoulder the door, and it crunched against my nose. I screamed out in pain and stumbled back. I tripped over my feet and landed hard on my ass.
The thing slammed into the door two more times, shaking the walls. The strength seemed unnatural. On the third hit, the door burst open. I finally got a view of the thing. It was me. Scaled down by half, but it was me. We both seemed shocked.
"You're so much taller up close," the other me said.
"Who the fuck are you?"
I felt a buzzing in my feet that seemed to climb up my body until it reached my brain. There was an intense pain that rippled through the folds of my mind. Through the pain, I could hear a disembodied voice whisper, "We all must run the race. We all have to run. Chase it. Chase yourself." It felt like my skull was going to split in two. I clutched the sides of my head and let out a primal scream that hurt my own ears.
Then it was gone. But I could still feel the echoes in my mind. "We all have to run the race. We all have to run." The thought would waver between making no sense and making complete sense. One second, I was questioning what was happening to my mind, and the next, all I felt was the desire to continue the race.
"There he is!" the other me yelled, pointing at the hallway.
I glanced over and saw another version of me standing in the hallway. It was half the size of the other me that had broken into my place. When tiny me locked eyes with my intruder, he ran for the open hallway closet.
The other me followed, screaming that it would catch the little bastard if it was the last thing he'd do. I pushed myself up to my feet and felt queasy. I watched as the other me ran head-first into the closet without slowing. I expected to hear a loud thump as it hit the back wall but none came.
"We all have to run the race," the voice in my head said, soothing my nerves. "It's your time to run the race."
I moved down the hallway, each footfall echoing loudly in the empty apartment, each step bringing me closer to the closet door. Something was drawing me there. The voice's words echoed in my mind as well: "We all have to run the race. It's your turn now."
I grabbed the door and stopped. Something was compelling me to move forward. To go into the closet. To chase myself. To run the race.
"No," I whispered and yanked my hand from the door. I pulled out my still recording phone, and stared into the camera. My face was devoid of color, and you could see the fear etched into me. "I'm freaking out because...because…"
I stopped. I felt an invisible hand grab my body and tug. "Because...because if I don't run the race, something bad will happen. I have to chase it. I...I have to."
My phone dropped from my hand, and I didn’t care. The force pulling me forward stopped but my body kept going. I could feel the last strands of my rational mind splintering. My thoughts became focused on one thing: I had to catch myself, find out what was happening, and run the race. If I ran, maybe I'd win.
I needed a win.
I walked into the back of the closet and felt a door handle sticking out of the wall. I'd been in that closet a million times before and never had seen this. But a sense of calm washed over me. This….this was supposed to be here. This was perfectly fine.
I turned the handle and pulled open the invisible door. In front of me was a hallway that looked strikingly like the one outside my apartment. At the end of the hallway, I saw Gloria step out of their home to leave for the night. She was huge. Twice my size, easy.
Another door opened, and I saw...me—a giant version of me. The Hulk version of me was getting ready to go to the grocery store for work. I watched as the giant Gloria and giant me joked and laughed. I was stunned.
I stared, and a new thought came to me. I have to find the smaller me and talk to it. I needed to find out if there's a way out of this...this….
"It's your turn to run," the voice said.
Calm embraced me. "It's my turn to run," I repeated. As the giant me took off and the giant Gloria re-entered her apartment, the hallway beckoned.
"We all have to run the race," I said softly, "It's my turn now."
I started running.

Thanks to Patron Member u/Entharo_entho - Here is the wiped out Tweet retrieved
Context - Wiped out from Internet
In March, I got a chance to work with filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali right after he made Gangubai Kathiawadi, and Alia Bhatt, playing the titular character in the film, retweeted me.
The headline (in my head) was going to be, ‘The Boy From Kamathipura Goes To Bhansali Mandi.’
Then reality struck in April.
One of my closest friends Sweta called me from the Shivapuri National Park near Kathmandu and put me on speaker. Two other friends Mona and Ayush were listening to the WhatsApp call.
‘How’s it going with Bhansu?’ Sweta asked.
‘We are not working together anymore,’ I said.
‘Whaaaaaaaat?’ the three people shrieked, creating a wavy disturbance in audio frequency.
‘Whyyyyy?’ they cried, collectively anguished.
‘He said he is not feeling the vibes.’
‘What?’
‘Vibes,’ I said aloud, causing a seismic tremor in the audio frequency.
‘What vibes?’ Sweta jibed, ‘Maybe he can’t feel the vibrator.’
Laughter upped the vibes.
First, a little context on how I got that far. Check this, this, this & this.
So my tweets were going viral in February-March.
In the second week of March, a woman DM’d me saying she loves the tweets. I said thank you. She said she works at Bhansali Productions.
Whoopsie Daisy!
I asked if I could be a part of the production. She checked with SLB and team. He said he wants to meet now.
NOW!
How?
I was in Calcutta.
I called an actor friend in Bombay and told him about it.
“They will book your tickets and put you up in 5-star,” he said, “Like Hollywood.”
“This is Bhansaliwood,” I said, “Yahan dhanda hamesha manda hai.”
I flew (on my own expense) and met him.
I was ‘prepared’ by his team for the meeting with His High and Mightiness.
I was told:

Arre, then what do I say?
I sashayed in a brown kurta and white linen trousers. Please see Madhuri Dixit-Nene’s brown ghagra for aesthetic reference I used from my very limited wardrobe of the only kurta I had at the time. By the way, the chorus sings ‘Jhanak Jhanak Payal Baaje,’ aesthetically referencing you know what, right?
He was lunching with his minions (strictly calling them minions from his pov) when I arrived in his pristine white dining hall in a building called Magnum Opus. Where else should he reside, no? Both his house, and his office (where I was ‘prepared’ earlier) were tastefully done in creamy white.
It was, as I said to my friend later, like walking into a cumulus cloud, or like sitting on his favourite singer Lata Mangeshkar’s lap. Calm, serene and quite surreal. I was inside his snow globe. Violins from a Bach concerto (in my head) were replaced with say Madan Mohan’s doleful rendition of ‘Mai ri main ka se kahoon peedh apne jiya ki.’ (Side effect of writing this on Mother’s Day.)
I look for books when I enter a house for signs of intelligent life. There were lots of lamps and candelabras but where were the stacks of books they were perched on? The aesthetic was high on film set disposable kitsch. I stared into a cumulative void.
The minions were intensely debating Darjeeling momos. What’s that? I spent my childhood there. Never heard of this GI tag!
SLB relished his meal and said, “I want puranpoli today.”
Puranpoli appeared not out of thin air, but a house-help flipping wishes instantly on a griddle on the fifth floor. We were on the first floor. Although the puranpoli is shaped like a flying saucer, it doesn’t fly, perhaps burdened by the weight of excess ghee and crowd-pleasing expectation. It does, however, reach SLB’s plate at the speed of light.
‘Give him some,’ he asked a minion to serve me while I waited on the sofa.
‘I’ve had lunch, thank you,’ I said, trying to behave. The plate arrived. I took a mousy bite to exhibit my failing attempt to transform into a champion minion.
When he came to chat, he noticed the unfinished food and gently reminded me how there were days he went hungry. I should have rolled my eyes for my own lean days.
‘One should not waste food,’ he said.
‘I don’t,’ I said, ‘I was going to parcel it home in a doggy bag.’
Hearing the word doggy, his well-behaved dog came over to inspect me.
He observed me. I petted her perfunctorily. Am a cat person. Stereotypical writer stuff — allergic to undesired petting and attention.
‘So, what have you done?’ he asked, sitting on a sort of empire-style bergere chair. Full marks for faux-ornate.
‘A novel, some writing for a series,’ I said nervously, dismissively.
‘Anything I might have seen?’ he asked.
‘No, not worthwhile.’
‘Are you interested in direction also?’
‘No, am not delusional.’
A moment passed. I might have displayed an errant repartee.
‘I mean, I can only write, or am trying to,’ I said. L’esprit de l’escalier.
He gave me a spiel on writing, how screenplay is an art not many understand, etc, et cetera.
I nodded to make his voice disappear.
‘What are you writing now?’
I showed him the cover of my new book, The Last Courtesan, featuring my mother, on my phone.
‘Oh, this is so fascinating,’ he said.
He spoke rapturously about Calcutta’s great food and colonial architecture when I mentioned growing up in Bowbazar kothas. If you watch any of his interviews now on YouTube you will realise he only speaks in raptures. He’s always explaining things like an impassioned conductor at a dime-store opera. It can exhaust the boorish audience immediately. He spoke about living in the Kamathipura area as a child when I said I had lived there. The mythmaker was interested in exoticising his own legend as an ‘outsider’.
‘But how will you work here if your mother is in Calcutta?’ he said, ‘I am a maa-ka-bhakt.’
Everything is about him or his mother. I have reached that stage too, though only by circumstances unavoidable.
‘Actually it was my mother who asked me to come here. I told her it would only work out if you understand that I will have to vacillate between the two cities initially. Jaise Sanjay ki Leela hai, waise meri Rekha.’
Corny dialogue, but worked. No one calls him by his first name, except perhaps his own mother. He is sir for everyone.
‘If I am speaking to you for so long means I like you,’ he said. ‘Otherwise, I would have asked you to leave long ago.’
Barely five minutes into the conversation, he asked me to return to his office and inform his team that I was going to be a part of his writer’s room.
I went back to his office and read a script. This is the part I cannot mention. His legal team sits in the adjacent room.
I flew to Calcutta and was to return after a week. I had to make arrangements for my mother’s tri-weekly dialysis sessions at a nearby hospital, figure out a tiffin-delivery service for her, find a house help (she sent four nurses scurrying in the past), all of which is a bit of a task in this retrograde city.
Remember the woman who had DM’d me about my tweets? She messaged. She had met SLB after my meeting. He said this about me: ‘What a wonderful find. That boy has so much potential and is talented. Most importantly, he is sensitive.’
I told her I’d get this engraved on my tombstone.
Like how he wants to take Alia Bhatt’s golchakkar in Dholida to his grave.
“It’s a shot that I will take to my grave. If there’s any shot that I want to be played when I breathe my last, it would be Alia doing that shot. It is the best thing I have seen an actor do in a very long, long time.”
I was only emulating the high priest of hyperbole in my tombstone comment. Perhaps I was regressing into a minion.
I had only managed a few tasks for mother when I was back in Bombay. It worried me that the old, frail woman with shaky limbs and slurred speech was trying to be brave to send me to work. I hadn’t worked since the pandemic; she was in and out of hospitals so frequently that I had surrendered the thought of getting another job ever again. Taking care of her was my full-time job.
The first day in his office was to chill in my new, aesthetically pleasing kurta I had shopped for in Gariahat. There was a security camera in every corner that was apparently accessible on his phone. My skin tingled with this information. Chilled. He was at home. Probably watching. That’s a great way to create a myth.
The next day, there were more minions on the lunch table in his first floor apartment. The magically appearing steamy and fragrant sheera was delicious. A minion deemed it the best sheera in the city. I nodded to make that statement evaporate.
A courier boy interrupted for a document signature. SLB flared at a spelling mistake in the document papers.
‘Go wash your face and come back,’ he yelled at the young man.
The minions at the table laughed nervously. I so wished I was wearing a mask to cover my surprise emoji face.
The minions on the table were writers and assistant directors.
‘Dastavez,’ SLB said, ‘would that be correct to use?’
‘Kaaghzaat,’ the minion replied.
‘Kaaghzaat is paper, dastavez is document,’ said the second minion.
‘You always mislead me,’ SLB sternly reprimanded the first minion. ‘Don’t ever do that again.’
Only that minion tried to laugh, offering an apology. He shut the minion down.
My mask, my mask emoji face.
A third minion was sulking in a corner before I arrived for the writing session. This minion had reportedly offered a script suggestion, which he disliked and barked down. I liked this minion the most. Relatable.
A faint noise of a person running or perhaps just a rumbling sound from somewhere outside interrupted the room. He looked up at the ceiling and said, ‘No one lives there. Am certain it is a ghost. I hear running sounds all the time. I have heard sounds of furniture being dragged.’
I wondered if he actually believed in half the things he uttered, or was he just saying it to create enigma about himself. Mythical thoughts certainly kept him preoccupied.
Reality bored him. SLB had nothing good to say about the ‘current plague’ of South Indian films upsetting the Bollywood cartel. He compared them to a circus. He wasn’t kind to the actors he had worked with in his last film. He cracked lame jokes about everyone and everything. The minions laughed and kept him busy. I chuckled a few times to blend in. The mythmaker revelled in his prophesies about the impending doom of charlatans with no aesthetics: just crass, commercial peddlers pimping art. It was all said to amuse and bemuse while he fussed over the yellow shade of fabric from several swatches.
When he left for his music session, the minions bitched him out, and how! All the horror stories I had heard over the years about his moods, behaviour, language and violent temper were true. How else will he create myth about himself as a maestro? The Glomar response. Let the plebs indulge in hearsay. I will neither confirm nor deny. The minions sang effigy songs in happy tunes, if I may stretch this part a bit like his penchant for high camp.
That night, when I went to my actor friend’s house, where I was temporarily staying, I said to him, ‘I don’t think I will last a week there.’
I was rattled by how he spoke to the courier boy and the minions, with no filter. Well, at least it was clear he had no tact, endearing as that might be of a ‘genius’ if one compromises with his erratic behaviour. The CEO of his company does it beautifully and advises to develop a ‘thick hide’ around him. Cows, essentially.
Verve
The words genius, great, master, maverick, were so loosely bandied by his office staff even in his absence that I was tempted to add auteur, if they could spell or pronounce it. They worked in perpetual fear of him turning up at any hour and checking on their tidiness. A minion whined she wasn’t dressed appropriately for his surprise visit. Once, he even cut pay for unscheduled leave, said another minion. A minion narrated a shot he copied from a photographer in Gangubai Kathiawadi. Another minion recounted how he made her cry on shoot by screaming at her for a silly mistake. Minions couldn’t leave the office till his evenings were scheduled. It was a well-paying job so long as they did not have to see ‘chacha’s’ face and only applaud his cinematic sorcery.
His office team would assign me desk-work and warn me not to inform him about it.
‘What am I supposed to say if he asks?’
‘Make up something,’ I was told.
‘Why should I?’
‘You will slowly understand,’ I was told.
His team of assistants would sneak around me. I didn’t know who was reporting what back to him. He would interrogate the management team. They would lash out at me for informing the assistants. The management wanted to control me a certain way because ‘sir’ does not need to know everything. It was quite a guessing game. He had created an ecosystem of complete chaos and loved the hubbub. New people were hired for him to use the ‘new energy’ to rekindle the ‘old energy’ that needed to be reminded it could be snuffed out and replaced. He thrived on confusion because it all boiled down to him to sort out the mess. He was the provider so long as the minions ingratiated and served their grand master.
One time he called me upstairs, what his CEO called the god’s chamber aka the Shahenshah’s durbar: his office on the seventh floor. Walls were lined with giant posters of his films. We minions sat on the fifth floor. I was of course by now a week old in the toady mill. On the seventh floor, production team members, set designer, director assistant, young people sat on the floor, armed with notebooks and laptops, alert and sugar-tongued. He sat on a throne and dictated each one about their duty. A masseur massaged his leg. He asked me what I thought of a script. I said it was lovely. He asked me to elaborate. I said I liked a character’s resolve. He denied it was written. I said that’s my interpretation. A minion promptly backed me.
‘What changes do you suggest?’ he asked.
‘We should sit on it collectively and decide,’ I said.
He mumbled something. My suggestion was dismissed. I was dismissed. I bowed out. A minion whispered to me, ‘We all walk on eggshells around him.’ I had to be a chicken in a coop I suppose.
Another time he dismissed my suggestion for a scene saying, ‘That’s not how art is made.’ I had referenced a scene from Bandit Queen to illustrate my point. Just like his entire oeuvre is homage to a classic. How else does he make his art?
Allow me to illustrate with a frame from his first film Khamoshi: The Musical. The second image is from Pakeezah.
Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam references Red Beard, Woh 7 Din.
Devdas references Pakeezah more than once.
Black references The Miracle Worker.
Saawariya references Pyaasa, Awaara.
Guzaarish references Whose Life Is It Anyway?
Goliyon Ki Raasleela: Ram-Leela references Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet, West Side Story.
Bajirao Mastani references Mughal-E-Azam.
Padmaavat references Mirch Masala.
Gangubai Kathiawadi, let’s give him the benefit of doubt is all his own, original artistry.
The American filmmaker Jim Jarmusch once meta quoted the French filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard when he said:
“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery — celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from — it’s where you take them to.”
SLB believes he takes art and betters it, removing the grubby coat of slime from the sublime, often not concerned with acknowledging the source. He is a master’s master, elevating it to an otherworldly experience, the creator of a mythoverse.
He asked me to rewrite a scene I didn’t agree with. He banged the script folders on the table like a petulant, little child. I watched his posture change into a frump. Tiger Shroff’s ‘Bacchi ho kya,’ dialogue comes to mind.
‘You are talking like those critics who find fault but don’t know how to write. They should write the film,’ he said.
That argument will never make sense to me but since I write movies now and not just about them, I rewrote the scene in half an hour and showed it to him. He found it rubbish.
I was not called to the writer’s room for a week.
His CEO said I should go to his house; hang around him, like the other assistants whose only purpose in life is to feed his ego. We are slaves to his vision, she said. She thought I was a better writer than the team he had assembled. ‘From whatever I read, only three lines of your work on social media, I could sense it,’ she said.
Either she was encouraging, or bluffing with a perfectly Zen face. From the hundreds of Ganesh idols stacked in her room, it was clear she wasn’t a reader. She was good at reading numbers, data, and stats. She would sense a sign if one of the metal idols sucked milk from a spoon on the day she enquired about box –office figures.
There was more than one right-wing hardliner in his office. Secular staff was invisible. A pretty minion in baby pink t-shirt, whose main grouse was that another minion called him a Barbie doll, said he was happy with the Modi government building roads in his home state Bihar. Another minion countered him by asking: What about the persecution of minorities by the same government? The pretty minion said he didn’t care for that. He was assisting ‘sir’ because he wanted to be an actor. Which lead me to wonder how many Muslim actors has this production worked with? Silly of me to think, right? Given that I myself don’t use my Muslim surname. I’ve now successfully planted a myth in your head. That’s how it works.
In the time that I was in Versova during my brief stint at Bhansali Productions, I met several people with their own SLB horror story. A producer said, ‘He is a difficult man but life changes for good after you work with him. Some people want to go through hell first. Life bann jaati hai.’ I didn’t understand why purgatory was necessary. Another former assistant said, ‘When you work with the worst (SLB) and the best (KJO), you are ready for the rest.’
A young woman gave him a thesis she wrote on his films. He asked her to write a book on her. She said she wanted to assist as a director. She never heard from him. A filmmaker said SLB was too friendly with another assistant, suggesting intimacy. A writer wasn’t given credit in a film.
Another writer was promised his script will be turned into a film but it never took off and now he feels his life has been ruined. A young filmmaker’s debut movie SLB produced was delayed, not promoted, and called ‘kachra’ to his face.
The young man said SLB is sexist, homophobe, classist, fat shamer, emotional abuser, and a body shamer. “He is a joyless pit of darkness where happiness goes to die. And those are the nicest words I can think of to describe him,” he said. Another filmmaker said a choreographer was in a relationship with SLB and wanted to marry him but he wouldn’t even touch her, a hotly discussed conversation amongst his minions.
Everything sounds hokum. A successful man is likely to upset a few. The few will talk. Their words may ring true through a gossamer veil of implausibility. Myths magnifying his persona.
There are too many myths about his personal life, aroused by his silence on the subject but all too obvious in his work. When people want to confirm with me, I am equally appalled at their lack of aesthetics. Like the great reader of curtains, Edgar Allan Poe, you only have to look at SLB’s use of billowy curtains in films to guess.

Above stanza, courtesy Poe, poem: The Raven.
Hope you get the drift, or draft, hawa ka jhonka! By the way, am digressing now, is the weirdly named character Sameer Rosselline in Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam the first mainstream Hindi film hero to pass wind? The ruffled curtains are first to be cautioned though.
Unlike most people willing to swallow their pride to work with SLB, few like the eponymous Gangubai character choose izzat. The house-help employed in my actor friend’s house was asked to work as a cook in his house. When she heard the whimsy, dessert-craving demands, she declined the offer. I identify with her no-nonsense style.
In November 2021, a filmmaker read a film script I wrote and said, ‘This is SLB territory. Only he can make it. It is the modern love-story he has been wanting to make for a long time.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked, somewhat flattered but also bewildered.
‘Yes, we just have to change the setting from Calcutta-Bombay to Calcutta-New York. It is what he has been trying to crack. I’ll get him to read it.’
I never spoke to SLB about my script. I did not want to look like a schemer. I had only got a chance because of my mother’s story. I had come to write courtesan songs. Hindi films are recognised by their songs. His films have show tunes that live on long after the sequins and mirrors reflect a decadent style. He employs the old-fashioned method of making Hindi films, which is to stitch scenes around a song, not the other way round. And when you glean your references from the best of classical melodies, how can you falter?
My own SLB story is that after watching Saawariya in 2007, I wrote a few songs, moved to Bombay, lived in Versova, close to Magnum Opus, and hoped to meet him, but made no effort even though I came in close contact with people who worked directly with him. I never requested for a meeting. Over the years, I too had heard a few horror stories about him. I only believe in what I see. I waited when he would call for me, my work would have to speak for itself.
A day before Good Friday, his CEO sat me down and said it’s not working out.
There’s a mythical story of how Lata Mangeshkar was on her way to record a song for SLB but the heavens poured and she had to turn her car back. A typical SLB frame of hope and hopelessness.
Never work with your idols. You’ll have a better story to imagine and create myths.
I was so relieved to leave. I hadn’t got a moment to read, or write, let alone think since I got here. Why I wanted to work with SLB was to not believe in hearsay. I will either confirm or deny.
‘Great,’ I said, ‘everyone deserves an off on Good Friday.’
The office was unsure about public holidays. SLB’s mood dictated the calendar.
Before returning to Calcutta, I met a friend entrenched in the film business.
When she heard of the fiasco, she said, ‘I’ve heard he is very anal, is he?’
The vibrator jokes never stop.

Chapter 120 The spectators continued cheering and whistling even minutes after the fight had come to an end. Zaon had caught the crowd by surprise. He was going to be the talk of Farcrest for the rest of the week. The perfect underdog, classless, orphaned, a bit awkward even, coming up victorious against the tyranny of levels. But that was only part of the picture. Zaon had demonstrated the vast difference in skills between him and a combatant nine levels ahead of him.
The victory put us seven points ahead, but what mattered the most going forward was the three points Zaon had lost. Team Nara’s Soldier might not be half as a competent fencer as Zaon but his proficiency with Quick-Step had given him three undisputed points. The Soldier knew when to use the skill to reap the most benefit, and I assumed all our opponents would be the same going forward.
The more skills our opponents had, the harder it would be for the kids.
“Contenders, please enter the arena,” the Master of Ceremonies’ voice echoed over the crowd’s roar. “Ilya the Hunter versus Arel Nara the Warrior!”
Despite Zaon’s victory, I couldn’t help but feel nervous. The Warrior class had a better skill pool than the Soldier class. Ilya grabbed my hand, cutting my musings short.
“Something wrong?”
I examined her face, but she just gave me a nonchalant wink and pulled me to my feet.
“Play along,” Ilya muttered as we walked to the weapons rack holding hands. “Act as if you are choosing a weapon for me. Give me the same sword as Zaon.”
Ilya was trying to fool her opponent even before the match started.
I played along and walked Ilya to the weapons rack like a father dragging his daughter to the dentist. She took the bit about ‘all war is based on deception’ too seriously, but I couldn’t blame her. Ilya had to gather every slight advantage she could if she wanted a chance in a world of average-height people.
Her act worked because Arel Nara seemed to smell her weakness as soon as we reached the weapons rack.
“Have you lost your bravado, little Gnome?” Arel Nara said as he casually grabbed an arming sword with a broad blade from the rack. The boy had the same vulpine expression as Lord Nara, but unlike his lord, his yellow and black fencing uniform revealed his strong arms and legs.
Ilya cowered behind me without letting my hand go. The System should’ve given her the Actress or Spy Class.
“Just what I thought,” Arel Nara laughed. He had grabbed a round shield and an arming sword. “It seems I won’t need this,” he added, leaving the shield back on the weapons rack and strolling into the arena with a carefree demeanor.
Lord Nara, who until that moment was furious due to the first combat, seemed to relax after seeing Ilya cowering behind me.
“Your sword is longer than his, Ilya. Aim for his hands and feet, and don’t let him close the distance. Don’t let him disarm you,” I whispered as I put the slim longsword in Ilya’s hand. “And don’t let him get under your skin.”
Ilya grunted.
“I already know, Mister Clarke! I’m used to having the reach disadvantage and to that sort of comment. I know how to fight against stronger opponents, and he isn’t half of a trash talker as Holst was,” Ilya said with an evil smile. “I got this.”
“Teach him a lesson,” I replied with a smile.
Ilya nodded and gave me her best ‘I’m-on-the-verge-of-tears’ face before turning around and walking to the center of the arena. Despite her tailor-made uniform and the longsword on her shoulder, Ilya looked completely out of place, like a small bird caught in a storm. With a shaky smile, she stood before Arel Nara, raised her chin, and squared her shoulders. I made a mental note telling her to keep her acting shenanigans to combat.
I returned to the bench, avoiding Elincia’s glance. The Fortifier applied the barriers around Ilya’s body. As before, the work wasn’t bad; it was just sloppy on the edges. The difference would be too subtle to catch for anyone without a good grasp of mana detection. Even if I complained now, the Fortifier could brush me off, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t brewing a plan.
“She’s using that technique, uh?” Firana said.
“What technique?” I asked, sitting on the bench and patting Zaon’s shoulder. The boy leaned back with a towel on his face, still trying to control his accelerated heartbeat.
“Shu has been helping Ilya with her acting skills.”
I massaged my temples, worried. The news wasn’t at all surprising. I was already familiar with the little harpy shenanigans. Shu might already be a genius of manipulation at the young age of seven, but I didn’t foresee the little harpy teaching her dark arts to others.
Arel Nara greeted the crowd, his perfect smile reeking of overconfidence. Then, he walked to the Prince’s box with sluggish movements and bowed deeply. Arel Nara might be a braggart, but not a complete fool. He deliberately stalled combat as much as possible while Ilya trembled like a leaf with her longsword tight against her chest.
The Master of Ceremonies let the performance continue for a few seconds, unaware of the fact the battle had already started.
“Combatants, to the center!” He finally announced.
Arel Nara strolled back to the center of the arena, mindlessly swinging his sword and stretching his shoulders. Ilya remained still.
“The fight will end when one of the participants runs out of barriers. There will be no pause between barrier breaks. If you want to give up, raise your hand,” the Master of Ceremonies repeated the rules, looking at Ilya. “On guard!”
Ilya imitated Zaon’s guard, the pflug, not giving her opponent a single hint of the skills she had on her sleeve.
“Fight!”
Ilya stepped forward and swung at Arel Nara’s shin. The boy raised his leg out of the way and countered with a jumping attack that landed on Ilya’s chest. The girl fell on her back, but instead of going for the following attack, Arel Nara turned his back to Ilya and riled up the crowd.
Ilya used her sword to stand up. When she raised her guard, Arel Nara spun around, pushing her sword to the side. Ilya answered with a choreographed thrust, but Arel Nara dodged with enough time to get to Ilya’s side and deal a powerful blow with the pommel of his sword.
Ilya slammed the ground again, her uniform and face covered in dust. The crowd was ruthless, cheering for the strongest warrior. The underdog concept didn’t seem to exist in this world, which wasn’t surprising considering that underdogs, lesser Classes, had marginal opportunities to win against a more powerful opponent.
Ilya was two barriers down.
“You chose the wrong Class, Gnome. Your kind belongs to a workshop, not the battlefield.” Arel Nara taunted Ilya. “I don’t know what lies your Caretaker whispered in your ears, so let me be clear. You are falling short of the mark.”
Ilya separated her feet and adopted the vom tag guard, angering her opponent.
“You asked for it,” Arel Nara grunted as a wave washed over the Warrior’s body, and with a mighty cry, he cast a fortifying spell.
Ilya assessed the situation instantly and channeled her power but didn’t use any skill. She remained vigilant. Arel Nara performed a jumping thrust followed by a quick slash. Ilya parried the first attack and ducked in time to dodge the follow-up.
The crowd yelled for blood, but Ilya used her longer blade to keep Arel Nara at bay, aiming at his hand instead of his body. It was a clever tactic. She not only had the reach advantage, but a longsword packed the power of both arms, unlike the arming sword used with a single hand. Arel Nara burned his mana trying to break Ilya’s defense, but the girl was used to fighting against Wolf and Firana.
Being the ‘worst’ student had its benefits. During sparring, Ilya always fought larger, stronger, or more skillful opponents, and she had developed a system to make up for the difference in body span. Ilya’s defensive style was perfect for zoning out aggressive opponents. Moreover, Ilya was a smart fighter.
Arel Nara burned his mana to get a hit, but Ilya defended like a porcupine. The more Arel Nara approached, the more chances he had of getting stung, and he wasn’t willing to lose a single barrier against Ilya. Not taking a shield was costing him dearly. Longswords had a bad matchup against an arming sword paired with a shield.
Arel Nara attacked once more, unleashing a flurry of strikes. Ilya retreated, dodging and blocking, but the fortifying spell wasn’t in vain. Arel Nara pushed Ilya’s sword aside and seized the opening on the girl’s defense. With a quick step forward, he secured a clean slash across Ilya’s chest. The girl tried to riposte, but he retreated before she could hit.
Ilya was three barriers down and hadn’t broken a single one yet.
Arel Nara’s assault was relentless, and Ilya was starting to breathe heavily; dust and sweat covered her, and even her stance was getting sloppy at times. Ilya was a more skilled fighter, but Arel Nara’s stamina was superior; a prolonged fight would only benefit him.
“Not that good without a bow, are you?” Arel Nara taunted. “What are you going to do? Cast Piercing Shot with a sword?”
“I’m not the one running out of mana,” Ilya spoke for the first time in the combat.
Her words were a slap against Arel Nara’s face, who instantly interrupted the fortifying skill.
“You need four times your mana for that skill to have any effect in this fight,” Ilya taunted him. “You should try something else. Quick-step? Puncture, maybe? No? Even a Level 5 Soldier should have two or three skills at their disposal. Don’t tell me you decided to participate in the tournament with a single skill, please.”
Ilya’s taunt worked. Despite being three barriers down, she had made Arel Nara work hard for them.
“You asked for it,” Arel Nara said, channeling mana around his sword.
Ilya raised his guard, with the hilt of her sword at eye level and the point of the sword aiming forward. Ochs. She braced for the attack, but Arel Nara remained still. Then, he let the sword go, but it didn’t fall. Instead, the sword floated by his side, pointing menacingly at Ilya.
“I’m not a Soldier. I’m a Warrior,” Arel Nara grunted.
The sword flew in a straight line like a bullet, but Ilya blocked it. What she didn’t expect was Arel Nara running forward. The boy channeled mana and cast Iron Skin around his leg as he threw a high kick. Ilya leaned back, dodging by millimeters, but before she could counter against her unarmed opponent, Arel Nara’s sword flew back at her, stabbing her shoulder blade and breaking the fourth barrier.
Arel Nara smirked.
“Your choice, getting kicked or stabbed,” he said. “Forget that. For a Gnome, getting kicked might be more appropriate.”
Ilya smirked back. “That’s it? If you have any hidden skill, I warn you, this might be the moment to use it.”
The arming sword came back to life, spinning and circling Ilya, threatening to attack at any moment. Ilya remained impassive. She had prepared a plan. Mana surged from her chest, and just as the blade launched forward, a thick vine shot from the ground. The sword pierced the vine from side to side, but before Arel Nara could yank it back, the vine coiled around the blade like a boa constrictor.
Arel Nara strengthened his body and made a run for the sword, but Ilya stood in his way.
“Did you lose something, idiot?” She grinned as she thrusted.
Arel Nara cast Iron Skin and blocked Ilya’s blade with his forearm. The skill shrouded his barriers, preventing them from breaking, but the girl didn’t stop. She weaved a series of attacks and feints in a single fluid movement. Arel Nara retreated, casting Iron Skin around his arms and legs to block Ilya’s blows. Each time Ilya swung the sword, a chunk of Arel’s mana was blasted into the air until the signs of Mana Exhaustion started to show. Ilya ran him down, and the boy’s movements became erratic.
In a desperate last attempt to recover his sword, Arel Nara channeled all his remaining mana into the blade and tried to overpower Ilya’s vine; however, the girl effortlessly countered with her much bigger reserves. Sword and vine fought, but in the end, the vine imprisoned the blade against the ground.
“Your choice, surrender or get stabbed by a Gnome,” Ilya mockingly said.
[Awareness] brought Ilya’s words to my ears. A quick lesson in sportsmanship might be needed, but I decided to leave it for later. Ilya was making a statement. Not only was she a competent fencer, but she was also an intelligent fighter. The best part: she only used a fraction of her power.
Arel Nara gestured to raise his hand, but Ilya smacked it down with her sword before he could completely raise it: one barrier down, nine to go. Arel Nara opened her eyes in surprise. Ilya pressed the attack, breaking barrier after barrier until Arel Nara was left with only one. The spectators changed sides the moment the tides turned, roaring every time Ilya penetrated a barrier.
Arel Nara was trapped against the arena wall.
“I care very little about what you say about me, but I will not tolerate any ill comments against Mister Clarke. Idiot.” Ilya said, lowering her sword. “You have two options now. You can surrender or make a further fool of yourself trying to retrieve your sword.”
It had been a while since one of my students made me blush.
Arel Nara unenthusiastically raised his hand and returned to the pavilion with his head down before the Master of Ceremonies could announce his defeat. Ilya retrieved Arel Nara’s sword, or rather made the vine do it for her, and walked to the Prince’s box. She performed a gracious bow and saluted the spectators with an innocent smile. I couldn’t decide if the crowd was happy for Ilya or gloating at Arel Nara’s defeat.
Among the seats of the high nobility, Ginz leaned over the handrail with half of his body outside the box. A member of the royal army frantically grabbed him by the belt to prevent him from falling into the arena. Ginz would’ve made a great English hooligan if he had been born in London or its surroundings. I couldn’t help but share the feeling, but my position required me to maintain a certain level of composure.
Ilya skipped toward Ginz and high-fived him before returning to the pavilion.
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Hopefully this isn’t downvoted instantly, because I know people seem to get strangely very defensive about Beast’s characterization in this run. I think there is a lot of miscommunication whenever a Beast fan complains about how he was depicted here. Often times people will discount those complaints because they think Beast fans just don’t want him to go bad, when that doesn’t really seem to be the whole truth from what I’ve seen. Ultimately, the complaints I raise and I have seen others raise are more about thinking the writing of his spiral in X-Force 2019 was not done well rather than that said spiral shouldn’t have happened at all. With the Krakoa era coming to an end, and “From the Ashes” having the now-rebooted Beast who is pulled all the way from his time on The Defenders, I don’t see any of the flaws here being addressed beyond characters casually referring to how bad he became. So I wanted to take this time in the in-between, where our new Beast is apparently just chilling on Wonder Man’s couch while the rest of the X-Men fight against Orchis and Nimrod, to once and for all lay out the flaws of Beast’s villainous era, and establish not that it shouldn’t have happened, but that it could have been way better.
Problem 1: A Lack of Pathos:
Most X-Men fans who have been reading for awhile will agree that it’s honestly surprising more mutants haven’t gone down a dark path. Their history is one of striving for acceptance, putting their lives on the line for people who would rather see them dead, and being rewarded with not one but multiple genocides on their population. Some of the most interesting stories can actually come from a formally “upstanding” mutant finally deciding enough is enough. When Cyclops went down his “villainous” path, it made a lot of sense. We’d seen him becoming more disenfranchised with the dream for years. We’d seen his trust in Xavier erode time and time again, and so when he decided to stop asking for acceptance and start demanding it, it was hard to blame him. Even as we saw most of his friends turn against him, that didn’t stop people from declaring “Cyclops Was Right,” because his perspective could easily be understood, and he did achieve results. More recently in X-Men ‘97, we saw Rogue go down a dark path in the wake of Genosha being wiped out, including Magneto and Gambit. Again, this was understood, and it was an interesting direction for her character.
This sort of turn would also make a ton of sense for Hank McCoy. Did you know that back towards the start of the original Uncanny X-Men run, Hank was actually the first X-Men we ever saw to leave the team and say that Magneto was right, after he and Bobby were attacked by an angry mob because Hank used his powers to save a young child? Over the years, one of Hank’s most recurring struggles and arcs is self-loathing and eventual acceptance of his condition. Hank has always been at his darkest when he’s trapped in his spiral of self-loathing, but when he comes out the other side, he tends to be one of the most optimistic mutants when it comes to coexistence with humans. He was out making connections and fighting alongside non-mutants before anyone else. Joining the Avengers and Defenders, speaking on behalf of mutant rights before congress, dating human women who were able to accept his appearance, blue fur and all. Until they weren’t… looking at you, Trish Tilby.
So with all of this in mind, it would honestly be an extremely interesting arc to see Hank, this optimistic mutant who has spent his life building bridges and making connections with humanity, to be slowly beaten down and start to believe peace is not an option. As one of the original X-Men, he has been there through every tragedy that struck the mutant population. And as one of the smartest X-Men, he has usually been at the center of these crises. He has seen advancements in science meant to eradicate the mutants. He has fought against viruses that threaten to drive them extinct. He was there in the wreckage of Genosha. He has seen countless friends killed again and again. He has suffered his own mutation evolving and making him less and less human-looking. He saw the development of a mutant “cure” and was tempted to take it. He has seen it all.
And so that brings us to Krakoa. This is the moment where the mutants as a whole decided enough was enough. If they could not be accepted by humanity, they would pack up and form their own nation, and they would force humanity to accept that they exist by developing life-saving drugs that other nations would have to rely on. And what is one of the first things that happens after the establishment of Krakoa? Hank witnesses assassins infiltrate the island and assassinate Charles Xavier. This right here is honestly the perfect setup for Hank to go darker than he has before. Even after literally segregating the mutant population from humanity, like humanity seemed to want, they still decided to come and kill the man at the forefront of the movement. And Hank, recently placed in charge of mutant black-ops, would likely see that all options are on the table.
Unfortunately, Hank’s actual pathos surrounding the decisions he would go on to make is not explored by the book itself. The book has no interest in detailing Hank’s fall from grace as we saw with Cyclops before him. The book just wants us to accept that Hank has already fallen. And in fact, according to the writing, maybe he never had anywhere to fall from. Any time a character in X-Force tries to ask important questions to understand Hank’s thought process, they are cut off. Usually by Wolverine saying “He’s always been like this.” And then on one occasion, when Wolverine asked Hank why he was doing all this dark shit, Hank said, “Didn’t you read the script? I’ve always been like this.” There is no attempt to examine Hank as a character. We don’t need to know why Hank makes the decisions he does, because this book wants Hank to be a black and white villain and so that’s what he will be. Why? Because he’s always been like this.
Problem 2: Rapid Escalation:
One of the major defenses people have when it comes to Krakoan Hank is that he has apparently been on the road to his villainous self for over a decade. The X-Force run itself loved to have characters spout a list of Hank’s previous “crimes” without any context involved, as justification for why he was acting the way he did in the current run. The problem is, that context is very important. Because it shows the disparity in the Hank of previous stories who made mistakes with good intentions vs the Hank of X-Force who did heinous shit because he wanted to. This was less a plane making a slow descent and more a plane that was slowly descending, but then its engines shut off and it plummeted into a fiery explosion.
To make this case, we need to briefly analyze the previous perceived transgressions of Hank McCoy to show what they actually meant for his character and how they differ from the Bond villain X-Force would present us with. Let’s start with Threnody. Somehow, Threnody became a bit of a buzzword for the beginning of the end for Hank. When people talk about the history of Hank and Threnody, they will usually present it as one of Hank’s worst sins, saying something like “Hank callously handed Threnody over to Mr. Sinister so he could experiment on and abuse her!!!” It kind of makes for some whiplash when you actually read the Threnody story people are talking about. Here is a brief rundown of what actually happens:
Threnody is a young woman who cannot control her powers. It causes her no end of grief, and when we are introduced to her, she is homeless and constantly in danger of hurting herself or others. Beast, Rogue, and Iceman come across Threnody who has been found first by Mr. Sinister. Sinister actually has a vested interest in curing the Legacy Virus, and believes he can help Threnody master her powers, at which point she will prove vital in his efforts to study said Virus. Notably, Threnody wants to go with Sinister here. While Rogue disapproves, Hank does believe that Sinister is actually Threnody’s best option, openly stating Sinister can actually help her gain control and the X-Men cannot, because, as Hank directly says, Sinister is willing to damn parts of his soul in pursuit of scientific enlightenment, and the X-Men are not. A few issues later, when breaking into Sinister’s base, Hank encounters Threnody again. She’s happy. Sinister did indeed help her control her powers, and she has been able to use her abilities to help mutants the world over, while also undermining Sinister’s more evil operations from the inside. Hank expresses relief, saying he was kept up at night by his decision to let her go with Sinister, but Threnody actually thanks him for letting her. And that’s it. That’s Hank’s big “crime” here.
Hank’s other “sins” are also of varying levels of severity. There’s the time “Hank worked with his evil self to cure the Legacy Virus!” when the actual story in question is Hank asserting that he won’t stoop to the levels of Dark Beast and compromise his values in the name of science. There’s the time “Hank sided with the Inhumans against the X-Men!” when the actual story is Storm sending Hank to Attilan to find a way to end the conflict between mutants and inhumans before war broke out. Hank runs out of time to find a cure for the terrigen mist cloud, suggests mutants get off-world in the meantime rather than go to war with the inhumans, is thrown into a cell by the other X-Men for his “betrayal”, and then freed at the conclusion of the war by a repentant Storm when it comes to light that the whole conflict was manipulated by Emma Frost. There’s the time “Hank risked the timestream by bringing the original X-Men to the present day!” A decision that was made on his perceived deathbed with the hopes of bringing his old friend Cyclops back to his side. Hank wants to take the young mutants back right away, but they refuse. And instead of others enforcing that they need to return, we actually see Kitty Pride decide to lead them in the present in memory of Charles Xavier. Notably, Kitty would be one of the many mutants in future issues who would yell at Hank about this.
The point of this post isn’t to absolve Hank of all fault. He has made countless mistakes and bad decisions. Regardless of the culpability of others, the pulling of the O5 to the present was his decision. During Secret Empire, Hank would turn a blind eye to Hydra’s activity simply to keep the mutants under his care safe. During all of this, however, Hank’s character was not compromised. He expressed despair and regret over his worse choices, and struggled with thinking he was a good person any longer. Again, going back to his recurring struggle with self-loathing. He had pathos behind his decisions and how they affected him, and would often reunite with Wonder Man as an opportunity to recenter and declare he would “be better tomorrow than he was yesterday.”
You would think, if the aim of X-Force was to turn Hank into a full-on villain, it would take advantage of the long-form storytelling of comics to chronicle that escalation. Like I said, the assassination of Charles Xavier is a great starting point for Hank to start going darker than he ever has before. The problem is, we don’t get an escalation. Hank starts the run by doing some of the most heinous shit imaginable. Regardless of your thoughts on the severity of Hank’s previous mistakes, none of them compare to his opening volley in this run. Hank uses telefloronics to override and genocide an entire country, leaving various people either completely dead or braindead. We later find out that during this time he also established a space station where he ran unethical experiments on prisoners like Krakoa’s very own Dr. Mengele. He then accuses his old ally Colossus of conspiring with Russia against Krakoa, and calls forth the mutant population to witness as he parades a shamed Colossus through its streets. Then he kills Wolverine and resurrects him as a mindless animal who he uses as an attack dog against his perceived enemies. This isn’t an escalation, this is a different character. And the aforementioned lack of pathos means that we don’t get to see him struggle with these choices. We don’t see his thought process as he becomes darker and darker. Why would we? “He’s always been like this.”
Problem 3: No Personality:
One of the most fun aspects of turning a protagonist into an antagonist is seeing how their personality works with a more villainous mindset. When Cyclops became an “antagonist” to the X-Men, he was still Cyclops. He stuck to his convictions, he was a great leader and tactician, and he was able to turn many mutants to his side because of this. We’ve seen an evil Beast before. The creatively-named Dark Beast is from an alternate future where Beast went down a dark path lacking ethics. The fun of this character, besides comparing his ideologies with our Hank McCoy, is seeing how Hank’s penchant for jokes or quotes now become far more sinister and cutting.
There’s a strange narrative that the jokey Hank is reserved for the Avengers while the Hank with the X-Men is all business and science. This isn’t entirely true. Early on when he was a member of the Defenders, Hank talks about this sort of thing. He essentially says that he wears different hats. While working with the X-Men, he used big words essentially to gain respect from both his teammates and humanity. But with other teams, and in his then-new furry form, he dropped all of that. His speech became more naturalistic and he was much more of a goofball. The thing is, it’s the speech patterns that truly change depending on who Hank is hanging with, not his personality. Hank with the X-Men and Hank with the Avengers are both jovial characters who like to tell jokes and quote philosophy. You can see Hank being a bit of a clown among the X-Men in various runs. So it’s not like it’s a given that Hank is some entirely different dry doctor devoid of any sense of humor when among the X-Men.
But this is how Hank is portrayed in X-Force. Part of why this version of Hank is so hard to reconcile with the rest of his history for fans of the character is that he just doesn’t act like himself, even when he isn’t actively committing war crimes. In one early issue of the run, we get a glimpse at Beast’s journal where he accounts a meeting he had with Forge. Now, Beast has been known to be a very physical character. He is often known to sweep others into a hug, or even plant a big kiss on their face in the case of characters like Wonder Man or Iceman. Meanwhile this one page where we read his thoughts on Forge is clearly pretending this is not the case:

I paid Forge a visit in the Armory – and I must say that he can be, like Logan, rather impossible. There is a certain locker room bravado about him I find perplexing, like a language I only half understand. For instance, he refused to shake my hand but instead dragged me into what he called a “bro hug.” Then he challenged me to a “feat of strength,” asking if I would test out this sappy “muck bomb” he had developed that – or so I gather – glues one in place. He wondered if a “big boy” like me might be able to thrash free of the binding. I refused him and said I very much would prefer to get down to business. He then referred to me as a “bookish peckerwood @#$%” but did so with a friendly laugh and clapped me on the shoulder hard enough to make me stagger. I’m not sure how to process this, honestly. Is he being friendly or cruel? Is it possible to be both?

Needless to say, this doesn’t read like Beast. It reads like an android that has never before felt human emotion. I remember before reading this I was theorizing that Hank had been switched with Dark Beast once more to explain his sudden escalation, but after this I realized that couldn’t be the case. Because this sounds like neither Beast nor Dark Beast. Dark Beast understood how to properly write Hank as a villain. He doesn’t suddenly become your typical made scientist devoid of emotion, humor, or basic human understanding. He still makes jokes that are now cruel. He still quotes literature in a way that paints him as a god among men. Hank going bad can be a fun read, but this run was not.
Problem 4: No One Cares:
Another important angle to consider when writing a story of a good person breaking bad is how it affects those around them. Those who are close friends to the person and find themselves disturbed by their current actions. Again, I return to Cyclops. Regardless of where you stand on if he was right or not, he was very much positioned as an antagonist to the mutants at the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning. Yet we see various friends of Cyclops still caring for him and wanting to pull him back from what they perceive as the dark side. Like I previously said, Beast’s whole reason for messing with the timeline was because he felt he was going to die and wanted to try to appeal to his old friend and bring him back around before he passed on. When someone good goes bad, part of the emotional core is seeing former friends try to appeal to their better nature, and even eventually deciding they’ve gone too far to turn back.
Not so with Hank in X-Force. Like I said, this run posits that this is not any kind of heel turn for Hank. This is how he’s always been. “Hank this isn’t you!” “No, he’s always been like this.” “Hank, turn back before it’s too late!” “Turn back where? He’s always been like this.” None of Hank’s friends give a shit. Hank’s best friend amongst the X-Men is Bobby Drake, Iceman, and we never once see any kind of confrontation there. Cyclops and Angel similarly doesn’t care. Now you could argue this is because X-Force is a secretive organization. Bobby and Scott don’t even know what Hank is doing. There are two issues with this. First, things reach a point where they would know. Hank’s actions become public knowledge, and Wolverine goes off to hunt him down while the rest of the X-Men just kinda look the other way. And second, there is someone with a lot of history with Hank that was a part of X-Force and did see everything that was going on. Jean Grey.
But we never get to see Jean wonder what’s happened to her close friend. Jean who was always incredibly close to Hank. Jean who, it was confirmed during the All-New X-Men era, had mutual feelings for Hank and might have started dating him had things been different. But no, Jean, like every character in this run, accepts that Hank has always been like this. That’s the answer to everything. So instead of some kind of emotional confrontation where she tries to appeal to his better nature, we instead have Jean yell at Hank, use her powers to throw him against a wall, and quit X-Force. And then most recently, we see her tell Firestar without hesitation to throw Hank under the bus for any heat that comes her way from her undercover mission. Because everyone will believe Hank is responsible for all the bad shit. Who the hell cares about Hank? According to this run, no one.
Conclusion:
I hope you can see the larger issue here. When Beast fans complain about his Krakoan era, people assume they just don’t want to see their favorite do bad things. But it’s practically accepted at this point in comics that most heroes will have a villain arc. Hell, Iceman is the only one of the original five X-Men who hasn’t gone down a dark path at this point. The problem is that everything about the writing of Hank during this time was just not done well. There is no exploration of Hank’s descent into villainy, and any questioning down that line is immediately shut down by the assertion that this is just who he’s always been. There isn’t any slow escalation because his first move is genocide. Hank is not even written as himself during this era, but rather as a generic bond villain. And none of Hank’s former close friends even show any emotion about his turn to villainy. An evil Hank story could easily work. We saw it with Dark Beast. A story where the former optimistic member of the X-Men has been beaten down so many times that he takes on a “whatever it takes” mentality could be interesting and emotionally resonant as we both understand what drove him here yet hate the man he’s become. But that isn’t what we got. We got a run that wrote him as a complete stranger and then had all the characters tell the reader that they were wrong for ever thinking he was anyone else.

heyo, im 20F, just finished my bachelor's degree. this has been on my mind for a long time, 5 years to be precise. i feel like life just never happened for me. all the "life is over at 25" rhetoric made me realise ill be 21 in a little less than 5 months, and my life never even STARTED. i was a happy kid for the most part. sure, there were problems, i had moderate to severe asthma for about five years from 2-7, parents' unhappy marriage meant some terrible fights that i remember witnessing even as early as the age of 3, a small house (which ive now lived in all my life), very much a middle class household without too much money. but none of this really mattered too much back then, except the health part of it because obviously it directly affected me. ive always been good at studies, i was a talkative kid who was on good terms with almost everyone on school and had a few close friends every year, went on a lot of trips with my parents that we did enjoy, had some great times w my grandmother. i wouldn't say life was perfect, but it was simple and good.
the trouble started with my mom being kind of conservative when it came to befriending boys, which meant i always was shy and silent around guys, even though I was very much different around girls. a related issue (very much brought on by my mom) caused me to leave my friend group in the sixth grade, and after that honestly things were never the same. it was also around the same time that my friends from my society, who honestly were never good people OR friends anyway, also started bullying me for no reason at all. still even with a few too many traumatic experiences at home, school and the building, 11-13 was bearable because i was still a happy go lucky kid. since i turned 13, what with bullying in school, both physical and mental health problems (pcos, asthma, health anxiety, crippling depression) , family issues (remember the unhappy marriage?), being stuck in the same house and financial condition all my life, things seem to be irreparably screwed up. the other side of this is i missed out on EVERYTHING. every positive experience that people have between the age of 11 and 21, I missed out on. sure there's things i missed out on even before then, not being able to play downstairs like everyone else as a kid because of my asthma being an example, but those weren't things i WANTED in the first place. everything since 8th grade however.... god it's been hell. because of the asthma i couldn't do physical activity, so my weight always fluctuated, altho as a kid i was thin for longer than i was fat. but of course when puberty hit so did pcos, and i was overweight for almost all my teenage years. this along with me never knowing or wanting to put on make up meant i was quite unattractive as a teenager, and so had absolutely no romantic attention from anyone ever. only 3 people have had a crush on me in my (almost) 21 years of life. i lost a lot of weight this past year (on medical advice) and now that im better looking i see random guys look at me in public, and of course that means nothing now, because they wouldn't even have glanced at me a year ago. the friend scenario is just as hopeless, and not just because i happen to be going though a friendless phase for the past 8-10 months lol. at the moment i no longer have anyone from school that i consider a friend, and college is shaping up to be very similar with a couple exceptions.
the worst thing is i no longer have anything to show for academically either, and this coming from someone who had a 99.6% in her 12th boards lol. college was just a failure on every level, social, academic, EVERY LEVEL. and it was supposed to be a fresh start after 8-12th grade. made no real lasting friendships, didn't network, no real extra curriculars, didn't go away so no memories from hostel life, no parties or clubs, really nothing. truly, truly nothing.
ive had this vision in my head for the past 6-7 years of what i want my life to be like. that's one third of my life so far. and i still haven't achieved 1% of it. hell ive achieved 0%. i honestly don't know how i could end up as utter a failure as this. the worst thing is i've got so much potential, i really really do. and now it's all for nothing. the 'best years of my life' are gone, with no memories, no accomplishments, nothing. i must've written 1000 words here and that honestly barely scratches the surface of the past 10 years. i wish i could go back in time so bad. if I was 11 again i know exactly what id do, but at 20 i have no clue. i can't even decide about doing a master's degree, one that ive received an offer letter for and which ive always wanted to do. god i hate my life, and I'm so ashamed of myself. i don't expect anyone to read this far but if you do, id love some perspective.

I apologize in advance for the length of this thread, but by far this is the user that wrote the most comments in the video of our song. At first, he suggested Scepter and Reign, but he debunked this lead by saying: "Scepter and Reign can be crossed off. I have been corresponding with the lady whose name is mentioned in the legal document, Naomi (first name used with her permission, and only her first name) since Thursday. She was legitimately shocked her name was on the document because in all these years NOBODY ever contacted her regarding it. She thinks they may have realized how much money it would cost and probably withdrew. She knew both bands fairly well, scale of 1-10 she answered "6.5 maybe 7'ish". She designed 1 "logo" for each band that was literally just a sketch she made with their band names on them she could print out in the Xerox store she worked at. Scepter's original name was actually "Dungeon Master" but they changed it to fit their name on her design. As for the abandoned demo from Scepter, she said they abandoned it because they couldn't afford to produce it. They didn't even make it far enough to name their 3 or 4 songs. So, on to the big question, are either bands involved with this song? According to her both bands came out in 1985, and according to her this "The Falling King" song predates both bands by a year or 2. This is not Scepter or Reign, this song is older than both bands. According to her, she first heard this song on a Detroit station while visiting family. Even back then, the Detroit station personnel had absolutely NO CLUE who this was. She remembers her father making fun of the singers accent claiming it was a "Posh" accent and also used to think the lyric was "The fall, the fall in the king" lol. I explained how this song was recorded off of several stations in 1987 and she replied "How many songs do you hear on the radio that are several years old?". She was stumped this was played on Z-Rock because this does not sound like an amateur band to her. She is not the only person to make comments that this does not sound like an amateur band, this sounds professionally recorded and produced, something EXTREMELY few amateugarage bands could have done. I thought i had something, but at least i tried. By the way, apparently Reign still performs in the Pittsburgh area under the name "Metallic Thunder"." (THIS IS HIS LATEST COMMENT) If this is true, it means our search will be even more difficult.
In one of his earliest comments he said this: "My 2 oldest sisters (born in 1970 and 1972) actually remember this song being played by garage bands and local talents in the Coatesville PA area. However, they both swear on mom and dads ashes that the first time they heard this song, a local music festival in Exton PA, I was NOT born yet (I was born in 1984). Even back then nobody could say who it was or what the title was. In fact the one band from Downingtown PA used to refer to it as "The Dungeons and Dragons song". And by that i mean, according to my sisters the lead singers girlfriend (or his sister....they could never tell?) would be in the crowd and when they were ready to end their performance she would shout "Play the Dungeons and Dragons song". My sisters also remember the adults thinking this song was somehow a promotional thing for the PA Renaissance Fair. Unfortunately they cannot offer any clues to the identity of this band or songs title, their guess, back then and still today, was Manowar."
At first, he claims our band is Manowar, explaining: "I do not think Manowar is an obscure band, nor do my sisters. The "obscure" bands mentioned in my postings are all the local garage/amateur bands that they remember playing this song and most of those garage/amateur bands even back then, along with my sisters, were under the impression this was a Manowar song. Many people, not just on this post but others feel this is Manowar "pitch" song, other bands thrown around have been Iron Maiden, Overdrive (Or Overkill, i'm not sure if it's the same band?), Blackmane, Axis and Cirith Ungol (spelling?). Keep this in mind, it's not that uncommon for mainstream/well known bands to have unreleased music in their "library". A good example, ask the most diehard Rammstein fans what their first song ever was, they'll probably answer Du Recht So Gut or Rammstein. Most people have never heard their 1992-1993 pitch song, "Tier" (Monster, beast). In fact, Till Linderman himself stated in 2018 he was unaware Tier was ever recorded by anyone, yet alone put up on the internet. Like this "Fall of the King" song, "Tier" was toted as an mystery song for years but was in a group of 4 or 5 other songs that Rammstein did but never released. One of my favorite bands, Corvus Corax, actually had something similar happen, a song they did back in the early 90's, "Vampire", opening for another band was recorded by a fan in the audience and made rounds on the Neo Folk community ages later. Corvus Corax themselves heard it on a radio station in Denmark roughly 2009'ish and called them asking how and when they got that song because they NEVER recorded it for public use. Personally i cannot give a wager who this is? I am not that good with this genre so i go with what people older than me and much better with this music say. To me it could be Manowar, something they never intended to be released publicly, it could be the Z'Rose a bunch of people feel it is, it could be Overdrive/Overkill (i do not know if these names are the same band or 2 separate ones?), it could be me time traveling impersonating my great uncle Fred......ok that last one was just meant to be a joke lol." Then someone says: "has your sister contacted erik to see about the the song?" and he says "OH HELL NO!!! They haven't spoken since they broke up in 1991-1992. I did reach out to his brother probably a year ago and never heard back."
He suggests it's either Manowar or Sarissa (he mispelled them): "@aSome1 There's some confusion, my sisters never said Z'Rose was playing the song in our hometown area. Local teenage to early college yrs bands were playing it. They recognized this song when I was on a family Zoom chat, i had this song on in the background (by accident actually lol) and my oldest sister (#1 born in '70) asked what i was listening to. I turned it up and she shook her head and asked the other sister (#2 born in '72) "Oh my gosh isn't that that stupid Manowar song Erik and his brother used to play all the time?". Erik was the name of her high school boyfriend. They remember hearing it first at an amateur music fest when my brother (born in '82) was still a baby. Mainly they remember mom fitting all of them in her old "Batmobile" station wagon. By the time i was born in '84 that station wagon was gone for at least several months. The band names they specifically remember playing this, and keep in mind these were "Garage bands" from the 80's were: Venomous Vomit, Razors in your Coffee (Erik's band), Ash to Ash, Cauldron Kings, Coven of Metal, Pridesville, South of Hell and Purgatory. They said there were a few more, but didn't remember....or care....to know their names. (Disclaimer: Several peoples associated with those mentioned bands have been contacted by me and several have replied.....the most common reply is "How the hell do you know us!?" lol)
"I have actually been looking at this song for almost 3yrs. I've had some "good leads" and some "bad leads" and i've also had "WTF leads".......but at the end it is still unsolved. So far the biggest contenders, from people way better with this music than me (I'm more a symphonic or extreme metal person) have been: Manowar, Iron Maiden, OverDrive, Overkill, Onslaught of Destruction and Sonic Mahem. My sisters really believe it is possibly an unreleased or "pitch demo" of Manowar but they also said it might be a Greek band from the early 80's called Sarassa or something like that?"
Then he denies it's Z-Rose: "@lostwavefinder587 I have seen that name tossed around a lot on forums and random chats (this being one of them). Most people way smarter and better with this music than myself seem to have the opinion that it is not Z'Rose. They range in reason from: the equipment sound professional and they were not, the dates don't add up, Z'Rose only did covers so even it is them in the recordings it's still not their song.....one individual (a supervisor at work who lived in Texas during this time frame) actually said "Z'Rose wouldn't have been sober enough to finish that song". I have only heard 1 Z'Rose recording, and unfortunately the person who recorded it (I think the date says 1989?) spends the majority of the 5 minute video talking during the performance so all i hear is them and not the singer. I have to emphasize about %99 of this info i'm presenting is NOT from me but people who know this genre of music way better than me....i'm more Symphonic metal and neo folk (Corvus Corax, Heilung, Faun etc."
"Out of curiosity, since a lot people think this might be Z'Rose, has anyone contacted the family/families of Nick or Joe Cavazos? My "team" is looking into a blog page from 2018 of a pretty intense exchange between a blogger and a woman who is believed to be "Rocker Joe's daughter. In this exchange she states this song is NOT her dad and uncle's band. But it gets pretty rough because the blogger keeps pressing and let's just say some NSFW language is exchanged. I will only say this, the woman's name does match one of the names in Julio "Joe" Cavazos obituary, but they can't tell if it is actually HER or someone posing. I also find it interesting that in another posting of this song someone is claiming to be the nephew of both Nick and Joe.....but about a dozen people ask about this song and he does not answer them......but someone else will ask something unrelated to this song and he answers??"
"About a year ago on another posting of this song, someone had a link to a conversation with a woman who was allegedly Joe Cavazos daughter. She very adamantly denied this was her dads band, Z'Rose. They person kept pressing her and she did not budge a single inch, "NO, its not my dad's band". The only thing that could be confirmed was the woman's name did match a name in Julio "Joe" Cavazos obituary as his daughter. But if it was her or not I can't say? Many peoples on other postings and on forums have all claimed to have gotten in contact with Z'Rose and stated they responded "No" to this being theirs.
So the "Kings Fall" song by Bernard Cavazos is actually a completely different song. He is also not related to the Z'Rose Cavazos. Somewhere I read that the "Kings Fall"/"Fallen King" song by Bernard Cavazos is about a corrupt politician or mafia like "king" not an actual king. Again none of this is from me, it's from things I read, not me.
When 'Wang' did a video about several mystery songs he included this one. In his video (I don't know if he made more than one?) he talked about how that Bernard Cavazos has been contacted and has denied this is his Fall of the King song. If my memory is correct Wang read a message from him explaining his "king" was a corrupt politician or gang leader like king. Wang also mentioned there was another Bernard Cavazos who was a doctor and he is sick and tired of people contacting him about this song"
Someone that replied to him said:
"@CharlesMarkward probably this tape recording was an attempt from them to make something of their own, many bands have started this way, an example is the Brazilian power metal band Angra, they were first meant to be an Iron Maiden tribute but as things went by, they have decided to release things of their own...I couldn't find anything about this "Z'Rose" band in metal-archives, neither at Google with a simple research, but the data gathered until this moment make sense: the Z Rock radio is from Texas, the so called "Z'Rose" band is also from Texas, it was the 80's, so, without internet, this was the way bands used to promote their work...but your story adds some drifts from this sensible data available until now...they are/were from Texas, ok...but until then, they weren't any big group, which means they were probably 9 to 5 salarymen whose musician activity was on weekends and the money earned wasn't enough to keep up with, so, a trip from TX to PA is a long ranged one and expensive for their then standards, I can remember when I've read the Mick Wall's Metallica biography, in which they highlight how hard was for them to go all the way from CA to NY to record Kill em' All, well, unless someone sponsored the so called "Z'Rose from Texas" (like the Zazula couple to Metallica) to play in the events you've mentioned in PA...which means they were good and had potential (this "mysterious recording" doesn't let me lie), because it takes a lot for someone at the other eastern extreme of a big country like the USA to call someone all the way from TX to play in an event when probably there were good bands around and without the need of a sponsorship to travel and get some place to sleep and eat..."
Therefore Charles says: "Also, i am not the one saying it's not them. People much better with much more access to metal archives/records are saying it's not them. BUT, everything you said makes perfect sense to me and I have no argument against any of it. It would make perfect sense if it was a possible pitch demo Z'Rose recorded and kept along for a few years before a station played it. My sisters are %98 certain it was a Manowar song, the only other band they mentioned as a possibility is a Greek band i can't find anything about called something like Sarassa??"
Someone told him to contact Erik: "A little bit ago someone in here suggested i contact my sisters ex and ask where he got this song. I could not get a hold of him, but i did get in contact with his brother he played with. According to the brother they got the song from their aunt who lived in Philly (Center City) and would send them tapes of songs to play. This song was on a tape sandwiched between "4 or 5" Manowar songs. He specifically remembered this for 2 reasons: 1, their aunt wrote "Killing of the king by No Name" and 2, the last song on the this tape was labled as a Venom song (he did not recall which) but was actually "Melody of Love" by Bobby Vinton😂. So i think this is why my sisters keep saying it's Manowar, because if it was on a tape with a bunch of their songs that chances are they heard a crapload of times?"
He contacted Erik's brother (Erik is supposedly the ex boyfriend of one of his sisters) and received this reply: "Erik's brother returned another email I sent about this song. I made a post about it about a week ago. The brother says their aunt who lived in Philly included this song on a mix tape of stuff for him and his brother to play. This song was sandwiched between several Manowar songs and the last song on the tape was supposed to be a Venom song but was actually Bobby Vinton's "Melody of Love" 🤣"
Therefore debunking the possibility it's a Manowar song, he also adds: "She (the aunt) passed in 2014. She would record songs off the radio for them. She lived in Philly (Center City) but also had a place in Florida, so he was never sure which cities radio stations she would record from. This song she wrote "Killing the King?" As the title and "???" as the band name, but it was between several Manowar songs. I think this might be why my oldest sisters are so insistent this is a Manowar song because they may have listened to it with Erik and his brother.....it's a theory lol"
He also thought of Iced Earth as the possible band: "lostwavefinder587 I immediately thought of Iced Earth when I heard this song. Although it's likely just a coincidence, it's interesting to note that Iced Earth was originally called "The Rose".
Someone said to him: "if that's any help, the Greek band's name you're talking about is probably Sarissa. I don't think it's them, though: the vox sound kinda different, and their songs are mostly Ancient Greece-themed." And he replied: "Yes, thank you! All this time I've been spelling it wrong. I gave a quick listen to a demo of theirs from '86. In terms of sound and beat and tempo etc, they are pretty close to this song. In terms of vocals, they sound nothing alike." Therefore, he debunked Sarissa himself.
Now here he changed his version and provides a new lead given by his sisters:
"Holy crap for some reason my last post got cut in half and didn't include the following info, sorry! So the individual i spoke to and got the new possible lead is the former singer of the one band my sisters mentioned, Purgatory, (i do NOT have his permission to use his real name but his stage name was Tarantula). He confirmed he played this song "once or twice" but didn't know the lyrics so they just repeated several "blocks" over and over again. He heard it from a band in NJ and when he asked if he could use the song they replied along the lines of "It's not our song, we don't care" but gave no indication who it was or they even knew who it was? He suggested the band "Knightmare" because they were from Texas and he remembers all of their songs being medieval or medieval fantasy related. Supposedly they wore what looked like full on plate armor (he does not know if it was actual metal armor or something made to look like it). He saw them perform a handful of times because he spent summers in Texas on his grandfathers (mistakenly said uncle in my last post, sorry) ranch and would sneak off at night to "the metal scene" (i do not know if that was a club name or if he just meant that in general?). He began visiting his grandfathers ranch in 1980 and stopped when his grandfather retired in 1992. He gave an estimated timeline for "Knightmare" of 1981-1989."
He corrects himself by saying they are not called "Knightmare": Interestingly, my supervisor at work lived in Texas during this timeline (roughly mid 70's to mid 90's from what i can gather?) and when I asked him about Knightmare he had no idea. But when i mentioned they dressed up like knights in armor he suddenly looked startled and said "That wasn't their name, their name was Battle Battalion or some s*** like that".
But then he says: "So i posted a few months ago about this song, my sisters remember garage bands in the area playing this… I checked every band called Knightmare on Metal Encyclopedia and it doesn’t look like it’s our band." "Forgive my French.....Damn. I thought maybe it could have been a lead but i guess like dozens of others I've come across, dead end. I did a quick search for Knightmare a few weeks ago and I got all excited i saw one band dressed up like monks or Druids, but that band only came out in 2017. I think it's safe to say the name has been used by many bands."
Then someone asks him: "Does the name "Battle Battalion" show up on any Metal "pedia" sites? That's what my supervisor claims this "dressed up in medieval armor" bands name was?" and another one told him: "I saw some bands with Battalion on the metal encyclopedia and discogs and none of them are our band. I don’t think we should go based on what a band wears as our lead."
Then he debunks the Knightmare (and the Conquest) lead: "So a little bit ago i mentioned a band name "Knightmare" as a possibility for this song. Well the band was actually called "KnyghtBlyde" (Knight Blade) and i got in contact with the daughter of the vocalist last night. I played this song for her and after some confliction/hesitation she said it is NOT her dad. The biggest thing was all of her dads songs were based of Aruthurian lore and filled with references to Camelot, Arthur, Morgana, Lancelot, Excalibur etc. Since this song has none of that, its not them. She has no idea who this is. I did a quick search "Conquest 80's metal band Texas" and found 3 results. Conquest from San Antonio, split in either '85 or '87. Conquest from Dallas, '86 - '90. Khan'quest (possibly same band as Khanquistador?), no location given but split up in '88 then reformed in 2000 then......nothing? I could not find anything about any of their songs or demos or releases or band members. But it's obvious I was thinking of the wrong Conquest bands 😂 Conquest was ruled out. Someone who owns the tape was contacted and told us this isn't them."
And he says the singer of KnyghtBlade is convinced this song is from Battallion:
"So a little bit ago I mentioned getting in contact with KnyghtBlyde singers daughter who states that this is NOT her dad. She contacted me this morning, her father thinks this song might be by a band called Battalion. But her father said Battalion also went by the name AAA, Anti Aircraft Assault (or Artillery) in their early days. According to her father AAA/Battalion were from Texas but at least 2 of their members were originally from Chicago. Has anyone ever heard of either Battalion or AAA, Anti Aircraft Assault? The closest I can say is my one supervisor at work mentioned a band Battle Battalion from Texas when he lived there."
Then someone replies to him: "you are right there is a band named Battalion formed in 1984" He says: "I cannot find a single piece of music from this particular "Battalion"? From what I could find they formed between 1983 and 1985, split, reformed under a few possible names, split, repeat. 2 people I asked did say they remember a band of some sort from "out west" Anti Aircraft A-something, but neither could give any info."
Now here, he suggests it could be a Talon song:
"So here's a potential lead for everyone: I was just playing this song for a friend who is obsessed with all metal music. She asked me "Where did you get that Talon song?" Talon was/is a German heavy metal band from the early 80's that released several demos and full on albums between '83-'89. Almost all of there songs were medieval themed, especially their 2 demos. Herr's the thing, they supposedly have 3 unnamed tracks from both demos, one allegedly called "King Slayer". I listened to a bunch of there songs and I have to say there are several songs where the singer sounds exactly like our mystery singer, but then the next song they sound nothing alike. There was one song called something like "Execution" that the opening guitar sounds like this songs opening only slower? I'm not saying it is Talon, but it is possibly something to look into or at least consider?"
He also claimed the singer sounds like Bruce Dickinson (which has been suggested many times):
"I've said many times that I personally feel this vocalist sounds extremely close to Bruce Dickinson. There is a clip of Bruce singing Tom Jones' "Delilah" on either a talk or game show, and his opening of that song is nearly identical to this Fall of the King vocals! Tone, tempo, cadence, pitch......it's really really on spot. I am NOT saying it is Bruce, I'm just saying whoever it is does a good job singing like him."
He says this song could be made by Eviscerator:
"Hello again everyone, has anyone ever heard of a band from Britain, late 70's through late 80's called "Eviscerator"? Very very long story short: I played this song at a Viking/Pagan/Neo-Folk/Black Metal "bar" about half a mile up the road from my place and the one patron who looked like Elvira and Lilith Bathory had a daughter together (HOT HOT HOT) comes over and asked me to replay it and she sang along with the recording with about %95 accuracy! Oddly, at the end after the 4 or 5 "The Fall of the King"s, she suddenly sang "The evil one now wears the crown, all hail the evil one" and head banged for a few moments. According to her, this song was by a band called "Eviscerator" and they always claimed this song was written as a pitch track for the movie Heavy Metal? I mentioned how this song by numerous accounts was recorded here in the USA in 86-87 from stations in Texas, Chicago, Cleveland, NYC and (by only one account) possibly Florida. She didn't feel there was an issue with that as stations will often play random things just to fill the spot including songs that are several years older. I asked about her added line at the end and she stated "I didn't add s*** bud, whoever recorded it must have cut it off before they got to it". I mentioned how numerous people strongly believe this is the work of Z'Rose, she said they probably covered it a bunch of times but it is not their song and even stated that this particular recording sounds like it could be them covering. She was more familiar with Z'Rose than me, she commented "The 3 Cavlaros brothers from Texas right? The singer was the oldest brother Jeff?" (I know that's not their name, i only included it for aunthenticity per context of our discussion, the last name is Cavazos and there was only 2 of them right?). She also told me Z'Rose had about a dozen other names through their years including "Gypsy Rose". I asked how she knew this British band "Eviscerator" and she answered that she lived in London from 78-85 and this song was played a lot on "amateur hour" on several stations, especially university stations. This kind of took me by surprise because i thought she looked younger than me (I'm 39) but she lived in England for college and her first husband in the late 70's??"
"In my last comments i mentioned a bar i went to was going to have a mini concert featuring bands that specialize in black metal and 80's tribute metal and i would play this song to see if any of the band peoples or concert goers would chime in. I did just that and got a few hits on the radar with a few of the band members. The one band, Inviaat, the singer says he remembers this song being played on a radio station in Philly PA for an entire summer because that station was trying to find the band. He does not remember the specific station but said it was near the Taylor University campus (my understanding is that there is several?) because the station thought it was the students from that university's music program. When i asked him when exactly that would have been he said Summer of 1983 because he was married on Halloween 1983 and was hoping the station would find the band so they could play at his wedding. A member from the local band "inductus Mortis" said he recalls that song being played "somewhere in the mid 80's" but does not remember if he heard it in Chicago or Cleveland because he bounced between them. I asked several bands, include the Venom tribute band Poisonous Whisper if anyone had ever heard of a band name Eviscerator from the 80's. Only one person thought he heard the name but it wasn't a band name it was a compilation album of NWOBHM from roughly '83-'84, but couldn't tell me anything other than that. As for the other concert goers, the #1 response i got from them was along the lines of "Dude you can sing, you should go pro!".....in other words they thought it was me promoting myself (I wish i could sing like that!!). the #2 response was people thought it was Manowar. After those 2 the guesses were the usual ones i have seen here and everywhere else this topic comes up: Blackmaine, Axis, Overkill, Overdrive, Black Sabath, Iron Maiden, Anthrax, Slayer, WitchAxe and 2 people even asked if it was an Ozzy Osbourne demo."
"I asked around, including my oldest sisters I've mentioned in my postings, about Eviscerator. The only person who heard of them, the one from this time-frame not the other 8 or 9 bands from the 2000's with that name, said they were a generic ManowaIron Maiden/Judas Priest tribute or more accurately, ripoff, band who sucked. I am not saying I buy this woman's account, but i'm also not discrediting it or calling her a liar. Her familiarity with this song and her accuracy with the lyrics makes me believe she knows this song from somewhere.....what that somewhere is, i can't comment because i don't know?"
"So far my friends and I have several "pings" to look into, the name Eviscerator has absolutely nothing from the time frame we're looking at. But there is (was?) a "Lee Lesaat" Canadian/British "mercenary" (did not belong to any band but would play for others) drummer who now lives in NYC my friends are looking into.
There is an 80's metal/black metal tribute concert this Saturday at the bar I was at last weekend. After the bands play their sets they have an open mic like set up where you can play your own music (as long as it fits the theme). I'm going to try and play this song and see if anyone, bands or crowd or food vendors etc, have any reaction.
And by "pings" I just mean responses/possible possible long shot leads. The guy or girl claiming to be a psychic vampire who time traveled and wrote this song for The Lost Boys movie is NOT going to be one of them😂"
Then someone asks: "What band is this Eviscerator ? I found a band that was formed in 2012 . Furthermore tthe song is not in the metal archives I searched through lyrics was not found." He says: "Allegedly they were in England in the 1980's, but the woman stated 2 of them had New York accents. If all of her account is true and accurate, they were NOT a professional big name band. I did find several bands with the title "Eviscerator" (in different variations) but all of them were from the 2000's. The only "pro" band with that title I could find was a Hungarian band from the mid 2000's. I asked Satanic lady if she remembered any of the other bands that played alongside "Eviscerator" and she only remembered 3: "Band-Shee" (an all female band....get it?) Gargoyle, and Werewolf Tears."
"I have a very very small update for everyone, but it's still an update nonetheless. The mystery succubus looking woman who said this song was by Eviscerator and sang along to it (even when I "accidentally" muted my phone to see if she was just repeating what she was hearing.....she was not) has been identified by my journalist friend! We are going to try and get in contact with her and see if there is anything else she can remember about "Eviscerator" that could help. I'm not going to get my hopes up, but her familiarity with this songs lyrics and the fact she sang almost in perfect synch with the beat makes me feel she really did know this song from somewhere in her past. That or she is a very good actress? Lol
I found only 1 solid, confirmed band with that name but they were from mid 2000's Hungary. But several peoples now and then tell me they remember hearing that name in the 80's as various things; crappy garage band, NWOHBM compilation album/work, some sort of event space or name, most recently someone claimed he thought it was the stage name of a singer but didn't know who or what band. I'm trying to get in touch with the woman who originally mentioned that name."
He posted this comment that lead nowhere: "2 very small updates for everyone:
1) The Viking/Pagan/Goth/Black Metal themed bar just around the corner from me is having a New Years event tomorrow night. They actually agree to give me a "booth" where i can have a "guess this song" set up. And, it will be right next to where the bands play...I'm going to be between the "stage" and the food truck lol
2) The one radio station i submitted this song to will play it on their "X hour" on 1/8/24. It is not a hugely popular segment, maybe a few hundred listeners, but it's better than nothing.
Here's to the New Year and hope this song and numerous others get solved!"
"So the station played this song Sunday night/Monday morning. They played it 4 times between 2:07am - 3:12am. They received 9 calls about it and about a dozen emails (I seriously didn't know they had an email!?!?!?). Unfortunately the majority of contacts were people either asking for them to replay it or people thinking it was Manowar. There were a few Iron Maidens and one or 2 Ozzy Osborne's. Only 2 people stated they heard this song before. Unfortunately they heard it from "some kilt wearing guy at blank bar plays it, I think it's him self promoting". Yes that's me they referenced and no it is not me singing lol"
He suggest matrixx as a possibility: "There's a band called matrixx that has been giving me interest. They were only around for two years due to financial struggles in their stage. If you look up attaxe and fiinal notice they share two members of matrixx. Their drummer and guitarist sound very similar to the band from this song. It's pretty crazy too because they have a song called defy the king. They also had a label to produce their songs which is called Suma Recording Studios. This may be the reason why the audio sounds too good for a small band. I hope that this is the band! Too many good clues that I found"
He debunks the Steven Lindfield lead: "One of the names thrown about here and there on posts about this song is a Steven Linfield ("Lindi") who bounced between Chicago and NYC in the 1980's. His alleged involvement varries between being the DJ who allegedly played it on a NYC station, to being a Chicago stations record manageclerk etc etc. I got in contact with him yesterday. He denies having ANYTHING to do with the airing of this song and does not know how or why his name came up. While he did work at 2 stations (NYC, then Chicago during the summer) he was an overnight watchman (security). However, he does recall this song being played on "some amateur hour crapshoot" in '86 in NYC a bunch of times. At that point in '86 he claims people were referencing it as "The King Song" or "The song of the King" (drawn out to match the singers "The Faaaalllll, the fall of the kiiiiiing") and it was already 2 or 3 years old at that time. He did explain that at least at the Chicago station there was an amateur drop-off slot that the dj's would pick through and play random "no namers" labeling them as "space filler". Because they would be played, literally just to fill space, they were NOT mandated to keep any records of them. Sometimes the dj's would just make up names to some of these. One of his main duties was to check the drop-off to make sure there were no bad things thrown in there instead of cassettes. Another dead end, but at least we rulled out one theory......silver lining??😂 LINDFIELD, not Linfield. Darn autocorrect on this phone."
He is convinced it's a professional band's demo: Thats why a lot people I have introduced to this song think it's a professional band, or at the extreme least an amateur band playing with top level equipment/sponsor? 1983 guy stated they sound like they have equipment his garage band "couldn't even afford to dream about looking at yet alone use". It's also one of the reasons my 2 oldest sisters insist this is a professional band (sister #1 says Manowar, #2 says Manowar or Sarissa) because there are no goofs or mistakes or errors. My sisters gave an example of a garage band from their Kutztown university days, "Freefall Abyss" that self released a demo and in one song you can hear a telephone ringing in the background and in another you can hear a fan or ac unit going.
He contacted a girl named Della: "This song was actually played on an old Philly/NJ station on the segment "Della names your tune" in 2009. I was able to get in contact with "Della" (real name withheld by her request) who at first stated "I played thousands of unnamed songs bud, I probably played this one 100 times, sorry i wont be much help" . Then a few days later replied "I do recall this one, it was sent in from a local listener who had it labeled as Dungeon Master or maybe Dragon Master on a CD with a bunch of old early Manowar, JudaPriest, Iron Maiden, Megadead, Metallica and AngelWitch songs. He or she claimed their father had this song on a tape from his college days. Nobody knew what or who it was back in '09 or '10 and as far as I know nobody figured it out when I left the program in '15." The only name she gave, and I don't know if this was even a real name or the drummers "stage name" was Leopald Lestat.........I do have 2 people looking into it (from a metal dating site of all places). Disclaimer: I know some of those bands are misspelled, I purposefully left it that way because that's how she sent it to me."
"I went down that road, you nailed it right on the head. There is no way to track down who that listener was. The only hint she had, in the form of the note attached to the CD was the person said they were from Radnor PA. I couldn't tell you because the other songs kind of bounce around in terms of year: there's a Judas Priest and an Angel Witch song both from 1980 but then there's a song from Megadeath (I believe Megadeath came out in '85?) and a Metallica song from '86? For some reason my one comment didn't show up? Della gave a pretty big hint, she said the mailing address on the CD was from Radnor PA, but the phone number included was a landline for a Chicago address. Her and the station managers assumed it was a "shadow number" and didn't bother keeping record of it. A lot of her requests had local addresses with out of state phone numbers, cellular and landline."
He suggests Dungeon Masters: "I have a potential lead, "Dungeon Masters" from Pittsburgh PA? Long story short: everyone at work talks about a "hot nerdy chick" who works at the one antique book store in town and she is a music genius and knows EVERY song people play. So i decided to test it. I played this song and she stated "I think thats Dungeon Masters, they were from my hometown of Pittsburgh PA back in the early to late 80's. Thats either Dungeon Masters or someone doing an incredible job imitating them?". Given that Cleveland is only a 2-3 hr drive from Pittsburgh (from what Steelers players say) i think this could be a possible lead and explain the Cleveland recording? Again, this is only a POSSIBLE lead, but i think it has potential?
Currently my one "source" is looking into it. He is not always accurate (as evidenced when we were looking into Conquest) but its better than nothing."
And someone adds this: "Della said the same Dungeon Masters so better look into it"
But he says this: "Close, "Della" stated the listener who sent in the CD had this song labeled as "Dungeon Master?", not a band name. But I am looking into it as best as I can. I found a Pittsburgh band "Dungeon" but they're NOT metal they're an Omnia/Faun like band (neo-folk I think is the term?) formed in 2018. I sent word out to the people I know and my "team". Now it is a waiting game."

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Hey everyone, I'm looking for advice. I'm looking for sympathy. I'm looking for connection through shared experience. My 10 year old cat was diagnosed with Lymphoma a month ago.
Context: It's been about 3 years since we first noticed something wasn't right with him. At first the vets thought he had hyperthyroidism. Then food allergies. His blood work always came back normal. His weight steadily dropped about a pound a year. Then, in March, he dropped a pound in one month. A fragile, measley 6 pounds he was. We scheduled an ultrasound for him beginning of April. The vet told us it's likely cancer and referred us to an oncologist. The oncologist confirmed lymphocytes. Stage IV Abdominal Lymphoma. The vet went over our treatment options. No treatment with a median survival of 4 - 6 weeks, Prednisone alone with a median survival of 6 - 8 weeks or Chemotherapy with the CHOP protocol offering the best chance of a complete response with a median survival of 6 - 8 months. We clearly chose the Chemo route. How could we not? He is such a a happy, active, loving boy. You wouldn't even know there was anything wrong with him if he wasn't so skinny. He eats, plays, has regular bathroom movements. He is vocal and loving. I know cats are masters at hiding pain and illness. He must be a wizard.
So far, he has had 4 treatments. One appointment a week every Friday. Since starting chemo, he has gained about a pound back. I've noticed zero changes in his behavior. He chases bugs when I take him to graze the backyard. He has such a ferocious appetite. He never says no to a treat. He still comes to my bed to wake me up at 5 am with biscuit massages and gentle meows.
On our last appointment, the vet told us his spleen is still palpable and his tumor hasn't shrunk as much as he'd like. Basically, he's not responding as well as we'd hoped. If there is no significant change by our next appointment, we need to discuss where to go from there. I wasn't hopeful that he would go into remission at the start of his treatment. I only want what is best for him. What will improve his quality of life, minimize his pain and discomfort.
Yesterday, I noticed a sizeable patch of fur missing from his back. He combs his fur over it and I wouldn't have found it if I weren't doing kitty yoga stretches with him. Then today, I see he has a small bald spot forming on his ear. The chemo is taking a visible toll on him.
This is long, I know. Thank you for bearing with me if you have made it this far. I guess I'm looking for community and support. It has been so emotionally painful for me. I know I have to let him go soon. I just don't know when or how I tell that it is time. When do we opt to euthanize? Thinking of that word, just typing it, feels like a dagger in my chest. I know I'm not alone here. I know some of you have already experienced this, or maybe are going through it right now. I've searched over and over on this sub and many others for similar stories, looking for hope or answers or a timeline even. Please share your experiences if you'd like.
TL;DR cancer sucks.

this is a weird one. title is a bit bait-y on purpose, and I do apologise for that, but it sort of gets the point across with the none of the nuance.
sooo, allow me to add that nuance! and I’m so sorry for how long it’s going to be. I’m autistic and naturally really annoyingly verbose, and I get caught up trying to add context where it’s not needed. but I’m also stressed about this and it makes me ramblier than usual!
I’m trans. specifically a trans man, though these days I’m so comfy in myself that I don’t really care how other people perceive or gender me. I’ve had top surgery, been on T for nearly 5 years, etc etc. got all the “trans credentials”.
I’m also bi. or pan or just queer, whatever. I’ve dated everyone. cis women, trans women, various flavours of enbies, trans men - and cis men, which is the topic of discussion here.
I will preface this by saying that I have no horse in the “is genital preference transphobic” race. I have 0 preference, I don’t care if other people do, but rest assured it isn’t relevant to my issue here.
but I’m sort of stumped, right, because… what IS my issue? I don’t actually understand what’s going on here.
over the past 10 or so years I’ve been out as not-cis, I’ve dated a lot of “cis men”. a striking number of them have come out as transfemme, either during our relationship, or soon after it. it’s become more noticeable recently because the past two occasions that I had serious feelings for partners who I believed were cis men, both of them came out to me while we were together. and now I’m experiencing some serious feelings for someone I’ve started seeing, and I’m noticing some familiar signs.
I’m an absolute magnet for a very specific niche of person, apparently, and I seem to be key in their realisation of - or their acceptance of - their trans identity. that’s super flattering, of course. and confusing, and often quite hilarious, but it’s also… a bit difficult for me. it brings up some strange feelings. I can think of ten people off the top of my head that I’ve had this happen with, though only a few have impacted me, as I was still with the person at the time of their realisation/admission.
I should be happy when these partners come out to me. not only are we welcoming another number to our secret lil club, but I’m also gaining something new to bond with them over, something to have in common. and I’m sure everyone here knows that being trusted with someone’s first coming-out is the biggest honour in the world. and I do feel and believe all of that, of course, and yet every time this happens there’s this voice in my head that’s like…
“I don’t want you to be trans. I like you as you are, and I thought that was as a man.”
I know how horrible that is. and I think it’s even more horrible that this time I feel like I can see it coming and I’m experiencing a weird kind of dread and a sense of impending loss. I’m ashamed that I’m capable of thinking like this, but I don’t know what to do about it.
why does this pattern keep repeating, and why does it invoke this weird reaction from me?
of course, it could just be straight-up transmisogyny. I’m certainly not operating under the false premise that I, in being trans, have somehow become immune to socially ingrained ideas around trans women and femmes. it could absolutely just be this simple. but I suppose I don’t really understand if it is, because these feelings seem to be specific to this one scenario. it doesn’t seem to be that I’m just not attracted to trans women specifically — I’ve dated and definitely been attracted to trans women in the past. (“passability” and other bullshit like that has nothing to do with it either, people are hot to me regardless of what their transition looks like, so someone being very early in their transition wouldn’t somehow be this huge turn-off.)
this leads me to assume that maybe I simply want to be dating a man, at that given moment, and don’t like that she is not in fact a man, and that things are going to change. and I don’t know why that is, or what sense that really makes, for a bi person. and maybe my brain has a hard time recontextualising someone when their identity shifts? and it becomes extra hard when they’re really close with me in an intimate sense? because I don’t recall having this issue with platonic relationships. I’ve never “wished” for a newly out friend to not be trans. I don’t know!!
then we get onto another topic, which might be the smoking gun, or it might just be a side issue. regardless, one thing I’ve definitely noticed is that there are often subtle shifts in dynamic in my relationships with these partners when they begin exploring their gender. firstly, although I’m sure it’s not an entirely conscious thing, I’ve found that things are suddenly more gendered than they used to be. in a relationship that was initially ostensibly between two men, but which never really had any kind of gender roles or gendered dynamics involved, there is this subtle shift — wherein as she begins to lean much more “feminine” in all areas, I am expected to begin play-acting as more “masculine” than I am. I’m “the boy in the relationship” now. it’s never been said in these words, but in things that are asked of me within our relationship. and I understand her desire to do things differently in an effort to find what’s authentic to her new presentation and experience - but I suppose the problem for me is that I have always been authentic in our dynamic. I don’t want to alter the way I perform my gender in this relationship, I was comfortable with the way it was established. sure, I am a boy, but I have no interest in being boxed into gendered expectations that were not present before her transition. I wouldn’t want to be like that with a cis woman, or anyone else. I don’t like gender roles. but if someone I’m dating tells me that these changes would make them happier and more comfortable, why the fuck would I have an issue with that? it feels gross and selfish.
but then it gets even grosser and more selfish, because I think there might be an element of resentment present in the emotional labour that’s required to be the knowledgeable trans partner of a newly-out (or even closeted) trans person. I’ve felt myself become a guide and a therapist (or like a “transition mentor” lol) for my partner in the past, and I’ve really not liked that. especially in the last instance of this happening, wherein the relationship came to an abrupt and nasty end thanks to this new and confusing therapy-type dynamic.
I love being trusted with such important stuff and I love talking about gender, but there’s something I find very difficult about being this kind of support for a romantic partner.
so after all of this soul-searching, I’m still sort of just… stuck? what do I do with any of this? what do I change? why does this keep happening and how do I handle it better when it does? I don’t know. I’d really appreciate some discussion from fellow trans folks, or partners of trans folks. has anyone experienced anything similar? do you have any advice or suggestions for me? please be kind, I’m really trying to figure this out.
I know this is really really long and rambly and I do apologise for that, it’s even worse than I initially intended! thank you so much for reading (and even replying, if you do) as it means a lot!
TLDR: I’m a trans man who has weird complicated feelings about being a magnet for closeted transfemmes. I don’t know how to navigate this and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings!

Part Two: The Solitude of This Fire
Chapter 6
Location: Hust Forge. Hust Henarald's conference room
POV: Kellaras
After making Kellaras wait some days, Hust Henarald finally grants him an audience and says "One day, I will be a child again". These words seem to be nonsense to Kellaras. While waiting for his audience he noticed the Hust Forge never stops working. Henarald goes on to say we all war with two parts of ourselves and both make weapons from anything at hand. Henarald asks Kellaras if Anomander simply wants a sword or to join the Hust Legion. He doesn't think Urusander's Legion would like that very much. Kellaras says he knows the request of a sword is unusual at this time. Henarald responds by saying others will see it as political. Perhaps even a secret allegiance. Kellaras is put off balance by Henarald's pragmatic responses and then shifting into ending each with "One day I will be a child again." Henarald asks for specs and Kellaras says Anomander wants the sword to be silent. Henarald responds by asking if he would prefer a gagged weapon and if Anomander will hide it's origin. Kellaras tells Henarald that Anomander wants his swords spine to be quenched in the purity of Darkness itself. Henarald muses on power and says those with the most power have the greatest fear and that means power is meaningless and delusional. Kellaras counters that the Forulkan would have enslaved the Tiste with their power had they won, but they lost to the power of the Tiste. Henarald responds, "A triumph in solitude makes a hollow sound, and to every glory proclaimed the heavens make no answer".
Kellaras reiterates that his master requests a sword. Henarald responds "To take the blood of Darkness". Kellaras is surprised by this as Mother Dark is not Azathanai. Henarald asks how she feeds her power and if now that Anomander knows the secret of House Hust if he will use it for political gain. Kellaras says his Lord is the ultimate secret keeper. Henarald agrees to forge Anomander's sword, but requires that he be present at the quenching of it by darkness to witness if it is blood Mother Dark uses. Kellaras tells him he won't be able to see anything and leaves the chamber trembling mostly upset by Henarald's repeated assertions that he will return to childhood.
Kellaras goes to the main hall where there is feast taking place. He pushes aside his doubts and is proud that he got Henarald's agreement to make the sword. He searches out Galar Baras and finds him leaning against a pillar staring at a woman that had just entered. Kellaras sees her see Galar Baras and watches her stiffen. The woman is Toras Redone. Kellaras notes that even grimed from hard travel she is beautiful and makes his way to Galar. Galar asks if Henarald spoke to Kellaras of childhood. Kellaras says yes, but does not understand. Kellaras invites Galar to join a table and Galar accepts though he tells him he can't drink. Galar tells the captain that the childhood thing troubles them all. Kellaras asks him to call him by his name and not rank. Galar says that Henarald claims that he is losing his recent memories, but no one can see any evidence of this. Galar tells Kellaras of a sickness called Loss of Iron that afflicts smiths. Kellaras tells Galar that in his meeting Henarald was sharp and focused. No evidence of a crumbling mind. Galar asks if he will tell Anomander of this. Galar says it has no bearing on the creation of the sword and says his master would likely just say returning to childhood isn't a bad idea.
POV: Galar Baras
Kellaras gets drunk and stumbles off and now Galar has to be alone with his thoughts and heartache at the presence of Toras Redone. She was still holding court at one of the tables and after a while she shuffles over to him. She comments on her husband transferring as far away as he could. She tells Galar that he is a pariah in the citadel. That people think him arrogant and dismissive. She knows that's not him, so is puzzled. She says he should have sex with the priestesses. That celibacy is not for soldiers. He should feed his appetites. Galar responds by asking if she is well fed. The barb slides off of her and she says well enough. She says she is certain that her husband stays true to her and that leads her to infidelity. Galar does not understand this. She changes the subject and says she has missed him. She tells him to go to bed, but he knows he won't be alone for long. He compares himself to Toras Redone's husband, Calat Hustain, knowing that both spend their nights alone, "because it was in their nature to choose it: to remain alone in the absence of love"
Location: Neret Sorr
POV: Kadaspala
With Osserc and Hunn Raal gone, Kadaspala is having a more enjoyable time having dinners with Urusander. The painting however was still irritating to him. He doubts anyone will see below the surface of his painting. He is finished and will leave in the morning. "There is but one god, and its name is beauty. There is but one kind of worship, and that is love. There is for us but one world, and we have scarred it beyond recognition". Kadaspala now truly sees Urusander and is terrified. Urusander asks him why he chose to accept this request. Kadaspala says he's denied hundreds, but if anyone can prevent a civil war, it's the man in the portrait. Although his thoughts imply that that may not be the same man standing before him.
Location: House Enes lands
POV: Cryl Durav
On his short self-imposed exile from the wedding preparations, Kryl finds the antlers of a long dead Eckalla. A symbol of triumph. Cryl thinks the triumph is hollow. Hunting for food was once a necessity, but that necessity bred traditions that resulted in the extinction of this animal. Thinking back on his youth he dreamt of discovering a new world free of Tiste where he could become prey and know the thrill of fear. Enesdia was also present in these fantasies. He thinks, "He had been trained for war just as he had been taught how to hunt and how to slay, and these were deemed necessary skills in preparation for adulthood. How sad was that?".
His horse notices some movement and he sees a troop of Tiste riders approaching. This makes no sense as there is no reason for them to come here on there way to somewhere else. Cryl rides to meet them and sees that they lead a score of Jheleck children. There were no chains. The captain of the company asks why Cryl is out this far and Cryl tells him who he is. The captain breaks in and says Cryl is probably fleeing the frenzy of the coming marriage. The captain introduces himself as Scara Bandaris and says there are two reasons for him being here, one trying to figure out what to do with the Jheleck hostages and two to attend the wedding. Cryl agrees to escort them all to house Enes. Scara perceptively guesses that Cryl is out here because he is in love with Enesdia. He says he will say no more on the subject.
There are 25 Jheleck children. Scara says they will raise wolves in these children. Cryl says he's heard they are more like hounds. Scara says hostage taking may come back to bite them. Scara laughs at his own joke and forces a smile onto Cryl's face. Cryl feels a little better.
Location: House Enes
POV: Enesdia
Enesdia is upset that Cryl has been gone for a few days. She searches out her father and overdramatically asks him why they are shirking their responsibility to their hostage. She says, "For all you know he could be lying at the bottom of a well, legs shattered and dying of thirst" Jaen responds "Dying of thirst in a well?" he tells her he sent him on a search for Eckalla. She says that's a hopeless quest. Jaen says Cryl's familiar with those. Enesdia asks what he means. Jaen responds that his time with House Enes is ending. It has only now struck Enesdia that her companion will not be at her side much longer. Enesdia laments the fact that Cryl's family has only one occupation. He will be a soldier like his only living brother, Spinnock. She muses that she could ask Andarist to offer Cryl a commission in the citadel, far away from fighting. Cryl would never know, but he would be safe.
Location: House Drukorlas
POV: Orfantal
Orfantal is standing near the estate road with Wreneck, a stable boy that used to be his friend. They are also standing near an old nag horse. They have been standing for some time. They are being circled by 3 feral dogs that have smelled the food that Orfantal carries. Orfantal wished he knew why Wreneck stopped being his friend, but it seemed impossible to ask now. Orfantal has all of his possessions in a trunk. They are not much. Orfantal thinks he could fit in there too, ready to be discarded. Wreneck is 10, Orfantal is 5. His grandmother is sending him off somewhere to learn how to grow up. He knows there will be a time when unhappiness comes into his life as it does with every boy. A wagon pulls up. It will be his ride to wherever he is going. Wreneck makes sure they know that he is going to the citadel and that he is nobleborn. Wreneck tells Orfantal that the old horse is blind in her left eye, so don't let anything ride on that side of her. Orfantal says goodbye to Wreneck and Wreneck waves dismissively and leaves.
POV: Wreneck
Wreneck turns from some distance to watch them leave with tears running down his face. He resolves himself to return to the "evil hag" and now he doesn't even have Orfantal to make his life easier. Nerys Drukorlat had forbidden him from playing or even speaking to Orfantal. She would fire him if he did. His mother and father and sisters relied on his income. He wished he could have played with Orfantal this entire morning and hugged him goodbye, but he was afraid of the evil hag.
Location: Toras Keep. On the road to the Citadel
POV: Orfantal
The party makes camp and the scarred old man who loaded Orfantal's trunk says that this is likely his horse's last journey. Orfantal is sad to not even know the horses name and wonders what things she has seen in her life. He decided that she had been a warhorse and saved her rider many times, but not from the betrayal that finally killed him. The leader of the troop introduces himself to Orfantal as Haral and tells him not to call him sir. He tells him he guards merchants and that's all. Orfantal asks about bandits. Haral says there are some Deniers. Haral tells Orfantal that he will be sharing Gripp's tent. The man who took care of his horse. He says that Gripp can be trusted and not some of the other men in the party.
Haral says after this he will be joining House Dracon's houseblades. Orfantal asks if he was a soldier once. Haral says few weren't in his generation. Orfantal introduces himself. Haral asks why she named him that. His name is a Yedan dialect. The holy language of the monks, Shake. Narad, one of the guards, says it means unwanted and laughs. Haral tells him to keep his mouth shut on this journey and tells Orfantal his name doesn't mean unwanted, it means unexpected. Narad laughs again and Haral savagely kicks him in the face then punches him. He then walks away from the unconscious guard. Orfantal is trembling and his heart is beating fast. Gripp comes over and calms him down. He says it's discipline and Narad was pushing for weeks. Orfantal now has a face to put to all the faceless betrayers in his war games. Narad. Gripp shows Orfantal how to raise a tent.
Location: Within sight of Dracon's Hold
POV: Ivis
Ivis and Sandalath are riding towards the hold. Ivis tells her that Draconus will be gone for several weeks still. Her body tells him that she probably had a child, but that's none of his business. She is now a hostage at House Dracon's and she will be treated well. Sandalath asks where Draconus comes from. Ivis says even his servants do not know, but he proved his worth in the war. Ivis is upset at the discipline now presented by his houseblades and resolves to fix it. Sandalath is being led to a warm bath and thanks Ivis. He responds, "My pleasure, milady". Hilith the head of the house maids does not like him calling her a lady as she is only hostage now. She lets him know it. Ivis says, "Old woman, you are no queen to so command me. I will choose the honorific our guest deserves. She rode well and without complaint. If you have complaint, await the pleasure of our lord upon his return. In the meantime, spit out that sour grape you so love to suck on, and be dutiful." Hilith says this isn't over. Ivis responds with a command to leave his courtyard and if he hears of her being miserable to the hostage that it will in fact not be over.
Location: Dracon's Hold
POV: Sandalath
Hilith tells Sandalath to come with her to the bath. Sandalath asks if the water is hot. and asks her if there is wood ready just in case. Sandalath challenges Hilith and says she is to treat her as if she was the lady of the house. Hilith bristles but agrees. Sandalath remembers her first stint as a hostage and the horrible hag that made her life miserable until Andarist found out and got rid of her. If Hilith turns out to be the same, she will tell Draconus. A younger maid escorts her to the correct bath, not the one Hilith had prepared for her. Sandalath says if Hilith is her enemy, then Sandalath should have many allies. The maid smiles and says thousands. Sandalath asks the maid about Ivis and if she finds him handsome. She says he is old, but Sandalath doesn't think so. Sandalath tells the maid she feels welcomed by this house and feels born anew.

​

Disclaimer: I have switched back to the main subreddit, so aside from three, maybe four of you, you’re probably missing out on some context. If you’d like to be all caught up, you can comb through the previous episodes on my profile.
Votes:
Emma - 2
Katie - 1
Props to u/Proofracer for coming up with plot points
At the campfire ceremony, Chris attempts to build suspense by reminding the campers about the safety of a marshmallow, but Heather insists he get on with it, so the moment is cut short. Chris calls on Shawn, Zoey and Max before tossing them all a marshmallow. He then gives Owen and Heather one each, leaving Emma and Katie. Both Emma and Heather shoot angry looks at Katie, making her feel a tad worried, but Chris gives her the last marshmallow and deems Emma eliminated, causing her to have an outburst at Heather.
Emma: I knew I couldn’t trust you! You’re a backstabbing snake!
Heather: Please, as if I’d betray you this early. If I had any say, you’d still be here for a few more weeks.
Emma: Then, how?
Katie: It’s not just me who’d been fed up with how mean you’ve become. We don’t want a second Heather on this team. No offense.
Heather: Offense taken.
As Emma walks the dock of shame and the rest of the Screaming Gophers disperse, Chris turns to the camera to say his outro.
Chris: Will Max finally do something actually evil? How much longer can Heather keep her alliance afloat? And what will Damien do once he finds out about Bunny’s replacement? Find out next time, on Total Drama Island!
In-world votes:
Emma - Katie, Owen, Max, Shawn
Katie - Heather, Zoey, Emma
Basic Straining
The episode opens with Duncan using his knife to carve a skull into the wall of the Bass cabin when Axel exits the cabin. She scoffs at him, but before she can leave, Duncan attempts to apologize for how he’s treated her in the past. Axel stops to think for a second, but she sees through Duncan’s lie and leaves anyway.
Confessional:
Duncan: Of course I didn’t mean what I said to Axel, but Trent and Sammy are too loyal to one another, and Damien’s essentially attached himself to Dawn. Sadly this means that Axel is the only person I have a chance to ally with, so I need to get back on her good side.
Meanwhile at the Gophers cabin, Katie is sitting dejectedly on the front steps when Owen comes over to cheer her up.
Owen: Are you still bummed out about poisoning me? It’s okay, I know it was an accident.
Katie: That’s only half the problem. Emma got so mad at me for it, and now apparently I brought a cursed item to the team.
Owen: You mean your tiki souvenir? Are you sure it’s cursed?
Katie: Apparently it’s from Boney Island, so I’d say it’s pretty cursed.
Owen: Well, you don’t have to get rid of it, if that’s what you’re worried about. It may be cursed, but it’s still yours. I say you should keep it to remember this show by.
Katie: Thanks Big-O.
Owen: You know what? Let's prove Emma wrong. If you try your best this time, I’m sure you’d do way better at the challenge than you think!
Just then, the loudspeakers turn on, but instead of Chris, it’s Chef Hatchet who orders the campers to meet him at the docks for their next challenge. At the docks, Chef is dressed in a military uniform and starts barking orders at the campers about fixing their forms, with the one exception being Axel, whose form he deems “surprisingly average”. Chef then goes over today’s challenge. The teams will go through Chef’s grueling boot camp and drop out one by one until the last person remaining wins immunity for their team. Heather asks Chef what happened to Chris, but he ignores it and starts going over further rules, like how everyone will have to address him as Master Chief, and that no one eats or sleeps unless he says so.
Confessional:
Axel: I was never trained in the military, but I’m adept in most fields of work Master Chief could go over, so this will be a breeze.
For the first part of the boot camp, each team must carry a canoe, and will continue to do so until someone drops out and rings a bell on the dock. Owen and Trent each make a remark about how easy the challenge sounds, but by noon, everyone is starting to feel the heat.
Chris and Chef are sitting on top of the canoes while taunting the campers about missing lunch. This causes Owen to think about quitting, but Max catches on and tells him not to.
The Bass are still holding up strong, so Duncan tries to talk to Axel again. He says that he knows she hates him, but they’re both stuck between the two couples and need each other. This causes Axel to angrily reply that she’d take her chances with the others over him, leaving Duncan beginning to get annoyed. However, Trent overhears the conversation and begins to look worried.
As night rolls through, the campers are all tired, especially Owen, who has fallen asleep with his arms still holding onto the canoe. Chef is recalling a story from his military days, and Heather asks him what war he was in, causing him to shout at her. Heather then turns to Shawn and tries to strike up a conversation with him.
Heather: Hey Zombie Boy, how do you feel about joining my alliance?
Shawn: Wait what? You’re kidding, right?
Heather: You and Emma were friends, yes?
Shawn: Sure, but that doesn’t mean I trust you. What happened to getting payback on me for locking you in the freezer?
Heather: You could trust me if you were in my alliance. With Emma gone, I’m missing a member of the alliance, and if you join, you won’t be in as bad a spot as you are now.
Shawn: Oh, and what is that supposed to mean?
Heather: Think about it. I didn’t vote Emma off, she got herself eliminated. If the team knew you worked with her, maybe they’d vote you out too. Especially since you’re such a big threat without any allies. With me, I could protect you, plus I won’t plot against you anymore.
Shawn: You were plotting against me?
Heather: That’s besides the point. Just think about it.
Later, Chef has finished bragging about his line of duty just in time for Max to decide he isn’t going to stand in one spot anymore. Much to his teammate’s dismay, he walks down the dock and rings the bell, thus allowing the contestants to drop their canoes. Chef insults Max through his megaphone before ordering everyone else to go to the mess hall to eat dinner, getting Owen excited.
In the cafeteria, Chef announces that everyone will get only ten minutes to eat before he starts night training, which gains him a lot of complaints. Damien asks him where the food is, and Chef gestures to a row of trash cans filled with leftover garbage from breakfast, which only causes more complaining. Owen, however, doesn’t discriminate against the disgusting food and eats some anyway. Chris then invites Chef to eat at the craft services tent, leaving the teams to themselves.
Trent meets with Sammy and tells her about what he heard between Duncan and Axel. He says that Duncan has a point and that since nobody really likes Duncan, Axel would be the deciding vote between them and Dawn and Damien. Hearing this, Sammy comes up with an idea, and suggests winning Axel over ahead of time so that she’s with them. Trent likes the idea, so Sammy goes over to talk with Axel. They have a friendly conversation, and Sammy offers Axel the least disgusting food she can find in the trash, to which Axel declines. Sammy then returns to Trent to talk about other ways to win Axel over.
Damien was watching Sammy’s conversation with Axel, and realises what she and Trent were trying to do, so he walks over to Dawn to talk with her.
Damien: I hate to say this, but we’re going to have to start getting extra votes against Trent and Sammy
Dawn: But why? Wouldn’t we just vote Duncan?
Damien: No, that’s not- I mean, after Duncan’s gone, all that’s left of the Killer Bass is us, them, and Axel. And I think they know that too, because they’re trying to bond with her.
Dawn: Yes, Axel is stuck in between the four of us. I’m not very worried though. I’m good friends with her.
Damien: I know, but we should start getting closer so that if need be, Axel will vote with us instead of them.
Damien then digs through the trash and finds a carrot that is half eaten, but otherwise clean. He decides to save it for Bunny, before noticing that Dawn looks unsure of something. He asks her what’s wrong and she brushes it off as having missed Bunny while it was gone. Damien is happy with this answer and tells Dawn that he knew she and Bunny would get along well, but this only makes her feel worse.
Confessional:
Dawn: Bunny left Damien, but I still don’t know why Duncan found a replacement. Duncan is not to be trusted, but I don’t know how to break the news to Damien that Bunny’s really gone.
We then cut to the next part of the boot camp, which is to repeat Chef’s suspiciously Triller-esque dance routine. The dancing goes on for a while until it’s interrupted when Duncan shuts off the music. Chef angrily asks him what he’s doing so Duncan reminds him about how once someone drops out the training ends. Chef says that they’ll be done when he says they’re done, before forcing Duncan to do push-ups.
Next up, write a three hundred word essay about how much you love Chef, being eliminated if you fall asleep or fail to reach the minimum word count. Owen and Katie are discussing ways to pad out their essays while cracking jokes to make each other laugh. Seeing the two of them bonding, Shawn turns back to his own essay looking a little less confident.
Duncan takes a break from doing the challenge to try and persuade Axel to join him again. She snaps at him and tells him to get lost, but Duncan mentions Shawn, which gets her attention.
Duncan: Let’s face it, everybody knows you like Shawn.
Axel: So? If you want to mock me about it, expect a fight!
Duncan: No, I’m saying that you two are pathetic. Neither one of you ever makes a move! Watching you two is like watching a car crash in slow motion.
Axel: (Sarcastically) Thanks for the advice, Dr. Love.
Duncan: You need a wingman, badly. So it’s going to be me.
Axel: Why would I ever listen to you?
Duncan: Because if you and Shawn are ever going to be a thing, you need me.
Axel: Fine. But if you pull anything you’ll leave this island in a cast.
Duncan gets Axel to close the deal with a handshake before returning back to working on the challenge. Later, Chef returns to pick up the essays, and eliminates both Trent and Zoey for falling asleep. As for everyone else, their essays meet the requirement, although Duncan’s is just one sentence with 289 verys in between. On his way out of the cafeteria, Chef slips in a puddle of Owen’s drool from him being half asleep, and Duncan offers to clean him off. This causes Chef to yell at him again, and the rest of the Bass stop Duncan from saying anything more, lest he get them all in trouble.
The next evening, the training continues, as Chef forces the campers to run an obstacle course until everyone can do it in less than a minute. As they climb a wooden wall, Axel asks Duncan for advice and he tells her she should get Shawn’s attention by showing off her survival skills in the course. Axel takes the advice and waits for Shawn to reach the top of the wall before jumping off and doing acrobatic tricks in midair. This catches Shawn’s eye, who shows off some tricks of his own in return.
The obstacle course causes trouble for some of the other campers, as Owen gets stuck while jumping through a tire, getting him eliminated. On top of that, Damien falls flat on his face when climbing the wall. He pukes up some mud, and is coughing and sputtering, so Chef eliminates him too and sends him to the infirmary.
After going through a montage of campers falling into the mud or otherwise failing, we see Katie struggle to clear a rope swing. She remembers what Owen told her and tries it again, only to clear it easily. She cheers for herself before continuing to run the course.
While crawling through the mud, Sammy reaches a deep spot and starts sinking. Duncan passes while mocking her, only to come across an angry Chef. He gives Duncan more pushups, but Duncan just thanks Chef before kissing him on the nose. This sends Chef off the edge and he announces that Duncan will spend the rest of the night in solitary confinement in the boathouse. This causes everyone to gasp, but Duncan asks how bad it could be, before we cut to him sitting in the boathouse regretting that comment.
In the cafeteria, the contestants remaining in the boot camp are being fed rock hard gruel. Dawn sits down next to Axel, intending to win her over, but Axel is the one to talk first. She explains to Dawn how Duncan is working as a wingman for her and Shawn, and while Dawn is happy for Axel, she reminds her about how Duncan is untrustworthy. She talks about how he replaced Bunny when it left Damien, and that she thinks he has a secret agenda behind everything. Axel agrees with Dawn but leaves to get more advice from Duncan anyway.
Heather finds the gruel Chef has served her to be well past unappetizing, and chooses to instead try to persuade Shawn again. She points out how close Owen, Katie and Max have become, and that since she still has Zoey, they’ll go after him first. After careful consideration, Shawn caves and agrees to work with her. But he specifies that while he will do what’s required for her to protect him, he will not associate himself as a member of her alliance. Despite this, Heather is still pleased by the news, and leaves to get some sleep.
In the boathouse, Axel finds Duncan sweeping the floors to pass the time.
Duncan: Did you get General Crazy angry at you too?
Axel: No, I’m here so you can make good on our deal. What’s some more advice you have?
Duncan: Really? You can’t be so desperate that you need my help for every single thing.
Axel: Then what do you want me to do then? This was entirely your idea!
Duncan: Just ask Shawn out. Maybe set up a date or something. But if you just sit there and don’t talk to him I promise you that nothing good will happen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to mess with Chef.
Duncan then leaves despite Chef’s orders and heads towards the craft services tent, leaving Axel behind wondering what she could do.
In the Gophers cabin, Katie visits Owen, who congratulates her on doing so well in the boot camp. Katie is ecstatic at her performance and thanks him for giving her the pep talk. Max, while also happy for Katie, insists that “Evil has better things to do than make friends” as he works on something secret in his bunk bed. Owen tells Katie that he thinks she can win the entire challenge, but to this Katie is still a bit skeptical.
The remaining Bass return to their cabin to find Trent and Damien playing cards on the front steps, and inside Dawn finds various snacks left in a big pile on her bed. She’s confused how it got there, but is happy to finally find something edible, so she invites everybody on both teams to hang out and eat the food. As the eleven of them dig in, they discuss how insane Chef is for making them do full on combat training, with only Shawn, Axel, and surprisingly Katie enjoying the challenge. Eventually the relaxation is ruined when Chef barges in and orders everyone in the Killer Bass to line up outside. He announces that the food they were dining on was stolen from the craft services tent, and that he was tipped off that it was one of them because the perpetrator left a raw bass in the fridge. Dawn confesses that she found it on her bed, but before she can explain herself Chef automatically eliminates her from the boot camp and confiscates the rest of the food.
Chef starts the last part of the boot camp the next morning, which is to hang upside-down from a tree until only one person is left. The last campers left are Sammy, Duncan and Axel for the Bass, and Shawn, Heather and Katie for the Gophers. Axel confronts Duncan about what he did, and he admits he stole Chris and Chef’s food, left a bass behind as a calling card and dumped the food on the first bed he found. Axel is pissed at him for getting Dawn in trouble with Chef and cuts the deal between them, causing Duncan to tell her that he never really cared.
Confessional:
Duncan: Okay, maybe I went a little too far, but I’ve always found a way to stay in the game. Surely this will be no different, right?
Chef rants about the side effects of being upside down, and as he goes over each one, someone gets it, causing them to fall off the tree. Eventually it’s down to Axel and Katie, with Dawn cheering on Axel while Owen motivates Katie. Axel looks between Dawn and Duncan, and is visibly conflicted, while Katie’s starting to get dizzy. But just as she’s about to fall, Axel jumps off first, meaning the Screaming Gophers win. Katie then falls off the tree before being enveloped in a bear hug by Owen. Chef congratulates Katie, saying he’d go to war with her anytime, but she gets mixed messages from the complement.
Duncan scolds Axel, saying she lost the challenge for them. But she snaps at him in front of everyone.
Axel: You are not fit to be on this island! You essentially threw two challenges, ridiculed me the entire game, and now got Dawn disqualified just because you wanted to prank Chef! So excuse me if I want you out!
Duncan snaps back at her before storming off, and for the first time in a while, Axel looks relieved. Dawn then comes up to her with Damien telling her that she did the right thing. Afterwards, Damien asks Dawn if she only said that to get Axel on their side, gaining an annoyed look from her. Seeing this, he backtracks and says that they should help Axel like real friends, and is relieved when Dawn nods her head in agreement.
Vote off a Killer Bass and come up with any plot points you want to see later.

The brawl between multiple servants and masters was about to begin. Everyone stood eyes glancing around towards one another.
Archer: I’d rather first kill the rift raft!
portals appeared aiming at Assassin and in a brilliant show of power, several weapons popped out of the portals shooting at Assassin who could barely dodge all!
Ky: Is that his noble phantasms?!
Leo: Noble what?!
Saber: Do you seriously not know yet master!?
Leo: Nobody told me!
Ky: I guess it slipped my mind… think of them like a servant's ultimate move! Based on their legends or what they are most remembered for!
Leo: HUH?!
Saber: But his noble phantasm seems to be other noble phantasms!
Archer: Die you filthy mongrel!
Assassin was insanely fast even still managing to dodge even just barely the many chains, swords, axes, spears, and so on.
Meanwhile, Berserker began charging toward Leo! Saber would easily block the attack and deflect the blow of Berserker’s sword! She went to stab the purple-haired servant but she dodged to the left.
Saber: I shall keep you safe even still master!
Leo: OK Saber!
Ky: Damn it… Leo just back up.
Leo and Ky hid behind Saber and Lancer both charging forward giving Berserker quite the challenge at the same time. Until Katie picked up a few rocks from her pocket and tossed them at Saber freezing her arm and leg in place.
Saber: Magic crystals?!
Ky: Damn it… TRANSPORTATION!
Ky would summon a car above Katie that crashed into her!
Katie: Ugh! God damn it! Berserker! Help me!
But her Berserker was struggling to keep pace with the faster Lancer. Tied with Assassin for the fastest servant in this war. Lancer kicked Berserker in the leg before cutting them across the chest.
Archer: That boy…
He saw what Ky did. He threw his own master and Leo who caught Pat in mid-air crashing into the old rickety wood of the docks. Archer would ignore the tired Assassin and turn his portals towards Ky.
Archer: Give me the best you got!
Several swords flung down from his portals toward Ky who dodged with extreme difficulty. He grabbed one of the swords mid-air and threw it back at the golden armor servant who swatted it away with his hand.
Archer: You dare touch one of my treasures? Fine, then I shall make your death painful!
Ky(thoughts): How the hell do I beat this guy-
Ky’s mind stopped thinking for a moment as he was grabbed and dragged into the city with Lancer and Saber unable to stop him.
Leo: PAT GET YOUR SERVANT TO BRING HIM BACK!
Pat: L-Leo I can't!

Ky wasn't sure what to do as Archer threw him into a car denting the vehicle…
Ky: Remember what he said... VISUALIZE!
Archer: What are you blabbering about you mongerl?
More portals opened up shooting a rain of axes, swords, and saws that Ky dodged expertly.

Elegant: Get strong enough to surpass me…

Ky: I NEED TO GET STRONGER THAN HIM! Nature!
Several trees spawned and protected Ky from the many weapons for a few seconds allowing him to visualize... But a spear ripped through the trees and went straight for Ky’s head but with an outstretched arm at the last possible moment he let himself block the spear letting stab through his hand rather than his head!
Archer: You are shocking strong!
Ky: VISUALIZE! WAR!
A tank spawned behind Ky and shot at Archer who wasn't even hurt. With a flick of his wrist and some lances destroyed the tank that blew up sending Ky only a few feet in front of the floating Archer.
Ky: Heh… fine.
He learned how to expand his interpretation in a moment of desperation learning to make life from mana.
Ky: Summoning living creatures is hard… maybe that's why I could never spawn certain things before… but fuck it! WAR! the FUCKING HOLY GRAIL WAR!
In a desperate gamble, Ky had summoned a large monster behind him.
Ky: Fine then there's my servant...
Ky crashed the the ground all his mana being used to support the existence of his summon.
Archer: I was right… you weren't boring!

(teaser!) Leo: KY THE HELL WAS THAT?!
Ky: MY FINAL STAND!
Saber: Are you insane you might die!
Ky: I was going to die either way…
Leo: Stick around when we continue in Holy Grail War: Rock Smash!

Unless you are ready to handle the reaper cushions.

The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
― Mark Twain

general information	additional information
name: Micah Di Santis	preferred name: Myka, Mike
d.o.b.: 10 June 20XX	age: 16
nationality: Sicilian	hometown: Sicily, Italy
gender identity: cis-male	gender expression: male
sexual orientation: Undecided	preferred pronouns: he / him / his

• Half-blood- and non-half-blood-related conundrums: ADHD (attention deficiency and hyperactivity disorder), Dyslexia

relation	name/s	age	relationship
divine parent	Charon, The Ferryman	old	Micah still has no idea what to think about his dad. Speaking with him during the visit to Olympus did nothing to clear things up. The man, or was it immortal, was blunt and yet, his son's opinion of him was still up in the air, though leaning more to the positive side. At least Micah has the connections to get himself an admittedly fantastic tailored suit.
mortal parent	???	???	Micah has no idea who his biological mother is. The only reason he knew who his father was before he came to camp was because the spirits told him.
mortal adoptive parent	Maria Di Santis	32 years old	If Marco was a saint then Maria was a saintess through and through. Everything she did, she did with someone else in mind. From the day she adopted Micah to the moment Marco died, Micah did not see her cry for herself at all. She'd cry when a little boy got hurt and would offer help or cry when she saw a cat get kicked by some drunk douchebag.
mortal adoptive parent	Vincino (Vinny) Bertelli	37 years old	Vincino is an absurdly rich man who was born and raised in Sicily. He found Maira through her singing on the side of the road to raise money for Micah's trip to the US. He offered to take her in because he liked her and sponsored Micah's trip by giving him some money and a ticket onto a transatlantic cruise ship headed to New York City. All things considered, he's a kind and considerate man who loves Maria.
adoptive brother	Marco Di Santis	14 years old, Deceased	Marco Di Santis was a saint. Ever since he learned the word 'kindness', he was absorbed and defined by it. He loved seeing the smiles bloom on people's faces when he shared some bread or helped them with something but what he truly loved more than anything else was sailing and playing the piano. He was handsome beyond reason, having pale blonde hair and clear blue eyes, though he never had a chance to grow into it fully.
dead guy	Chris	16 years old, Deceased	Like Marco, Chris is one big ball of sunshine. The only difference is he's a ghost. Micah met Chris on the cruise he stowed away on to get to the US and the ghost promptly joined him, though reluctantly because he was watching over his parents and little brother, due to finding him interesting. Like Marco, Chris is handsome though he had more time to grow into his looks. Framed by golden hair and chocolate brown eyes, Micah wouldn't have doubted it if the boy was very popular during his living days.
friend	Willow 'Will' Crest	16 years old	One of the more laid-back campers Micah had met, Willow became something of a friend to the son of Charon, though they started off more as discussion partners than anything else. And besides, being chill-buddies is pretty fun on its own. Who knows where things can go from there?
friend	Rachel 'Rocky' Williams	17 years old	Rocky was one of the first people Micah met upon arriving at camp and her enthusiasm, uncharacteristic for a child of a chthonic god, immediately made her stand out. Though he genuinely has no idea what goes through Rocky's head, Micah considers them close, and okay, maybe he has a minuscule crush on her.
friend/former cabin-mate	Ramona Herrera	16 years old	Being another camper who met Micah's criteria for friendship (i.e. Be chill and relax), Ramona is someone who Micah doesn't know too much about. Much like Kit, who Micah has seen around camp and the Hermes Cabin, she is a mystery to him. Though he does enjoy trying to spot which corner she's hiding in at any given camp gathering.
acquaintance (?)	Mathew Knight	15 years old	Matt is, as far as friendship is concerned, a work-in-progress. Micah's father had recommended getting to know the son of Hades and though he'd lost himself in school shortly after, Micah had made introductions.

appearance

faceclaim	height	weight	hair	eyes	skin
FC, Art by Charlie Bowater	5’11”	Doesn't care	Black	Amber, fiery like gold	Lightly tanned, peppered with a few more recent thin scars from his time at camp

description: Micah is a fairly restrained person when it comes to clothes. Usually, he'd only grab a long-sleeved shirt and some jeans, feeling content. Most of his clothing is fairly average, what with them being of all sorts of muted colors and sorts of clothing. He isn't used to expressing himself whether it is though clothing or other methods.
equipment:

• Folding Knife; The cleaver-shaped folding knife was a present from his brother and Micah has taken to using it for almost everything in his day to day. When his mother fell ill after Marco's death, Micah had to scrub the docks, cut rope to secure the boats, and even got to work on some boats during outings for extra cash. The knife became like a lifeline, being used for everything he had to do.
• Bead Necklace; Micah has been at camp for a year now.
• Monster Directory; Over the years, Micah has seen one or two monsters in their undisguised forms and has taken to keeping note of them by drawing them in as great a detail as he can remember in a separate notebook from the rest of his drawings while also making notes of tactics that worked against them.
• Sketchbook; Ever since he started drawing, Micah has had a good amount of sketchbooks, most of which he donated to orphanages in Sicily for the little kids to enjoy the drawings if they weren't destroyed by seawater or other kids. After he donated his last one with a few pages blank at the end, he got himself a new book, this one being leather-bound and practically a blank slate. He's glad to have an abundance of space to draw as his story unfolds.
• Art Supplies; A good amount of colored and uncolored pencils, all in different states of use, either dull or sharp, long or short, and an eraser in a dark brown leather box.
• Satchel; The over-the-shoulder bag Micah carries around with all of his items. It's nothing special, just an olive green bag with a good amount of compartments and space.
• Throwing Knife Bandolier; Micah's choice of weapon, the bandolier he carries is easy to hide under civilian clothes, fast to access, and easy to use. The knives are of standard make and easily replaceable with others from the armory, though Micah tends to clean and sharpen them himself after each use.

abilities:
* – modmailed / custom

godrent domain powers: 

a) Dead Communication; Ever since his close brush with death, Micah's powers surged. His father's connection to spirits and those who have died became his and as such he can now see and communicate with the spirits of the dead. They have been his only source of information on his father. He likes to build a network of spirits whenever he goes somewhere new so he can gather information as fast as possible.
b) Shadow Camouflage; From a fairly young age, Micah wasn't much of a social butterfly. Most of the time, he felt most comfortable in a shadowy nook where the lines of his body would be broken by shadows, using the ability unconsciously. After his near-death experience, Micah became more aware of his ability to hide in shadows and learned to use it more effectively than before.
c) Shadow Travel\;* After an unknowably long amount of time spent in Hades, Micah's father, Charon, was aligned with the underworld to which he led the souls of the dead. Similarly, Micah has inherited the ability to travel through shadows in short or long-range teleports.

godrent minor powers: 

a) River Step\;* The connection with the River Styx flows through Micah's veins as much as it does through his father's. The ability this connection granted him was the ability to walk on water, as long as there is no significant shift to the water, such as large waves.
b) Death Buff\;* Being a servant of the God of the Dead, it only makes sense that Charon would draw his own power from his master. As such, Micah has inherited a trait where he becomes stronger when around children of other deities of death, such as Hades, Melinoe, Zagreus, the Oneiroi, etc.
c) Aura of the Harbinger\;* Being a multifaceted deity, Charon passed down his multifacetedness in the form of an aura ability. Micah has the ability to project an aura with two opposite effects that work on separate targets. A calming effect affects any spirits within the aura while an imposing effect like that of Children of Hades affects living beings within the aura's range.

godrent major powers: 

a) Major Watercraft Manipulation\;* Being known as the Ferryman of the Dead, it only makes sense for Charon, and Micah by extension, to have dominion over watercraft. Micah's control over watercraft was one of the first powers he discovered and the power that is most intertwined with him in his entirety. He has inherited the ability to gain absolute control over any and all watercraft down to the rigging and ropes.

skillset 

Over the years, Micah has picked up a good variety of skills, including fishing and rope work. Still, there have been a great many learning experiences for the boy on the streets of Sicily. Free running came as a given to any child of below-average means in Sicily but Micah was significantly worse than most thanks to a leg injury he got at the age of thirteen. Drawing was the only real luxury he had during his time when he wasn't working. A young lady from a carnival that was passing through taught him how to use throwing knives after he helped her find her way around the city. He learned ballet by watching, sitting for hours outside a studio every day for weeks until he'd gotten good enough to practice independently, which led to his interest in gymnastics. One of the older neighborhood boys took to teaching Micah, his brother, and the other kids how to read and write in English. Micah's adoptive mother insisted on teaching him how to speak English from a young age. Now, he can speak English with a barely noticeable Sicilian accent.
personality
Micah is about as quiet as you'd expect from a Chthonic kid. That isn't to say that he is particularly serious or brooding, in fact, even when he's upset, he rarely does either. He mainly remains silent because he isn't particularly talented at talking. His reactions to most things tend to be a bit muted unless something is especially funny or angering. Any of the kids that liked him or trusted him in Sicily did so because they understood that when it was needed, Micah would talk as much as was needed and would do what needed to be done to keep everyone safe.
Fatal Flaw; Vengefulness
backstory
Micah's past year at camp had been simultaneously the most relaxing and confusing year of his life. There had been a unfamiliarity that Micah had with anything to do with relaxation or really anything but working that had slowly melted away. He'd made friends and discovered passions that might have otherwise gone ignored for the rest of his life (Art was definitely one of those).
So, when school started to take over his time, Micah barely gave it any thought, settling back into his old work mentality, though now focused on mental instead of physical labor. Before he knew it, it was summer, school was out, and he was back at the start, not knowing how to get himself to relax.
now
Micah stared at the ground around the Range target blankly, the celestial bronze knives scattered around it refracting light. He was jolted out of his mental haze when a camper a few rows down yelled at him for standing in front of the target for so long. Quickly finishing up gathering his throwing knives, Micah slotted them into his bandolier and left the Range.
For a while, he just walked, until he reached the pier. Boats had been a constant of Micah's life before coming to camp and when he was really out of it or off his rocker, the son of Charon liked to settle at the camp pier and imagine what sort of sea vessel he'd design for himself. Aesthetics might not have mattered to everyone but to Micah, they did. The ship would have to look as good as it sailed.
Now, he fell onto his back in the sand a few meters from the pier and stared up at the sky. Barely any clouds. Gods that was boring.
(Credit to u/FireyRage for the amazing intro format.)

Taken from: https://www.theringer.com/movies/2024/5/21/24161120/greatest-movie-car-chase-scenes-ranked-furiosa-mad-max-saga
In honor of the imminent ‘Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga,’ we’re shifting into high gear to determine the best chase scene in cinema history
By Miles Surrey May 21, 2024, 6:30am EDTGetty Images/Ringer illustration
After wowing audiences with Mad Max: Fury Road, director George Miller returns to the franchise’s post-apocalyptic wastelands for Furiosa, the epic origin story of the eponymous heroine (now played by Anya Taylor-Joy), premiering on Friday. As the follow-up to one of the greatest action films ever made, it’s hard to overstate the hype for Furiosa, and that was before word got out about a showstopping 15-minute sequence that required nearly 200 stuntpeople and took 78 days to shoot. While Furiosa will have its own distinct flavor, as is true of every Mad Max movie, there’s one thing that unites these projects: intense, jaw-dropping scenes of vehicular mayhem. And what better way to honor the franchise than by celebrating what it does best?
Ahead of Furiosa’s release, we’ve put together our definitive ranking of the best car chases in cinema. There weren’t any strict rules in place, other than capping the list at 20—mostly for my own sanity—and limiting every franchise to one entry. (Apologies to Fury Road’s kickass predecessor The Road Warrior.) We also won’t discriminate against scenes that feature motorbikes, so long as cars (and/or trucks) remain part of the equation. As for what, exactly, constitutes a good car chase? Like list making, it’s bound to be subjective, but I tend to gravitate toward two key elements: the skill of the stuntwork on display and the ways in which a filmmaker conveys the action in relation to the story. (Also, the less CGI, the better.) Buckle up, ’cause we’re not wasting any time shifting into high gear.

20. Quantum of Solace (2008)

There have been some memorable car chases in the James Bond franchise: the first sequence featuring the iconic Aston Martin DB5 in Goldfinger, the corkscrew jump in The Man With the Golden Gun, the Lotus Esprit submarine in The Spy Who Loved Me. But I’m going with a somewhat controversial pick here: Quantum of Solace. There are many issues with Quantum of Solace—namely, it was one of the most high-profile blockbusters affected by the 2007-08 writers strike—but its opening scene isn’t one of them. Picking up right where Casino Royale left off, we find Bond (Daniel Craig) evading henchmen through the narrow roads around Italy’s Lake Garda. The frenetic, furious chase mirrors Bond’s sense of anguish after losing Vesper Lynd (Eva Green), the woman he opened his heart to, and his relentless quest for answers. It’s a thrilling tone-setter for Quantum of Solace and one that doesn’t overstay its welcome, capped off by Bond sending his final pursuers flying off a cliff:
If we’re being honest, though, it feels like James Bond has yet to create a franchise-defining car chase. Perhaps that’s a mission the newest 007, whoever it ends up being, can undertake.

19. Mission: Impossible—Rogue Nation (2015)

The Mission: Impossible franchise is no stranger to electrifying chase scenes, the best of which find Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt working up his heart rate. When it comes to action behind the wheel, though, Fallout tends to dominate the discussion—even on this very website. But I think the vehicular chase in Rogue Nation is being slept on. What we have is effectively two sequences for the price of one: The first finds Hunt pursuing Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson) by car through the narrow streets of Casablanca alongside some nefarious henchmen; the second sees him continue the chase outside the city on motorbike. (Adding to the chaos: Hunt had only just been resuscitated, and he’s clearly not all there.) In terms of death-defying stunts for the audience’s entertainment, a helmetless Cruise taking corners like a MotoGP racer is child’s play compared to his other exploits, but the actor’s authentic reaction to scraping his knee on the road underlines that there’s no one else in Hollywood doing it like him:
We’ll be sure to update this ranking if and when Cruise does something even more dangerous down the road, pun unintended.

18. Vanishing Point (1971)

A movie that counts the likes of Steven Spielberg and Quentin Tarantino among its biggest fans, Vanishing Point is the first of a few entries on this ranking that’s essentially one extended car chase. The film stars Barry Newman as Kowalski, a man tasked with delivering a Dodge Challenger T 440 Magnum from Colorado to California while eluding police across four states. One of Kowalski’s most memorable run-ins comes when a guy driving a Jaguar E-Type convertible challenges him to an impromptu race. Incredibly, we’re expected to believe the man in the Jag comes out of this crash in one piece:
Vanishing Point might not boast the impressive production values of other movies on this list, but considering Tarantino would go on to feature a white Challenger in Death Proof, its influence in the car cinema canon is undeniable.

17. Fast Five (2011)

Let’s face it, Fast & Furious has seen better days. Some believe the franchise’s dip in quality coincided with the death of Paul Walker; others are dismayed by the pivot from street racing to absurd feats of superherodom—emphasis on the Dom. Perhaps it’s a bit of both, but the very best movie in the series, Fast Five, manages to strike the perfect balance: It’s a relatively grounded heist thriller that nevertheless takes the franchise to ridiculous new heights. After Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) and his crew steal $100 million from a Brazilian kingpin, they drag the entire bank vault holding the money through the streets of Rio de Janeiro, all while being pursued by authorities. It’s a delightfully destructive sequence that does untold damage to Rio’s infrastructure and features some of the most bone-crunching crashes committed to film:
If the Fast franchise is going to break out of its recent slump, it would do well to remember that there’s nothing better than letting its heroes live their lives a quarter mile at a time—no detours to outer space required.

16. The Blues Brothers (1980)

A good car chase isn’t reserved just for action flicks: Comedies can get in on the act, too. In The Blues Brothers, starring the recurring Saturday Night Live characters played by John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, the beloved bandmates must prevent the foreclosure of the orphanage where they were raised by scrounging together $5,000. Naturally, that’s easier said than done: Along the way, the Blues Brothers draw the attention of neo-Nazis, a country-and-western band, and local police. While The Blues Brothers has amusing gags and musical numbers, its chase sequences with the Brothers behind the wheel of a 1974 Dodge Monaco are what really steal the show—and none are better than a climactic pursuit across Chicago. More than 60 old police cars were used in the film, some of which are wrecked in a comically over-the-top pileup:
The sheer scale of The Blues Brothers’ final set piece is commendable in and of itself—as is the movie’s commitment to treating real-life cars like a bunch of Hot Wheels.

15. Baby Driver (2017)

For good and for ill, Edgar Wright’s movies exude an abundance of style, and Baby Driver is no exception. Baby Driver is centered on a clever gimmick: The action works in tandem with its soundtrack because the film’s protagonist, Baby (Ansel Elgort), suffers from tinnitus and constantly plays music to drown out the ringing. When everything’s clicking into place, Baby Driver feels like a supersized series of music videos, and nothing hits quite like its opening sequence. Baby acts as the getaway driver for a bank robbery while listening to the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion’s “Bellbottoms.” The ensuing chase works around rhythms of the song, as if Baby’s Subaru WRX were the star of its own dance number. Take nothing away from the actual driving, either, which puts the rally car to good use:
Baby Driver’s gimmick stretches a little thin by the end, but it’s hard to deny the crowd-pleasing power of Wright’s film when it’s firing on all cylinders.

14. The Raid 2 (2014)

With a trio of kickass Indonesian martial arts films under his belt, Gareth Evans has established himself as one of the most exciting action directors on the planet—someone who seems most in his element staging positively brutal hand-to-hand combat. In The Raid 2, however, Evans also brought his signature brand of carnage to the road. While there’s some cleverly executed close-quarters fighting within the confines of an SUV, courtesy of Iko Uwais’s hard-hitting protagonist, what really cements this sequence’s greatness are the moments when Evans turns the cars into an extension of the characters’ fists:
This belongs in an entirely new category of combat: car fights. There are so many action scenes in The Raid 2 worth writing home about—the kitchen showdown is an all-timer—but the fact that Evans casually tossed in an unforgettable car chase shows why he’s one of one.

13. The Driver (1978)

I’ll say this for Walter Hill’s The Driver: It sure lives up to its title. In this stripped-down thriller—one where none of the characters have a name—we follow the Driver (Ryan O’Neal), a getaway driver who has become a thorn in the side of the LAPD. In the film’s best scene, we see its taciturn protagonist living up to his reputation. With the Driver behind the wheel of a 1974 Ford Galaxie, a cat-and-mouse game unfolds when a handful of police cars are hot on his tail. What I love about this sequence is the pared-down nature of it all: The Driver outwits the cops as much as he outraces them. (Though, ironically, that wasn’t entirely by design: As Hill later explained, an accident on the last night of shooting meant they had to cobble together what had already been filmed.) Frankly, you’d never know the difference from the finished article:
If the general vibes of The Driver seem familiar, that’s because it was a major inspiration for Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive, which just so happened to feature an unnamed protagonist (Ryan Gosling) evading police through the streets of Los Angeles.

12. The Bourne Supremacy (2004)

The shaky-cam style of the Bourne franchise isn’t for everyone—just ask John Woo—but credit where it’s due: These movies know how to deliver a good chase scene. (A friendly reminder that The Bourne Legacy is an underrated gem with an awesome motorbike sequence to boot.) But there’s one Bourne chase that stands above the rest: the Moscow getaway in The Bourne Supremacy. After being wounded by the Russian assassin Kirill (Karl Urban), Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) hijacks a taxi, with both the police and Kirill in hot pursuit. This isn’t the kind of sequence that lingers on any one shot; instead, what makes it work is the frenetic nature of the editing, which allows the viewer to feel like they’re in Bourne’s fight-or-flight headspace:
If I’m being honest, I’m usually one of those people who doesn’t like the Bourne movies’ shaky-cam style, but when it’s executed with such craftsmanship, you can’t help but get caught up in its adrenaline-pumping power.

11. The Seven-Ups (1973)

Philip D’Antoni was the producer of two movies featuring Hall of Fame car chases, Bullitt and The French Connection, the latter of which won him an Oscar for Best Picture. And with his lone directorial feature, The Seven-Ups, D’Antoni sought to craft an iconic sequence of his own. The film stars Roy Scheider as NYPD detective Buddy Mannuci (elite Italian American name; I can practically smell the gabagool), who commands a unit handling major felony cases that lead to seven-plus-year prison sentences; that’s why they’re known as the Seven-Ups. Midway through the movie, when one of the team members is killed by two shooters who flee the scene, Buddy chases after them. The 10-minute sequence, which starts in the Upper West Side before moving out of the city, is thrillingly immersive, alternating between close-ups of the characters and wider shots of all the damage they’ve caused. But the chase’s defining moment comes right at the end, when Buddy narrowly avoids a grisly death:
The sequence isn’t quite at the level of Bullitt or The French Connection—very few are—but D’Antoni still manages to leave an unmistakable imprint on the car chase canon.

10. Death Proof (2007)

If you ask Quentin Tarantino, Death Proof, his knowingly trashy tribute to exploitation cinema, is the worst movie he’s ever made. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot to admire about the film, which honors the unsung heroes of Hollywood: stunt performers. The first half of Death Proof follows three female friends who cross paths with Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell), a misogynistic serial killer who takes them out in his “death-proof” Chevy Nova. Fourteen months later, a group that includes stuntwoman Zoë Bell, playing herself, also lands on Mike’s radar. As Bell and her friends test out a ’70s Challenger, she performs a “ship’s mast” stunt, clinging onto the hood of the car with fastening belts. Unfortunately, when Mike pursues the women, it puts Bell in a precarious situation. Most of the entries on this list celebrate some next-level driving skills, but Death Proof’s inclusion is all about Bell pulling off one of the wildest stunts you’ll ever see. She’s quite literally hanging on for dear life:
If the Academy handed out Oscars to stunt performers—and let’s hope it does happen one day—Bell would’ve won in a landslide.

9. To Live and Die in L.A. (1985)

William Friedkin was already responsible for an all-time great car chase in The French Connection (more on that later), but the filmmaker made a commendable bid to outdo himself with To Live and Die in L.A. In this neo-noir thriller, Secret Service agent Richard Chance (William L. Petersen) is hell-bent on arresting an expert counterfeiter, Rick Masters (Willem Dafoe), who kills Chance’s partner days before his retirement. To capture Masters, Chance and his new partner, John Vukovich (John Pankow), attempt to steal $50,000 from a jewelry buyer for an undercover operation. The sting goes bad when the buyer, who is later revealed to be an undercover FBI agent, is killed and a group of gunmen goes after Chance and Vukovich. It’s a clever inversion of the usual car chase formula—this time, it’s the lawmen running away from the criminals. The outside-the-box thinking extends to the film’s most astonishing stretch, in which Chance evades the gunmen by driving into oncoming traffic:
The fact that Friedkin shot the chase at the end of filming—in case anything disastrous happened to the actors—underscores just how risky the endeavor was. The pulse-pounding results speak for themselves.

8. The Matrix Reloaded (2003)

The Matrix sequels have never been held in high esteem, but I’m ready to live my truth: The Matrix Reloaded fucking rules. (If anyone’s got a problem with this take, file your complaints with the Architect.) What’s more, the film happens to boast the finest action set piece of the franchise: the highway chase. After Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) and Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) free the Keymaker (Randall Duk Kim), a program capable of creating shortcuts within the Matrix, they’re pursued by the Twins (Neil and Adrian Rayment). Morpheus once warned that going on the freeway was “suicide,” and it doesn’t take long to see why: The chase draws the attention of several Agents, who repeatedly take over the bodies of other drivers on the road. The scene is the best of both worlds: There’s some incredible stuntwork on display, including when Moss weaves around on a Ducati, and CGI augments some feats of superhuman strength. But the most jaw-dropping aspect of the sequence is how it came together, as the production spent $2.5 million to construct its own highway (!) on California’s Alameda Island. If that weren’t unique enough, I’m pretty sure Reloaded is also the only movie in existence in which a katana takes out an SUV:
The Matrix remains the Wachowskis’ masterpiece, but don’t get it twisted: The filmmakers were still cooking with gas in the sequel.

7. Gone in 60 Seconds (1974)

Size isn’t everything, but for H. B. Halicki, who produced, wrote, directed, and starred in Gone in 60 Seconds, it’s certainly part of the package. The indie action flick follows Maindrian Pace (Halicki), a Los Angeles insurance investigator who has a lucrative side hustle jacking high-end cars. The plot kicks into motion when a South American drug lord enlists Pace to nab 48 cars within five days in exchange for $400,000. Of course, Gone in 60 Seconds is best known for what happens after Pace is caught stealing a 1973 Ford Mustang Mach 1, when he leads police on a chase that lasts a whopping 40 minutes. (More than 90 cars were destroyed in the process.) Halicki, for his part, did all the driving himself, including a spectacular jump off a makeshift ramp of crashed cars:
While Halicki wound up making a few more indies after Gone in 60 Seconds, he died in an accident on the set of its sequel. His legacy as a do-it-all daredevil, however, lives on.

6. Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)

Long before James Cameron immersed himself in the world of Pandora, he was a pioneer of state-of-the-art visual effects. Case in point: Terminator 2: Judgment Day is credited for having the first CGI character in a blockbuster, the T-1000 (Robert Patrick), a killing machine composed of a futuristic liquid metal. But Cameron also understood that the CGI of that era shouldn’t be the main attraction: It worked best as a complement to the practical effects, as seen in Judgment Day’s epic viaduct chase. When the T-1000 tracks down a young John Connor (Edward Furlong) in a shopping mall, he’s saved at the last minute by the Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger), giving John a chance to escape on his dirt bike. As the T-1000 gives chase, the David and Goliath vibes between man and machine are further epitomized by the T-1000’s commandeering of a truck. The sequence already has a terrifying sense of urgency, but it hits another level when the T-1000 crashes through the viaduct like the Kool-Aid Man:
Big Jim is still revolutionizing what can be achieved with visual effects in the Avatar franchise, and while I cherish those movies, nothing beats his old-school showmanship.

5. Duel (1971)

The feature-length debut of Steven Spielberg—perhaps you’ve heard of him—the TV movie Duel is essentially one extended chase sequence between salesman David Mann (Dennis Weaver) and a sinister trucker determined to drive him off the road. I’ve attached a clip from the ending of the film, but that doesn’t do Duel justice. What cements this movie’s greatness is how it sustains an unbearable level of tension across its 90-minute running time—with a budget under $500,000, no less. Spielberg’s masterstroke is never once showing us the other driver, anthropomorphizing the truck itself as a monster. (You can see a lot of similarities with how he would build suspense in Jaws.) When Mann finally gets the upper hand, tricking his adversary into driving off a cliff, it feels like you can breathe again:
Spielberg would move on to bigger and better things after Duel, but considering how much the director accomplished with so little, you can’t help but wonder what else he could conjure up with limited resources.

4. Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

Like Duel, Fury Road is basically one long car chase—the difference is Miller got to work with a blockbuster budget, and made every cent of it count. It’s hard to pick a single standout sequence in Fury Road, but if I had to choose, I’d go with the first attack on the War Rig after Furiosa (Charlize Theron) flees with the wives of Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne). Here’s why: Think back to when you saw Fury Road for the first time, before you fully grasped the vehicular carnage that was in store. And then stuff like this kept happening:
To quote Steven Soderbergh’s thoughts on Fury Road: “I don’t understand how they’re not still shooting that film and I don’t understand how hundreds of people aren’t dead.” Whether or not Miller manages to one-up the action in Furiosa, the director is already in the pantheon.

3. The French Connection (1971)

We return to the Friedkin-verse for what may be his best film, The French Connection, the crime thriller based on Robin Moore’s 1969 nonfiction book of the same name. The story concerns two NYPD detectives, Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle (Gene Hackman) and Buddy “Cloudy” Russo (Roy Scheider), and their tireless pursuit of a French heroin smuggler. But while there’s plenty to admire about how The French Connection illustrates the thin line between police and criminals, its greatest claim to fame is its car chase. After Popeye narrowly survives a sniper attack, he goes after the shooter, who escapes on an elevated train. The ensuing sequence is true daredevil filmmaking that Friedkin shot without permits, leading to real crashes with New Yorkers that made the final cut. But Friedkin’s finest touch was mounting a camera to the front of the car, making the audience feel like they’re part of the action:
My Ringer colleague Justin Sayles believes The French Connection’s chase should’ve landed at no. 1, and I’m sure many folks will agree with him. Being the only film on this list to win Best Picture, however, is a solid consolation prize.

2. Bullitt (1968)

When it comes to modern car chases, all roads lead back to Bullitt. A Dad Cinema classic, the film stars Steve McQueen as Frank Bullitt, a San Francisco detective who pursues a group of mobsters after a key witness is killed in protective custody. In his search for answers, Bullitt realizes he’s being tailed by a couple of hitmen, and then turns the tables on them. From there, the chase is on. Aside from McQueen doing most of his own stunts behind the wheel of a Ford Mustang GT 390 Fastback, what’s so impressive about the sequence is how timeless it is. Even the little imperfections, like hubcaps repeatedly coming off the wheels, work to the film’s advantage, stressing just how much these drivers are living on a razor’s edge. It’s been more than 50 years since Bullitt revolutionized the car chase, and yet few movies since have felt like they’re pushing the envelope to such an exhilarating degree:
That the car driven by McQueen was recently sold at auction for $3.74 million, a then-record price for a Mustang, underlines Bullitt’s enduring legacy.

1. Ronin (1998)

“If I’m going to do a car chase,” filmmaker John Frankenheimer said in an interview with the American Society of Cinematographers, “I’m going to do a car chase that’s going to make somebody think about whether or not they want to do another one!” Boy, did he ever. In Frankenheimer’s late-career masterpiece, Ronin, the director actually incorporated several chases, but it’s the climactic sequence that stands alone as the greatest ever filmed. The movie concerns an international group of mercenaries who are hired to steal a mysterious briefcase; a series of double-crosses and double-bluffs ensue. But for the final chase, all you need to know is that Sam (Robert De Niro), a mercenary with ties to the CIA, is in pursuit of Deirdre (Natascha McElhone), an IRA operative in possession of the case. Winding through the streets and tunnels of Paris, what’s most striking is just how fluid it all feels. You’re completely engrossed in the chase’s forward momentum, captured from every conceivable angle; a symphony of controlled chaos. The driving styles even reflect the characters: Deirdre is reckless and impulsive, while Sam remains calm and controlled.
There are many worthy car chases in this ranking, but in my view, Ronin takes pole position. And while I can’t imagine a movie ever topping what Frankenheimer achieved, I’d love nothing more than to be proved wrong.

To note, this is a continuation of the sagas I wrote that took place after the Cell Saga. The two sagas were written with inspiration taken from MCU Peter Parker's arcs in Far from Home and No Way Home. The goal was to develop Son Gohan into a proper lead for the show. If you'd like to check them out, here are the links!
Bojack (Far From Home) Saga: https://www.reddit.com/fixingmovies/s/sK5zOnJ0oU
Broly (No Way Home) Saga: https://www.reddit.com/fixingmovies/s/R3sGOqdbIv
There are many things I find wrong in the Buu saga:

1. Goku coming back: This derails the narrative tremendously as he snatches back the torch from Gohan. He's going to play a role, but he will stay dead.
2. Gohan's writing: In canon, we ended up with a rusty, goofy, badly written character who lost all the development from the previous sagas. He became a useless disappointment and did not uphold his role as a protector of the earth. This won't go anywhere near that direction.
3. SSJ3 and fusions: These elements were unnecessary as they did nothing to solve the plot and only provided fluff. This can be introduced in Super, but that's another story.
4. Goten and Trunks SSJ: I wasn't a fan of how they easily transformed, treating it as an easy power-up. Here, it will be earned.

What I want to do here is combine the Buu saga with Fusion Reborn. For that movie, there are tons of elements at play that can be used to make the grand finale of Dragon Ball Z, more grand. The goal here is to increase the stakes, trim all the unnecessary fat, give everyone a chance to shine, and keep the main focus on Gohan. I also want to replace Buu with Janemba, as I find him much more threatening due to his unique abilities which would be perfect to challenge Gohan. It's also here that we avoid the rinse-and-repeat problem that came with Buu and his many forms.

Without further ado, here is the...... Janemba Saga!

Seven years have passed since the climactic battle against Broly. Gohan, now a young adult, has diligently pursued a delicate balance between his studies and training. During this time, he has honed his Super Saiyan 2 form and significantly elevated his combat skills. However, he deliberately restrains his power, refusing to succumb to the depths of his inner rage. Gohan believes that his technical prowess alone will suffice, opting to suppress the primal fury within him. Despite his reservations, Gohan attends a prestigious private school on an academic scholarship, alongside his steadfast companion Videl and their circle of friends. Gohan has embraced the responsibility of preserving peace on Earth as a valiant hero, adopting the mantle of Saiyaman. His suit has undergone a sleek redesign, shedding the theatrical poses in favor of a more streamlined appearance. Functioning as a dynamic duo reminiscent of Superman and Batman, Gohan and Videl tackle the city's crime wave together. Videl, having mastered her ki abilities under the tutelage of Piccolo, has grown stronger over the years. Glimpses of their everyday lives reveal the struggles of Gohan as he endeavors to balance the demands of school, training, and personal relationships. Amidst the challenges, he harbors a subtle resentment towards his duty, as it often encroaches upon his cherished personal time. Nevertheless, Gohan persists, fueled by his unwavering determination to live up to his father's legacy.
However, the tranquil facade is shattered when a harrowing turn of events unfolds. The narrative transitions to an otherworldly realm, distinctly separate from Earth. A mysterious figure cloaked in darkness materializes, none other than the malevolent wizard Babidi. Harnessing the unholy power of dark magic, Babidi establishes a sinister connection with his loyal minion Dabura, the King of the Demon Realm. United in their nefarious purpose, they orchestrate an audacious invasion of Otherworld, intent on freeing the formidable demon Janemba. Ages ago, Janemba had been sealed away in this celestial realm by the Supreme Kais. Babidi's malevolent ambition revolves around shrouding the universe in eternal darkness. To achieve this nightmarish vision, he plans to infect the denizens of Earth using the insidious Majin spell, thereby expanding his dominion across countless planets.
In the midst of this burgeoning chaos, Gohan, disguised as Saiyaman, finds himself investigating a peculiar incident involving the possession of one of his dearest friends. Videl, resolute and fearless, engages in a fierce battle against the malevolent puppeteer controlling Sharpner. With unwavering confidence, she urges Gohan to let her confront the threat alone. Sharpner, his strength unnaturally augmented, puts up a formidable resistance, but Videl's experience enables her to subdue him without resorting to fatal measures. As Sharpner awakens from his trance, Gohan seeks answers regarding the enigmatic force that had seized control of his friend. Sharpner reveals that a voice called Babidi had whispered malevolent commands into his mind. Armed with this critical information, Gohan summons Vegeta and Piccolo to join him in unraveling the unfolding crisis, embarking on a journey towards the epicenter of the ominous power emanating from a series of potent and wicked ki signatures, ultimately leading them to Babidi and Dabura.
Meanwhile, Earth becomes a battleground, besieged by an onslaught of resurrected zombies, soldiers, and former villains who once terrorized its populace. Though the trio finds themselves torn between aiding their beleaguered planet and confronting the imminent threat directly before them, they know their immediate priority lies in thwarting Babidi's scheme. Distracting them with his grandiose monologue, Babidi probes their minds, seeking susceptible individuals to manipulate. Initially targeting Vegeta, Babidi redirects his attention toward Piccolo, sensing his inherent duality as a being born of both good and evil. With a combination of Babidi's insidious spell and the lingering malevolence of Piccolo Daimao, the Namekian warrior struggles to resist the overwhelming influence. His powers surge exponentially beyond their previous limitations, clouding his judgment and driving him to confront his former student, Gohan. Amidst the shock of this unforeseen twist, Gohan assumes the responsibility of awakening Piccolo from his trance-like state, determined to restore his mentor's clarity. As the battle rages on, they sense a tremor that reverberates throughout the planet, an unmistakable ki signature brimming with icy coldness, signifying the presence of a singular entity—Janemba.
Bracing himself for the impending clash with this malevolent force, Gohan prepares to face Janemba head-on, while Piccolo embarks on a personal mission to neutralize Babidi. Meanwhile, Vegeta remains locked in a fierce struggle against Dabura, the Prince of Saiyans confronting the King of the Demon Realm. The confrontation unfolds with brutal intensity, and Vegeta finds himself teetering on the edge of defeat. Sensing his adversary's advantage, Dabura unleashes a legion of demons to tip the scales further in his favor. Pushed to his limits, Vegeta fights valiantly, but the odds appear insurmountable. Dabura, consumed by arrogance, revels in his imminent triumph, announcing his intention to unleash the full might of the demon horde upon Earth. Faced with the dire consequences of such a cataclysm, Vegeta musters every ounce of desperation within him. In a moment of self-sacrifice, he unleashes a devastating attack upon Dabura and his minions. The resulting explosion weakens Babidi's forces, repels the encroaching Demon Realm, and safeguards their dimension from untold chaos and devastation.
(Note: I wanted to keep Vegeta's sacrifice but make it matter and count. In canon, it didn't stop Buu, and he sent himself into cold oblivion on a lie. Here, he makes a difference in the long run and has a definitive redemptive moment. )
Startled by the sudden disappearance of Vegeta's powerful ki, Trunks defies the protests of his comrades on the Lookout and rushes towards the chaotic battleground. His heart pounds with trepidation as he races through the smoke-filled air, only to be confronted with the lifeless body of his father lying motionless on the ground. Overwhelmed by a torrent of despair and seething rage, Trunks' trembling hands reach out to shake his father awake, his desperate pleas echoing through the desolate landscape. But his efforts prove futile, and a profound sense of loss engulfs him.
In the midst of this heart-wrenching moment, a surge of raw energy courses through Trunks' veins, igniting a transformation that surpasses the boundaries of his mortal self. Radiating an aura of vibrant golden light, Trunks ascends to the legendary state of the Super Saiyan. His eyes ablaze with determination and fury, he is now ready to face the battle that lies ahead.The scene shifts, revealing the remaining Z-Fighters locked in a perilous struggle against hordes of relentless zombies. Fatigue weighs heavily upon their weary bodies as they fend off the relentless onslaught. Suddenly, a streak of intense power streaks across the sky, and Trunks descends before his comrades, newly transformed and brimming with indomitable strength. A burst of energy erupts from his fingertips, shattering a ki blast launched by one of the zombies, diverting it harmlessly away. In the eyes of his adversaries, astonishment mingles with mockery as they behold the sight of a mere child standing before them.Unfazed by their taunting laughter, Trunks addresses his comrades with unwavering resolve. He declares that he will shoulder the burden of the battle, vowing that not a single life will be lost on this day. With unparalleled speed and precision, he charges towards the encroaching horde, obliterating each zombie with astonishing ease. Their forces crumble beneath the might of his wrath, and the battlefield is transformed into a graveyard of defeated foes.As the last of the zombies falls, Trunks relinquishes his Super Saiyan form, his energy spent and body drained. Collapsing to the ground, he succumbs to exhaustion, his breathing ragged and labored. In this moment of vulnerability, Yamcha, recognizing the young warrior's valor, rushes to his side and gently lifts him from the battlefield, cradling his battered form with utmost care.
(Note: Kid Trunks' transformation is a direct reference to when Future Trunks found Gohan dead after the battle with the androids, and then he transformed. )
While this tumultuous event unfolded, the responsibility of safeguarding the Lookout fell upon the young shoulders of Goten. As time passed, a sudden intrusion disrupted the tranquility of the platform, as a malevolent henchman, infused with the dark power of King Cold, materialized before him. Though momentarily shaken, Goten summoned his courage and engaged in a valiant struggle against his formidable adversary.Initially, it appeared that Goten held his ground admirably, skillfully countering the attacks launched by the nefarious duo of Salza and Dore. However, their sinister coordination gradually began to overpower the young warrior. In a devastating display of force, Salza executed a malicious kick that sent Goten hurtling towards the precipice of the Lookout, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.
Witnessing her son's battered and vulnerable state, Chi-Chi, consumed by a mixture of horror and fury, lunged at Salza in a desperate attempt to defend her child. Yet, her efforts proved futile as Salza callously seized her by the throat, mercilessly constricting the life from her. From his weakened position, Goten, wide-eyed and mouth agape, struggled to remain conscious, his mind besieged by the conflicting emotions of impending death and the weight of disappointment.
In that critical moment, he closed his eyes, his teeth sinking into his lip until blood stained his mouth. His trembling hands clenched into tight fists. And then, something within him snapped, unleashing a primal force that lay dormant within.Goten vanished, replaced by an embodiment of unbridled rage. Transformed into a Super Saiyan, his furious aura radiated with an intensity that defied comprehension. With a surge of unrestrained power, he propelled himself towards Salza, obliterating his malevolent foe with a devastating blast that eradicated him from existence. Undeterred by the remaining henchmen who sought to avenge their fallen comrade, Goten engaged them with a newfound ferocity.In a breathtaking display of combat prowess, it took mere moments for Goten to dispatch his adversaries, consigning them to the depths of the afterlife. Unaware of his mother's watchful gaze, Chi-Chi bore witness to the astonishing transformation of her once-innocent son, her heart filled with awe at the unfathomable power he now wielded.
(Note: This is a reference to when Superman had attacked Zod for attacking Martha in Man of Steel. With this, Goten is able to break out of his shell and experience some development. I also did not want Chi-Chi to die, but to have it be close. This way, she can witness firsthand her son fighting to avenge her and realizing that his saiyan blood kicked in to save them all, which would lead to some development towards her accepting that they have the natural power to fight, but also protect. )
Simultaneously, amidst the chaos, Piccolo found himself embroiled in a fierce battle of magic. His objective was to shatter the impenetrable barrier erected by his adversary, Babidi, to halt the relentless proliferation of Majin-infused beings. The odds were stacked against him, but with unwavering determination, Piccolo summoned the strength to rupture the barrier, ultimately delivering a fatal blow to Babidi. In doing so, he succeeded in halting the insidious spread of the Majin curse.Meanwhile, Gohan, driven by an overwhelming surge of power in his Super Saiyan 2 form, charged headlong at the formidable Fat Janemba, intent on swiftly ending the confrontation. Displaying remarkable valor, Gohan engaged his adversary with all his might, momentarily gaining the upper hand in fleeting bursts of fury. However, Janemba's energy continued to surge unabated, gradually overpowering Gohan and relegating him to a defensive stance.With the battle reaching its climax, Janemba unleashed a devastating onslaught aimed at obliterating the planet. In a desperate bid to protect all that he held dear, Gohan fearlessly interposed himself between Janemba's lethal assault and the world, extending his arms wide as he summoned the last vestiges of his ki to create a resolute energy shield. The technique demanded one final act of defiance, compelling Gohan to redirect the unleashed energy back towards Janemba, propelling the malevolent entity backward and teetering on the precipice of annihilation. Yet, the maneuver exacted a heavy toll on Gohan, leaving him grievously injured and drained of consciousness, hurtling through the sky and crashing deep into the untamed wilderness.
(Note: This maneuver is a mix of what Gohan did against Broly in Movie 10, and what Future Gohan did in his last battle against the androids.)
Subsequently, Supreme Kai, recognizing the dire condition of the young warrior, transported Gohan to the realm of the Kais. As Gohan gradually regained consciousness, he found himself surrounded by the presence of Supreme Kai, Kibito, and his father, Son Goku. Unbeknownst to Gohan, while the realms beyond had been engulfed in pandemonium, Goku had valiantly sought to subdue numerous formidable adversaries, most notably Broly. Upon learning of Gohan's presence on that distant planet, Goku implored for the opportunity to visit his son, a request that was granted amidst the bittersweet reunion.During their heartfelt meeting, they shared the weight of overseeing the turmoil ravaging Earth, realizing that Janemba still lingered, amassing the remnants of malevolent ki left unvanquished. Panic washed over Gohan as he urgently expressed his need to return to Earth, but his pleas were met with cautionary words from his loved ones. They acknowledged his unpreparedness to face Janemba anew, warning of the potential consequences should he engage the foe prematurely. Supreme Kai disclosed his true intention in bringing Gohan to this realm—to unlock the dormant power lying dormant within him. However, the process demanded a profound reconciliation of Gohan's dual nature as both human and Saiyan. To initiate this transformative ritual, Gohan would be immersed in a meditative trance within the sacred confines of a cascading waterfall, which would serve as a mirror reflecting his true self. Only then would he embark upon the arduous journey of unlocking his latent potential, fully aware that failure could result in dire consequences, even death.
Nervously, Gohan steeled himself for the imminent trial, drawing strength from the unwavering support of his father. With resolute determination, he approached the cascading waterfall, where Supreme Kai initiated the trance, enveloping Gohan in an ethereal aura of introspection.As the ritual commenced, Gohan's gaze fixated grimly upon vivid recollections of his past battles, struggling to reconcile the moments when he had succumbed to his own wrath. Before long, a projection materialized, representing his suppressed Saiyan essence—a separate entity demanding to be acknowledged. A tumultuous clash ensued between the two facets of Gohan's being, with the young warrior faltering in his attempts to gain the upper hand, for each surge of anger only fueled his other self. Finally, a profound realization washed over Gohan, piercing through the haze of conflict. He ceased resisting and, instead, extended a hand of acceptance and understanding to his Saiyan counterpart, embracing the essence of his true nature. In that transformative instant, the boundaries dissolved, merging into a harmonious unity. Gohan's eyes fluttered open as he awakened from the trance, reborn in his newfound Ultimate Form, his essence finally whole and indomitable.
(Note: Yes, this is a direct reference to Naruto obtaining true mastery of his nine tails form in Shippuden. I did not like Gohan's canon mystic ritual because it did not feel earned. He just sat around for a long time doing nothing and gained nothing from it. I wanted to fix that. So here, he went through a more direct ritual at the risk of death to be able to unlock his true abilities. )
In the midst of these events, Trunks and Goten find themselves under the tutelage of Piccolo within the formidable Hyperbolic Time Chamber. News reaches Piccolo that Gohan is undergoing a transformative process to unlock his latent potential, but the looming return of Janemba threatens to disrupt their plans. Exiting the chamber, Trunks and Goten emerge stronger than ever, having mastered their Super Saiyan forms and honed their teamwork to near perfection, compensating for their inherent power limitations.As Janemba crosses paths with them, the clash erupts in a spectacular display of martial prowess. Individually, they stand little chance against the overwhelming might of Janemba, but when united, a different narrative unfolds. Their combined efforts aim to sustain the battle long enough, providing Gohan with the precious time he needs to complete his ritual. Piccolo assumes leadership, valiantly holding his ground, although it becomes increasingly evident that Janemba possesses a distinct advantage. Piccolo strategically diverts Janemba's attention, creating openings for Goten and Trunks to launch coordinated assaults that vex their adversary, even if their impact is minimal. Nonetheless, every second counts.
In a fateful turn of events, Janemba unleashes an assault that overwhelms Piccolo, incapacitating him and leaving only Goten and Trunks to face the malevolent entity. Swift as a phantom, Janemba materializes in front of Trunks, delivering a devastating blow to his abdomen, leaving Goten as the lone defender. Standing tall, Goten defiantly assumes a battle stance, mustering his courage. However, before Janemba can unleash a devastating attack upon him, an unknown figure delivers a powerful kick to Janemba's head, hurtling him towards the distant mountains.
The camera pans, revealing the figure to be none other than Gohan, resplendent in his newfound form.
(Note: This entrance directly mirrors that of Future Gohan when he was about to begin his final battle against the Androids!)
A wave of elation washes over Goten as he beholds the return of his beloved elder brother, while Trunks and Piccolo visibly exhale with relief. Gohan and Piccolo exchange a brief but meaningful exchange, Gohan acknowledging his newfound strength while Piccolo recognizes that Gohan has ascended to an entirely different echelon. Janemba regains his footing, reemerging before them, demanding their attention and focus. Gohan asserts that he will confront Janemba directly, urging the others to evacuate. Though reluctant, Piccolo and the young warriors comply, dispersing to various parts of the world to address the chaos that plagues their surroundings.
With an air of fury, Janemba charges at Gohan, his fist extended menacingly. Yet Gohan intercepts the attack, seizing Janemba's fist in a vice-like grip, and in a flash of teleportation, they are transported to the dreaded realm of H.F.I.L. (Home For Infinite Losers).
(Note: I have Gohan teleport Janemba because at least this way their battle will not damage Earth. Also we will assume Gohan has figured out some sort of Instant Transmission movement like Goku.)
The eyes of Earth's denizens, the Kais, and the denizens of the Otherworld are fixated on this pivotal moment, the culmination of a battle that will determine the fate of the universe. And so, the clash commences, a cataclysmic struggle that echoes through the very fabric of existence.
In a breathtaking display of power, Gohan initially dominates the battle, effortlessly overpowering Janemba with his newfound might. However, the tables turn when Janemba unveils unexpected abilities: space-time manipulation and a formidable sword. Gohan is caught off guard, unsure of how to counter such unorthodox tactics. Desperation and frustration consume him, causing his control over his own power to slip away.Amidst the chaos, Gohan experiences a moment of revelation, a surge of understanding regarding his opponent's abilities. He realizes that in order to anticipate Janemba's next move, he must heighten his senses by channeling his ki, allowing for precise timing and swift reactions. With this newfound clarity, Gohan regains his composure, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Seizing an opportunity, Janemba materializes before him, poised to strike with his sword. Yet, in a stunning display of strength, Gohan catches the blade with both hands, shattering it into pieces.
The tide of the battle begins to shift, albeit slightly, in Gohan's favor. Frustrated and bewildered, Janemba exclaims, "Just what...are you?!" Gohan responds with unwavering resolve, proclaiming, "I am the hope of the universe. I am the answer to all living things that cry out for peace. I am the protector of the innocent. I am the light in the darkness. I am truth. Ally to good! Nightmare to you!"
(Note: I'm taking Goku's dubbed speech against Frieza and repurposing it for Gohan. As he's inherently more the justice-driven hero archetype rather than the fighting maniac that is Goku, it makes more sense. We'll just assume Goku gave Frieza the manga version of his speech. This is also the most pivotal moment of Gohan's journey as he comes to terms with being a protector. Throughout the show, he's been struggling between his desire to be a scholar and his responsibility to be a hero. That dubbed speech is exactly the moment that Gohan's arc comes full circle. Here, he finally embraces what he was always meant to be..... the hero.)
With renewed determination, Gohan launches various assaults in a bid to defeat his formidable adversary. However, his attacks fail to inflict lasting damage, and Gohan himself begins to exhaust his ki. It is then that he realizes the true nature of Janemba's existence—he is an embodiment of pure evil ki, unlike any opponent Gohan has faced before. A desperate plan takes shape in Gohan's mind. Mentally reaching out to his friends and even Videl, he calls upon them to gather their ki, reminiscent of the Spirit Bomb technique. Initially, only the Z-Fighters respond, but their combined energy proves insufficient.As Gohan valiantly defends against Janemba's onslaught, he mentally pleads with the people of Earth to lend their aid. Uncertainty and doubt cast a shadow over the crowd until Hercule steps forward, berating them for refusing to support the man who once saved them during the Cell Games. Revealing the truth of Gohan's identity as the Delivery Boy turned hero, the tide of public opinion shifts. People extend their hands, offering their energy to their savior. Shocked by the sudden turn of events, Gohan is relieved by the surge of ki coursing through him, providing a momentary opening to kick Janemba away. The collective assistance grants Gohan a substantial reservoir of energy, which he then summons forth, infusing it with the very essence of his soul—a daring and perilous maneuver.
Driven to his breaking point, a furious Janemba ascends into the sky, conjuring a colossal sphere of malevolent ki capable of obliterating the entire universe. Gohan remains calm, his gaze fixed upon the impending cataclysm. With unwavering resolve, he declares, "This is the end for you, Janemba." Closing his eyes, Gohan raises his left hand above his head, conjuring a radiant sphere of rainbow light. Seizing the opportunity, Janemba hurls his devastating attack towards Gohan. Sensing the imminent danger, Gohan's eyes snap open as he crushes the ball of energy in his palm. Swiftly pivoting, he hurls the fragmented energy towards the oncoming attack, effortlessly piercing through it, and hurtling towards Janemba, finally eradicating the universe's peril once and for all.
(Note: This is the same technique as Kid Buu's Planet Burst move, the one that destroyed Earth. I also repurposed Gogeta's stardust breaker technique for Gohan as I feel it makes sense for him to have it. It also makes him stand out from Goku even more in this case.)
As the dust settles, Gohan maintains his energy long enough to witness Janemba's demise. A triumphant smirk graces his face as he remarks, "Heh, looks like I finally did it." Exhausted, he collapses to the ground, almost completely drained. The onlookers erupt into joyous cheers, celebrating Gohan's hard-fought victory. Supreme Kai teleports Gohan from the depths of H.F.I.L back to Earth, specifically to the Lookout, where his family and friends eagerly await his return. In a heartwarming scene, Gohan is enveloped in embraces and expressions of relief. It is here, amidst the warmth of their loved ones, that Gohan and Videl share their first kiss—a tender moment of connection and celebration.Meanwhile, the Dragon Balls work their magic, rectifying the chaos caused by Babidi's dark influence. The majority of those who perished are revived, yet there are exceptions, including Vegeta. Accepting his fate and determined to atone for his past deeds, Vegeta expresses his desire to continue growing stronger in the afterlife, entrusting the protection of his family to his son. Tearfully, Trunks vows to make his father proud, with Goten stepping forward to support his friend in this emotional moment. Fond farewells are exchanged as everyone prepares to return to their respective homes.
Gohan and Goten engage in a heartfelt conversation, their bond as brothers strengthening. However, their exchange is interrupted by Chi-Chi, who unexpectedly interrupts their conversation. To their astonishment, she expresses pride in their valiant efforts to safeguard the world, finally relenting and granting them permission to train and protect. The three embrace, their family united and resolute.In a different realm, Vegeta stands before King Yemma, awaiting judgment. To his surprise, he is granted an Otherworldly body, a result of Goku's recommendation and Vegeta's ultimate sacrifice that tipped the scales of justice. With this second chance, Vegeta is granted the opportunity to train ceaselessly and, more importantly, to settle his unfinished business with Goku. The final scene between Goku and Vegeta unfolds, their fists colliding in a charged confrontation, their image freezing .( mirroring the intensity of Rocky and Apollo in Rocky III, leaving their ultimate showdown to the imagination.)
A decade passes, marked by a time skip. Tien and Krillin have established their own martial arts schools, dedicated to passing on their unique styles to the next generation. Goten and Trunks, under the tutelage of Piccolo, diligently train to harness their extraordinary powers. Gohan, now a respected scholar, has married Videl, and together they have a daughter. At home, Videl imparts the basics of combat to their daughter, Pan. Gohan, having just finished delivering a lecture on energy at the university, senses a disturbance reverberating across the planet. Instinctively, he rushes to the rooftop, pressing a button on his wrist. In an instant, he transforms into his iconic Saiyaman costume, soaring into the horizon with a mischievous grin. He breaks through the fourth wall, symbolizing his unwavering resolve to protect and inspire.
The screen fades to black.
The End.
There we have it! My final wrap-up of the MCU Peter ParkeGohan development journey! Honestly, I did have thoughts of just going straight into revising the Buu arc, but I felt there was more to be done before that. Gohan needed to go through the development I gave him in my two written arcs as there were lessons there that shaped him.
I also felt that a trained Gohan, who is naturally intellectual, would be a perfect antagonist in Janemba. He had to learn to outsmart him, and not just have it be a straight-up slugfest.
What do you guys think? Share your thoughts below!
u/fatherandyriley
u/dgenerationmc

Episode 15 - The Forgole
^{Episode aired April 11th, 1976}
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Staff Highlight
Kōichi Murata - Key Animator

An animator, animation director, as well as a founder and CEO of Oh! Production. Murata’s known career history largely begins with his time as a the central animator of A Production (now Shin-ei animation), where Murata built a deep relationship with Isao Takahata, Hayao Miyazaki, and acted as animation director on many of their episodes on long-running series. A major change in his career was when he left A Pro to join Oh! Pro in 1970, having been a founding member alongside Norio Shioyama , Kazuo Komatsubara , and Koshin Yonekawa. He died on November 7th, 2006 due to subarachnoid hemorrhage at the age of 67. Some of his most notable animation credits includes Attack No. 1, Cooking Master Boy, Ginga Densetsu Weed, Kyojin no Hoshi, Cyborg 009 (1968), *Lupin III Part 1, Ie Naki ko Remi, Sonic X, Heidi, Girl of The Alps, Raccoon Rascal, Future Boy Conan, Perrine’s Story, Anne of Green Gables, Little Women, Arashi no Yoru Ni, Boy of the Wilderness Isamu, A Little Princess Sara, My Daddy Long Legs, and Panda! Go, Panda!.

Daily Trivia

Forgole is not an uncommon name for maritime vessels, but it has notably been used to denote both a distinct missile cruiser and as a class of destroyer.

Screenshot of the day

• Goodbye, for now.

Questions of the Day:
1) What do you think of how this issue was resolved?
2) How do you think Marco will fare on his first voyage across the sea?
I can almost see Anna’s smile.