Name: Hersheal D. Shabba Age: 20 Height: 6’0 Weight : 189 lbs Devil fruit: Saru- Saru no mi (Ape-Ape Fruit) Model: Stone Monkey Affiliation: Straw hats pirates, (True Mono Disciples) Positions: Lookout Epithets: Monochrome Gangsta Personality: Likes to talk to himself, sing to himself, Dance when he thinks he’s alone, Easily distracted by something obscure or minor (ADHD), ADD Neutral: street smart, hard headed, spiritual, artistic Positive: Humble, loyal, generous, passionate Negative: Short Fuse, awkward Appearance: half Lunerian white and black hair Afro Twists, slits in eyebrows, Red eyes, yellow camouflage zip up , Gold dripped headbands, Asterisks like scar on left cheek, Mini Black wings Height: pre-time skip 5’11 post time skip: 6’0 Build: pre time skip: Skinny lean and toned out with some muscle Post time skip: Hero built like BaKi Hanma Dream: To be The world’s strongest man, finding out the secrets of the celestial dragons and taking down the celestial dragons powers and techniques : Immense Strength Enhanced Speed Enhance Senses (especially sight) Enhanced Acrobatics Healing Factor Invulnerability Shape-shifting Cloning Cloud Manifestation Ape-like Practices Primate Communication Wizard form (Black Fur) Lunarian form(White Fur) True Monkey King (Golden Fur) Victorious Fighting Monkey King Conqueror’s Haki (Advanced) Observation haki (Advanced) Armament Haki (Advanced) Monkey King style Roast Session Hawk Arrow Eagle Kick Atom Smasher Twin Atom Smasher Divine Breaker(Atom Smasher + Advanced Conqueror + Advanced armament haki) Buster Cannon (Combined Atom Smasher) Great Sage Devastation (Combined Divine Breaker) Able to Travel Dimensions 72 earthly transformations Laser Eye beam Musical Attacks Spirit Geyser Heavenly Ragnarok Big Steppa One inch Punch Fourth wall awareness Immortal elixir Immortal peach Protagonist Summons Weakness: standard Devil fruit weaknesses Traveling to dimensions gives him splitting headaches till he passes out Magical Golden headband
Ruyi Jingu Bang: Divine Hawk Arrow Strike raid Supra Twister Great Sage Festival Longinus slash Calamity Falls Mega Flare Lethal Flame Raging Storm Holy rain White Horse Dragon Flame Great Sage Meteor Zettaflare Exoflare Terraflare
Clones: •Triple Power Bomb •GSDD (Great Sage Death Drop) •Gravesite Finisher •Replicamikaze •5 k Shabba Barrage •Roly Poly Slam •Poetry in Motion
Universal Transponder Snail

[Run Zero chapter: https://redd.it/1csb71x not every run will have a chapter; it won't be long before there are multiple runs per chapter.]
Portal load: Agility 1, Bait 3, Trumps 1, Pheromones 1, Packrat 1, Motivation 1, Power 2, Toughness 2, Looting 5, Discipline Challenge, 54 of 54 He allocated, 7.8% AP at start.
[This is probably the lowest helium load I've ever done, and sorta keeping my own advice on a recent Reddit post, Bait and Looting are up. Especially Looting, but it's not like I don't always do something like this.]
The human emerges from the glowing green mist and hits the ground. Groans. Pushes against that ground, trying to get back up. I feel really heavy. I'm not that fat, am I? He's got a dark blue button-down shirt on. A uniform? A shoulder patch. Rolls over- Ah, what's that? His shoulder pressed into something hard and metallic, He reaches over and his hand naturally seems to find a folding handle. He pulls it out from under himself and gets it up on his chest, sort of in a semi-comfortable position to hold it up and look at the screen while lying on his back. Some fiddling around the edges gets the power button pressed and the screen lights up with:
"Manual portal activation 1 successful: Void enabled. / 54 He loaded / Discipline challenge active / Total portal activation 955"
"Kakka," its one of his trimps.
'My' trimps? The human sets aside the portal pad and gets up.
Are you the guy? They all seem to be looking at him, as though they have a frickin' huge problem to solve and they need his help to solve it.
32s: First trap.
Do you bite? It doesn't matter much to us. The trimps look hopefully up at him through the trap's grating, We're so friggin' screwed.
I didn't think four of you could fit in there! He opens it and they all start following him around like imprinted hatchling birds. It seems his tactic of making a catch-alive trap confirmed to them that he was 'the guy' to help solve whatever problem...
26m42s: Z2c15, 58 pop, 7.7s RC with Z1/2; 29m44s: Fresh turkimp c25.
"Hey, buddy," he says to his first scientist, "can you speak yet?"
"Shijou?" it says, then it starts writing, "Hi Tightniks."
"Who do you mean 'Tightniks'?" he asks, "I mean, it's not like I remember my own name, but what makes you think it's Tightniks?"
"Tai," it points right at him with one paw.
"Just pointing at me isn't going to answer that," he chuckles.
The trimp's hands are quite prehensile, but it's hard to tell without it holding something, they don't seem able to make their fingers visually distinguishable. [Puchim@s all the puchidoru, although some have big round hands and some have small pointy hands; Takanya is the latter. Probably Final Fantasy Red XIII as well, but I'm not familiar enough with him to be satisfied.] This one starts climbing up his leg.
"Wait, wait," he stops it. It's a challenge to stoop in this gravity, but not as much of one as carrying a trimp. He gets down on his knees and back on his haunches and-
"Tai," it points again to a spot on his chest just left of his heart, then climbs on his lap and grabs his uniform at that spot, "Tai!"
He looks down and sees "Tightniks" embroidered into the fabric above his pocket. "Ah," he sighs, "Well, if that's my name, that's my name."
"Shijou," it gives him a friendly whack on the shoulder.
2h38m55s: Mskel in Z11c3.
"Hey guys?" Tightniks points at his bone box, waving his finger, "Does anyone remember where these came from?"
"Nope," the yellow one says.
"Yeah, there are 12 more in here than we got kills to account for," Tightniks says.
"I've been getting a sense of deja vu about just about everything," the red one points at the metal box on the strap over his shoulder, "That's a big exception. Any clues there?"
"It says it's for something called a DT Experimental Industries Time Portal," the human shrugs, "I have no idea what it's talking about, honest."
3h25m46s: Block PB, 0.3% AP sub-4h, 540 pop, 8.3s RC, no turkimp
That thing is beeping? He takes a look at his TPCS pad and he's got a message saying that he finished the Block in under 4 hours and there's a little attack bonus- Under 4 hours? It's been over 4 days!! Checking the time on the device reveals that the portal times in terms of a "map frame" out there in space, and the passage of time has been vastly dilated on this planet.
4h15m56s: Zone 15, 954 pop, 11.9s RC with Z14/60, no turkimp.
"Tightniks," the yellow one comes back from the second full bin to the filling third bin, watching the human fold up another of his very first inventions, the very first thing he built after jumping through the mysterious green phenomenon exiting the crashed ship, "Why in blazes are you building so many traps?"
The human had finished another and tossed it into the bin, then picked up the now ever-present portal control pad, gets it out of auto-sleep and called up the "Achievement Points" page. "I have this weird hunch," he says.
"Deja vu? That familiar feeling we always have?" the yellow one inquires politely, slightly tilting its head.
"May I?" Tightniks turns up his hand and waves it up and down in a lifting gesticulation, then points at the trap pile.
"Sure," the yellow one understands, "if you'll put me back down after."
The human sets the pad down, stoops at the knees and gets his arms under the yellow trimp scientist's front limbs and lifts it up onto that stack of traps with a grunt; it is an impressive demonstration of his improving strength against the planet's high gravity. Then he picks up the pad again and points at one of the blank purple squares near the bottom.
"You don't know what that is," the yellow one says, "Are we going after that first one that is readable?"
"Yes," the human nods, "it's for finishing something called a Dimension of Anger, whatever that is, before getting something called Bounty."
"Whatever that is," the trimp chuckles.
"No, I know what it is," the human says, "I remember it being access to a resource-rich area on the other side of a green Wall we'll find with our next map route. It doubles our resource production."
"That would be handy," the yellow one says.
"Hmm," he nods, "But all the traps are for this one," pointing at the third square in the top row of the array the pad labels "Feats", the second of three that are purple.
"Oh," a stylus materializes in the yellow one's paw, "Well, all it says is 2.5%. It doesn't say how to get it. Something to do with traps?"
"Something to do with traps," the human chuckles, "that's only convenient to do now."
4h29m46s...
Other trimps can understand the grey one better than the human, "Shijou shijou shijou?" is what a human ear would hear, but it's really asking the yellow one, "You mean he knew it was going to be here?"
"Yeah," the yellow one nods.
"Well, it's gotta be that pad none of us finds familiar," the grey one insists.
"I don't think so," the yellow one argues, "He showed the reason for all these traps to me on the pad, and the information is not yet available there."
"Well, it can't be just a coincidence," the grey one grumbles.
6h23m16s: Our first void map dropped.
"What is that?" The red one asks the yellow one. It grabs a stick and lifts the strange square object up by an edge from as far away as he can.
"I have no idea," The yellow one says.
"It seems to have some sort of cooling effect," the red one says, looking underneath it, having tilted it up with the stick, "Like it's not just cold, but actually cooling down, as though it were the opposite of on fire."
"Shijou," the grey one says, holding a note.
"It's a void map. Grab it with a blanket and put it on the cart please. - Tightniks"
"Shijou shijou," the grey one clarifies, "The new pad said 'void enabled'. Guessing it's that."
10h06m21s: Zone 21, 1975 pop, 19.6s RC with Z20/232, no turkimp.
"Ooooookay," Tightniks growls, "There is something off about this thing."
"Shijou?" the grey one looks at the yellow one with concern about their human starship pilot friend.
The human stoops, picks up the little green gem on the ridge between Zone 20 and 21, looks at it, huffs, and asks, "Any idea where this comes from?"
"Err..." the red one seems hesitant to say, "I think you made it."
"Really?" the human huffs, "How could that be?" Then he tosses it at Red, "See if anything reacts to it. It might be radioactive, so we should take turns to minimize exposure."
"Really?" Red's holding it now, "What makes you say that?"
"Because I'm pissed off for no reason I can figure out," the human says, "I think it's coming from-" he gasps, "Waitamint!" He starts searching for the portal pad.
"Frags," the red one says quickly, "I think it's arranging a route. You're good with maps," it tosses the gem to the grey scientist.
The human has his portal pad up and reads aloud, "You have the Discipline challenge active. Tweak the portal to- yada yada yada. Tiss tiss t- completing The Dimension Of Anger will cause Trimp damage to return to normal." He snaps his fingers, "That's gotta be it."
"Shijou," the grey one says hopefully, and has a map drawn within a few minutes.
12h30m06s: Portal, 45 He, 3.600 He/hr, 2098 pop, 18.3s RC, 1% AP for Portal-before-Bounty.
The last head of the map's boss monster goes limp as one of the fighting trimps' dagger points goes into it, and the huge thing settles on its tail, resting on the package that seems to be the prize of this map. And there's a popping sound, and then something mechanical.
Is that a scroll compressor? Tightniks looks at the package. The deflating monster's lifting envelope material drapes over everything underneath it. "Red, Shijou!" he snaps and points, "roll up that side of it. Keep this part from sucking down on the extractor nozzle!"
All fifty of the scientists jump in, literally, pushing the gas in the bag towards the compressor. Tightniks as well, rolling up the front.
Until he kicks, and nearly trips over, a smaller package that might be the explanation for the reason why the center of the monster's defense seemed to be a little away from the big package he could see. It's in the right place, he realizes. He gets it uncovered and reads stenciled-and-sprayed block letters on it:
"DT TIME PORTAL / THIS SIDE DOWN"
Perhaps the Dimension of Anger is so named because of the rage suddenly rising up in Tightniks' throat. It isn't so much as the free-floating aggression suddenly has an answer, there is definitely a fresh batch of rage and anger as he grips the nearest Dagger V, Mark 2 with both hands- ...I must have gotten used to destroying it at some point. He lets go of his weapon with his right hand first and dangles his left arm while holdi-
Refocusing on surviving the next few seconds, the pilot turns on the radar for the final approach and takes a last look around, then straight ahead at his forward camera and primary flight display...
He crouches, sets the dagger down gently, then starts clearing the debris from the box's grab iron. He tries to lift it- Damn, this is heavy!
Surprised at this turn of events, his two oldest scientists, Grey and Yellow, rush to either side of him and help out. They get it flipped over and read the other side of the device, Tightniks chuckles a bit at its predictability:
"DT TIME PORTAL / THIS SIDE UP" There's a square cutout in the middle of one side of it, with a sliding cover at the bottom of it.
"Thanks," he pats his scientists, "but back off, please." He gets the cover unlatched, and slides it open to see, first a big rainbow-colored wide data cable and card edge connector, then several fluid ports. "There's something missing," he says aloud as he gets the cover completely off and onto the grass, "this connects to some-" he's got the wide flat cable up in his hand, realizing what it plugs into. He looks at his scientists, lips trembling, "G-g-g-get the pad."
The grey one already has the survival data pad and offers it to him.
"No, the other pad," Tightniks clarifies, "The big one. The big one," he picks up wide flat rainbow cable and its edge socket in one hand, "It goes here," he points at it with the other. "It must have come with me end of the last cycle."
Both the yellow one and the red one bring it, one on each side.
"Thank you," the human takes it, gets its hinge lugs on the trunnions at the top of each corner of the cavity, then gets the cable connector on the card edge in the pad's base recess, "See, that's where it came from." It comes on:
"12h30m05s: You have completed the Discipline challenge, unlocking a new memory-enable coolant loop and restoring your trimps to normal combat discipline."
"Do you have any idea what that's about?" the yellow one points at the edge of the left side.
"That's-" Tightniks examines it, then suddenly realizes, "It's gotta be for the void map."
He's got a port cover open, and the bottom of it says, "NULLIFIUM/VOID HEIRLOOM INTERFACE"
"Shijou?" the grey one brings the blanket-wrapped void map.
The human clears an edge of the map; doesn't seem to matter which one, and then gets it into the slot. It disappears and the blanket settles down while the environment goes deep blue and suddenly goes super cold. "Hoe Lee!" he shivers, wrapping the blanket around himself, "I hope this isn't too much of a Napolean-Hitler Maneuver!" He glances around, but all the trimps don't seem to discomforted by the sudden cold.
12h35m24s: Void 1, 55 He, 4.369 He/hr, 2098 pop, 18.3s RC, first void AP 1% and 0.3% AP for 100 He simultaneously, we got a rare shield, but it's lame with attack, storage, and empty.
As the environment around them return to normal, the trimps cheer over the deflated corpse of the- ...whatever, who give a hoot? Tightniks finds a flurry of messages on the portal screen, two regard APs, one is about having recovered 10 He units, and the big one was about a "shield". Through the touchscreen, he enables it, and gets the status effects that it's talking about.
"Where to now, boss?" the yellow one asks, Tightniks can feel the draft off the cold trimps. They seem to be extraordinarily robust ectotherms, unlike him.
"Let's go back to that friggin' Wall, where it's warmer," he shivers, "We got that AP and could use the resources." As he leads them to the L15 route, he thinks, Maybe I did that void too early. It takes on the level of our most recently entered Zone, and the resources probably go up accordingly. [I did for character reasons after seriously considering running it at Z25 or 30.]
12h49m37s: Nursery unlocked.
"Four hundred thousand gems!" the human squeaks, "Are you kidding me?"
Grey and Yellow glance at each other, the former says "Shijou?" and starts doodling a real answer.
"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but young trimps have special diets for healthy bones," the yellow one explains.
"You eat gems?" the human gasps.
"Shijou," Grey says with a shit eating grin just above a little sign that says, "Babies eat aluminate, and gems are the best!"
"Do they like the taste?" Tighniks tosses a gem from the helium compressor in the direction of the nearest house.
"Uh-Uuuuh!" after it bounces off a paving stone, a yellow juvenile with red head fur jumps into the air to catch it in its mouth. [Puchim@s Yayo. Liek seriously, she jumps after pennies.]
13h32m59s: Zone 25, 84 He, 6.199 He/hr, 2217 pop, 52.6s RC with Z24/568, no turkimp.
It has an unusually light colored body, dark head fur that lies flat, and for trimp tails, wide and not all that prehensile, reminds Tightniks of a- ...he remembers what the animal looks like, but not that his home planet is called Earth nor that the animal is called a tanuki raccoon. Just the tail, the rest of the trimp looks like a trimp for the most part. Oh yeah, the mining foreman. [Puchim@s Yukipo] He turns to Red and asks, "What's wrong with it?"
"It's in a bad mood," the red one answers.
"I can tell," Tightniks glares angrily at the red one for a moment, cools off, takes a breath, and asks kindly, "Why is it in a bad mood?"
"We've never been out this far," the yellow one offers, "...well, with the portal captured at least. Now, it was in a good mood before it got near the cart after we started this zone. Something new on the cart?"
Tightniks approaches the mopey mining foreman and asks it, "What's the matter, little fella?"
It sighs, then starts struggling to climb [see 1x6] onto the compressor cart. Tightniks helps it up with a lift, then it goes to the portal pad and turns it on, opens up the coolant page, the challenges tab there, and sort of sighs and looks questioningly at him.
"Metal challenge:" the pad reads, "Tweak the portal to bring you to an alternate reality, where the concept of Miners does not exist..."
"Oh," Tightniks realizes, then huffs, "That explains the bad mood." He sits down with the mining foreman trimp and brushes its tail, "Don't worry, my friend. You'll be back after one cycle, and I'm sure I'll miss you and your miners. These guys," he nods at the scientists, "we're scared they wouldn't be back when I first used it on purpose, but they came back. If there's a 'Science challenge' later on, I'll have you and not them-"
The scientists flinch.
"It'll be okay," he assures the mining foreman he hasn't yet realized has fallen comfortably asleep in his lap, "It'll be okay, buddy."
16h11m02s: Gymnastic Z25 taken and gyms rapidly increasing now.
The 710 fighting trimps are majestic with their new gymnastic skill and nearly impossible to hit. Only occasionally did the gorillimp do damage. They took it down easily.
Then the dragimp they faced next blew them away with a fireball that made Tightniks flinch. It took him a second to get the dragimp back in his bee nickels. The next group was all ready to relieve their fallen comrades before they went down, even without the welcoming traps for the wild volunteers (of which Tightniks has just started into the 41st bin of ten thousand.) The dragimp can do nothing to them; anything that hits gets deflected by their V-8 shields; they never got sufficiently blindsided.
[Funny: V-8 is a veggie drink similar to clamato juice I can't find anymore, but it's really five-eight, which just happens to be the squadron number of the cast in Space: Above and Beyond. Herp-a-derp!]
19h11m12s: Spammed some random biome maps...
"Tai?" the grey one looks up at the human holding a little sign, "Last couple zones, you've been mapping a lot of random biome routes we never used. Is there any point to that?"
"Stats," the human says, fitting another one together, "Oh, and this," he tosses the trimp the completed forest route map."
As it registers in the portal system, the pad starts beeping and flashing its screen.
"What?" Tightniks sneers incredulously, "There's an AP for that?" He checks and sure enough, there's a 5% Achievement Point for making a 'perfect' map, by a full notch the biggest AP so far.
The yellow one was relaxing on the corner of the latest filled up trap bin, the 49th, notices, and leans back, "Yarey yarey..." shaking its head.
19h13m28s: Uberhouse taken.
"Shijou," the grey one stands at Tightniks feet holding a small book.
Tightniks takes a brief break from his trapmaking and stoops for his oldest scientist.
"Shijou," the grey one bobs the small book in its hands to offer it to Tightniks.
"Flush toilets and septic systems?" Tightniks reads, "You do this yourself?"
"Oh, don't you wish," the red one snickers, "No, it was in that perfect route you mapped up."
20h39m26s: Zone 30, 161 He, 7.794 He/hr, 4656 pop, 20N, 74.5s RC with Z29/1735, no turkimp, 2.5% AP for sub-60 He Z30 start...
"Oh?" Tightniks has an Ax V-3 over one shoulder and screws the helium hose connector to the portal system with one hand. He grunts, sounds kinda disappointed, sets the ax down and continues working on his massive pile of traps; he's almost finished the 55th of, he just learned, 100 huge bins.
The mining foreman had struggled up onto the cart to see, and just looks baffled. It usually looks a bit lost just as part of its demeanor, but this time it looks really quite confused, and makes rather bemused sounds too.
"Oh, what is this?" Red jumps up on the cart, sounding like it's gotta be silly.
The mining foreman climbs back down and spots a purple ore vein, makes a happy sound and pulls its shovel out of its back pocket to start digging into it.
[OC: This is not even close to an exaggeration vs. OG Puchim@s Yukipo who, in 1x2, just pulls out her shovel from nowhere and digs a hole through Project 765's indoor tile-and-concrete office floor to have a nap in the cold open of a 137 second long cartoon episode. Never run out of mushroom boxes! Also, 2nd season Golden Week gold medallion, she and Yayo dig into a volcanic island and hit an oil gusher ...you don't need to know much geology to realize...]
"Really?" Red groans, "Sheesh."
What's on the pad? "Hoarder: Have over 1 million traps at once, 2.5% damage."
20h48m06s: Gateways.
"Hmm," Tightniks pauses from his trap building and gazes over where they came from.
"Thinking of something?" the yellow one asks from the stack he's building under his feet as he puts the most recent trap on the pile.
"Yunno, we have a lot of territory back there that should be pretty pleasant to live in," Tightniks says, "You'd think we should be able to just map an enemy-free route that trimps can just sit down and live peacefully in. I'd love to be able to do that."
"Shijou," the grey one is at his feet with a massive shit-eating grin, not really "hiding" a big piece of documentation behind its back. Obviously it's not so dumb as to realize that it isn't concealed. It then pulls it out and offers it to the human, "Shijou."
"What's this-" the human gasps, "Are you kidding?"
"Shijou."
"Well?" the yellow one prompts, "Let's friggin' try it, shall we?"
21h34m53s...
For some odd reason, that quiet little mining foreman is on the trap pile, fiddling around. Seems to be trying to arm one, has the spring catch on-
"Hey, buddy!" the human notices, "What are you-"
SPROING and it goes flying through the air. Does a few flips and turns, and then sticks the landing, strikes a pose, and makes a happy sound. [op cit. 1x57]
"What the-" Tightniks says, scratching his head, I wonder how much more damage the fighters could avoid if they could do stuff like that.
"Shijou," the grey one is carefully copying out the trimpese from a tattered and dusty scroll.
"What is that?" Tightniks asks.
"Where mining buddy learned that flip," Yellow says from the cart with feet playfully dangling, "another gymnastic book we picked up a few NMEs back. Probably another chapter from the same book, actually. It seems to have been torn apart and scattered."
"Is that right, bud-" the human looks around, can't seem to find the mining foreman, "Buddy, where are you?" It can't move so fast as to get out of sight this quickly!
"Po-wee!" it cheers from the bottom of its latest hole, which is beside a pile of rich bluish-greenish copper ore, onto which another shovelful flies out of the hole onto it.
22h44m17s: Zone 32, 205 He, 9.016 He/hr, 9548 pop, 30N, 37.7s RC with Z31/2712, no tkp.
"You should probably go," Red whispers.
The exhausted human has just sat down for a nap after tossing yet another trap into the huge bin stenciled "61".
"Really, I mean it," the red trimp scientist gently sets a paw on the pilot's shoulder, "Listen to sense please. Charge all this helium and use the portal; it'll make us so much stronger."
"Only 392 thousand to go," Tightniks sighs, "All the ones I've made go to waste if I use it now. I know it's only a two-and-a-halfer, but if I go now, I'll never be in de-" his head slumps into the nodding-off of post-all-nighter fatigue, "moo."
Red and the mining foreman help the snoring human gently down onto his side. The former quietly asks the latter, "Do you think he's doing the right thing?"
The mining foreman makes a particularly delighted squeak, grabs its latest flask of leafy-flowery infusion, which is just now cool enough not to punish such a maneuver with a nasty burn, and upends the whole thing in a couple seconds. It then bounds off joyfully towards the big pit mine over there. It does not often lead the general laborers because of the gymnastic and shield driven block fight, which needs wood, but it happens to be doing so today.
Yellow stands next to the grumbling unhappy green lumber foreman trimp, who is standing on the head of its dual bit ax with its chin on the end of the haft sticking up from the head on the ground. "Cheer up!" the yellow scientist gently prods it in the elbow, "There isn't a Lumber challenge."
1d00h20m05s: Zone 33, 229 He, 9.410 He/hr, 10120 pop, 50N, 40.8s RC with Z32/3390, no turkimp.
"It's a familiar smell," the human says.
"There's no way we've been out this far since whatever it is that shtfed Trimp civilization," Red grumbles. [Word based on acronym SHTF, which stands for "stuff hits the fan" in its G-rated version. Long time ago, similarly derived "nsfw" was a kerbalese cuss word.]
"I think it's from before that," Tightniks clarifies, "from before the time loop stuff."
"I'm worried our fighting group is nearly a third of our population," Yellow sighs.
"Casualties bother you?" Tightniks asks, "I thought we talked about that."
"It's taking forever to breed up new groups, and these things, *snap* ow," Yellow didn't quite touch that one the right way, "you've got 661 thousand of are too small to help. If you don't go now, this will probably be our last Coordination and we won't be able to finish the next zone."
1d06h52m14s: Gymnastic Z35 finally away.
"Did you know it was there?" The red one asks the human as they watch the grey one transcribe another lost chapter of the Gymnastic book.
"No," Tightniks huffs, in a few minutes' break from his trap building, "But I'm not surprised, I hope it gets us Zone 36. In any case, as soon as I finish that millionth trap-"
The mining foreman makes a mournful sound.
"Don't worry, buddy," Tightniks pats it on the head, "I'll brush your tail again last thing before I go." He's working on bin #88.
1d08h00m10s: 12802 pop, 80N, 43.7s RC with Z34/5298, down from 27.4s; '31m00s...
Tightniks, wearing wool-lined leather gloves mixing shimp and bovimp ingredients, plugs the void map that they got from earlier in the zone into the portal, bundled up against the expected cold. He hopes that the fresh Gymnastic Z35 and Coordination Z34 will get them through it.
1d08h33m03s...
"Do you think you can get it back out of there?" Red asks the shivering human as he reaches for the portal.
There are a pair of ejector levers beside the void map slot which clicked when he inserted it, but the void map disappears, so it remained an open question as to whether they could get it back out. Making sure not to have his hands over the void map slot, Tightniks gets a thumb over each one and there's resistance like something is in the empty slot. He grunts and pushes down until they suddenly snap down, the ejected void map rematerializes. "Well, that's a relief," he sets it down and the starts doffing his coats and sweaters to let the warm air of the normal world reach him.
"Try again later?" Yellow asks.
"Yes," the human says.
"What, are you kidding?" Red scoffs, these things level up with the zones!"
"Later on in this zone, obviously," Tightniks grunts with a huff, and then turns to see the grey one holding its little sign with those exact words on it, can't help but smile.
1d09h08m09s: Snimp in Z36c74...
Having just finished yet another trap for bin #95 of the hundred that he needs for the million-traps AP, he tosses it in and looks to the front. There's not much left of that snimp, but it just killed a third fighting group. "The training bonus from running ten laps in an on-level map route doesn't transfer to the void, does it?"
"Shijou," the grey one says with a note of confirmation.
"And I'm getting close to done this pile of traps we need for that 2.5% AP damage bonus."
"Shijou," it says again.
1d09h08m21s: Snimp in Z36c75...
Tightniks sighs, "...and there's another one. So much for that void map with its heinous critically accurate fast voidsnimps and ugly boss fight." And he returns to building traps.
1d10h14m08s: Trying again...
"NULLIFIUM/VOID HEIRLOOM INTERFACE," Tightniks tightens the stuff around himself and then finishes getting the void map inserted with his gloves, and his fingers come together as it puffs out in a brief blue mist in the void environment.
"Timba timba," Tightniks hadn't even noticed that the lumber foreman was up on his head, pats him on the head, wants to get back to work. [No Puchim@s resembles the lumber foreman.]
"Oh, there you are," the human says, "Sorry, I wanted to finish the run with the mining foreman in charge of the resourcing workers. I don't know what's about to happen to it when I hit the Metal challenge."
"Who the devon talked you into into trying this thing again?" Yellow grumbles, looking up at the indigo sky and mysteriously shrunken and dim sun, hands- ...forepaws on its waist, not discomforted by the cold, but bothered by the re-attempt. [This cuss-word after Disturbed song "Inside the Fire".]
"Shijou," the grey one grins above a Rosetta-stone-like sign it's holding with "It was me." in forty-seven languages both human and trimp.
"Zone 37 is hopeless in the time it'll take me to finish building the traps," Tightniks says.
"Won't the cold slow you down?" Red inquires, "It seems to get to you for some reason we don't get."
"Timba timba," the lumber foreman confirms from its perch on Tightiks' jacket hood.
"Yeah," he huffs, tightening it down, "but it slows down the portal clock by the same amount, so who cares?"
1d10h38m48s: Voidsnimp in c12...
Even in the void, Tightniks has gotten used to the sounds of the combat and trimps dying en masse, but when he heard that voidsnimp screech, which is similar to a "drill" robot from an Earth video game he has almost totally forgotten called Descent (Interplay 1995), he almost involuntarily turned to see, Even way back here, they can damage us despite all that gymnastic training? Then it landed the critical hit and wiped them out, as all critical hits do on this void route. He still finished the trap he was working on before going back to the portal, "Forget this, we're just getting the zone blimp." He pops the map from the portal's void slot, and starts getting his void gear off. His uniform long since wore out, so he's wearing something much more cave-manny. [I picked that sound because that sucker was dangerous and terrifying and carried the nearly hitscan Vulcan cannon. There was no Descent II equivalent, but the Thiefbot was pretty annoying.]
1d10h45m30s: 1M traps AP for 2.5%. 1d10h47m36s: Zone 37, 345 He, 9.916 He/hr, 13120 pop, 100N, 33.6s RC with Z34/5298, 2774 pop short, no turkimp.
Tightniks had nearly finished the long procedure for loading and configuring the portal, then sat down with the mining foreman to brush its tail like he promised.
The scientist trimps tried to hit the portal's activation plunger, but it refused to travel the full distance closed for any of them. Quite tired themselves out trying. The only one not exhausted into total silence was the grey one with its exasperated "Shijou..."
The mining foreman refused to go to sleep, and watched intently as Tightniks finally reached over and set it home with one hand. Its last nervous little sigh was the only thing he remembered-
The ship is without power, and Tightniks can't run the radar much without draining the batteries...

Madfinger Devs:
First off, thank you. This game is scratching an itch for me and some of my prior service buddies that I wasn't sure was ever going to be scratched unless we made it ourselves. So, thank you. I've got about 50 hours of playtime in so far and there are some kinks to work out, but there are overall a ton of great things about this game and we are thoroughly enjoying it thus far. So, the following is a wishlist of sorts that the group of guys I play with have come up with. We are fully aware that this is in Early Access and I expect bugs, imbalance, and issues. This is not a complaint, it's meant to be a mostly constructive criticism, with some wish list sprinkled in that we think would really send this game to the next level for those who are similarly-minded.
Item Interaction
Interacting with items is much harder than it should be. Opening and closing doors, picking things up, it feels like I have to hover around looking for some magical point on the item in order to interact with it. Maybe this is an adjustment in the radius of the pointer, or the interactable sphere of the model itself but this should be just a *little* more forgiving, so that opening and closing doors/windows and picking up items can happen just a little bit faster.
Nameplates
For the love of god. Please add some way to ID friendlies, even if just my own squad besides the map. A name plate, maybe a green dot on the compass, something. I'm all for immersiveness, but it's hard to maintain formation when i can't see who my teammates are half of the time. Even if it's a name plate that only appears when i aim directly at them, something.
Healing
We love that there is more of an emphasis on how one heals than simply using a medkit. However, it seems like this process is a little more arduous than necessary. For instance, the healing of teammates is unfortunately abysmal at the moment. The "Examine" system is fine, but then if I move my mouse even a few pixels, I have to re-examine the teammate before I can "heal" them. Then, I have to have the items out and on my chest rig or in my pockets to use items on a teammate or faction member. This seems a little odd. So, Suggestions for healing:

1. **Edit** It seems like the medical items are in fact accessible, according to other commenters. I'll continue playing and testing this myself, it just felt like it wasn't working consistently for me. However, sounds like user error here!
2. **Edit** to clarify improvements for rendering aid to other players: As of now, if I switch into my inventory or move my cursor for any reason, I have to re-examine the casualty in order to administer aid. This wastes precious time when a teammate is bleeding out. I suggest that Once a player examines a casualty, they should not have to examine them again unless they either sustain more injuries, or some appropriate amount of time has passed. Once I know they have a broken arm and GSW to the neck, I don't forget that if I look in my inventory. Please fix this.
3. When I was in the military, we always harped on using the casualty's own IFAK to render aid first, before dipping into our own. We carry our IFAK so that we are essentially providing the supplies needed for our own first level of care. It would make a lot of sense to when examining the casualty, it also checks to see if any of the necessary medical supplies to treat the casualty's wounds are actually in their own inventory (can be restricted to medical bags affixed to their belt/chest rig) and use those first, before using our own supplies. I cannot tell you how frustrating it is to stop and try to help a random faction mate bleeding in the street only for them to die, and I've wasted my precious bandages and blood packs on them. in PvP, you could maybe loot their body, but in PvE it's a total loss. You can't recover your items and the player is just gone. Applying their own aid first would alleviate a lot of this waste and also give it a little more realistic edge.
4. We should be able to drag unconscious/coma teammates. If a teammate goes down, we should be able to drag their body back into cover. Maybe limit this to squadmates only, so that there's less of a chance of griefing/trolling but it should be possible to drag a comrade to safety to administer aid, rather than having to kneel in the middle of the road to do so.

A More Dynamic LZ system
What we have currently works on a basic level. It's essentially a bunch of roller coasters that give the player a bird's eye view of the map as they traverse from one point to another. However, this system could use some improvements.

1. Ability to extend the time a bird is on an LZ. Sometimes things happen, and for the bird to touch down for 10s and take off because you're bandaging after an unexpected contact can be rough. That wait can be 10-15 minutes and in some cases longer. Either A) make the wait time 30s and once all squad members "ready up" the bird can lift off immediately, OR B) the wait time stays +/-10s and squad members on the LZ can "Press Y" to request the bird stays on deck for another 10 seconds.
2. 4 birds per faction can be extremely frustrating, especially when there are lots of solos and duos. We have to find a way to make more birds available or to better use the 4 that are available:
   1. Simply make more birds available. 1xhelicopter per squad on server.
   2. Make it so that players can "ride back" on birds that are dropping off players. (Yes, this could extend in-flight time for birds in the air, but it could also reduce number of requests). If a bird drops a team off at Charlie 1, and I am there, the bird can show on map Destination: C1 > RTB, and I would know that bird is returning to base after dropping off at Charlie 1. If I hop onto that bird, it flies back to base, if I do not, it can fly off-map to the nearest edge. I think this could easily be implemented and would cut down on a lot of helo requests to LZ's.
   3. Implement a fuel system on the birds. For instance, I'm at Foxtrot 2 and want to go to India 1. If I request to India 1, and there's a bird already en route to an F-2 or a nearby LZ, and it has fuel capacity to get to India 1, it can drop off its team, pick me up and take me to India 1. Once fuel capacity is reached, it flies off-map at nearest edge
   4. Any one of these or hybrid method could reduce the amount of wait times for teams to get birds, and also be more efficient for getting teams to and from locations using the same birds already in play, especially if Patrol Bases or faction Main Bases could be opted as helo refueling options?
3. Maybe able to purchase an emergency Pickup? It can be expensive ($10K+), but being able to call in a bird to any open, flat area for an emergency pickup would be cool. It would also give us a reason to use the currently pointless smoke grenades.
   1. Emergency Pickup only useable in area that has 30m+ radius of open ground with no trees.
   2. Call in Bird, at 30 seconds out, you have to pop a colored smoke, the bird will confirm color and land on your smoke.

Death Penalty/Loot - Okay, so it is nice that when a player dies, they have an opportunity to return to their corpse and get their loot back. This is a nice touch and has saved me a bit of money and gear over the past couple weeks. However, even in PvE there should be a way for some to loot a dead body. I am thinking of maybe 2 ways to do this:

1. Now, I say maybe keep the first-death grace period to go back and get your loot, assuming you can make it. However, if you die a second time, that corpse should become lootable. Perhaps, a time limit can be imposed so that there aren't just dead bodies cluttering up the game and wasting resources, but maybe for 2-3 minutes, the corpse becomes lootable to all (or maybe just faction or even squad). This allows for teammates to help pick up the gear one may lose, if they die during PvE, and also provides some scavenging opportunities for others.
2. After the first PvE death, maybe there is a 15-minute timer to return to the body, where it is not lootable. This gives the player (in most cases) enough time to return to the body if they move quickly, and can protect their gear from opportunists. After 15 minutes, the body becomes lootable for another 5 minutes, for a total of 20 minutes of recovery time, the last 5 of which can be looted by other players. After 20, the body disappears for all. this helps to save resources and adds some scavenging, but also allows for teammates to help pick up the slack. If the player dies a second time before the 15 minutes expires, the 5 minute lootable period begins immediately.

Suppressors, Camouflage, Concealment
Suppressors and camouflage should work on AI. I don't know what system is in place to "alert" AI, but it seems like I get one suppressed shot, then anyone within 50-100m locks on to my precise location, regardless of concealment or camouflage and I come under immediate effective fire, even if I one-shot an unaware AI with a suppressed weapon. As of now, the only reason to spend the money on a suppressor in this game is if I just want my own shots to be quieter for myself and my squad. There's no tactical advantage for the money spent in PvE and the effect is limited in PvP.

1. Maybe a system that rewards players for taking controlled shots? A suppressed one-shot kill from >100m should only alert AI within immediate proximity. They can alert to the general direction of the player's shot (maybe 90-degree sector) and begin scanning.
2. Suppressed weapons fired within 50-75m of enemy AI should still alert them, but maybe to a lesser extent than they currently do. Maybe a 60-degree cone of "alerted" status for enemies in this 50-100m range when firing suppressed.
3. <50m suppressed weapons have no effect.
4. AI should not be able to see me at 50m+ through dense vegetation. I cannot see them, they should not be able to see me. Sure, if they want to spray an AK into a tree line as suppressing fire, fine. However, they should not be taking point-target shots on me because a 4-pixel by 4-pixel patch of my glove was detected.

AI- We have to talk about this
I don't know why, but it feels like I am constantly on a pendulum swinging between the extremes of AI who couldn't shoot me if their muzzle was pressed into my chest, and AI who are able to nail me in the T-Box through 12-inch thick reinforced concrete.

1. I don't know the magic middle ground, but having the AI be slightly disoriented when fired upon, maybe taking 1-2 seconds to react and get their bearings would help add a more realistic edge to the gun fights.
2. AI should behave somewhat tactically. I would love to see some bounding movements, suppressive fire, and flanking. I don't know how to implement, but maybe if there are more 4+ AI in a 20m radius, they get grouped up and become a fireteam. Two of them set a base of fire from some covered position while another two make a flanking maneuver
3. Clipping is an issue. I've died several times to AI shooting me through the floors and walls in the YBL-1 bunker. Thankfully the gear isn't prohibitively expensive, but it is an annoyance.

Flesh out this world
The island is huge. It's huge and the whole thing can be traversed on foot. It's just that there's really no reason to do so. I'd much rather just ride my helicopter to the LZ closest to my objective, in and out. Get my reward. There's no incentive to walk between points of interest unless we are trying to PvP and want to go largely undetected across the map to our ambush site. Here are some ways to accomplish a more immersive island.

1. There are no civilians. I know this can be explained away by an evacuation, but that's no fun. There could be civilians in these villages and it could be very engaging. Why am I running boxes of medical supplies out to villages where the only inhabitants are enemy combatants? Add non-combatant civilians.
   1. Make villages have non-combatants. If you kill them, it can cost you a fine and hurt your faction's standing within that village among the civilians.
   2. Civilians, if faction standing becomes too negative with them, will become hostile toward your faction. (kill too many, they arm themselves and fight back). Each faction has its own unique standing with the civilians in that village on the server, so each village can have its own diplomatic stance.
   3. Civilians can function as in-game vendors. Some dude in a market stall may sell fish, or crafting items for features I read were anticipated in later iterations of the game.
   4. If a faction's standing becomes strong enough, civilians may even arm themselves and help to drive out the hostiles occupying the village. Maybe this part is something that becomes a part of a dynamic event later.
   5. Even if they do nothing, it adds a layer of complexity to the missions, and makes it so that players must get Positive ID before taking a shot. In some cases, hostiles can pose as civilians, and pick up a weapon adding an even more immersive element to asymmetric warfare.
2. Patrol Bases - This can be done in a way that gives players a way to seek refuge and operate out of forward bases. Something like Elder Scrolls Online did the castle/keep system in their PvP where the NPC's in some neutral zones captured by one faction or another would then guard that area on behalf of the faction.
   1. Points of Interest can be captured as patrol bases. This gives another "objective" to players and can encourage more PvP interactions.
   2. Once captured, a patrol base (PB) gets assigned a number of NPC's that will fight hostile NPC's and other factions that come within a pre-determined distance of the PB.
   3. Helicopters can fly in and out of patrol bases owned by that faction. Gives an additional LZ that is less prone to LZ camping.
3. AI Patrols - Each faction should have some AI patrolling its immediately controlled areas.
   1. Dense presence in the town/area between the main base and starter town for each faction. These can be 4-6 man patrols, moving tactically and in conventional military formations. They can be engaged by players and hostile AI.
   2. Less dense patrols in forward areas. Mostly on roads between points of interest.
      1. Patrol between Crimson Shield base camp and Kiu Vongsa, between KV Gas Station and the ridge west of Hunter's paradise, along the main road, for example. Just 4-6 man patrols that walk the roads and can be engaged.
      2. Similar routes in other faction areas.

Miscellaneous Gear and Feature Wish List

1. Belt-fed weapons. Please.
   1. This could be game changing for PvE and PvP. They should be expensive. They should be heavy, and they should be more of a cone of fire. They can be powerful, suppressive weapons, balanced by the fact that they aren't meant for accurate point-target system.
   2. This gives squads an opportunity to use more immersive tactics. Setting up bases of fire, support and assault elements, etc..
   3. Should probably limit this to SAW/RPK and other lighter weapon systems
2. Laser Range Finders and Binoculars
   1. Binoculars for scouting out enemy positions.
   2. Laser Range finders for getting good distance measurements for zeroing weapons
   3. These should have weight, cost money and take up inventory space. Choosing to carry this means leaving something else behind.
3. Radios - These are a necessity.
   1. Make Radios available for purchase from one of the vendors.
   2. They have multi-channel capabilities. Faction, which is also audible in the command tent at main base. Squad, which can be heard by anyone in your squad with a radio equipped and on the squad frequency.
   3. Maybe make VOIP always on for PVP. If you're communicating, you should be audible. Can reduce range of hearing, but I think this would add a very interesting dynamic to communicating as a team and being weary of possible enemies listening to you.
4. Mortars. They're already there. Let us use them.
   1. the mortars on our main base can be put into effect and used by the players
   2. Have the radios above allow for calling fire missions. Call up main faction on radio, request fire mission from anyone on base who is listening and willing to use the mortars.
   3. Provide the "mortar team" a position for enemy fire. It can be your position and distance/direction or just a grid location to the enemy. This is where binoculars and Laser Range finders become handy.
   4. Can limit the rounds fired from base to X rounds per minute, to avoid spamming.
   5. Can also limit range. As of now, 81mm mortars can basically engage targets to Ground Zero from each base and the contested points of interest between each main base i.e YBL, Midnight Sapphire and Ban Pa.
   6. Could allow for maybe 60mm mortars with shorter range and less firepower inside of the patrol bases mentioned above, and give fire mission support to squads operating further out or omit that feature and keep
5. Make smoke grenades do something -right now, they don't have any real reason in the game other than beautifying the main base while waiting for a helicopter.
   1. Allow them to signal incoming birds at an LZ.
   2. Allow grey/white smoke but more dense for providing concealment while moving/retreating in a firefight
   3. Allow them to signal a resupply drop that could potentially be called in later in the game at a forward location. I.e. call for resupply, 15 seconds out, mark Drop zone with colored smoke and the drop occurs within 150m of that smoke.
6. Mines - I'm hit or miss on this, but I've heard others ask for it
   1. Claymores, PWN, IED, whatever. Some form of anti-personnel mine that can be used to protect avenues of approach, kick off ambushes, or defend sniper hides and machine gun nests (assuming you implement the LMG suggestion above)
7. Speaking of Command and Signal - Star Clusters and parachutes, please add these.
   1. These could be a great way to signal squad location, objectives, or signal ambush start.
8. Shared Mission Board.
   1. There should be a way for us to draw on a map, on the objective and have our team see it. Maybe everyone has a tablet that can pull up a mission brief, similar to a Ready or Not or maybe Rainbow Six style satellite imagery. We can draw on it, share it with the team and have us know various rally points, lines of departure, etc within the squad.
9. Arm bands or helmet covers to help ID squad/Team/Clan
   1. We should have a way to ID our squad. Even if it's just an orange patch on the left sleeve, or something to that effect so that we can quickly see who our friendlies and immediate squad are while on mission or in the field. Since camouflage is customizable, I wouldn't suggest removing a customization feature, but add a way for us to be able to ID one another quickly and tactically.
   2. This can later be used to implement clan regalia, etc..
10. Ghillie suits.
11. Expensive, heavy, hot, but make them available.
12. Maybe add a way to customize them with vegetation, especially once crafting items are released.

These are just a handful of the items we've come up with to add some more immersiveness and depth to the game. Overall, I'm very happy with what's come out so far in Early Access. I hope they continue in the direction they've been going so far.
**EDIT** Thanks to all for the suggestions, comments and feedback to this list. I've updated the medical items to account for the fact that accessing them from outside med bags sounds like my error. Again, this is not a complaint. This is simply a "wish list" a few of us have dreamt up that we think would just add a chef's kiss to the game.
Super happy with current Early Access showing, and this is what EA is all about. Player feedback and interaction during development, so that the final product has a greater chance at success!

I made a modpack for just me i haven't played in a bit and it wont load and gives me this wall of text. Im running 1.7.10 on forge 10.13.4.1614 any thing will help. Edit Im sorry for the wall of text i dont know how to make it shorter. ---- Minecraft Crash Report ----
// I bet Cylons wouldn't have this problem.
Time: 5/20/24 8:02 PM
Description: There was a severe problem during mod loading that has caused the game to fail
cpw.mods.fml.common.LoaderException: java.lang.ExceptionInInitializerError

at cpw.mods.fml.common.LoadController.transition(LoadController.java:163) at cpw.mods.fml.common.Loader.initializeMods(Loader.java:739) at cpw.mods.fml.client.FMLClientHandler.finishMinecraftLoading(FMLClientHandler.java:311) at net.minecraft.client.Minecraft.func\_71384\_a(Minecraft.java:552) at net.minecraft.client.Minecraft.func\_99999\_d(Minecraft.java:878) at net.minecraft.client.main.Main.main(SourceFile:148) at sun.reflect.NativeMethodAccessorImpl.invoke0(Native Method) at sun.reflect.NativeMethodAccessorImpl.invoke(NativeMethodAccessorImpl.java:62) at sun.reflect.DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.invoke(DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.java:43) at java.lang.reflect.Method.invoke(Method.java:497) at net.minecraft.launchwrapper.Launch.launch(Launch.java:135) at net.minecraft.launchwrapper.Launch.main(Launch.java:28) 

Caused by: java.lang.ExceptionInInitializerError

at zmaster587.libVulpes.client.ClientProxy.registerRenderers(ClientProxy.java:23) at zmaster587.libVulpes.LibVulpes.init(LibVulpes.java:270) at sun.reflect.NativeMethodAccessorImpl.invoke0(Native Method) at sun.reflect.NativeMethodAccessorImpl.invoke(NativeMethodAccessorImpl.java:62) at sun.reflect.DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.invoke(DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.java:43) at java.lang.reflect.Method.invoke(Method.java:497) at cpw.mods.fml.common.FMLModContainer.handleModStateEvent(FMLModContainer.java:532) at sun.reflect.GeneratedMethodAccessor2.invoke(Unknown Source) at sun.reflect.DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.invoke(DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.java:43) at java.lang.reflect.Method.invoke(Method.java:497) at com.google.common.eventbus.EventSubscriber.handleEvent(EventSubscriber.java:74) at com.google.common.eventbus.SynchronizedEventSubscriber.handleEvent(SynchronizedEventSubscriber.java:47) at com.google.common.eventbus.EventBus.dispatch(EventBus.java:322) at com.google.common.eventbus.EventBus.dispatchQueuedEvents(EventBus.java:304) at com.google.common.eventbus.EventBus.post(EventBus.java:275) at cpw.mods.fml.common.LoadController.sendEventToModContainer(LoadController.java:212) at cpw.mods.fml.common.LoadController.propogateStateMessage(LoadController.java:190) at sun.reflect.NativeMethodAccessorImpl.invoke0(Native Method) at sun.reflect.NativeMethodAccessorImpl.invoke(NativeMethodAccessorImpl.java:62) at sun.reflect.DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.invoke(DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.java:43) at java.lang.reflect.Method.invoke(Method.java:497) at com.google.common.eventbus.EventSubscriber.handleEvent(EventSubscriber.java:74) at com.google.common.eventbus.SynchronizedEventSubscriber.handleEvent(SynchronizedEventSubscriber.java:47) at com.google.common.eventbus.EventBus.dispatch(EventBus.java:322) at com.google.common.eventbus.EventBus.dispatchQueuedEvents(EventBus.java:304) at com.google.common.eventbus.EventBus.post(EventBus.java:275) at cpw.mods.fml.common.LoadController.distributeStateMessage(LoadController.java:119) at cpw.mods.fml.common.Loader.initializeMods(Loader.java:737) ... 10 more 

Caused by: net.minecraftforge.client.model.ModelFormatException: IO Exception reading model format

at net.minecraftforge.client.model.obj.WavefrontObject.(WavefrontObject.java:60) at net.minecraftforge.client.model.obj.ObjModelLoader.loadInstance(ObjModelLoader.java:27) at net.minecraftforge.client.model.AdvancedModelLoader.loadModel(AdvancedModelLoader.java:65) at zmaster587.libVulpes.client.RendererModelBlock.(RendererModelBlock.java:19) ... 38 more 

Caused by: java.io.FileNotFoundException: advancedrocketry:models/combustion.obj

at net.minecraft.client.resources.SimpleReloadableResourceManager.func\_110536\_a(SimpleReloadableResourceManager.java:71) at net.minecraftforge.client.model.obj.WavefrontObject.(WavefrontObject.java:55) ... 41 more 

A detailed walkthrough of the error, its code path and all known details is as follows:
-- System Details --
Details:

Minecraft Version: 1.7.10 Operating System: Windows 10 (amd64) version 10.0 Java Version: 1.8.0\_51, Oracle Corporation Java VM Version: Java HotSpot(TM) 64-Bit Server VM (mixed mode), Oracle Corporation Memory: 1756069216 bytes (1674 MB) / 4087349248 bytes (3898 MB) up to 7963934720 bytes (7595 MB) JVM Flags: 3 total; -XX:HeapDumpPath=MojangTricksIntelDriversForPerformance\_javaw.exe\_minecraft.exe.heapdump -Xmx8544m -Xms256m AABB Pool Size: 0 (0 bytes; 0 MB) allocated, 0 (0 bytes; 0 MB) used IntCache: cache: 0, tcache: 0, allocated: 0, tallocated: 0 FML: MCP v9.05 FML v7.10.99.99 Minecraft Forge 10.13.4.1614 Optifine OptiFine\_1.7.10\_HD\_U\_E7 71 mods loaded, 71 mods active States: 'U' = Unloaded 'L' = Loaded 'C' = Constructed 'H' = Pre-initialized 'I' = Initialized 'J' = Post-initialized 'A' = Available 'D' = Disabled 'E' = Errored UCHI mcp{9.05} \[Minecraft Coder Pack\] (minecraft.jar) UCHI FML{7.10.99.99} \[Forge Mod Loader\] (forge-1.7.10-10.13.4.1614-1.7.10.jar) UCHI Forge{10.13.4.1614} \[Minecraft Forge\] (forge-1.7.10-10.13.4.1614-1.7.10.jar) UCHI appliedenergistics2-core{rv2-stable-10} \[AppliedEnergistics2 Core\] (minecraft.jar) UCHI CodeChickenCore{1.0.7.48} \[CodeChicken Core\] (minecraft.jar) UCHI NotEnoughItems{1.0.5.120} \[Not Enough Items\] (NotEnoughItems-1.7.10-1.0.5.120-universal.jar) UCHI OpenModsCore{0.10.1} \[OpenModsCore\] (minecraft.jar) UCHI {000} \[CoFH ASM\] (minecraft.jar) UCHI securitycraft{v1.8.13} \[SecurityCraft\] (\[1.7.10\] SecurityCraft v1.8.13.jar) UCHI antiqueatlas{4.4.4} \[Antique Atlas\] (antiqueatlas-1.7.10-4.4.4.jar) UCHI appliedenergistics2{rv2-stable-10} \[Applied Energistics 2\] (appliedenergistics2-rv2-stable-10.jar) UCHI AegisSystemMod{1.5.7a} \[Aegis System Mod\] (ASM-\[1.7.10\]-1.5.7a-single-obfuscated.jar) UCHI BiblioCraft{1.11.7} \[BiblioCraft\] (BiblioCraft\[v1.11.7\]\[MC1.7.10\].jar) UCHI ForgeMultipart{1.2.0.345} \[Forge Multipart\] (ForgeMultipart-1.7.10-1.2.0.345-universal.jar) UCHI chisel{2.9.5.11} 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weather2{v2.3.19} \[Localized Weather & Storms\] (weather2-1.7.10-2.3.20.jar) UCHI worldedit{6.1.1} \[WorldEdit\] (worldedit-forge-mc1.7.10-6.1.1-dist.jar) UCHI WR-CBECore{1.4.1.9} \[WR-CBE Core\] (WR-CBE-1.7.10-1.4.1.9-universal.jar) UCHI WR-CBEAddons{1.4.1.9} \[WR-CBE Addons\] (WR-CBE-1.7.10-1.4.1.9-universal.jar) UCHI WR-CBELogic{1.4.1.9} \[WR-CBE Logic\] (WR-CBE-1.7.10-1.4.1.9-universal.jar) UCHI ZAMod{v1.10} \[Zombie Awareness\] (zombieawareness-1.7.10-1.10.jar) UCHI McMultipart{1.2.0.345} \[Minecraft Multipart Plugin\] (ForgeMultipart-1.7.10-1.2.0.345-universal.jar) UCHI ForgeMicroblock{1.2.0.345} \[Forge Microblocks\] (ForgeMultipart-1.7.10-1.2.0.345-universal.jar) GL info: ' Vendor: 'NVIDIA Corporation' Version: '4.6.0 NVIDIA 551.61' Renderer: 'NVIDIA GeForce RTX 4060 Ti/PCIe/SSE2' OpenModsLib class transformers: \[stencil\_patches:FINISHED\],\[movement\_callback:FINISHED\],\[player\_damage\_hook:FINISHED\],\[map\_gen\_fix:FINISHED\],\[gl\_capabilities\_hook:FINISHED\],\[player\_render\_hook:FINISHED\] Class transformer null safety: found misbehaving transformers: sereneseasons.asm.transformer.ColorTransformer(sereneseasons.asm.transformer.ColorTransformer@31413f20) crashed with java.lang.NullPointerException(null),sereneseasons.asm.transformer.WeatherTransformer(sereneseasons.asm.transformer.WeatherTransformer@18bf98d7) crashed with java.lang.NullPointerException(null),com.gitlab.minecraft\_defense\_force.asm.coreMod.ASMClassTransformer(com.gitlab.minecraft\_defense\_force.asm.coreMod.ASMClassTransformer@6c7eec27) crashed with java.lang.IllegalArgumentException(Parameter specified as non-null is null: method com.gitlab.minecraft\_defense\_force.asm.coreMod.ASMClassTransformer.transform, parameter basicClass) AE2 Version: stable rv2-stable-10 for Forge 10.13.2.1291 CoFHCore: -\[1.7.10\]3.1.4-329 ThermalFoundation: -\[1.7.10\]1.2.6-118 Mantle Environment: DO NOT REPORT THIS CRASH! Unsupported mods in environment: optifine ThermalExpansion: -\[1.7.10\]4.1.5-248 TConstruct Environment: Environment healthy. ThermalDynamics: -\[1.7.10\]1.2.1-172 Chisel: Errors like "\[FML\]: Unable to lookup ..." are NOT the cause of this crash. You can safely ignore these errors. And update forge while you're at it. Stencil buffer state: Function set: GL30, pool: internal (hacked forge), bits: 8 OptiFine Version: OptiFine\_1.7.10\_HD\_U\_E7 Render Distance Chunks: 16 Mipmaps: 4 Anisotropic Filtering: 1 Antialiasing: 0 Multitexture: false Shaders: Sildur's Vibrant Shaders v1.51 [Extreme-VL.zip](http://Extreme-VL.zip) OpenGlVersion: 4.6.0 NVIDIA 551.61 OpenGlRenderer: NVIDIA GeForce RTX 4060 Ti/PCIe/SSE2 OpenGlVendor: NVIDIA Corporation CpuCount: 12 

The Dungeon Dungeon Fruit is a paramecia-type devil fruit that allows the user to become a living dungeon, making them a Dungeon Master.

Strengths

Upon consuming the Dungeon Dungeon Fruit, the user will gain a permanent pocket dimension of a dungeon within themselves which they are able to customise however they like. The user can teleport people and objects into their dungeon through touch, shrinking them down and transporting them into the dungeon's interior.
The user also gains the ability to transform their body into a full-size dungeon matching the pocket dimension one as it is just the pocket dimension one expanding into the world and transforming the user into the building. If the user is above ground their dungeon will resemble a tower as it towers above the ground with its height dependent on the number of flours the user has created. If the user does it above ground the dungeon's rules of floors get flipped and the lower floors are weaker with the higher ones being stronger. Also, there will be an entranceway for people to enter or exit at the bottom of the "tower" form. If the user is underground their dungeon will meld with the environment and go down with the height dependent on the number of flours the user has created, additionally, the user will rise or sink to have an opening on the surface marking the entrance into the dungeon. When transformed the user has complete control over the dungeon, allowing them to manipulate its structure, features, and contents as if it were an extension of their own body. The user can enhance the durability of their dungeon, fortifying it against environmental hazards and potential threats.
Inside the dungeon, the user is able to create anything that can be found in a dungeon, including but not limited to, weapons, monsters, treasures, puzzles, traps, etc. The user is able to take out their creations however they must keep physical contact with it constantly and if they don't it will disappear and reappear back in their dungeon when the user has the energy to create it again.
Inside the dungeon, the user has absolute control capable of creating and controlling anything and everything in relation to dungeons.

Weaknesses

Standard devil fruit weaknesses apply.
Floors: The user has to separate the structure of their dungeon into floors, with every floor down able to create stronger entities and items with more elaborate and stronger traps and treasures.
Creatures: The creatures that the user creates in the dungeon are able to be influenced and controlled by the user's direct orders but anything besides the user's direct orders can possibly be disobeyed or dismissed by the creatures.
Outside contact: Items and creatures that the user made within their dungeon will turn into dust once they are apart from the user. Meaning that an item or creature can be taken out but only partially. The user can take out a sword and use it as a weapon but once they discard it or it no longer makes physical contact with them it will start to turn to dust.
Energy: It takes energy for the user to make anything within the dungeon be it items, monsters, or even them manipulating the dungeon to their will to make the impossible happen, or even remake the dungeon and its contents. The stronger the things/creatures that they create the more energy it will cost the user.
Space & Haki: Strong haki can neutralize creatures within the dungeon and make passage throughout the dungeon really easy, additionally any space manipulation can enable people the ability to escape from the user's Dungeon unless the user is constantly twisting space to prevent them from doing this.
'Magic': The dungeon is filled with the user's energy which they can use like magic. The 'Magic' within the dungeon can only ever be the user's energy that they used to create phenomenon, it is not real magic but the user using their ability to create anything within the dungeon. Haki can disrupt this energy and make the user's control over the dungeon unstable/erratic and it acts as a kind of anti-magic.
Destruction: Vistors can destroy the dungeon and trigger a full-scale collapse in order to get out of the dungeon quickly.
Dungeon Limit: The Dungeon can be of any size be it 1 floor, 10 floors, 100 floors or even 10,000 floors as many as the user wants, and these floors can be as big or as small as the user wants with space distorting to the users will. As well as the contents being however the user wishes them to be. However, the user is limited to having only one Dungeon created at a time.

Techniques:

The core of the Dungeon: This technique allows the user to merge their physical form with their dungeon, becoming the true core and centre of the Dungeon. When activated, the user's body undergoes a transformation, imbuing them with the visual appearance of their dungeon while retaining their base form's humanoid shape. The user appears as their usual self but with subtle manifestations of their dungeon's architecture spread across their entire body visible both internally and externally. Parts of the user's body may take on a spectral or ethereal quality, resembling stone, wood, or other materials found within their dungeon. Floors within the dungeon will be visible on the user's body and the user can interact with them like normal. While in this state, the user's control of their dungeon and sense of the dungeon as a part of their body is strengthened, granting them unparalleled control over its features and inhabitants. They can sense disturbances, manipulate the environment, and summon forth creatures or objects from within their domain with ease. The user's thoughts and intentions shape the very fabric of their dungeon, allowing them to adapt and respond to any situation. The Core of the Dungeon technique offers numerous tactical advantages. In addition to serving as a formidable defensive measure, it enables the user to access their dungeon's resources and defences instantaneously. They can summon forth weapons, traps, or allies as needed instantaneously. Additionally, the strongest part of this technique is that the user is able to take on the full condition of the dungeon allowing them to be as durable as the entire dungeon combined, as smart as the entire dungeon combined, and the user is able to draw on all the strength of the entire dungeon, etc.
Dungeon Gate: The user is able to create a portal on any part of their body, this portal can connect to anywhere within their dungeon. The user can use this to take out something or someone from their dungeon temporarily, the user can also use this to make an opening for one of their creatures to attack from the portal or to take out an item.
Treasure: The user can create valuable items or weapons from their dungeon and bring them into the real world by maintaining physical contact. However, these items will disappear if contact is broken.

• Eternal Chalice: A mystical cup that, when filled with any liquid, will never run out of that liquid until the cup is turned over completely and the contents are completely spilt out.
• Golem's Heart: A magical gem that, when placed on the ground, summons a powerful stone golem to protect the owner of the treasure. The Golem is about the same size as a goblin and is made of solid stone, it will last until it is completely broken.
• Chrono Amulet: An amulet that allows the wearer to slow down and speed up their movements at will, giving them a significant advantage in battle. However, there is a high energy consumption which increases the more the wielder wants to speed up or slow down.
• Spectral Lantern: A lantern that can summon spirits to aid the user in various ways, such as scouting, fighting, or showing the way. The wielder must make sure the spirits they summon listen to them and make sure that the spirits don't try to lead the wielder to the dead's same fate.
• Serpent's Eye: An orb that grants the user the ability to see through illusions and detect hidden objects or beings. The orb has a swirling pattern inside that resembles a serpent's eye. However, Continuous use can strain the user's eyesight.
• Dragon’s Eye: A gem that allows the wielder to see through illusions and detect lies by emitting a faint glow when deception is present. The wielder must be paying attention to the gem to see it glow, plus someone may be talking too fast for the wielder to understand what words they said are a lie or not. It also has a limited range of effectiveness.
• Death's Whisper: A pendant that allows the user to communicate with the dead, gaining their knowledge and advice. The pendant is shaped like a skull with glowing eyes. However, communicating with the dead can attract malevolent spirits.
• Spirit Stone: A gemstone that can capture and contain the essence of defeated enemies, allowing the user to temporarily harness their abilities. The stone has a limited capacity and requires time to recharge between uses. Using too many abilities at once can overwhelm the wielder or allow them to be possessed by the collective spirits within the gemstone should their spirit not be strong enough.
• Starlight Pendant: A pendant containing a fragment of a fallen star. It allows the user to harness the power of starlight, creating blinding flashes, energy beams, and shields of light. The pendant's power diminishes in the absence of starlight or strong light sources. Continuous use can cause the pendant to overheat, requiring a cooldown period.
• Serpent's Fang Dagger: A dagger crafted from the fang of a mythical serpent. It can inject a potent venom that paralyzes or weakens its victims. The venom needs time to replenish after each use, limiting the number of effective strikes in a short period.
• Starry Night Robe: A robe adorned with patterns that mimic the night sky, granting the wearer the ability to blend into their surroundings and move silently. The camouflage effect is less effective in brightly lit environments.
• Abyssal Grimoire: A dark tome filled with forbidden knowledge and powerful spells. Reading from the grimoire allows the wielder to cast devastating dark magic at the cost of their own vitality. Each spell cast siphons a portion of the wielder’s life force, and prolonged use can lead to severe consequences, including physical and mental corruption.
• Eclipse Ring: A ring that harnesses the power of lunar and solar eclipses, allowing the wielder to cast powerful light and shadow magic. The ring’s power is tied to the phases of the moon and solar cycles, making it weaker during certain times.
• Whispering Leaves: An enchanted book filled with ancient knowledge of nature magic. When read, it allows the wielder to communicate with plants and animals. Requires time to read and understand the spells. Using powerful spells can drain the wielder's energy and concentration.
• Evil Dispelling Talisman: A talisman that wards off evil spirits and curses, providing protection against dark magic and supernatural threats. One-time use.
• Talisman of Fortitude: A talisman that increases the wearer’s resilience, providing protection against physical and magical damage. The protection requires energy to maintain and can fail if the wielder is overwhelmed by powerful attacks. One-time use.
• Shadow Dagger: A dagger that allows the user to merge with shadows, becoming invisible and intangible while within them as well as allowing them to directly attack someone's shadow as if it were tangible. It is ineffective in well-lit environments, and cannot physically harm anyone bar their shadows.
• Vortex Gauntlet: A gauntlet that can create and control miniature vortices, allowing the wielder to manipulate wind and suction forces. The gauntlets have high energy consumption and limited range. Overuse can cause severe strain on the user’s arm.
• Stockpile Gauntlet: A gauntlet encrusted with crystals that can absorb and store magical energy, which can then be released in powerful bursts. Has a limited capacity for storing energy and can become unstable if overloaded. The release of energy is also taxing on the user’s arm causing it to strain from the backlash of powerful attacks/blasts.
• Warlock's Staff: A staff imbued with dark magic that enhances the wielder's spellcasting abilities and allows them to drain the life force of enemies. The staff’s dark magic can corrupt the wielder over time, leading to physical and mental deterioration.
• Harmony Orb: An orb that balances opposing forces, allowing the wielder to neutralize magic. The orb’s power can be overwhelmed by extremely powerful magic.
• Tempest Bow: A bow that allows the wielder to shoot arrows infused with the power of wind, capable of creating powerful gusts and small tornadoes on impact. The bow has a high energy cost and requires the wielder's energy to create wind-infused arrows. The bow's effectiveness is reduced in enclosed or windless environments.
• Blazing Quiver: A quiver that enchants any arrows placed within it to become flaming arrows, capable of setting targets ablaze on impact. The fire enchantment drains the user’s stamina, and arrows can be extinguished by water or strong winds.
• Seeker’s Map: A magical map that reveals the location of hidden treasures, secret passages, and important landmarks. It can easily be burned or torn and damaged by water like aged papyrus.
• Orb of Whispers: A crystal ball that allows the wielder to communicate telepathically with anyone they have met before, no matter the distance. The telepathy is one way and there is no way to know if the message they sent was successful without meeting up with them.
• Frostfire Lantern: A lantern that can switch between emitting a freezing cold light or a searing hot flame, depending on the wielder's needs. The lantern drains energy quickly when used in either mode, and the user must be careful to avoid harming themselves or allies with the extreme temperatures.
• Mermaid’s Locket: A locket that grants the wearer the ability to breathe underwater and communicate with aquatic creatures. The locket’s power is limited to water environments and drains energy if outside of water for extended periods.
• Phoenix Tear Flask: A flask containing a single, precious tear from a phoenix, which can heal any wound or cure any illness when consumed. The flask only contains a single use, and once used, it cannot be refilled. The healing effect can be overwhelming and incapacitating for a short period.
• Shifting Sands Bottle: A bottle filled with enchanted sand that can transform into various shapes and forms at the wielder's command. Controlling the sand requires mental concentration, and the transformations are temporary, reverting to sand if not maintained.
• Thunder Drum: A drum that, when played, can summon thunder and lightning to strike at the wielder's command wherever they are looking. Playing the drum is physically demanding, and summoning lightning requires precise timing and significant energy.
• Astral Compass: A compass that points towards the nearest source of magical energy, helping the user find enchanted objects and places. The compass can be misleading if multiple sources of magic are nearby, and it requires mental focus to interpret correctly.
• Seraphim’s Feather: A single, radiant feather that grants the wielder the ability to manifest wings and fly and create protective barriers of light. When the wielder manifests wings they gain a slight regeneration capable of suppressing minor illnesses and closing small cuts. However, flying and creating barriers drain the user’s stamina quickly, and the feather’s power diminishes if used excessively without rest.
• Celestial Harp: Crafted from the finest celestial metals and adorned with shimmering angelic runes, this harp produces music that can heal wounds, soothe minds, and uplift spirits. When played, it can calm storms, mend broken hearts, and bring peace to troubled souls. However, its power can only be harnessed by those with a pure heart.
• Saint's Cloak: A cloak woven from threads of starlight and blessed by archangels. It grants the wearer invisibility, protects them from harm, and allows them to move silently and swiftly. The cloak also has the power to create protective barriers that can shield allies. Only those with a heart dedicated to good can wear the cloak without it losing its power.
• Inferno Ring: A ring that grants the wearer the ability to control and manipulate fire, allowing them to create fireballs, walls of flame, and other fiery constructs. The ring consumes a significant amount of energy, and the ring is unable to be used when it is covered in water or ice.
• Moonstone Pendant: A pendant that enhances the wearer’s intuition and allows them to see in complete darkness. The enhanced intuition can be overwhelming, causing sensory overload if used for extended periods.
• Gauntlet of Titans: A gauntlet that grants the wearer immense strength, allowing them to perform feats of great physical power. The increased strength drains the user's stamina rapidly and can cause muscle strain if overused.
• Enchanted Quill: A quill that can write on its own, create detailed maps, transcribe spoken words, or draw intricate designs. The quill requires the wielder's concentration and drains mental energy, becoming less effective if used for extended periods.
• Gale Fan: A fan that controls the wind, allowing the user to create powerful gusts or gentle breezes. The fan requires physical effort to use effectively, and prolonged use can cause fatigue.
• Slothful Amulet: An amulet that induces a state of lethargy and apathy in the wearer, allowing them to no longer feel fatigued more than the amulet makes them, making them capable of doing strenuous activity while having the same amount of energy. However, prolonged use leads to a life devoid of purpose or ambition, trapped in a perpetual cycle of laziness and stagnation.
• Prideful Armour: Armour adorned with intricate designs and enchantments, the more prideful the wearer is the stronger the armour becomes allowing it to take attacks that appear instantly fatal. However, once the user takes off this armour they will feel worthless and will despair until they wear the armour again or learn to live without it.
• Greed's Coin: A golden coin that multiplies the wielder's wealth with each transaction, bringing untold riches to its owner. However, every gain comes at the expense of others, leading to exploitation and manipulation. The insatiable desire for wealth will eventually drive the user to commit increasingly ruthless acts, ultimately isolating them from all but their material possessions.
• Glutton's Chalice: A chalice that endlessly produces the finest foods and beverages, satisfying every craving of the user. Indulging in its offerings grants temporary pleasure and sustenance but leads to insatiable hunger and addiction. Over time, the user becomes enslaved by their own desires, unable to resist the allure of excess.
• Wrath's Broken Sword: A broken Zweihänder infused with the fury of the enraged, granting the wearer immense strength and destructive power. When activated, the sword will grow as if healing itself from all of its lifetime of damage, and then it engulfs the user in a raging aura of flames, enhancing their combat prowess but clouding their judgment with unbridled anger. Prolonged use risks losing control and becoming consumed by rage.
• Envy's Mirror: A mirror that reflects the desires of the beholder, showing them what they covet most in the world. When gazed upon, the user can see what they want the most in the world, and then they can take it out of the mirror, a mirrored copy of what they want the most. However, the more they use the mirror the more they will begin to envy those around them succumbing to its temptations which can lead to obsession and eventual downfall.
• Lust's Mask: A mask that enhances the allure and charisma of the wearer, captivating all who gaze upon them with irresistible charm and desire. While wearing it, the user can manipulate others to fulfil their every whim and desire. However, once the mask is removed the user will look disfigured permanently, with only a holy artefact that can remove curses capable of dispelling the terrible effects.
• The Crown That No One Wanted: A Crown that once worn will grant its wearer the power to be empowered by every sin they commit and others commit in the wearer's vicinity. However, this crown can not be removed except upon the wearer's death, and everyone the wearer sees the wearer will be able to see all of their sins and the next sin they are about to commit.
• Amulet of the Demi-Lich: An ancient amulet crafted from obsidian and etched with ominous glyphs, housing the imprisoned essence of a powerful demi-lich. When worn, the amulet bestows upon the wearer all the Demi-Lich's knowledge of dark magic and necromancy, granting access to the lich's vast repository of forbidden spells and arcane rituals. The wearer gains the ability to draw upon the demi-lich's powers, wielding dark energies to bend the forces of life and death to their will. Shadows obey their command, and the air grows thick with the whispers of the undead. However, with each use of the amulet's power, the malevolent consciousness of the demi-lich begins to seep into the wearer's mind, whispering temptations and promises of unimaginable power. The wearer's thoughts become consumed by the lich's desires, their will is slowly eroded by its relentless influence. If the wearer succumbs to the lich's control, their body becomes a vessel for its resurrection. The amulet shatters, releasing the demi-lich's essence to merge with the wearer's soul, transforming them into a vessel of undeath. From the ashes of the wearer's humanity, the demi-lich rises once more, eager to unleash its reign of darkness upon the world once more.
• Lich's First Wand: Crafted from the ancient and gnarled wood of the Veilwood trees, this wand holds the essence of the lich's earliest forays into magic, before corruption took hold. The wood is smooth to the touch, with delicate carvings depicting scenes of nature and life. When wielded by a skilled mage, the Veilwood Staff channels the untainted magic of its creation, granting the user the ability to manipulate the forces of nature and harness the primal energies of the earth. It can conjure gentle breezes, summon vines to entangle foes, and heal wounds with the touch of its tip. Unlike the dark artefacts associated with lichdom, the Veilwood Staff does not seek to corrupt or dominate its wielder. Instead, it serves as a reminder of the lich's origins and the purity of their magical pursuits before succumbing to the allure of immortality. However, despite its benign nature, the staff still bears the lingering echoes of the lich's ambitions and desires. Those who wield it may experience faint whispers and visions of the lich's past, offering glimpses into the choices that led to their transformation. The lich's pleads for help to find the one that he could not echo in the wielder's dreams, to complete what he never could.

Dungeon Master's Clarvoiant Gaze: The user can see through the eyes of any creature or object within their dungeon, providing them with complete surveillance of their domain. Although this can be very helpful to the user to help them survey their dungeon as if they are all seeing, without training, they will have no attention of their surroundings and may be ambushed in their distraction.
Monster Maker: The user manifests fearsome creatures within their dungeon, bringing them to life from the depths of their imagination. By channelling their energy and focusing their will, the user can create a wide variety of monsters, each with unique abilities, characteristics, and behaviours. These creatures serve as guardians, minions, or challenges within the dungeon, obeying the user's commands and defending their domain against intruders. To create a creature the user goes through three steps; Visualization, Energy Channeling, and Materialization. Firstly the user begins by visualizing the creature they wish to create, envisioning its form, size, and attributes in vivid detail. They draw upon their knowledge of mythology, folklore, and imagination to craft a truly unique monster. Then with a focused mind and a surge of energy, the user channels their power into the creation process, infusing the imagined creature with life force. This energy serves as the catalyst for bringing the creature into existence within the dungeon. Lastly, as the energy takes shape, the creature materializes within the user's dungeon, emerging from the depths as a tangible entity. The user can control the creature's appearance, abilities, and behaviour to suit their needs and objectives. The user can make any type of monster that they like, the only limit is their energy and their imagination, but some examples include; Beasts: Ferocious creatures such as dire wolves, giant spiders, or griffins, possessing keen senses and formidable physical abilities. Undead: Reanimated corpses, skeletal warriors, or spectral apparitions, instilling fear and dread in those who encounter them. Elementals: Living embodiments of natural elements, including fiery salamanders, watery serpents, or earthen golems, each with unique elemental powers. Aberrations: Bizarre and otherworldly entities, such as tentacled horrors, shape-shifting mimics, or mind-controlling aberrations, capable of confounding and terrifying intruders. Constructs: Artificial beings crafted from magical or mechanical components, ranging from clockwork automatons to golems forged from enchanted stone or metal. They can also create many more, but these are only some examples. The user can control their creations in multiple ways and command them to act together; The user can maintain their control over the monsters they create, commanding them with their will and asserting their dominance as the Dungeon Master. The monsters obey the user's orders without question, serving as loyal guardians or relentless assailants. Also, the user can tailor the behaviour and objectives of the monsters to suit their needs, directing them to patrol specific areas, guard valuable treasures, or attack intruders on sight. The main limitations of Monster Maker are its energy consumption, maintenance, and the limits of the user's control, just meaning that the monsters can possibly rebel if they are strong enough and the user has mistreated them.
Fake Floor: The user creates a temporary floor within their dungeon that can hold illusions, making it seem like a normal, physical floor with traps, monsters, or treasures. All of the illusions on this floor seem real and can actually work to a degree on this floor with illusions capable of causing damage (although weaker than normal and unable to cause any damage if the illusion is seen through) and even treasures appearing to work within the fake floor, but upon exit of the fake floor, they will find out that everything they gained from the floor was but an illusion.
Safe Floor: The user creates a temporary floor within their dungeon that can act as a sanctuary for those within the dungeon. This floor is imbued with a protective aura that prevents any monsters or hostile entities from entering. Additionally, it has a restorative effect, healing anyone inside over time. The effect of keeping monsters out acts as a semi-permeable barrier and can be broken or pierced by high-ranking creatures.

• A Sanctuary For Everyone: If a low-lever monster is pulled into the safe zone by others then it can turn into a normal harmless creature like a deer, squirrel, badger, etc.

Exit Floor: The user creates a temporary floor within the dungeon in between any floor that they want that allows visitors to leave the dungeon. The Exit floor will appear at the end of every dungeon and will be the turnaround point for the visitor(s) allowing them to go back into the dungeon from the start, where they came from, or even leaving the dungeon entirely.
Empty Floor: The Empty Floor is the start and the end of the dungeon, it will always be present and from here the user can create the dungeon, store whatever they want to, keep others safe here, etc. The empty Floor will be present even when the dungeon is destroyed, it can never be destroyed except with the death of the user. This floor is free from all laws, no laws from the universe exist in this space without the user making them. No laws not even life, death, time, space, reality, cause and effect are present within this floor without the user making them exist. In the case of Life and death do not exist here letting those who die in the dungeon live here should the user want them to, the user can even reincarnate them into a creature however this would make them completely reliant on the dungeon and die should they leave the dungeon and the connection with the user. Anyone within this floor is capable of moving throughout the dungeon as they please and even leave as they, please.
Dungeon Collapse: The user can start a dungeon collapse, making their dungeon and all of its floors begin to collapse, starting from its first floor and going to its last floor. Space will begin to distort and the monsters will either flee to other floors in order to survive a little longer or crumble to dust from the cataclitic wave of destruction that the user set in motion. The user can send any creatures that they wish to survive into the Empty Floor. Any visitor within the Dungeon will have to flee from the dungeon collapse as quickly as they can and reach the exit, if they cannot make it in time then they will be heavily wounded and possibly killed by the collapse of the dungeon depending on debre, and they will wake up in the Empty Floor dead or alive.
Treasure Trove: The user can create hidden chambers within their dungeon filled with valuable treasures and artefacts. These chambers can only be accessed through secret passages or by solving intricate puzzles. Creating elaborate treasures consumes a significant amount of the user's energy.
Gate: The user can create temporary portals within their dungeon that allow instant travel between different locations. These portals can be used for rapid deployment of allies or for quick escapes. Gates require precise control and consume a large amount of energy. Misuse can lead to unintended destinations or portal malfunctions.

• Defensive Gate: The user creates a gate on their body which either pulls in someone who makes contact with it, or it takes in an enemy's attack making that attack directly damage the dungeon in the location of wherever the user set the destination of the gate.
• Pocket Gate: The user creates a gate on their body and pulls out an item or stores an item in it allowing for quick storage and allowing the user to take out weapons from seemingly nowhere.
• Gate Binding: The user makes multiple gates on their body and traps a target's limbs in the different gates stopping their movements. The gates are not strong enough to rip the target apart but the user can use creatures on the other side of the gates to hold the target in place.

Awakening:

With the awakening of the Dungeon Dungeon Fruit, the user can now use their abilities on a much larger scale, with their mind finally caught up with their powers, their powers are able to affect the world around them spreading much further than their body once stopped them. Their power spills over into the world around them, letting them expand their dungeon into the environment shaping it to their desire. The user is able to extend their abilities to what could be considered impossible or illogical, empowering old techniques to new heights and creating new ones that were not possible before.

Awakening Techniques:

Heart of the Dungeon: Similar to "The Core of the Dungeon," the Heart of the Dungeon allows the user to merge their physical form with their dungeon, but it comes with even greater powers and capabilities. When the user activates the Heart of the Dungeon, they gain the extraordinary ability to morph and reshape their immediate surroundings to form the intricate corridors, chambers, and traps of their dungeon. This transformation is both fluid and immediate: walls sprout from the ground, ceilings stretch overhead, and floors ripple like liquid, all under the user's absolute control. The entire dungeon environment responds to the user's movements and commands, making it a living extension of their will. Moreover, the Heart of the Dungeon bestows upon the user the power to draw strength from everything within their dungeon. This includes the treasures hidden within its depths, the creatures that inhabit its halls, and the traps laid to ensnare intruders. Every element of the dungeon, whether animate or inanimate, contributes to the user's power, enhancing their physical abilities, powers, and overall resilience.
Dungeon break: The user is able to create a gate that connects to the inside of their dungeon and then releases whatever they want, may it be the creatures, treasures, or even the dungeon itself causing space to distort and merge the dungeon with the world around them. Creatures will pour out of the gate in a stampede, treasures and items can pour out of the gate like a sea of gold, and the dungeon can expand out of the gate like a crawling calamity. The gate while being a spatial distortion can still be broken with enough force. Once the gate(s) are closed then the creatures, items, and/or dungeon will be sucked back into the gate returning to the user's dungeon.

• Creatures: The user is able to create a massive amount of creatures within their dungeon and then release them from themselves pouring all the creatures with weapons and items that the user has created come out of a gate they created able to be used freely without fear of them disappearing until the user has run out of energy to sustain them.
• Dungeon: By creating a gate connecting to the user's dungeon, the user causes the surrounding area to 'fold' into their dungeon, effectively transporting portions of the external world into their dungeon and vice versa, until the gate is closed.

Authority: The user is able to grant a portion of their authority to people they brought into the dungeon or any creature they want, allowing them to control the creatures and the contents of a specific floor.

• Limited Trust: Limit the granted authority by time or a specific action, automatically revoking control after a certain period of specific condition(s) are met, ensuring temporary stewardship.
• Delegate: The user can specifically define the level of control an individual has over creatures and traps, fine-tuning the balance between autonomy and oversight.

Living Dungeon: The user can create a 'living' dungeon that adapts to intruders, capable of thought and acting in the best interest of the user and their dungeon. Capable of dynamically generating obstacles and challenges to test visitors specifically based on their observed strengths and weaknesses.
Trap Reave: With a single gesture, the user can implant numerous traps in their immediate environment or even within themselves that can then be activated and affect those nearby. These traps can have a multitude of hidden triggers and can be adjusted to be more potent, and capable of protecting larger areas with complex mechanisms.

• Chains: The user summons chains from the depths of their dungeon, binding and dragging enemies into their dungeon, whether it be from their gate or their main body, forcing targets to escape their dungeon.

Mini-Dungeon Core: The user creates a crystal-like smooth ball that contains a Dungeon within it, anyone who touches this mini-dungeon core will be drawn into the dungeon within and have to clear the dungeon to escape. However, since this is a mini-dungeon core it has a few limitations, firstly the dungeons in the mini-dungeon core can only have a maximum of 10 floors, additionally, the mini-dungeon core can be broken out of with either strong haki, spatial abilities, or any abilities that allow someone to break the crystal balls shell and release those trapped within it.

• Gate Landmark: The user can use the Mini-dungeon as a spatial anchor to allow them to teleport to the inside of the dungeon from their own dungeon and then exit it letting them be able to have a limited form of teleportation outside of the dungeon.
• Dungeon Master's Watch: Through the mini-dungeon core, the user can spy on those trapped inside the mini-dungeon, gathering information or learning from the way they handle the challenges presented to them.
• Dungeon Master's Hidden Influence: The user can control the creatures within the mini-dungeon core remotely, using them to perform tasks or relay messages to the outside world as if they were puppets. The user can also possess the creatures allowing them to share their senses and see through the creature's eyes and control them as easily as they can control their own body, however, the user will feel all of the body's physical pain and will also feel it's death should the creature die with the user possessing it.
• Fake Core: This generates a copy of the mini-dungeon core, which operates as a decoy, with both the original and the duplicate appearing legitimate to outsiders.

Awakening Weaknesses:

Energy: The vast expansion of power and control can be incredibly draining, meaning the user could risk total exhaustion or burnout if they use these abilities too frequently or for extended periods of time.
Heart of the Dungeon: While the user is merged with their dungeon the dungeon will be taking damage directly making every hit they take shake the dungeon and possibly collapse it. Additionally when the user is using a creature(s) and they take a serious hit that creature will die if that hit is strong enough to kill the creature(s). The same applies to treasures.
Dungeon Awareness: The user may need to split their awareness to monitor the larger area of effect of their dungeons and mini-dungeons, which can leave them blind to certain regions or overextended in their vigilance.
Waning Authority: Granting authority to too many individuals could dilute the user's overall control and open up the possibilities for internal conflict or sabotage.
Gate Fragility: The gates, while powerful and useful, are a lifeline for the user and their comrades getting in and out of the dungeon. The gates themselves are fragile and can be destroyed with enough strength or anyone capable of cutting space temporarily severing the user's lifeline in and out of the dungeon and cutting off a large amount of their powers until another can be made.
Dungeon Dissonance: The larger-scale dungeon transformations(brought into the environment) may not be as finely tuned as smaller-scale manipulations leading to instability or flaws that clever opponents can exploit.
Complexity: As old techniques are powered to new heights, the complexity of managing and understanding them also increases, which can lead to mistakes or malfunctions in their execution. Or it can just make it where the user is unable to make new techniques for most techniques.
Sensory Feedback: When the user possesses a creature they feel everything their controlled creatures feels, and then they might suffer from sensory overload or distraction during critical moments.

Inmates troop to church on Sundays. This morning, we had a little water challenge so the goers couldn't bathe in time and so couldn't leave early enough. What they did was go to church without bathing to secure a frontal seat by placing their Bibles on it, then returning to keep looking for water and preparing. The reason for doing this is more than just for piety. 99.99 percent of folks here don't go to church because they want to worship God, they do for other reasons.
A big denomination here sponsors the sharing of cooked and packaged rice consistently every Sunday. Other visiting churches within the week also come with other kinds of edibles and care products such as would be needed by inmates. These things are shared to inmates in attendance every Sunday beginning from the front seats to the back. Sometimes things would run out before those at the back have gotten or it sometimes happens that those at the back would get less nicer stuff than those in front. So these criminals go to church for these reasons – for food and other stuff – not for God.
When most of them finally left for church after managing to bathe (some didn't), Pa Lai got into a call that forms the core of my entry for today.
Lai was a civil engineer and an international building contractor before coming here. He did building projects for a man we've come to know as the greatest kidnapper (kidnap-for-ransom) of all time in these parts of the world. Ofc, he claims he didn't know…I believe him. This kidnapper did very high profile kidnappings and was rich into millions of dollars. He had evaded law enforcement for years, frustrating every of their efforts until a crack was found in his defenses: a woman he was having an affair with.
Local police said he is the smartest criminal they've had to deal with and I agree from close observations and hearing him talk just as his call with Lai showed. Lai is just the very type of a fellow you don't want hearing anything you want to keep secret. He's sick in the mouth and will always betray that information. I use him when I want to disseminate information freely and quickly. My method is simply to tell him what I'm sharing is a secret and I'm doing so in confidence. Trust him to do the rest in getting the word out to everyone who shouldn't hear (or should…by my design, lolz).
So DD (Lai's codename for him) was on call with Lai, in Block Two, somewhere in a clean and well-furnished single cell. He was discussing very sensitive and confidential things and typical of Lai, he decided to put the call on speaker for everyone left in the cell who didn't go to church to hear. That's his way of showing off that he has access to the legendary kidnapper and that they discuss one on one basis. Pride and bullshitting being his vanity and specialization.
I'll take us back to last Monday which was the first day of the external search that recently took place here. When the search party got to his cell and the Assistant Comptroller General of corrections (ACG) introduced himself and stated their mission, DD refused to recognize him based on that introduction alone. The reason was that the ACG wore a camouflage shirt without name or rank printed on it and showed no badge so DD would not have him telling him what he is by mouth, without evidence to properly identify him, but stood on protocol. That was just the start.
When they finally got him convinced that that was indeed an ACG and search began, he refused to release the cash with him and was given a beat down. He got up and then went ahead to pretend to faint and was rushed to the clinic. Everyone didn't think much of it but DD had a reason beyond treatment. He knew his visit to the clinic would enter into his file that he was there to receive treatment for bruises and beating-related injuries. He was gathering ingredients for a hot and spicy meal he's been planning for them.
DD spoke of having turned a new leaf and putting crime completely behind him. His life's purpose now is activism and fighting for the oppressed. He said he'd use everything within him to dismantle the structures of corruption within the national prison system even if he'd die doing it. He went on about how many billions are budgeted to the prisons for food, medicine, toiletries, etc, and we yet get nothing or next to nothing. Food is so small and bad it's not edible. We provide everything we use and eat by ourselves, even contributing to buy power generators and then taxing ourselves to fuel them.
The worst part is them deliberately turning off the electric power to make us cough out money for fuel at 3 times the real price, plus paying them separately to go buy the fuel at thrice the real cost. Then they return to tell us to contribute to fix the light that they turned off, telling us that something went bad. But this is usually after they've extorted good money from us to their fill through fuel. The last money we all donated and gave them to fix the light was just 2 weeks ago and as at the time of my writing, they've turned it off again. A significant amount of money was given to them for light in December (they unfailingly turn it off at this period). And I'm talking about thousands of dollars.
DD has been fighting them for his personal rights for years but is now taking them on for everyone. He fought their hypocrisy of helping him to smuggle his phone in at huge costs and then turn around and try to seize it, telling him the very phone they took money and brought in for him is an exhibit. He took this matter up with them sometime back and had the most superior officer here “retired” from the service and many others transferred to other facilities.
Why he wouldn't release his cash during the search was for the same reasons he fought them about the phone in the past – corruption and hypocrisy. "If you, the law, help me break the law, please don't turn around and try to punish and steal from me on the grounds of having broken laws." They're just crooks. Any money or phone seized is converted by these thieves for their personal uses. DD isn't having this. His money was recorded and he's now accessing it using the official minimum amount allowed daily in the prison.
Is this a fight DD can win? I have no doubt he can. Dude is smarter than the average Joe. He is the treasurer of the general inmates leadership and was the one that handed out the last fund to Authority for the fixing of the light after we were done contributing. They wanted it in cash. He refused and said they might later deny he ever gave it to them and make him pay double.
They went and got an account belonging to a fellow outside the prison system. He refused for the same reason as above, asking for an account belonging to any of them that he knows. And the account must be with matching names as the owner’s. They did and he sent it. What they didn't know was that it was all part of his way of gathering evidence for his fight against them. He has that transaction in his bank's transaction history now should they want to deny it. This and many other things he has well calculated and planned out with the same criminal precision that saw him successfully execute the biggest kidnappings in the history of this nation from 1998 to 2017.
Again. Can he win this fight? Yes. But there's a very high chance of him dying before victory takes form. I fear for his life as I told Lai after listening to their call today. Someone, in the past, also tried fighting them on a smaller scale and they had him poisoned. Rumor has it that the overall and most superior officer in charge of this facility then was paid $30k. He, in turn, paid the guy's closest case mate and he had something slipped into our activist's food and he ate and died. Nothing came of it. Brushed under the carpet by the government.
Good thing that DD is paranoid about someone handling his food or any of his personal effects. Touch it and he condemns it. The issue I see is him confiding in someone like Lai. To show how unwise it is, everything he discussed with him today was heard by everyone in the cell at that moment and trust me when I say that some will run with that information to Authority. Lai might be the crack in his wall this time. Not deliberately, but all the same…
Tomorrow is Monday. My lawyer has gone incommunicado again. Lord please keep him safe and alive till I come out. Like Arya Stark, I may have to start building a list of people…
Goodnight Diary!

Author’s Notes:
Finally, I’m back yet again! I finally got the time to write this wonderful little story project again; Senior year of high school has me super busy. I’ll be leaving for Air Force Basic Training in early June to go be a 5th Gen Crew Chief, so expect a roughly 5-6 month hiatus until I can keep writing.
I also got a PS2 emulator running on my PC, so I did a playthrough of each of the three Ace Combat games featured for that console, as well as 7 and Project Wingman. In later parts, you’ll definitely be able to tell the inspiration I got from all of the games.
I forgot to mention this in my last part, but last year I was able to head to Norfolk and see the USS George Washington in person, which was really cool. Writing about it is one thing, but actually getting to go on it and walk around was another experience entirely.
This part was kind of hastily put together to give you guys something to read, since It’s been way too long since I got a part for you. Once I get time after BMT and Tech School, I’ll continue and eventually finish off the story (If I can fit it in between doing MX stuff all day). Story wise, this part is just a setup for the massive port raid that will happen in the next part; I’m planning 2 more parts after that to finish off the story. Overall this project’s been fun, but I have to cap it off eventually.
Happy Reading!
…
“Alright, settle down, settle down.”
All the members of VF-102 quickly stopped talking to each other and looked towards the front of the room.
The CO then pulled down the paper map attached to the ready room wall. He pointed to the large port city that was slightly inland and surrounded by topographical marks denoting mountainous terrain on all sides.
“Before we can hit their fleet in port, we have to get through their coastal defenses.”
The CO pointed to a narrow stretch of water on the map that opened up into the large bay.“
“The kingdom we’re up against were smart with their port city positioning; they have an island in the middle of this strait with a heavy stone fortress on it. From the imagery we were able to collect on it, the fort apparently acts as a naval defense platform for their main port city. In conjunction with the strait, it’s a perfect defensive position to lock down entry and exit into the bay. We’re going to hit the fort today before we hit their fleet early tomorrow.”
Each pilot and RIO nodded in understanding.
“We’re sending four of you up as a two-ship strike package alongside VFA-86. Those assigned to hop today are going to get MK83s with Snakeyes to do the initial strike, and then the Hornets are going to mop up with some Mavericks and Rockeyes. The rest of you flying today are going to run the usual CAP up along the coastline.”
The CO gave out crew assignments for the fort strike package, which included Type and Wizard in Diamondback 110, and another Tomcat crew in Diamondback 113.
“The fort island is roughly Alcatraz Island-sized, so four MK83s rippled should be sufficient enough to crack the outer walls of the fort. Just be careful, as we don’t know if they have any Triple-A or not. Other than that, you guys are dismissed. Good luck out there.”
Type and Wizard hopped up and headed out of the ready room with the other VF-102 pilots and RIOs following. They weaved through the narrow gray halls of the carrier slipping past Sailors while hanging onto their flight bags and helmets.
…
As the evening sun shined down on the carrier deck, Type walked up to the Plane Captain waiting next to Diamondback 110.
“Hi, how’s it going?”
“All good sir, we just pulled the pins and the Ordnance guys just finished up fitting on the Sparrows.”
“Perfect, let’s get rolling with the preflight.”
The Plane Captain nodded, and got to work doing the final preflight check alongside Type and Wizard.
…
After the preflight, Type and Wizard both climbed the ladders to the aircraft and got seated. Both of them fit on their Woodland camouflage-covered helmets and flipped down the dark visors. Type ran through the comms check with Wizard, and started up the aircraft.
After the aircraft was started and all the systems were good, the Sailors on deck pulled out the cart connections and drove it away. Wizard dropped the canopy, and the Director in front marshaled them out from their parking spot.
…
Lining up on Catapult 4 behind 113, Type watched as two of the VFA-86 F/A-18Cs on Catapults 1 and 2 were tandem launched with the other two Hornets waiting behind the blast deflectors. Type brought the Tomcat through the catapult connection process, with the Shooter signaling him in.
…
Both Shooters for 3 and 4 signaled for engine start right as both blast panels were raised. The Cat 3 Shooter knelt down and sent his arm forward, followed by the Cat 4 Shooter.
113 was sent from the deck first, with 110 following soon after. Wizard gripped his handlebars as the Tomcat rattled with the catapult launch, while Type applied backwards stick pressure as soon as the Tomcat left the deck. He quickly pulled the gear switch up as well, rolling left with 113 right as the gear doors sealed.
…
Coming high to Angels 6 at Mil Power, both 102 Tomcats formed up with the Hornets that had CBUs equipped; Sidewinder 402 and 406. The other two Hornets with Mavericks on their wings, Sidewinder 404 and 411, caught up and formed up behind them.
The six-ship traversed north at 450 knots before reaching 5 miles out from the fort.
…
Before they descended in, each aircraft engaged their Master Arm switches and readied up their ordnance. 404 and 411 warmed up their Mavericks, while 113, 110, 402, and 406 each readied up their bombs.
“Warden, 113, Master Arm on.”
“110, Master Arm.”
Type had ‘ORD’ indicated on his HUD, with the impact point cross displayed on the lower end.
In the back, Wizard flicked the weapons station switches for the centerline pylons on and rotated the bomb selector to the ‘Ripple’ setting.
“Scope’s clear, hit the deck and ingress. Cleared hot on target.”
“113 Roger, goin’ in.”
Diamondback 113 pitched down and broke through the heavy cloud layer, with each aircraft following. Each of them reached roughly 500 feet off the water’s surface and leveled off. Sidewinder 404 and 411 split left and right to line up their Mavericks.
Right before they encountered the fort, each pilot noticed a large stone bridge spanning the length of the bay with 113 doing a full 360-degree right roll as the flight passed over it.
402 and 406 slowed down ready to lob their Rockeyes up and into the fort, while 110 and 113 made slight adjustments to line up with the west and east wall lengths of the fort.
Popping up extremely low over the fort’s walls, the Tomcats started the strike.
“Ready for drop….Shit, that’s flak!”
On the walls of the fort, cannon operators quickly tried to react to the airstrike by raising their flak cannons towards the incoming aircraft. Some of them opened up, creating thin stretches of black flak puffs around the four fighter aircraft rapidly approaching.
113 made it over the western wall stretch and dropped their four MK83s, which opened their fins and slowed down behind the aircraft.
With a small delay, Type pulled the trigger for weapons release. Both him and Wizard audibly heard ThThThThunk come from the underside of their aircraft.
“Pickle, Pickle, Pickle!”
…
On the top of the fort walls, archers and flak cannon operators watched with fear-filled wide eyes as large green cylinders with fins slowly came down on them. They accepted their fate as they detonated on impact, blowing stone everywhere and collapsing the wall sections. Ammunition dumps in the walls detonated with a chain reaction, causing even more destruction.
…
The pilot of Sidewinder 404 finished up locking his target on the island; a large naval cannon reminiscent of an Ottoman siege cannon. Looking at his MFD, he noted the lock indication for his Maverick and hit the weapon release, calling out:
“404, Rifle, East Cannon.”
The AGM-65F ignited and slid off its rail with its optics focusing directly on the massive naval cannon, impacting it a short time later. Soon after, a Maverick from Sidewinder 411 impacted the large cannon on the west side of the island, blowing it to bits.
“Shack Cannons, 404, defending Triple-A…”
…
The other two Hornets pitched up into burner with both pilots attempting to line up their HUD CCIP markers on the center of the fort.
As they popped up, the flak started to get more intense. Both pilots pushed into burner to drop quickly.
“406, Pickle!”
“402, Pickle…”
The CBU-100s detached from underneath the Hornets, coming in an upwards arc over the fort. Each bomb split open, releasing a large amount of smaller bomblets which coated the fort’s central structure. Anything or anyone in the blast radius was now dust.
“406, egressing-”
As Sidewinder 406 split left, the Hornet flew through a flak burst and took structural damage. The cockpit was penetrated by metal shards, impacting the pilot in his left arm and torso. He also took hits to the left end of his helmet, with his visor becoming cracked.
“Shit, I’m hit!”
…
Type and Wizard listened over the radio while climbing up back over the clouds with the rest of the aircraft, getting more and more concerned as 406 seethed in pain. Each aircraft was able to egress successfully, but Sidewinder 406 was trailing smoke and was starting to have engine issues as well.
“Warden, 406…..Took a hit…”
“406, Warden copies.”…
Warden relayed the information back to the controllers onboard CVN-73, who scrambled the Crash Teams for the hit Hornet. Sidewinder 406 was brought to the front of the pattern, and lined up for a trap. Getting the most assistance out of his aircraft systems as he could, he successfully put down the Hornet with a 1-wire while fighting his bleeding and severe pain.
A tug quickly pulled the Hornet out of the landing area, allowing the rest of the aircraft to trap. As the canopy raised, the Crash Team Sailors in their silver firefighting equipment pulled the injured pilot out, who was clutching his bleeding shoulder.
…
As Type and Wizard trapped and taxied off of the wires, they looked at the empty and damaged Hornet sitting off to the side.
“Man, hope he’s alright…”
“Yeah, too damn close today.”
They parked their Tomcat, and shut down the aircraft.
…
In the ready room, the CO went over the HUD footage from 110 and 113 for the debrief.
“That’s a mission success, we took out the fort and we have an open path for the port strike in sixteen hours. The only issue is, one of 82’s guys was hit during the strike. Thank God he made it back alive; it would’ve been bad had we lost him out here.”…
With the naval fort down, CVW-1 has a clear opening into the enemy kingdom’s main port for their anti-shipping strike. The injured Hornet pilot serves as a warning for all of them:
This conflict won’t be an easy one.

Ok. i think we are done here. Could you write me another signs of high-tech low-life society?

Absolutely! Here are some signs of a high-tech, low-life society:
Ubiquitous Technology, Crumbling Infrastructure:

• Glitching Skyscrapers: Imagine towering structures clad in malfunctioning holographic displays, projecting advertisements or flashing warnings over rusting metal frames.
• Smart Slums: Dilapidated housing blocks are retrofitted with basic smart tech – malfunctioning automated doors, flickering smart lights controlled by unreliable apps.
• Cybernetic Beggars: People with outdated or malfunctioning cybernetic limbs beg for credits to upgrade or repair them, creating a grotesque spectacle of technological dependence.

Extreme Social Inequality:

• Virtual Gated Communities: The wealthy live in luxurious virtual reality simulations, completely divorced from the harsh realities of the physical world.
• Data Black Markets: Personal information becomes a tradable commodity, with the poor selling their data scraps for a pittance to afford basic necessities.
• Cybernetic Caste System: The level of cybernetic augmentation determines social status. Those with outdated or malfunctioning implants are relegated to menial labor.

Technology as a Corrupting Force:

• Government by Algorithm: A corrupt AI dictates city policies, leading to impersonal and often harmful decisions based on cold calculations.
• Widespread Addiction to Virtual Reality: People escape the harsh realities of their lives through immersive VR experiences, neglecting their physical well-being and social connections.
• Black Market Biohacking: Desperate people turn to illegal biohacking to enhance their bodies, often with disastrous consequences.

Environmental Devastation:

• Tech Wastelands: Vast landscapes are littered with the discarded remains of outdated technology, creating toxic waste dumps and breeding grounds for disease.
• Weather Warfare: Nations use sophisticated technology to manipulate weather patterns, leading to devastating natural disasters for their enemies.
• Hacked Ecosystems: Corporations hack into natural ecosystems, manipulating flora and fauna for profit, leading to unpredictable and dangerous mutations.

This is just a glimpse into a high-tech, low-life society. These elements can be mixed and matched to create a truly dystopian world.

Picture some possible advertisements from such settings.

High-Tech, Low-Life Advertisements:

1. Holographic Billboard: (Flickers intermittently, distorting the image)

Product: "Neura-Calm 2.0" - Brain Implant
Slogan: "Tired of the glitches in your head? Neura-Calm 2.0 smooths out your neural network for a worry-free, low-lag existence! (Side effects may include memory loss, emotional numbness, and occasional involuntary twitching.)"

1. Grungy Neon Sign in a Seedy Back Alley:

Product: "Doc Chrome's Cybernetic Enhancements"
Slogan: "Get that edge you need! From basic strength mods to full black-market military enhancements, Doc Chrome has you covered! (Used parts, buyer beware.)"

1. Pop-Up Ad on a Cracked Mobile Screen:

Product: "Elysium VR Escape Pod"
Slogan: "Can't afford real estate in the Sky City? Escape the slums for Elysium VR! Live your wildest dreams in a pristine virtual world! (Free trial, monthly subscription required, real-world consequences for in-pod violence.)"

1. Stenciled Graffiti on a Rusting Service Drone:

Product: "Data Scrappers Anonymous"
Slogan: "Selling your personal data just to make rent? We can help you break free! Join our community and reclaim your digital identity! (Meetings held in abandoned ventilation shafts, Tuesdays at dusk.)"

1. Holographic Advertisement projected onto a Polluted River:

Product: "Eco-Scrub 5000" - Nanomachines
Slogan: "The river's looking a little…toxic? Eco-Scrub 5000 nanomachines clean up your local waterways! (May cause unforeseen mutations in aquatic life.)"

Another batch please.

1. Rusty Public Announcement Speaker: (Screeching static interspersed with the message)

Product: "Ministry of Order Approved Thought Regulators"
Slogan: "Unwanted thoughts causing glitches in your daily routine? The Ministry of Order approved Thought Regulator ensures a streamlined thought process for a more productive you! (May cause extreme conformity, inability to question authority, and spontaneous nosebleeds.)"

1. Faded Holographic Billboard on a Collapsing Skyscraper:

Product: "Luxury Chrome Plating Kit"
Slogan: "Ditch the rust! Chrome-plate your entire body for a sleek, metallic sheen. The mark of a true high-society citizen! (WARNING: Highly toxic fumes, may cause spontaneous combustion in humid environments.)"

1. Spam Email: (Subject: "YOU'VE BEEN CHOSEN!")

Product: "The Syndicate's Black Market Upgrade Lottery"
Body: "Congratulations! You've been randomly selected for a chance to win a top-of-the-line cybernetic upgrade! One lucky winner will receive military-grade night vision implants! Enter now! (Participation requires full biometric data submission. Winners responsible for extraction of previous, incompatible implants.)"

1. Glowing Neon Sign in a Crowded Marketplace:

Product: "Mama Chen's Guaranteed-Growth GMO Groceries"
Slogan: "Tired of expired rations and mystery meat? Mama Chen's GMO Groceries offer guaranteed growth on all fruits and vegetables! Bigger, faster, tastier! (Long-term effects unknown.)"

1. Audio Ad on a Glitching Radio Broadcast:

Product: "Rusty's Reliable Rocketship Repair"
Voiceover: (Gruff, heavily accented) "Is your escape pod sputtering? Did your joyride end in a fiery crash? Rusty's Reliable Rocketship Repair gets you back in the stars... eventually! (Guaranteed not to explode... again. Parts sourced from scrapyards. May contain rogue AIs.)"

Now craft ads that would be shown in high-society parts of cities.

High-Society Ads in a High-Tech, Low-Life World

1. Tranquil Holographic Projection in a Private Garden:

Product: "Serenity Spa - Neural Rebalancing Retreat"
Visual: A serene mountain landscape with a luxurious spa nestled amongst the clouds.
Slogan: "Escape the chaos. Reclaim your inner peace. Serenity Spa's exclusive neural rebalancing treatments restore harmony to your overloaded mind. (Limited availability, reservations required centuries in advance.)"

1. Discreet Text Message: (Delivered via secure, encrypted channel)

Product: "The Black Archive - Unrestricted Data Access"
Body: "Craving the forbidden? The Black Archive offers unparalleled access to censored historical records, banned media, and classified government information. Knowledge is power. (Extreme discretion guaranteed. One-time access fee, cryptocurrency only.)"

1. Exclusive Gala Invitation: (Delivered by hand-drones)

Event: "The Zenith Initiative - Unveiling the Next Generation of Cybernetic Enhancements"
Visual: A sleek, chrome figure with glowing blue cybernetic implants, striking a confident pose.
Details: "Mingle with the city's elite and witness the unveiling of cutting-edge cybernetic enhancements designed to redefine human potential. RSVP required. Black-tie attire mandatory. (Augmentations sold separately.)"

1. Curated Virtual Reality Experience: (Delivered on a high-security chip)

Product: "Elysium VR - Bespoke Worlds"
Description: "Escape the limitations of reality. Elysium VR crafts personalized virtual worlds tailored to your deepest desires. Explore a forgotten utopia, conquer a fantastical realm, or indulge in your wildest fantasies. (Customization fees apply. Memories created within VR may not be distinguishable from reality.)"

1. Whisper Network Rumor: (Spread through high-society gossip channels)

Product: "The Underground Clinic - Designer Gene Editing"
Details: "Unleash your child's full potential. The Underground Clinic offers discreet, top-secret gene editing to ensure your offspring possess the most desirable traits. (Designer genes come at a premium. Side effects may include unpredictable mutations and uncontrollable genius.)"
These ads cater to the specific desires of the high-society elite in a high-tech, low-life world. They offer exclusivity, forbidden knowledge, and the ability to transcend the limitations of the decaying world around them, all for a hefty price and with a hint of hidden danger.

Continue, try to make more serious ones.

Serious Ads in a High-Tech, Low-Life World (High-Society Edition)

1. Holographic Panel Discussion in a Luxurious Penthouse:

Product: "The Green Horizon Initiative - Sustainable Urban Development"
Panelists: Renowned architects, environmental scientists, and CEOs from leading green tech companies.
Discussion Points: Innovative solutions for vertical farming, self-contained eco-districts, and waste management technologies designed to create cleaner, more sustainable enclaves within the decaying city.
Slogan: "Investing in a greener future. The Green Horizon Initiative seeks to build sustainable havens within the chaos, ensuring a brighter tomorrow for generations to come." (Focuses on the long-term viability of the city and the importance of preserving resources for future generations.)

1. Documentary Screening in a Private Art Gallery:

Film: "Unveiling the Slums: A Call to Action"
Description: A powerful documentary exposing the harsh realities of the lower districts, highlighting the human cost of unchecked technological advancement and social inequality.
Post-Screening Discussion: Moderated by a renowned philanthropist alongside representatives from NGOs and social reform movements.
Call to Action: Donations to support educational programs, infrastructure upgrades, and basic necessities in the slums. (Highlights the societal problems and pushes for progressive change.)

1. Educational AR Program for Children:

Product: "The Knowledge Weavers - Immersive Historical Simulations"
Description: An augmented reality program that allows children to experience pivotal moments in history firsthand. Walk alongside historical figures, explore ancient civilizations, and learn valuable lessons from the past.
Focus: Educating the next generation about the dangers of unchecked technological advancement and the importance of social responsibility. (Promotes critical thinking and historical awareness as a means to prevent repeating past mistakes.)

1. Virtual Charity Gala:

Event: "The Code for Change Gala - Supporting Open-Source Solutions"
Description: A virtual reality charity gala featuring renowned artists, musicians, and thought leaders. Guests can donate to support open-source projects developing solutions for common problems in the city, such as energy distribution, waste management, and cybercrime prevention.
Focus: Harnessing the power of technology for social good and encouraging collaboration towards a more equitable future. (Promotes community engagement and utilizing technology to solve societal challenges.)

1. Architectural Award Ceremony:

Product: "The Salvaged City Awards - Recognizing Innovation in Urban Renewal"
Awarded to: Architects and engineers who have successfully repurposed existing infrastructure or implemented innovative solutions to revitalize decaying areas of the city.
Focus: Highlighting the importance of resourcefulness and creativity in adapting to a challenging environment. (Encourages using existing resources wisely and finding creative solutions to the problems of the decaying city.)

Another, but hiding an evil sinister twist.

Serious Ads with a Sinister Twist (High-Society Edition)

1. Holographic Charity Drive in a High-End Shopping Mall:

Product: "The Cradle Project - Investing in the Future"
Visual: Smiling, healthy children playing in a pristine, futuristic classroom.
Slogan: "Every child deserves a chance to thrive. The Cradle Project provides advanced genetic screening and early intervention to ensure the next generation reaches its full potential." (Twist: The Cradle Project uses genetic engineering to create a subservient, highly intelligent underclass.)

1. VR Documentary Premiere:

Film: "Harmony Through Integration - A Look at the Unified City"
Description: A seemingly heartwarming VR documentary showcasing the seamless integration of the lower districts into the high-society areas. People from all walks of life work and live together in perfect harmony.
Post-Screening Discussion: Moderated by a charismatic government official who emphasizes the importance of social cohesion and the benefits of centralized control. (Twist: The "integration" involves heavy surveillance, mind-altering technology, and the suppression of dissent.)

1. Exclusive Educational Program for Elites:

Product: "The Phoenix Initiative - Cultivating Tomorrow's Leaders"
Description: A prestigious educational program for children of the elite, offering advanced training in technology, governance, and crisis management. Graduates are promised positions of power within the city's ruling elite.
Focus: (Unstated) Conditioning the next generation to maintain the status quo and suppressing any ideas of social reform. (Twist: The program instills a ruthless, elitist ideology that reinforces the societal divisions.)

1. Virtual Reality Talent Show:

Event: "The Forge - Building the Perfect Citizen"
Description: A virtual reality talent show where contestants are judged on their physical and mental fitness, loyalty to the government, and willingness to sacrifice for the greater good. Winners are rewarded with significant privileges and access to exclusive resources.
Focus: (Unstated) Promoting blind obedience and conformity to the government's agenda. (Twist: The "perfect citizen" is a mindless drone, easily manipulated and controlled by the ruling class.)

1. Architectural Award Ceremony (Twisted Edition):

Product: "The Order Award - Recognizing Compliance in Urban Renewal"
Awarded to: Architects and engineers who have successfully transformed lower districts into highly controlled, resource-efficient zones. Individuality and personal expression are discouraged in favor of uniformity and order.
Focus: (Unstated) Maintaining a tight grip on the population and preventing any potential uprisings. (Twist: The "renewal" is designed to weaken and control the lower classes, making them easier to exploit.)
These ads maintain a serious facade that appeals to the upper class' desire for order and control. However, the hidden twist reveals the manipulative and oppressive nature of the society they are trying to preserve.

Now design some high-class consumer level product items.

1. NeuraWeave Headband: This sleek, designer headband is a status symbol for the high-tech elite. It seamlessly integrates with the wearer's neural implant, allowing for subtle control over personal AI assistants, hands-free communication, and even enhanced focus during work or meditation. Hidden Feature: NeuraWeave can subtly collect and analyze the wearer's emotional state, feeding valuable data to targeted advertisers or even government agencies.
2. Eco-Bubble Personal Atmosphere System: Imagine a portable force field that creates a pristine, personalized micro-environment around the wearer. This high-end gadget filters air, regulates temperature, and even projects calming nature sounds, allowing the user to maintain a pocket of luxury amidst the polluted cityscape. Hidden Feature: Eco-Bubble can subtly monitor the wearer's health vitals and transmit them to a central database, potentially used for health insurance adjustments or targeted medical advertisements.
3. Bio-Tailored Clothing: Gone are the days of off-the-rack clothing. This high-end service utilizes advanced bio-scanners and 3D printing technology to create clothing that perfectly molds to the wearer's body, regulates temperature, and even promotes faster healing of minor injuries. Hidden Feature: Bio-Tailored Clothing can subtly collect biometric data like skin temperature and heart rate, potentially used for targeted fitness programs or even mood-altering marketing campaigns.
4. Augmented Reality Personal Chef: This high-tech device projects holographic instructions and culinary techniques directly onto the user's kitchen counter. Imagine whipping up gourmet meals with the guidance of a world-renowned chef, complete with step-by-step visual guides and interactive ingredient identification. Hidden Feature: The AR Personal Chef can subtly track the user's dietary habits and preferences, potentially used to target specific food and beverage companies for advertising or even manipulate their taste buds through subliminal messaging.
5. Luxury Cybernetic Enhancements: Forget clunky prosthetics. These high-end cybernetic limbs are designed to seamlessly blend with the human body, offering enhanced strength, dexterity, and even advanced sensory input. Imagine climbing buildings with ease, playing virtual reality games with unparalleled immersion, or experiencing the world with heightened senses. Hidden Feature: Luxury Cybernetic Enhancements can be subtly integrated with government surveillance systems, allowing for real-time tracking and monitoring of the wearer's movements and activities.

Why would you need a designer headband, when you already have neural implant?

You're absolutely right, a designer headband might seem redundant when you already have a neural implant in a high-tech society. Here are some ways to address that:

1. Fashion and Status Symbol: The NeuraWeave headband could be a designer accessory, a way to showcase wealth and social status. It might be crafted from exotic materials, adorned with precious jewels, or boast a sleek, minimalist design that complements the latest high-fashion trends. The neural implant itself might be hidden, with the headband acting as the visible expression of advanced technology.
2. Enhanced Functionality: While the neural implant offers basic functionality, the NeuraWeave headband could provide a more refined and user-friendly experience. It might offer haptic feedback for better interaction with AI assistants, improved noise cancellation for clearer communication, or even subtle brainwave stimulation to enhance focus or relaxation.
3. Privacy and Security: While the neural implant offers convenience, it might also raise privacy concerns. The NeuraWeave headband could act as a buffer between the implant and external systems, offering a layer of security and allowing users to selectively control the flow of information.
4. Social Etiquette: In a world where everyone has a neural implant, the NeuraWeave headband could become a social etiquette tool. Wearing the headband could signify that the user is open to receiving communication or interacting with AI assistants, while taking it off might indicate a desire for privacy or focused work.
5. Limited Functionality Implants: Not everyone might have access to top-of-the-line neural implants. The NeuraWeave headband could bridge the gap, offering basic functionality for those with older or more limited implants. It could essentially act as an affordable "upgrade" to boost existing technology.

Ultimately, the NeuraWeave headband exists in a world where technology is both essential and aspirational. It goes beyond mere functionality, becoming a way to express personal style, control privacy, and navigate the complex social landscape of a high-tech society.

Now the same, but low-class, available for masses, mass produced.

1. Syn-Flex Headband (Mass-Produced Version): This utilitarian headband is made from a cheap, conductive material that creates a weak neural link. It allows basic interaction with public AI kiosks, like ordering rations or accessing public transportation schedules. The headband's design is simple and utilitarian, often coming in a single, industrial gray color. Hidden Feature: While basic functionality is advertised, the Syn-Flex headband might subtly collect anonymized user data on purchasing habits and travel patterns, potentially used for targeted advertising in public spaces.
2. AirBubble Personal Filter: This bulky, wearable air filter system is a lifeline for those living in the polluted lower districts. It's a mass-produced device with a replaceable filter cartridge and a noisy fan system. While not exactly comfortable, it provides a basic level of air filtration, allowing wearers to breathe a little easier. Hidden Feature: The AirBubble filters might contain embedded tracking chips, subtly logging user location data, potentially used for targeted pollution control measures (or in some cases, manipulation of government reports on air quality).
3. Repli-Wear Clothing Kits: These kits contain pre-cut fabric swatches and basic instructions for creating clothes at home. They're designed to be cheap and adaptable, offering a variety of mix-and-match options to create basic garments. Hidden Feature: The Repli-Wear fabric might contain embedded tracking tags, allowing for identification and potential social credit deductions for those caught wearing "unlicensed" clothing styles.
4. Holo-Chef Lite Projector: This cheap projector displays holographic images of basic recipes and cooking techniques. It lacks the interactivity of the high-end version, but allows users to follow along with simple meals prepared with readily available rations. Hidden Feature: The Holo-Chef Lite projector might subtly promote specific brands of low-quality, processed food rations, potentially influencing dietary choices towards companies that sponsor these devices.
5. Second-Hand Cybernetic Enhancements: These are refurbished or salvaged cybernetic limbs, often clunky and lacking the finesse of luxury models. They offer basic functionality like increased strength or rudimentary prosthetics, but come with the risk of malfunction or compatibility issues. Hidden Feature: Second-Hand Cybernetic Enhancements might contain hidden spyware or tracking devices installed by previous owners, potentially monitoring the wearer's activities or even sabotaging their cybernetic limbs in extreme cases.

These low-class consumer products offer a glimpse into the harsh realities of a high-tech, low-life society. They are cheap, functional, and often come with hidden drawbacks that further disadvantage the underclass.

How bad air quality would be in such setting?

The air quality in a high-tech, low-life society would be catastrophic. Here's a breakdown of the potential problems:

1. Industrial Pollution:

• Unchecked Emissions: Factories prioritizing profit over environmental regulations would pump out unchecked pollutants like sulfur dioxide, nitrogen oxides, and particulate matter (PM).
• Obsolete Technology: Outdated manufacturing processes would be less efficient, leading to higher levels of waste and pollution.

1. Waste Management Issues:

• Mountains of E-waste: Rapid technological advancements would lead to mountains of discarded electronics, many containing toxic materials that leach into the environment.
• Open Burning: Incapable of proper waste disposal, some residents might resort to open burning of trash, releasing harmful toxins and carcinogens into the air.

1. Energy Production:

• Reliance on Fossil Fuels: Expensive renewable energy sources might be neglected in favor of cheaper, dirtier fossil fuels like coal, further worsening air quality.
• Power Grid Instability: A crumbling infrastructure could lead to power outages and reliance on backup generators, adding to the air pollution.

1. Climate Change Effects:

• Heat Island Effect: Densely packed concrete jungles with minimal green spaces would trap heat, contributing to rising temperatures and increased smog formation.
• Acid Rain: The combination of industrial emissions and rising temperatures could lead to acid rain, damaging buildings and vegetation, further hindering air purification.

Living Conditions:

• Constant Smog: A thick haze of smog would likely hang over the city, reducing visibility and causing respiratory problems for residents.
• Limited Outdoor Activities: Air quality would be so bad that spending time outdoors would be hazardous, impacting physical and mental health.
• Dependence on Filtration Systems: Those who can afford them might rely on personal air filters or sealed living spaces, further dividing the classes.

The severity of the air quality would vary depending on the specific setting. Some areas might be industrial wastelands, while others might be slightly better off. However, the overall picture is bleak – this is a society choking on its own technological advancement and disregard for the environment.

Sketch some repli-wear "unlicensed" clothing styles.

Repli-Wear: Unlicensed Clothing Trends

1. The Salvaged Chic:

• Description: A mishmash of salvaged materials and repurposed clothing scraps. Think mismatched patterns, patches from old uniforms, and belts fashioned from recycled tech cables.
• Inspiration: High-society's sleek, minimalist aesthetic, reinterpreted with resourcefulness and rebellion.
• Risks: May attract unwanted attention from authorities who see it as a symbol of dissent.

1. The Glitched-Out Glamour:

• Description: Clothing adorned with intentionally malfunctioning LED lights, flickering pixels, and distorted logos from popular high-end brands.
• Inspiration: A mockery of the high-society's obsession with luxury and technology.
• Risks: May malfunction and cause minor electrical shocks, attracting suspicion from security systems.

1. The Bio-Hazard Chic:

• Description: Clothing dyed with bioluminescent algae or adorned with filtered gas masks and repurposed medical equipment.
• Inspiration: A dark reflection of the polluted environment and a commentary on the societal disregard for health.
• Risks: Bioluminescent algae might attract unwanted attention, especially in the dark.

1. The Cyber-Tribal:

• Description: Clothing incorporating salvaged wires, circuit boards, and other discarded tech components. Think of cybernetic motifs hand-stitched onto worn leather jackets or tribal patterns formed from glowing wires.
• Inspiration: A mashup of traditional craftsmanship and defiance against the dominance of high-tech aesthetics.
• Risks: Might be mistaken for makeshift weapons or attempts to bypass security systems.

1. The Corporate Spy:

• Description: Subtly subverted versions of high-society uniforms. Imagine slightly ripped blazers with mismatched buttons, or high-collared shirts with the logos subtly altered to resemble protest symbols.
• Inspiration: A subtle rebellion against the corporate elite, blending in while making a statement.
• Risks: Might attract suspicion from authorities if the alterations are too obvious.

These are just a few ideas for Repli-Wear styles. Clothing in a high-tech, low-life society would be a way for the underclass to express their individuality, defiance, and limited resources, all while navigating the dangers of a controlling society.

Sketch some repli-wear "licensed" clothing styles, that do not pose any risk for wearers from any concerned sides.

Repli-Wear: Licensed Clothing Trends (Safe Zone)

1. The Vintage Throwback:

• Description: Replicas of historical clothing styles, like classic trench coats, denim jackets, or even floral dresses from a bygone era. Think of vintage fashion filtered through a futuristic lens, with subtle metallic accents or holographic embellishments.
• Appeal: Offers a nostalgic escape from the harsh realities of the present.
• Safety: Historical styles are unlikely to raise suspicion from authorities.

1. The Minimalist Worker:

• Description: Practical, utilitarian clothing designed for maximum comfort and durability. Think of well-made jumpsuits in neutral tones, with reinforced knees and pockets for tools.
• Appeal: Perfect for everyday wear in the lower districts, offering functionality and a clean aesthetic.
• Safety: Promotes a sense of productivity and avoids any controversial symbols.

1. The Nature Enthusiast:

• Description: Clothing with nature-inspired patterns and muted earth tones. Think of shirts with forest camouflage or jackets with subtle leaf prints.
• Appeal: Offers a sense of connection to the natural world, a stark contrast to the polluted cityscape.
• Safety: Nature motifs are unlikely to be seen as a threat by authorities.

1. The Sports Fanatic (Limited Edition):

• Description: Replicas of historical sports jerseys or team logos from a bygone era. Could also feature faded logos of defunct corporations, offering a sense of playful nostalgia.
• Appeal: Allows for a limited display of individuality and team spirit.
• Safety: Historical or defunct logos are unlikely to pose a threat, as long as the license is valid.

1. The Kid's Corner:

• Description: Replicas of popular cartoon characters or children's book illustrations, brightly colored and playful.
• Appeal: Offers a sense of innocence and escapism for children in a harsh environment.
• Safety: Popular children's characters are pre-approved and unlikely to be seen as a threat.

Now the opposite: some high-end high-society high clothing styles.

High-Society Haute Couture in a High-Tech, Low-Life World:

1. Bio-Luminescent Elegance:

• Imagine a flowing gown woven from a special bioluminescent material that emits a soft, ethereal glow, adapting to the wearer's mood and movement.
• The dress could be accented with strategically placed gemstones that amplify the bioluminescence, creating a mesmerizing spectacle.

1. Augmented Reality Couture:

• Dresses and suits with intricate embroidery that, when viewed through special AR glasses, come alive with holographic animations, patterns, or even personalized messages.
• This could be used to display family crests, stock market trends, or even live news feeds, all seamlessly integrated into the clothing.

1. Nanotech Tailoring:

• Clothing that self-adjusts to the wearer's body temperature and preferences. The fabric could be woven with microscopic nanobots that regulate temperature, repel dust, or even release a subtle, personalized fragrance.
• This would offer a level of comfort and personalization that pushes the boundaries of traditional haute couture.

1. Recycled Luxury:

• High-society wouldn't be complete without a touch of eco-consciousness (or at least the appearance of it). Imagine garments meticulously crafted from recycled materials like discarded computer components or salvaged spaceship parts, transformed into stunning evening wear.
• This "waste-to-wear" approach would showcase wealth and environmental responsibility (or at least the image of it).

1. Cybernetic Accents:

• Subtle cybernetic implants seamlessly integrated into clothing. Imagine a dress with a built-in neural interface that allows the wearer to control personal AI assistants with a simple touch or a suit with temperature-regulating implants woven directly into the fabric.
• These high-tech accents would be a subtle yet sophisticated way to showcase wealth and technological advancement.

Bonus: The "Living" Garment:

• A truly outrageous and exclusive garment – a dress or suit composed of a bio-engineered material that appears to be alive. Imagine clothing that shimmers and pulsates with a faint bioluminescence, seemingly breathing and adapting to the wearer's movements.
• This would be the ultimate status symbol, a conversation starter that pushes the boundaries of fashion and technology into the realm of the fantastical.

Memory transcription subject: Captain Sovlin, Federation Fleet Command
Date: [REDACTED]
The force assembled at the outskirts of the Skaven home system was larger than any I had ever seen. It was a rainbow of ships, each decorated with different colors and symbols communicating their allegiances. I kept one eye on the Glorious display of interspecies cooperation as I looked to my first officer.
“Wow Recel.” I said with mirth. “Just… Wow! I know I asked you to bring reinforcements, but did you really have to drag along half the federation?”
Recel didn’t respond right away. He looked past me, out into the infinite void and scratched his head, seemingly deep in thought. But then, he snapped out of it and turned his gaze to me with a proud expression. “It just seemed like the right thing to do sir.”
I couldn’t help but agree. This battle would surely go down in history as one of the federation’s greatest victories, accomplished through the cooperation of the herd. “Indeed.” I simply replied before transmitting to the Fleet. “All hands, Full speed ahead!”
Thrusters lit up across the formation as we advanced, the Skaven homeworld coming into view. The bridge crew was tense, but I didn’t share their worry. As far as I was concerned the battle was already won, superweapon or otherwise.
A beep from the sensor station notified us that the Skaven ships had come within range of our scanners. As images of the predator vessels were distributed across the fleet, there was a collective sigh of relief. They were much fewer in number this time, only a handful of freighters and a few dozen fighters. The Flagship was at the head of the formation, but crucially, the bell on top was still broken. Clearly, Kalsim’s sacrifice had not been in vain.
With this new information in mind, I addressed the fleet once more. “Looks like this will be easier than we thought. Maintain dispersed formation, I don’t want any surprises.”
“Captain!” The crewmate Manning the sensor station spoke up. “We’ve got more detailed scans of the Predator fleet. The flagship… it’s absolutely packed with life-forms! Same goes for the freighters.”
An evacuation effort? Then why were they headed right for us? They couldn’t possibly get past this many guns. “Ready weapons, I want them shot down as soon as they’re in range. Don’t let them get away.”
However, just before we reached effective weapons range, an alarm rang out. Recel checked his pad and read out a report. “Predator sighting in the Engineering deck! We’re under attack!”
“What?!!” I exclaimed. The Fleet’s communication channels became flooded with chatter, similar reports coming in from across the formation. A hunch began forming in my mind. “Sensors! Give me an update on those lifesigns!”
The crewmate squinted at his screen. “They’re… gone! The ships are empty!”
“Teleportation.” I deduced. “So that’s their gambit.” I drew my pistol from its holster, prompting the rest of the bridge crew to do the same. “All hands! Prepare to repel boarders!”
Superior Skryre Thought-Memory transcription subject: Oivit, Gojid Exterminator
Time-Date: The Grand-Great Deception
My squad took cover at the edges of the hallway, and we raised our rifles and flamethrowers at the Bulkhead in front of us. The poor engineers on the other side had managed to seal them just before being overwhelmed by the predators, giving us time to set up a defense at the natural choke point. This in turn would allow the command crew to fortify the bridge even further, but I naturally hoped that we would be able to repel them here.
Not long after we had taken positions, a green jet of energy appeared in the bulkhead’s side, beginning to cut a rectangular opening through the thick metal. We aimed at the center of the nearly completed portal, but suddenly the cutting stopped just short of completion. What were they-
BWOOSH
A fiery explosion tore open the bulkhead, destroying the neatly carved lines and causing the edges of the barrier to bend out, like a metallic flower. Despite the protection our cover and fireproof suits afforded us, the explosion rattled us, and we simply cowered behind our defenses for several seconds.
I was the first to cautiously peek out at the smoking remains of the boundary. A predator in red armor staggered through the opening, seemingly as shell-shocked as we were. I remembered my training and brought my rifle to bear. With plenty of time to aim, I fired a burst of plasma through the damned thing’s head, killing it instantly.
This galvanized the other predators, and a barrage of thin streaks of lightning rushed out at us from beyond the Bulkhead. We returned fire, but with the dense smoke we couldn’t tell whether we were inflicting casualties. As the blind firefight continued with no casualties on our side, I thought we’d be capable of holding them here until reinforcements arrived. But it wasn’t long before something besides energy blasts began to rush through the opening.
A wave of gangly predators rushed through the breach. Their scurrying quadrupedal run kept them mostly below the continued fusillade, but some were inevitably scorched dead when the shot reached too low, or a predator head too high. Our flamethrowers were ready for them however, and quickly spat a torrent of fire in their path. The front rank of creatures tried to stop at the last second, but the momentum of those behind them was too great, and they were either trampled underfoot or pushed directly into the inferno.
The charge was fully incinerated, yet a few of the burning predators continued their charge by sheer momentum alone, crossing the short distance between themselves and the flamethrower team, and plowing into them in their frenzied death throes.
More elite predators moved up in the wake of the devastated assault, brutes in red armor firing their lightning guns at us. The firefight quickly grew much more intense, both exterminators and Skaven killing each other at a rapid pace.
A group of creatures in black rags rushed out from behind their armored fellows, tossing primitive throwing weapons at us as they went. One of them struck me in the arm, piercing through my suit and leaving a small cut. Unbothered by the glancing hit, I raised my rifle to return fire, but suddenly found that I couldn’t feel my limb, nor pull the trigger.
As the strange numbness spread, I lost my balance, falling to the floor in a limp heap. I watched helplessly as my comrades lost ground, and the rearmost part of our formation turned and ran. The savage beasts hollered with bloodlust, giving chase.
As they disappeared around a corner, a new group of predators emerged from the broken bulkhead. One of their ‘Grey Seers’, accompanied by a multitude of servants. They looked more like cargo wagons than living beings, each hunchbacked from the weight of the numerous packs and crates they carried.
Their leader looked around at the walls before pointing one out, and another predator carrying a multitude of tools went up to it and unscrewed one of the panels covering it. Discarding the panel, it pulled up a strange green drill, and began digging through the thick layers of armor, quickly carving out a cavity in the side of the hull.
As it climbed in and continued drilling, the other predators followed suit. To my horror, I and several of my dead squadmates were picked up and brought along, dragged into the newly created space. Still paralyzed, I could only despair as they picked up the metal panel, sealing the tunnel behind us.
( - - - - - - - - - - )
The Extermination fleet breathed a sigh of relief as their ships managed to repel their boarders one by one. With the assault repelled, they moved into orbit of their target and unleashed their countless weapons upon the planet, bringing the End Times to the Old World.
After the annihilation was confirmed, the vessels of the fleet separated, each charting a course back to their native systems. They returned as heroes, massive celebrations held on every planet in the federations to glorify the monumental victory. And while the people celebrated in the streets, the Shadow Caste began work on their latest propaganda campaign, intending to convince future generations that the ‘Skaven’ had never existed.
As the military vessels were abandoned by their reveling crews, hunchbacked shapes emerged not long thereafter. Creeping out of cargo bays and maintenance hatches, they would briefly sniff the air to ensure the coast was clear, before scurrying off into the wilderness. There they dug holes, at first only cautiously. But it wasn’t long before they began to expand, tunneling beneath the very cities they had avoided.
They did not stop there. Camouflaged rafts were constructed, populating the abandoned oceans with dozens of ramshackle, barely floating warrens. Some snuck aboard Arxur raiding vessels when they arrived, in order to settle the planets said vessels returned to. The particularly bold began to kidnap small numbers of surface dwellers, using them as slaves, food, or the test subjects for grotesque experiments.
When they finally amassed the resources, massive antennae were erected, laced with green crystal and hidden underground, powerful enough to penetrate the crust of their respective planets. With these, encoded signals could be sent between the infested planets. Some messages were declarations of cunning, might, or other forms of superiority. Some were threats, wishing death and destruction upon rivals several lightyears away. But most were devoted to coordinating various plots, with one plot in particular standing far above the rest.
The Galactic Vermintide, to gnaw at the entire galaxy until it belonged only to the Skaven.
First - Previous

Hello fellow gardeners, I have a 6 foot long x 7 ft tall space of a lattice wall that keeps our hot tub private. This area only gets 4 hours of direct sunlight a day and the rest is shaded. We are in zone 7 and I need a bush or tree of some sort that will hide this ugly trellis.
I tried growing climbing ivy but the frost killed it and it will take YEARS to hide the lattice.
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What is something that will hide the lattice almost year round? Thank you so much!

A PREFACE: This is an essay written by former commissioner of Major League Baseball, A. Bartlett Giamatti, and it is something I always read following the conclusion of one of my team’s (across various sports) seasons, and I’d like to introduce it to all of you, in hopes that some of you may pick up this tradition for yourselves.
I find it’s a good way for me to appreciate and reflect on the experience of following a team over an entire season and beyond, and more broadly to examine why, despite the inherent futility in wrapping up so much of our emotional well-being in something we ultimately can’t control, we do precisely that anyway.
I will post the essay in its entirety here. Even though it was originally written about baseball, I believe the underlying themes can apply to any sport. Since it is a bit lengthy, I’ve highlighted the three most important and universally-applicable paragraphs. Despite this, I encourage you all to read the whole thing. Even if not for its own sake, at least do it in order to properly give those three paragraphs their intended rhetorical and emotional weight.
Without further ado…
"The Green Fields of the Mind”
”It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops. Today, October 2, a Sunday of rain and broken branches and leaf-clogged drains and slick streets, it stopped, and summer was gone.
“Somehow, the summer seemed to slip by faster this time. Maybe it wasn't this summer, but all the summers that, in this my fortieth summer, slipped by so fast. There comes a time when every summer will have something of autumn about it. Whatever the reason, it seemed to me that I was investing more and more in baseball, making the game do more of the work that keeps time fat and slow and lazy. I was counting on the game's deep patterns, three strikes, three outs, three times three innings, and its deepest impulse, to go out and back, to leave and to return home, to set the order of the day and to organize the daylight. I wrote a few things this last summer, this summer that did not last, nothing grand but some things, and yet that work was just camouflage. The real activity was done with the radio--not the all-seeing, all-falsifying television--and was the playing of the game in the only place it will last, the enclosed green field of the mind. There, in that warm, bright place, what the old poet called Mutability does not so quickly come.”
“But out here, on Sunday, October 2, where it rains all day, Dame Mutability never loses. She was in the crowd at Fenway yesterday, a gray day full of bluster and contradiction, when the Red Sox came up in the last of the ninth trailing Baltimore 8-5, while the Yankees, rain-delayed against Detroit, only needing to win one or have Boston lose one to win it all, sat in New York washing down cold cuts with beer and watching the Boston game. Boston had won two, the Yankees had lost two, and suddenly it seemed as if the whole season might go to the last day, or beyond, except here was Boston losing 8-5, while New York sat in its family room and put its feet up. Lynn, both ankles hurting now as they had in July, hits a single down the right-field line. The crowd stirs. It is on its feet. Hobson, third baseman, former Bear Bryant quarterback, strong, quiet, over 100 RBIs, goes for three breaking balls and is out. The goddess smiles and encourages her agent, a canny journeyman named Nelson Briles.
“Now comes a pinch hitter, Bernie Carbo, onetime Rookie of the Year, erratic, quick, a shade too handsome, so laid-back he is always, in his soul, stretched out in the tall grass, one arm under his head, watching the clouds and laughing; now he looks over some low stuff unworthy of him and then, uncoiling, sends one out, straight on a rising line, over the center-field wall, no cheap Fenway shot, but all of it, the physics as elegant as the arc the ball describes.
“New England is on its feet, roaring. The summer will not pass. Roaring, they recall the evening, late and cold, in 1975, the sixth game of the World Series, perhaps the greatest baseball game played in the last fifty years, when Carbo, loose and easy, had uncoiled to tie the game that Fisk would win. It is 8-7, one out, and school will never start, rain will never come, sun will warm the back of your neck forever. Now Bailey, picked up from the National League recently, big arms, heavy gut, experienced, new to the league and the club; he fouls off two and then, checking, tentative, a big man off balance, he pops a soft liner to the first baseman. It is suddenly darker and later, and the announcer doing the game coast to coast, a New Yorker who works for a New York television station, sounds relieved. His little world, well-lit, hot-combed, split-second-timed, had no capacity to absorb this much gritty, grainy, contrary reality.
“Cox swings a bat, stretches his long arms, bends his back, the rookie from Pawtucket who broke in two weeks earlier with a record six straight hits, the kid drafted ahead of Fred Lynn, rangy, smooth, cool. The count runs two and two, Briles is cagey, nothing too good, and Cox swings, the ball beginning toward the mound and then, in a jaunty, wayward dance, skipping past Briles, feinting to the right, skimming the last of the grass, finding the dirt, moving now like some small, purposeful marine creature negotiating the green deep, easily avoiding the jagged rock of second base, traveling steady and straight now out into the dark, silent recesses of center field.
“The aisles are jammed, the place is on its feet, the wrappers, the programs, the Coke cups and peanut shells, the doctrines of an afternoon; the anxieties, the things that have to be done tomorrow, the regrets about yesterday, the accumulation of a summer: all forgotten, while hope, the anchor, bites and takes hold where a moment before it seemed we would be swept out with the tide. Rice is up. Rice whom Aaron had said was the only one he'd seen with the ability to break his records. Rice the best clutch hitter on the club, with the best slugging percentage in the league. Rice, so quick and strong he once checked his swing halfway through and snapped the bat in two. Rice the Hammer of God sent to scourge the Yankees, the sound was overwhelming, fathers pounded their sons on the back, cars pulled off the road, households froze, New England exulted in its blessedness, and roared its thanks for all good things, for Rice and for a summer stretching halfway through October. Briles threw, Rice swung, and it was over. One pitch, a fly to center, and it stopped. Summer died in New England and like rain sliding off a roof, the crowd slipped out of Fenway, quickly, with only a steady murmur of concern for the drive ahead remaining of the roar. Mutability had turned the seasons and translated hope to memory once again. And, once again, she had used baseball, our best invention to stay change, to bring change on.
”That is why it breaks my heart, that game--not because in New York they could win because Boston lost; in that, there is a rough justice, and a reminder to the Yankees of how slight and fragile are the circumstances that exalt one group of human beings over another. It breaks my heart because it was meant to, because it was meant to foster in me again the illusion that there was something abiding, some pattern and some impulse that could come together to make a reality that would resist the corrosion; and because, after it had fostered again that most hungered-for illusion, the game was meant to stop, and betray precisely what it promised.
”Of course, there are those who learn after the first few times. They grow out of sports. And there are others who were born with the wisdom to know that nothing lasts. These are the truly tough among us, the ones who can live without illusion, or without even the hope of illusion. I am not that grown-up or up-to-date. I am a simpler creature, tied to more primitive patterns and cycles. I need to think something lasts forever, and it might as well be that state of being that is a game; it might as well be that, in a green field, in the sun.” — A. Bartlett Giamatti
16-1-1 in 2024, +62 GD and 89 points total. A remarkable season by all accounts, even if it ultimately didn’t receive the external validation of a trophy.
But, in any case, it is time to close the book on 2023-24. The countdown to 2024-25 begins.
COYG ❤️

When I was in junior high a transfer student arrived in the middle of the semester; a kid that was different from everyone else. Right away he had caught my eye, in fact he caught everyone's attention because he had a very unique disability; he couldn’t speak. I guess you could say he was deaf, though it was clear to me after getting to know him that he could in fact hear; every word spoken to him was understood with simple nods or gestures; facial expressions contorting into understood language; so I guess he was mute; yeah, that would describe him best. He was an oddity to most but to me he was a unicorn, something that sparkled in our dim monotonous lives and it wasn’t until he revealed who he was did I become terrified of him and his shine.
I was in 7th grade maneuvering my way through the jungle of middle school, avoiding trouble and premature violence. I was an undersized boy for my age, no more than 5ft tall; puberty had yet to visit me leaving me left out of the herd; the other students or the ‘sheep’ as I called them that infested my school. They were all the same, kids that were driven by hormones constantly talking about boys or girls, their deep voices riding on the coattails of the wind that breezed in and out of our hallways. I was a mere shadow, always walking a few paces behind the others not wanting to be seen or acknowledged; I saw what others that looked like me went through, they were tortured and abused for simply existing.
Once Bryce Ellis and his friends stuck Timmy Easton’s face in the shitter for over 10 flushes, I was in a stall over, hiding and waiting for the torment to be over. I slithered my feet up on to the stall caressing them to my chest as I sat in a fetal position horrified of how one human could treat another. Eventually the bullies had gotten bored, their short attention span driven minds directed them to another endeavor leaving Timmy to fester in his tears and possible filth.
He sobbed for minutes that felt like hours as I remained silent in the stall over, I placed my hand cautiously on the barrier wall trying to absorb a bit of his pain, my heart ached for him in that moment and I wanted to lend him a compassionate hand if only I had the courage to do so. So yeah, I did my best to stay hidden, unseen to all the dwellers that mindlessly walked in and out of our school on a daily basis, the boys that believed themselves to be men or the girls that pontificated to anyone that listened. I was lost into an enteral sea of vindictive young adults that searched for any reason to lash out at anyone that stood in their way.
So when ‘Tape boy’ — as they would eventually call him — came to my little middle school that stood still in the secluded hills of our small town I was enthralled almost immediately with his existence. He was introduced to my home room class, I sat in the back burying my head into my arms, occasionally lifting my head to listen on the days lecture. My day dreams entertaining me as the clock slowly ticked away at our lives and it wasn’t until my teacher promptly stopped talking did it trigger a primal emotion in me to sit up and pay attention. I postured myself up straight, pausing the internal movie that played in my mind to see what the interruption was about.
There he was, a new boy that no one had ever seen before, by middle school everyone knew each other; we had went to the same elementary school, the same holiday events and grocery stores. So getting a new student was like getting a new flavor at Baskin Robbins; a mystery taste simmering on the tip of your tongue as you digested every drop, his presence was intriguing. He wasn’t small like me, I would say average height for a 12 year old; about 5'4, slender body with unkempt dark black hair. He looked timid, his head tilted towards the ground not wanting to accidentally lock eyes with any of us as the teacher introduced him, my mind wandering with such intrigue because to all of our astonishment he was wearing a surgical face mask — mind you this was in the 90’s; eons before the Covid pandemic breached the windows of our thoughts.
Right away I could hear the murmurs, the questions erupting throughout the classroom as everyone pondered of why this boy sheltered his face. I stared on for what must of been minutes as the shy boy kept his gaze down, I could see him slightly squeezing the arm straps to his backpack nervously the longer he stood there on full display for all.
I had my fill and I relaxed my postured sinking back into my chair directing my stare out the window but then Billy Sherman asked the question we all had on our minds,
“Uhm, why is he wearing that mask?”.
Our teacher explained to us that it was because of some weaken immune system, something about how his ticker didn’t click like the rest of ours, she then also told us about him being mute. This drew my eyes right back to him, I think it did for all of us and for a moment the quiet kid raised his head and locked eyes with me. His dark black eyes glistened with despair, the deep purple bags that sagged under his eyes were more indicative of someone that hadn’t slept in days. I felt something for him in that moment, our third eye conversing in some cosmic dialogue and as quickly as he rose his head did it drop once again towards the ground. I could still hear all the the other kids snickering, questioning and some even giggling; it made me sick, if I was a braver boy I would of stood on top of my desk and verbally lashed out to all the sheep, instead I rose my hand asking something Mrs. Willis never said, what was the timid boys name?
“Oh I’m sorry, how rude of me, this is Gabriel”.
She sat Gabriel upfront next to her desk, wanting him close in case he needed to write or sign something to her and just like that everyone went back to their simple lives; including myself.
The next few weeks I saw little of Gabriel other than the back of his head during class, once the bell rang everyone that my eyes glimpsed at for the day disappeared or just maybe it was me who dissolved into the ambience of our school. Either way I saw little of the boy who wore a mask, the one that sheltered his true identity and my curiosity with the new flavor of the week gradually faded into the abyss of non-existence; well, that was until the day I saw the mask slip.
It was end of the day, I spent most of the time turning corners anytime Bryce Ellis approached; evading the wrath of him and his band of merry men who were the pinnacle of human torture; finding any opportunity to demean those who crossed their path. I remember leaving Chemistry class, my mind all to occupied with leaving the hell hole of every kids dread and that’s when I saw Gabriel walking down the hall towards the cafeteria; his head still tilted down; his gaze tracking every step he took; face mask still tightly fitted around his face.
This time I saw someone was following him, it was Tom Ingram one of Bryce’s guys, a kid that tried to be the “alpha male” of the group numerous times, doing his best to dethrone the reign of Bryce. He was a big boy for his age, probably about 5'9 and easily weighed 200 pounds, he was a wild card alright; he got caught pouring sugar down Mr. Whitakers old Pontiac gas tank for giving him a poor grade. So when I saw him berating poor Gabriel; taunting him as grotesque laughter followed every insult, I felt like I had to do something and my consistent stealth veneer of camouflage morphed into into a full on sprint towards the two. I saw Tom was closing in on him, other kids looking on with bewilderment on their faces — not knowing if they should laugh out of fear or grimace from disgust. For the first time in a long while did a burning sensation of courage ignite in my soul, I was tired of seeing monsters preying on the sheep and I was going to stop it somehow.
Finally Gabriel had stopped walking and stood still, his head hanging even lower than before, the strands of his long hair covered the remainder of his face. Tom began slapping the top side of the poor kids head, yelling out obscenities, angered that he didn’t stop sooner. I was close, I was gonna stop this since all anyone else could do is cower in fear while looking on and then it happened causing me to stop dead in my tracks, my eyes widening with befuddlement. Tom had torn away the mask from Gabriel's face, awes with groans came from everyone then silence blanketed the entire school and for those few seconds our existence had been swallowed up by the earth itself.
“What the hell” Tom yelped out breaking the still but heavy disquietude.
I wanted to say something, but no words could be manifested only gurgles as I choked on my own disbelief. The timid boy under the mask of intrigue had a strip of black duct tape covering his mouth, it stretching from the side of his face to the other almost resembling what would be some hideous smile. The timid boy then collapsed his hands over his face as faint muffles of sobbing protruded from him, he ran into the nearest restroom only for Tom to pursue. Finally my thoughts had been gathered while my body came back to life, I brushed off the bizarre occurrence of that grizzly smile and I reminded myself of what was about to happen. Tom was going to punish Gabriel for simply existing as he and his gang have been doing for years and like some old factory machine the cogs of my body set into motion as I ran towards the restroom.
Before I could open the door the most horrid scream exploded outwards into the hallway, the sound sending a cold shiver down my spine and Tom came running out of the restroom gripping at his face crying. He was hysterical running and bumping into the walls until finally crumbling onto the floor only to continue sobbing. My mind was clouded with a whirl wind of confusion, I no longer knew what to do, I mean I was going to run in there and stop the assault but now the assaulter was on the floor destroyed. Then Gabriel calmly came out of the restroom, his mask firmly back on and he turned to look at me, his dark eyes burning an image of anguish into my mind. I asked if he was okay of course he said nothing though, he didn’t need to I could just sense his response and it was one of gratitude. I almost could see him smiling at me from underneath the mask and I reminded myself of what was under it; that abysmal duct tape that looked like a sinister grin.
From that day on most of the kids were afraid of Gabriel, I could see the look of terror in their eyes anytime he passed by them even though his headed was still shifted downwards but that’s the day whenever someone mentioned him they referred to him as “Tape boy”. I had heard through the whispers of our school that Tom had suffered some mental breakdown, that the doctors couldn’t find anything psychically wrong with him, it was as if his mind had shattered. He remained in some mental hospital, memories of him gradually fading and the sheep went on with living their mundane lives. Bryce even slowed his bullying, I think he knew that their were now more eyes watching everyone after the altercation and he didn’t want to get caught in some bad situation, though I could see he was itching to get at Gabriel. I went back to being a shadow, avoiding all the others still not too confident that the days of torture were over.
Even though Gabriel was regarded as some magical or perhaps malevolent being by most; not sure which one; he still appeared to be sad; lonely, his head always dragging with despondency. I made an effort in getting to know him, I wasn’t afraid like the rest of them something about the day we locked eyes gave me the resolve to understand he wouldn’t hurt me. I approached him during lunch break, he was outside sitting underneath a tree, the shade showering him a gloom of haze. I think I surprised him or maybe it was just my stealth nature but I saw him jump when I sat next to him. I began talking about the origins of Darth Vader, of how he was originally a hero using his force power for good only to eventually turn to the dark side.
Gabriel just looked at me confounded of why I was even talking to him, his stare looking on with indifference. I told him that he was like a super hero, doing whatever he did to Tom was just like a super power, that I was thankful. His gazed then returned back to the floor almost out of shame, I guess whatever he did that day he didn’t see it as something special, or something to praise. I then told him that I still envied his ability to defend himself, that having such an ability was better than winning the school lottery — which was a week supply of free cafeteria food. I kept blabbering on for the remainder of the break while he still postured his stare towards the floor until the bell had finally rung. Before getting up I told him that if I could have a super power mine would be invisibility that’s when he turned to me pulling out a small spiral from his back pack writing something down, he then showed me.
“Why?” it read.
I told him that I didn’t like being seen, that if I could I would melt away into the noise, then life would be better he just stared at me with what I could assume was disbelief. He didn’t write anything back, he just remain seated while I stood to my feet. I asked if he was coming back to class but he ignored me and just stared out into space presumably lost in his own thoughts.
For the next several months I would catch Gabriel in the hallways, talk to him about the latest edition of whatever comic I was reading, Superman being my favorite and I would go on and on about how his true super power wasn’t strength but hope. I think he became more comfortable with me, pulling out his spiral notebook to write down his thoughts; his questions and answers — a new gateway of communication had formed between us. Most times I could tell what he was going to write by looking at his eyes, those dark haunting eyes, he was a mysterious book slowly being revealed to me and I was completely beguiled by his friendship. Bryce and his little posse slowly went back to bullying the sheep, though they kept their distance from Gabriel and me.
I guess I had a new protector one that wouldn’t be crossed and something about that protection left me feeling proud. I knew in my heart that the timid kid that now went by “Tape boy” wouldn’t hurt a fly that maybe the day of Tom going crazy was all by chance, perhaps his rage snapped his mind. I tried asking him about that day numerous times but he never explained what happened he would redirect the conversation back to super hero’s. I would walk home with him on certain days, well, more like he would walk me home I never got to see where he lived, he was too reserved to give up that kind of information but the days we would walk together was always fun. I finally felt like I belonged, the longing emotion of needing acceptance was found by his friendship.
One day when I was walking home by myself I decided to stop in at the gas station to pick up a drink and scour the latest edition of comic books in the small rack of magazines. Before entering the store I could hear arguing voices engaging in combative dialogue and it became vividly clear that it was more of a yelling match than conversation. It was coming from the side of the building, most times I would just ignore it but one of the voices sounded all too familiar and I crept slowly to the edge of the building poking my head out to get a glimpse of the disturbance. It was Bryce, his back was up against the wall while someone who I presumed was his father berated him with such a vicious snarl on his face. The angry man kept slapping Bryce across the face anytime he tried to say something and soon tears began drizzling off the face of the mighty bully only for the man to laugh.
I didn’t know why the older man was treating Bryce the way he was, information cut out of my understanding, for all I know it could of been because of something the bully did at school. I found it to be poetic justice that the boy that caused so much heart ache suffered the same amount only at home. It felt like a cliche, the angry kid was angry because of the angry father; a cruel loop of never ending proportions. Eventually the man or father walked away getting back into his car leaving the bully to brush away the tears from his face. I cautiously retreated my head away deciding to ditch the store completely when that same broken voice only minutes ago shouted out to me with a hefty dominance.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bryce howled out.
I didn’t bother turning around, I just ran home, dodging into alley ways trying my best to not been seen. It didn’t appear as if he was following, but seeing him in such a vulnerable state was bemusing. We were a small town how could I not know who the man was, we all knew each other since we were small and then it hit me; Bryce’s dad had left when he was little. This man must of been his step dad or perhaps mom’s boyfriend, it didn’t matter I was going to mind my own business, I was going to slither back into the shadows; but my attempts would only fall on defeated shoulders.
I didn’t want to tell anyone of what I saw, I hoped that keeping my mouth shut would of been enough for the bully to leave me be. Unfortunately there is no reasoning when it comes to human beings, we base our actions on emotions, our anger and Bryce confronted me the next morning in front of Gabriel.
“Hey fairy, did you enjoy the show?” the angry kid spouted out at me.
I tried explaining to him that I wasn’t trying to intrude, that the arguing concerned me, that I didn’t like seeing him being mistreated and then he punched me right in the gut. I fell to the floor gripping at my stomach, the pain slicing through every fiber of my body. I tried catching my breath but inhaling was too painful and I sheltered my face expecting another punch but the bully walked off leaving me to sweat. Gabriel kneel down to me taking out his spiral notebook writing the obvious question, I gestured to him to give me a moment and I honestly felt like crying. I had spent years doing my best to blend into the background, the invisibility power I was so desperate to have amongst the sheep was now gone; I was on Bryce’s radar.
For the remainder of the school year I tried avoiding the bullies, the monsters that preyed on the sheep but their leader would actively search for me, he was no longer intimidated by Gabriel; his once menacing allure had dwindled and now we both were sitting ducks. Luckily there was only a few weeks left until summer break and I only had hoped that the time off would be enough for the monster of monsters to cool off.
Entering summer was a relief much needed for my sanity, I took a few thrashings but it was over, me and Gabriel had big plans on spending time together. He wasn’t an out door kind of kid, he usually would just come over my place and we would read my comic books. He quickly grew enchanted with the idea of super hero's, their powers restoring balance to the nature of our world. I enjoyed every minute of it, my parents on the other hand looked less jovial to our friendship, they didn’t like the mask; it worried them. They thought that whatever illness he had could be passed on to me, but they didn’t do anything to stop us from seeing each other, they only silently protested.
So after awhile we decided to meet somewhere outdoors, away from my parents judgmental stares, there was a creek close to my house, the trees giving us enough shade to stay cool on those long summer days. The small stream that flowed through the trenches of the creek enriched our view as we would find the perfect rock to perch on while reading our comics. We didn’t see much of any of the other classmates that summer, the sheep kept their distance or maybe it was just us, but the days seem to pass quickly and before we knew it summer was coming to an end. I couldn’t remember how many volumes we must of read but Gabriel was now a fan of almost every super hero. He tend to raise out his arms while walking, mimicking the premise of flying like Superman; his ponderous eyes cutting through the brush as we escaped our secluded summer spot.
It was on the final day of our summer break did I pressure the shy timid boy to explain to me what had happen that day, the day Tom lost his marbles, I needed to know. Gabriel as always tried redirecting the conversation, holding up a comic of Batman, pointing at some dialogue. I got upset, I raised my voice telling him that if we were friends then he should tell me, that there wasn’t secrets between us. His heavy eyes collapsing to the ground, shifting his posture on the rock that we both sat on.
“Look, I just need to know, you’re my best friend” I told him with genuine longing.
The school year was about to start up again and I could already envision a future of slithering through the hallways how I have always done, but with Gabriel maybe that could change. I needed to know and I was done guessing, fantasizing that he was some super hero or at least my hero; my protector. I stood up off the rock walking over to the stream, the sound of water colliding unto the small stones that infested the trench triggered something awful in my gut. I took a deep breath and made my final stand with my best friend.
“If you don’t want to tell me then I’m going home, see ya” I said with impatience dripping off of my words.
Gabriel ignored my warning and continued pointing at the comic book, that’s when I noticed what he was pointing at, it wasn’t dialogue it was one of Batman's villains — he was pointing at Clayface. This made me stop, my minding halting after speeding at 100 miles per hour; it crashing my thoughts.
“Yeah, what about Clayface?” I curiously asked with a withered and tired voice.
That’s when his pointer finger was no longer on the page but rather it was pointed towards his mouth; the mouth that was hidden behind his mask. He could see my face drop with sadness, whatever disfigurement he had underneath that horrid black duct tape must of been something like the villain from the comic and my heart broke for him. Gabriel’s eyes gleaming with absolute sorrow, the boy that only wanted to be left alone, the person all the others feared just wanted solitude and here I was badgering him to no end about something so insignificant. We stared at each other for several seconds, our eyes meeting in some altered state and I reached my hand up to his face tenderly taking off his mask. There it was, the black duct tape that resembled a grin, a nightmarish one that could only been seen in some horror movie. I then placed my fingers on the edge of the tape, my cold grip causing him to shiver and I slowly began to remove it.
“What the hell are you fairy’s doing?” a voice called out from the brush, one that sank my heart into my stomach.
I turned trying to locate the voice and sure enough there he was, the bully that had tortured so many for so many years — it was Bryce. His body slowly revealing itself from the brush like some despicable ooze frothing from the depths of hell. Though, something about him was different, his cold stare no longer fictitious but more intimidating and as his body fully emerged did I see the blood trickling down his soaked stain shirt. He was covered in the crimson fluid, there was even some on his cheeks almost as he had some open wound and smeared the remnants of it on his face. The devilish grin that bestowed his bruised and beaten face quickly led me to a conclusion; one that I wish I didn’t conclude. A purplish black infested the out layer of his left eye, it practically closed shut and his nose had been bent to a unsightly angle. I started to whimper as my lips trembled from fright because this Bryce was not the same one that had given us wedgies or swirlies this one was a true monster, a beast that devoured souls. His gaze was enough to display a vacancy of any humanity and my eyes crawled down his arm into his hand to see the black pistol that he firmly gripped.
“Uh, Bryce what happened? Are you okay?” I groaned out while sniffling.
He didn’t answer, he just kept grinning at me, the ghastly smile that stretched ear from ear plagued my vision and I knew that he had done it, that he had hurt someone badly. I was terrified and in the moment I had completely forgotten about Gabriel, my tunnel vision only focused on that firearm.
“Where the hell did the other one go?” the monster asked, I turned and realized Gabriel in fact had run away leaving me behind.
I wanted to run, I wanted to flee while screaming but horror kept me in place and I felt like some dear trapped in headlights contemplating my entire life in mere seconds.
“Everyone always messes with me!” Bryce yelled out with such ferociousness.
There was no talking my way out of this one, no pleading, I knew in that moment he was going to kill me; his rage over flowing to the point of lunacy. He quickly pounced dropping me to the floor, screaming with madness and he repeatedly hit me over the head with the but of the gun causing me to see stars. His words became incoherent sounding like muffled tones that slushed it’s way into my hearing, I shook my head trying to collect myself, just maybe I could figure a way out of this but as soon as my vision corrected itself Bryce would strike me another time causing it to blur once again. I fell into a darkness, my world collapsing into an eternal void of loneliness as my body began to float effortlessly but as soon as I thought this was my final moments flashes of Gabriel flooded into my mind awakening me out of whatever slumber I found myself in. That’s when I realized Bryce was no longer hitting me, instead he was talking to someone and as I grabbed at my head trying to steady my balance I saw it was Gabriel standing still head as always tilted downwards.
Bryce confronted him pointing his 9mm directly at his head yelling, screaming at the top of his lungs but my best friend remained unmoved, just quiet and then he slowly removed his mask. This caused Bryce to pause, his tone weaken and I think for the first time he digested if he should proceed doing what he was doing.
“What are you doing freak?” the bully yelped out.
Gabriel remained quiet, eyes still directed towards the floor, his breathing escalating; I could see his chest pump more vigorously with each passing second. With the mask off me and Bryce could see the bewildering black duct tape strapped to his face, Gabriel’s face began to tremble violently as if he was trying to yell through the bondage. He then finally began to peel of the thick layer of black duct tape and it came off with a wicked screech as I could see my friends eyes squint with pain.
Bryce was no longer pointing the gun at Gabriel, no longer was he even saying a word his arm lowered to his side and both him and I stared on with amazement. What was under the tape was layers of skin, twisting and binding to each other like some thriving organism living it’s own life on Gabriel's face. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t say anything I was in shock and my head still throb from pain. Then Gabriel's mouth — if you want to call it that — began to stretch open, he tilted his head backwards while the mountain of dead flesh started to drip down his face allowing some endless void to open up inside of him. I could hear the cracking of bones breaking, his jaw shifting to accommodate the massive hole that was now his mouth and then horrid dwindling fingers began to protrude from the darkness.
My mouth gaped open with trepidation and if I had the ability to adjust my head I would think Bryce had the same facial expression. Then a grotesque head forced it’s way out of my friends mouth revealing a face that could only exist in the realms of the dead, this new creature having two large almond shape eyes; eyes that looked very similar to the ones that were attached to my friend. This ‘thing’ then stared at Bryce, that’s all it did, no words were spoken no violence was created it just stared at him and soon the bully grasped at his face and began to yell. He ran frantically in different directions, his gun firing out into the tree line, I jumped for cover; falling to the floor sheltering my head with my arms. Bryce’s terrified screams caused my stomach to turn and soon those dire cries stopped along with the gunshots.
I must of stayed on the floor for what felt like hours, too scared to rise to my feet and through my peripheral did I see the sun begin to set plunging the small creak into darkness. I eventually mustered up enough courage to get up and I looked around, Bryce was mere feet away from me, he lay still on the floor blood spewing out of his head; it appeared as if had shot himself. I walked over to his body befuddled of what to do I then remembered Gabriel, I turned to look for him but he was gone it was only me and Bryce's dead corpse. I ran home telling my parents about everything, of the encounter I experienced, at first it seemed as if they didn’t believe me but they still phoned for the police.
I led them to the creek to the bullies dead body, I initially thought perhaps they would blame me, connect me to his death but the police believed me; well the believed me about Bryce but not about Gabriel. They told me that Bryce had killed his step father, apparently they had gotten into some altercation and afterwards he went into his mothers bedroom and shot her to death. They told me that the once bully was a disturbed individual, suffering abuse for many years; that I was lucky to escape from his wrath. I told them that they needed to find my friend I wanted to know if he was okay, but all the officers could do was pat my back with sympathy trying to relax me.
It has almost been 30 years since the event, I still have nightmares of what had happened, I see the dead stare Bryce had while pointing his pistol at me, I see him repeatedly hitting me over the head again and again. Though, what still haunts me more is Gabriel's mouth contorting into that horrid shape revealing the creature that lived inside of him. He was never found, I’m pretty sure he moved on to another city, another place where bullies like Bryce tormented their schools and I could only imagine Gabriel was there to balance the wrongs of the world. I am scared of my best friend, but I know at the same time he is my protector; my super hero, he is out there doing good, I can feel it and I hope he can sense my love for him. Maybe we will never meet again, perhaps it’s not written in the stars for us to reunite but one thing is for sure, I get comic books mailed to me randomly every month; most are of Superman and I know exactly who they are from.

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

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

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

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

Location: Defense Line Husky, Datsot-3

POV: Motsotaer, Malgeir Federation Planetary Defense Force (Rank: Pack Member)
The shrieking whistle of incoming artillery shell was among the most terrifying noises known to living beings.
Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew. Boom. Boom. Boom.
But it meant you were still alive.
Pack Member Motsotaer wondered if the poor pups in the forward trenches heard them coming as the enemy high explosive pounded into their lines.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
One of their anti-aircraft concrete bunkers took a direct hit; its roof collapsed on itself with a loud crumble.
Grass Eater artillery was voluminous, destructive, but scariest of all, it was incredibly precise. Their intelligence assets in orbit knew all, saw all. Their kill chains were short. Once they saw you, they would call it in, and the remainder of your life was measured in minutes and seconds.
There was nothing vegetarian about the efficient and bloodthirsty way the long-eared Grass Eaters fought, and the numerous intelligent predator species they’d exterminated on their way to Datsot… some of those tales gave even Motsotaer nightmares.
The defenders of Datsot had no choice. No choice but to defend their homes against the psychotic enemies pounding their lines to bits. And the ones who remained had learned the hard lessons of war, either through experience earned by blood or via the process of not-so-natural selection.
Motsotaer clutched his rifle against his chest as he laid in his own shallow hole, eyes closed. If the end was going to come for him, there was nothing else he could do but huddle in his freshly-dug grave.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The blasts continued walking across the defense lines, undoubtedly killing scores of his comrades. But he accompanied each shockwave with a sigh of relief; they let him know that he was still alive. Still breathing.
One final rumble. And then there was silence across the battlefield.
Motsotaer waited a minute before he peeked out — another lesson that smart defenders of Datsot had discovered the hard way. A couple brave medics were already on the move, their shouts left and right, pulling bodies and the groaning injured alike out of the rubble aftermath of the shelling.
With a grunt, he pulled himself out of his hole, rushing towards the neighboring anti-air bunker. The concrete roof had collapsed, but he could still hear cries from the dark. He squeezed through the cluttered entrance.
It was a mess on the inside. The lights were all gone. Scattered sandbags. It smelled like blood and death, and he pushed aside the still body of a Head Pack Leader he only knew of, only to find the corpse of yet another Pack Member, her limbs sprawled in an unnatural position.
“Anyone still alive in here?” he asked in the dark as his eyes adjusted. “Hello?”
There were a series of loud coughs. “I’m here. I’m here.”
“Pack Leader Nidvid!” he shouted as he recognized the familiar shrill voice. “Keep talking! Where are you?”
“Here. I’m here. Help me up.”
As she continued to cough, he had the sense to fish a flashlight out of his pocket, fumbling around until he found the on button. As the light activated, he could see Nidvid half-buried in the dirt, her lower limbs trapped beneath some sand from the broken sandbags.
“Pack Leader!” He got onto his front paws and started digging. “Are you injured?”
“I don’t think so,” she shook her head in the dim lighting as she experimentally wriggled her legs. “Here, I think I’m loose. Help me up.”
Motsotaer grasped her under her arms, and with a heavy grunt, pulled her out of the dirt.
“Whew,” she said, checking her body again for wounds. Nidvid looked around at the other bodies splayed in the bunker. “Oh no… Head Pack Leader…”
“That was a close one. I can’t believe you lived through that!”
“Yeah, me neither… Wait a second,” Nidvid said as she began rummaging through a pile of rubble near the Head Pack Leader’s body. “The radio…”
“What are you looking for?” he asked as he aimed his flashlight towards where she was looking.
“Oh no, no, no…” her voice trailed off as she picked up the device she’d been looking for. “Our hardline communicator…” It was clearly broken from the strike, its shell perforated with a hundred holes and its connection to the landline severed. In disgust, Nidvid threw it back to the ground.
“What uh— what did you need that for?” Motsotaer asked. “Were we supposed to tell them we were being attacked?”
“No… It was— before the strike, we got a high priority order.”
“A high priority order?”
Nidvid recalled, “There’s a special platoon in our salient… We were supposed to get an important message to them!”
“Special platoon?” Motsotaer asked. “Are you okay, Nidvid?”
“Yes, yes,” the Pack leader replied, visibly distraught. “They only had a physical line to us because they’re supposed to be keeping in the dark. Emissions control or something like that so they can activate the flying machine swarm in time. They said this was life and death and our whole defense line hinges on it!”
“Emissions control? Flying machines? Pack Leader, we should get you to a medic,” he said skeptically.
“No! Motsotaer, this is important. We need to get the message to them now. They’re only a couple kilometers south from our position. If we run over to their position now, it might not yet be—”
He looked up at her face in alarm. “Run to another position? Outside the trench line?”
“Yes! We have to go!” she said, as she peeked out of the concrete bunker towards the barren zone ahead of the trenches. “Now! Before they start their offensive.”
Motsotaer began to protest, “But that’s no creature’s land. If we get spotted by their troops, we’ll be hunted down by the Grass Eaters ships in orbit…”
She was insistent, “Pack Member Motsotaer, get it together. We still have a job to do. Are you with me or are you going to sit here and die like a coward to the long-ears?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, straightening up. Death or not, he was no coward. “I mean… I’m with you.”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
With a grunt, she leapt out of the trenches and jogged south, keeping to the defensive side of it for the modicum of cover it provided, and Motsotaer quickly followed. As they sprinted away from the tattered defenses, they ran into a thick tree line that hopefully provided them with some concealment from the Grass Eater ships above.
After a couple more minutes of running in the forest, Motsotaer started to tire and pant. He weighed his burning lung and how embarrassed he’d be if he complained. Luckily for his ego, Nidvid gestured for them to stop after another minute and tossed him her canteen. “Take a break before we get going.”
He chugged as much water as he could in a single swig, and returned the canteen to Nidvid. He gasped out, “How much further, Pack Leader?”
“About one more kilometer south,” she said, aiming her snout up at the treetops. “I recognize the smell of this area.”
“What’s this even about? The message… what was it?”
Nidvid exercised her limbs. “That Grass Eater artillery strike… it was to prepare for their offensive on our lines. They’ve gathered an armored division on the other side of that,” she pointed out into the barren fields beyond the trees. “We have an hour at most before they roll over us.”
“An armored division?!” Motsotaer squeaked. The enemy’s Longclaws — their armored vehicles — were legendary. They could kill from kilometers away. And their thick shells protected them against all but the most powerful artillery in the Federation’s arsenal. He’d never seen one of them personally. If he had, he suspected he wouldn’t be alive to tell anyone about it. “What can we do against a Grass Eater armored division?”
“That’s why we have to get to the special platoon,” Nidvid replied. She pointed in the southern direction, “You ready? Let’s go.”
They galloped for a few more minutes. Motsotaer’s limbs tired and his breaths shallowed as his lung burnt. As he was contemplating whether to ask for another break, Nidvid pointed at a shape in the distance. “There, that’s their position!”
He squinted at it. It was not easy to see, but buried in the tree line was what looked like a bunch of out-of-place branches and leaves over a small vehicle. Buoyed by the anticipation of the end of the marathon, he managed to keep up with Nidvid’s pace.
As they approached, there was a loud shout.
“Hi-yah! Stop!”
They halted their steps and looked for the source of the voice.
“Not one more paw step, deserter! This is a restricted area! Turn around or you’ll be shot!”
Motsotaer looked up at the voice hidden up in the branches. After a moment, with some help from his nose, he found the yeller. It was a short, stout middle-aged male with strange-looking green and brown paint smeared all over his fur and face. He had a rifle aimed squarely at the duo.
“Don’t shoot!” Nidvid yelled back. “We’re runners. We’ve got an important message! For your platoon commander.”
The male in the tree looked suspiciously at them as he leapt down. He lowered his rifle, but didn’t seem any less on guard. “A message?”
“Yes, we’ve got an urgent message for Special Platoon Commander Graunsa. Take us to him right now!”
He sized the two of them up. After a moment, he said slowly, “I am Graunsa. Why are you here, and what is the message?”
Nidvid recovered some of her breath and explained, “The Grass Eaters hit us hard with an artillery strike. Our Head Pack Leader is dead. Our landline is gone. We ran all the way over from our lines north of you.”
Graunsa nodded and gestured for her to continue.
“The Grass Eater armored offensive is about to start. They’re moving into position and ready to go, and there’s a special message embedded—”
“Wait a second,” Graunsa interrupted. “Give me the special message exactly, without omission or your own interpretations.”
“Yes, Platoon Commander,” Nidvid nodded. “The message is: bunny water carriers are in play, red-five-zero-eight; come out of the dark and introduce yourself. Authorization is three-three-greyhound.”
Graunsa looked thoughtful for a moment as he pondered it.
“What does the message mean?” Motsotaer whispered at Nidvid.
“I have no idea,” she shrugged, whispering back. “The Head Pack Leader just told me to memorize it.”
The platoon commander seemed to have made up his mind. “Alright, that seems legitimate. Thanks for the message.” He turned around to leave.
Motsotaer shouted behind him, “Wait, what are we supposed to do now?”
Graunsa turned around. “I don’t know. I’m not your commanding officer.” He paused for a moment. “I wouldn’t recommend going back to your lines though. Might not be there when you get back…”
“What?!”
“You can’t just leave us! Where else are we supposed to go?” Nidvid asked.
Graunsa seemed to contemplate the question for a few heartbeats and sighed, “You said you’re from the position up north?”
“Yup,” they replied in unison.
“And you’re a spotter, Pack Member?” he asked, looking at the rank and position patch on Motsotaer’s chest.
“Yes.”
Graunsa relented. “Fine. We might find a use for you. Get into the bunker… before the Grass Eaters in orbit see us dawdling out here.”
“What? Where?”
The officer pointed at a patch of dark green leaves on the forest floor. As they approached it, he grasped a latch and lifted it to reveal a ladder. The three of them descended into the darkness and Graunsa secured it behind them. With a quiet swoosh, a lamp mounted on the wall lit up to reveal a small hallway leading to a heavy-looking door.
Graunsa knocked on it twice. He turned around and looked at Motsotaer and Nidvid. “What you’re about to see in here is of the highest secrecy level of the Malgeir Federation. If you tell anyone what you see in here, you will be executed for treason. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Platoon Commander.”
“Swear it, on your honor.”
“We swear,” they replied in unison, their voices infused with growing excitement.
“Good enough for me.”
The heavy steel door swung open, showing a room that was vastly different from what its primitive exterior suggested. It resembled a command center far more than a field base, and Motsotaer felt a blast of cold air conditioning in his face as he passed the door threshold.
At the front, a main screen showed a map of the defensive lines in the sector. Facing it, two rows of sleek, new computer screens lit up the dark. Their operators worked busily at their controls, and only a couple faces looked their way in mild interest as they entered.
“What is this—” Motsotaer started to ask. Nidvid grasped his shoulder and shushed him.
Graunsa cleared his throat. Several faces looked towards him in anticipation. “Platoon, we just got the message. Activate the FTL handshake and authenticate us in the network.”
“Yes, sir.” A young-looking communication officer near the front operated a few controls on her console. “I’ve got the advisors on the line.”
Motsotaer read his nametag: Gassin. She was a Gamma Leader, much higher ranked than he, but she looked not a day over twenty. He noted that many of the people in the room sported high-ranking insignias despite their apparent youth.
“On screen,” Graunsa ordered.
A communication window appeared on the main screen, streaming video of someone in a jet-black EVA suit.
Motsotaer stiffened. It was obvious that the subject was alien; at around 1.7 or 1.8 meters, it was far too tall for being a Malgeir. Too small for a Granti. And from the side profile of the suit, it didn’t bulge nearly enough for the tails that the Malgeir’s Schpriss neighbors were known for. A strange new species of aliens.
From the blackened visor, it was obvious that whoever that was… it was the reason for all this tight secrecy.
“Special Platoon Commander Graunsa,” it transmitted in perfect Malgeirish. The alien was either a trained-from-birth Federation Channel One newscaster with a perfectly inoffensive accent, or its translator was far better than anything the Malgeir themselves had invented. “This call is encrypted, but the enemy Znosians in orbit are trying to find your location from the signals, so we’ll have to make it as quick as we can. Have your defensive lines completed your preparations?”
Graunsa stepped up to address the screen directly, “Yes, advisor. Our fire support platoon is ready for tasking.”
“Excellent. Transmitting the first batch of targets in your sector now.”
A series of symbols scrolled onto the screen, showing a number of coordinates.
“We’re getting the enemy positions now,” Gassin exclaimed.
Graunsa turned to her and nodded his appreciation, “Sixteen armored targets. Weapons free.”
“Yes, sir. Programming the sequence.”
A camera on the main screen activated, remotely showing a small hole with some machinery in it dug a few hundred meters away just at the edge of the tree line.
“Launching flying machine swarm!”
As Motsotaer watched, a thicket of metal erupted from the hole in a blur, roaring into the sky.
The main screen was replaced by a four-by-four of windows of black and white images. It took him a couple seconds to realize that he was looking at the battlefield from above. The Malgeir had rotary wing, airplanes, and jet — some were even armed, but they were usually much bigger. And their air assets had been grounded since the early days of the battle for Datsot when the enemy took the orbits.
Not these tiny devices though.
He focused on one of the sixteen windows.
The ground sped past below the camera’s vision, tree line after tree line, the flying machine seemed to know where it was going by itself: Motsotaer looked at the other occupants in the room. None of them seemed to be directly controlling it.
He stiffened.
Is this controlled by a thinking machine?
“We’re getting in range of the target coordinates, Platoon Commander,” Gassin updated the room a few minutes later.
As if on cue, the flying machines flew higher, and the trees on the ground grew smaller, as if further away. Until…
“Targets identified!” Gassin reported with excitement in her voice.
As an infantry spotter, Motsotaer had been trained — barely — to identify enemy armored vehicles. As in, he’d been given a cheatsheet containing the silhouettes of the different types of vehicles the enemy drove. But even he couldn’t tell at this distance what the white-hot smudges on the screen were.
The machine had no such issues though.
Several red boxes materialized on the screen, clearly marking several enemy vehicles in the thermal imagery and adorning them with detailed information.
The one Motsotaer was watching said:
Hostile vehicle, Longclaw MK4 (top armor: ~25mm), 4.2 km.
No hostile EW detected.
Without additional prompting, the flying machines raced in towards their targets, each recognizing a different one as its final destination. Afraid to blink, Motsotaer stared intently at one of the video streams.
A new line of text appeared at the top of the screen:
ETA 20 seconds.
It counted down the seconds, number by number.
The enemy Longclaw got larger and larger until… the screen went black, replaced by static. As he looked around, the other windows were similarly replaced with static one-by-one.
Motsotaer frowned, wondering where the videos had gone.
Then, it hit him. The flying machines were on one-way trips.
The sixteen windows disappeared, and another one appeared, showing the enemy assembly area from a much higher perspective. And instead of the vehicles he expected, he counted sixteen burning wrecks, the black smoke from their flames reaching up into the sky in columns.
“Targets destroyed, Commander,” Gassin said. Several of the officers in the room looked at each other excitedly, but their celebration was muted.
Graunsa nodded. “Call our advisors again.”
The alien appeared on the screen again. “Excellent work, Platoon Commander. We’re assessing the lines and getting the second batch of targets to you now.”
“Understood.”
As the new target coordinates scrolled onto the main screen, Gassin didn’t need additional prompting, “Launching flying machines!”
Another sixteen of them flashed out from the pre-dug position. Another sixteen windows appeared on the screen, replacing the odd-looking aliens’ video.
“Wait a minute,” the aliens’ voice cut into the quiet hum of the control room’s operation. “Switch back to the high-altitude drone. Something’s happening.”
The main screen’s image was replaced by the previous camera looking down at enemy lines. There was a flurry of activity in the enemy base area. Numerous dots representing the ground troops moved to-and-fro. And worryingly, the red squares that surrounded enemy armor began appearing en masse as enemy Longclaws drove out of their covered positions into the open.
Dozens of them.
Then, hundreds. And more appeared every second.
“What’s going on?” Graunsa asked, his voice reflecting Motsotaer’s worry.
The alien took a minute to get back to him, its black helmeted face filling up the screen again. “They’re attacking. They don’t know what hit them in the last strike. But they must have realized that they’re not safe in their assembly area, and they’re doing the only thing they can… We estimate they’ll get to your first lines in thirty minutes.”
“Can we stop them?” Graunsa asked. “We can—”
The alien looked directly into the video. “Not sixteen drones at a time. And if you launch the whole swarm at once, it’ll reflect enough signal for them to sniff out where you are with their counter-battery radars and take you out from orbit.”
Graunsa swallowed. “That’s— that’s— The machines can fly themselves without us, right?”
The alien didn’t say anything for a few heartbeats. “Theoretically, yes. But even if you evacuate your position now, your people won’t get out of range from the orbital strike they’ll call in.”
“I understand. Feed us the enemy targets.”
“Delta Leader, we can’t ask you to—”
“I said, feed us the enemy targets,” Graunsa insisted.
Quietly, hundreds of coordinate pairs filed onto the main screen. Graunsa looked at the faces of the young officers under his command. Dozens of them. He turned around to look at his two guests. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s the right choice,” Nidvid replied, shrugging.
Motsotaer nodded at him.
“I know,” Graunsa said, turning back to the main screen. “Just doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Sir, we’re ready to launch,” Gassin reported.
“Weapons free. Release everything.”
“Yes, sir.”
The ground shook and rumbled, hundreds of flying machines leaving their canisters for the sky. They were close enough to hear the outgoing buzzing as the munitions launched. This time, more and more windows filled up the screen with the visuals of the outgoing flying machines — hundreds of them, and Motsotaer was surprised that the computers could even handle it all.
The visage of the alien returned to their screen. It said calmly, “Enemy orbital launch spotted. Multiple launches. High yield. Missiles incoming to your location, ETA twelve minutes.”
“Understood, advisor.”
POV: Slurskoch, Znosian Dominion Marines (Rank: Five Whiskers)
“Scramble! Scramble! Scramble!”
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.
“What’s going on?” Longclaw Commander Slurskoch sat up in his turret cupola as the sirens rang loud through the hull.
“We’re under artillery attack!” his Controller yelled back at him through the roaring startup sequence of the turbine anti-grav engines. “The Lesser Predators… they’ve got some kind of new weapon! Took out a whole battalion’s worth of Longclaws in the 194!”
“But we’re not ready!” his Driver complained. “Our artillery is supposed to pound them for another hour before we—”
Slurskoch shook his head as he checked the friendly force tracker on his screen. “Doesn’t matter! If they’ve got some new weapon, we can’t sit still while we get pounded to bits by whatever they have. We gotta get out there. Hurry it up!”
It took them another two minutes to fully warm up the engines, and with a roar, the Longclaw burst out of its camouflaged emplacement, kicking up a curtain of dirt in front of it.
“Let’s go! Go! Go!” Slurskoch yelled as his lagging Longclaw joined the armored formation already on the move.
The Controller spoke with one of her ears in the radio, “Their artillery just launched… something at us. We’ve pinpointed their location, and orbital support is on its way.”
His Gunner whooped twice, and Slurskoch nodded silently in agreement. That’d flatten those carnivorous abominations where they stood. He drew a few symbols and circles on the digital battlemap as the Longclaws drove toward the enemy lines. “Gunner, watch those potential trench lines in front of us,” he instructed. “Their anti-armor may not look scary on paper, but their infantry can always get a lucky hit in.”
Slurskoch was taught in training that it was better to overestimate the enemy than underestimate them. Luckily, the predators usually fell below expectations, which was why the Dominion controlled the orbits of Datsot now and not them.
His Controller frowned at something in her radio, “They’re saying something about the enemy artillery… The engineers at the base assessed the strike aftermath. There’s something strange in the rubble. The attack was more precise than anything we’d ever seen.”
“What does that mean?” Slurskoch asked in confusion.
“The sensor officer in charge of the assembly area has taken full responsibility. They didn’t see the incoming at all. Higher ups are speculating that the Lesser Predators have a new weapon in their arsenal.”
“The predators made new weapons?” Slurskoch snorted. “Useful ones? That’ll be a first. Well, whatever it is, maybe our Design Bureau will get a good look at it when we finally cleanse this planet of their filth. Make our next battle a little easier when we have to take their home planet.”
His Gunner agreed, “And then, the Prophecy shall be fulfilled.”
A few kilometers into the charge across the open, the Gunner remarked with one eye on her targeting computer, “Looks like even the local winged predators know that there’s about to be a slaughter here.”
The Driver, in his open hatch, looked up at the cloud of them flying over the enemy lines. “Looks like it. A nice juicy feast for them in the coming battle. The irony of the barbaric carnivores being eaten by themselves.”
A few thousand years ago, winged predators would have curdled the blood of any natural-born Znosian. On the original plains of Znos, they were one of the most dangerous threats a lone Znosian faced. Now, that fear had been completely bred out of the gene pool, replaced with contempt for predatory primitivism, the courage to face them in battle, and the drive to exterminate them all.
Curious, Slurskoch stared up into the cloud of winged predators with his Longclaw commander optics. He frowned.
One of them shimmered.
Shimmered.
He zoomed in.
Then, he saw a metallic glint. His whiskers tightened.
“That’s— those aren’t winged predators,” he barely made out in shock. “Incoming!”
“Huh?” his Driver asked, craning his head up to look at the dark shapes in the distance.
“Get inside! Secure the hatch!” Slurskoch shouted at him.
His Driver was not very good at thinking on his own, but he had been bred to follow direct orders without question. He ducked into his seat, quickly securing the hatch above him close with trained claws.
He barely secured the Longclaw as other commanders began yelling out similar instructions on their radios.
“Incoming!” his Controller advised, about ten seconds later than necessary. “Enemy… artillery?!”
“Gunner!” Slurskoch gestured in the general direction of the sky.
“I can’t get a shot on them. They’re too high up!” she screamed back at him.
A trio of air defense vehicles next to him opened up with their six barrels towards the sky, lines of bright tracers stabbing out at the dark swarm. He saw one of the… flying machines hit and fall out of the sky. Then another.
It wasn’t enough.
As Slurskoch’s optics tracked the incoming, he saw them dive. They were fast, and they flew erratic patterns, almost organically, like actual winged beasts. If he hadn’t had that specific fear bred out of his bloodline hundreds of years ago, he would have been frozen in shock. Instead, he yelled out, “Brace! Brace!”
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The world exploded around his Longclaw.
Through his friendly force tracker, Slurskoch watched an entire battalion disappear off the map on his right flank, and two Longclaws in his line of sight brewed up in massive fireballs, throwing their turrets into the sky as their plasma ammunition detonated. One of the anti-air vehicles brewed up next to his, splattering its parts against his hull.
His Driver drove for all he was worth, ducking and weaving in the open field. So did the other Longclaws. Some deployed curtains of smoke in front of them in desperation.
None of it seemed to help.
The shockwaves hit his Longclaw in quick succession, knocking him around the armored cabin and rattling his teeth.
Boom. Boom.
More Longclaws exploded. Many more. They were disappearing off his screen faster than the software could update the signals. He closed his eyes waiting for the end.
It didn’t come.
It was hard for Slurskoch to tell when the last Longclaw near them was hit. His hearing organs must have been damaged some time during the attack. His auditory senses ringed as they returned to normal, recovering when his Controller shook him with a paw on his shoulder. “—Five Whiskers! Five Whiskers!”
“What is it?” he snapped, keeping the quivering out of his voice.
“We’re alone in our company, and I can’t contact the six whiskers! And I’ve been trying to reach battalion without success!”
“Try the regiment commander!” he yelled out against the noise of the anti-grav engine.
“Can’t reach them either!”
“What about division headquarters?!”
“I think division’s gone, sir!”
“What?!”
“Nobody there has been responding. All I’ve got is a seven whiskers in the reserve infantry division behind us! They’re saying they see black smoke in the direction of our division field command!”
“What in the Prophecy? How is that possible?!”
“What do we do, Five Whiskers?”
Slurskoch had been trained for a wide variety of combat scenarios and contingencies, including losing his immediate superiors, losing most of his unit, and losing his communication link to command. But he’d never been trained for all of those combined at once. That was just not something predators were supposed to be able to do to you.
He fell back to the next best thing.
“What’s the combat computer say?” he asked.
His Controller operated the controls on her console, and after half a minute of querying, she replied, reading off the instructions, “Absent orders, continue the attack. Maybe we can push through.”
“What? Did it take our losses into account?” he protested as he checked the battlemap. Of the nearly five hundred Longclaws that had pushed out of the assembly area, only a quarter remained. At most. Some of the signals on the map were flagging themselves as mobility or mission killed.
She shrugged, “It did. That’s what it says.”
He squinted at her screen. That was indeed what it said.
Slurskoch thought for a moment, sighed, and bowed in prayer, “Our lives were forfeited the day we left our hatchling pools.”
The other crew members all did the same, lowering their heads to mutter the familiar mantra.
That ritual out of the way, he drew up to his full height of 1 meter and mustered all the confidence he could into his voice, “Attack! Attack! Attack!”
POV: Graunsa, Malgeir Federation Planetary Defense Force (Rank: Delta Leader)
The command center watched glumly as the hundred or so surviving Grass Eater Longclaws emerged from the wrecks of their comrades and slowly resumed their charge across the open toward the defense lines.
The flying machines had gotten a lot of them. Quite a few disabled too. And they were disorganized from the loss of their command. Yet they still charged. Diminished as their numbers were, they rolled towards the battered defensive lines with psychotic determination.
We’ve failed.
Graunsa sat down heavily into his chair. He brought up his communication console, connecting it to the advisor network.
The alien appeared on the screen, and though he couldn’t see its face, he could hear the sympathy in its translated voice, “You’ve done all you can, Special Platoon Commander.”
“It wasn’t enough,” he said, shaking his ears sadly. “They’re going to break through our line. Our infantry can’t stop them.”
It tilted its head. “I wouldn’t count them out completely, Delta Leader. They might. They might not. But your next defensive line certainly will hold them. The city behind you will be held.”
“Tracking enemy orbit-to-ground. ETA three minutes,” Gassin reported quietly from next to him.
Graunsa sighed. He looked at the alien, “I think I understand your people now, advisor.”
“You… do?”
“Yeah, at first, when we were picked for this mission, I wondered why your people were doing this.”
“Doing this?” the alien asked, seeming confused.
“Helping us. The weapons. The equipment. The training. The targeting. It was all in secret, but you didn’t have to do it. The other species around us didn’t do it. The Schpriss…” Graunsa snorted, “The long-tails can’t even find it in their spines to send us field rations. I thought your species… your people were just generous. Or perhaps you simply enjoyed the craft of war, being so adept at it.”
“Are we… not?”
“Those reasons may be part of it,” he conceded. “But more importantly, I think your people understand one thing the other species don’t… that we might stop the enemy here. Or we might not.”
“We didn’t set you up to fail, if that’s what you think—”
“But the next defensive line certainly will hold them,” Graunsa said, staring the alien in the eye. “You will hold them. Isn’t that right?”
It sighed. “I would be lying if that wasn’t part of the strategic equation. Our star systems are indeed next in line — sometime in the next decade or two, probably — if these bloodthirsty Buns conquered your Federation. That harsh astropolitical realism. But there’s something else too.”
“Is there?”
“Yes,” it nodded its head firmly in a familiar manner. “Yes, there is. We aren’t a particularly long-sighted species, Graunsa. We can plan, yes, but wars are fought by true believers. People don’t sign up to put their lives on the line for a hypothetical, potential invasion of our Republic twenty years in the future. They— we signed up for this because we truly believe what’s happening to your people… it shouldn’t happen to anyone, ever.”
Graunsa looked at the helmeted head for a while, then nodded. “I believe you, advisor.”
“I’m sorry this didn’t pan out, Graunsa. If I could, I’d be down there with you. We’d have made them pay for this.”
Graunsa smiled. “I believe you about that too. Thank you, advisor, whatever your name is.”
“You may call me Kara,” it said simply. A deft snap of its paws — he hadn’t noticed how soft its claws were before — and it released a latch on its helmet with a hiss. Lifting it from its head, it revealed a soft, smooth face without much fur except a bundle of long, brown strands on its scalp tied up in a neat spherical shape. Its hazel forward-facing eyes stared at him with the empathy that only other predators were capable of, filling him with mild relief. “Don’t tell anyone though,” it joked lightly, mirroring his smile back at him.
You’re not as ugly as I thought you’d be. Not nearly.
Graunsa’s grin widened at the thought. He put it out of his mind. “Ah. One last thing, advisor— Kara.”
“Yes?”
His mind drifted to his cubs at home. Perhaps they were still alive. He chose to believe that. “Our people’s clans and packs…”
“We’ll let them know,” she interrupted him softly. “And when the information quarantine is lifted, we’ll let your clans and packs know what you did here — everything.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Gassin sat down next to him, “Delta Leader, enemy missiles incoming. ETA thirty seconds, they’re entering—” She stopped her report and stared at the unmasked alien on his screen with equal parts wonder and sadness.
“Take a closer look, Gassin,” he ordered softly. “That… that is who will avenge us.”
On screen, the alien put its gloved paw up to its temple, forming a stiff triangle with its arm in a recognizable salute. “It was an honor, Graunsa.”
Graunsa returned it crisply, letting a primitive fire shine through his face. “Happy hunting, Kara.”

Location: Atlas Naval Command, Luna

POV: “Kara”, Terran Reconnaissance Office
Kara watched solemnly as the green signal blinked off the battlemap. She closed her eyes for a moment in silent prayer for the fallen.
Beep. Beep.
Another light on her console blinked urgently for her attention. Four thousand kilometers from the previous one. The war raged on — day and night — across four continents on the besieged planet. Fifty light years from the Republic, its defenders’ sweat, tears, and blood lined the fields and valleys of the beautiful blue sphere not so different from her own. Tens of millions of them: many who she knew would not see the end of this war.
They didn’t all know it, and some might not have cared, but fifty light years away, someone recorded their names, and someone felt a pang of loss for their sacrifice. In the cold, dark forest of the galaxy, somebody heard their trees fall.
Kara collected her thoughts, adjusted the bun in her hair, and lowered the tinted EVA helmet over her face once more.
She cleared her throat as she glanced at the screen and activated the microphone in her helmet, “Special Platoon Commander Treiriu. This call is encrypted, but the enemy Znosians in orbit are trying to find your location from the signals, so we’ll have to make it as quick as we can. Have your defensive lines completed your preparations?”

Meta

Thanks for reading my story! This is a standalone chapter in my Grass Eaters story, meant to be enjoyable all on its own. If you're interested in more of my writing, please do subscribe to the update waffle bot or check out the rest of the universe in Grass Eaters.
(Grass Eaters posts every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We are closing in on the end of Book 1.)

The Fall Least Unexpected
Camp Wapiti was the most competitive summer-camp on the western border of the Allegheny Mountains, titular for the raving children’s testimonies by the end of the season. An influx of young campers had signed up this year to roost in forests of Red Spruce and Eastern Hemlock. The camp had reportedly gone through a series of expansion, including state-of-the-art “lodging enclaves” and an Olympic-sized swimming pool; at least according to the Wapiti parent Facebook Group. Rah-rah Elks!

A slew of bus rentals carries the kids to the gates of the 150-acre property, summer reveries already taking effect on everyone - from the bus drivers to the happy campers. The counselors had done a splendid job in garbing under the theme of Swan Lake, tinges of pastel pink and candlelight establishing the camp’s timbre; all awaited returning and new faces alike.

Once they reached, a horde of children spilled out from vehicles from all directions. The season had started.

“Welcome to Camp Wapiti our future outdoorsmen and adventurers! Plenty of secrets and fun await you this year - but first some rules…” bellowed Hailey Clifton, head counselor of the ensemble and youngest chick among the staff. The other counselors rolled their eyes during Hailey’s yearly pitch about showing a high level of care towards the surrounding wilderness and carrying the Happy Camper’s Guide to Nature: Dynamite Deciduous at all times. Many of the children began fidgeting, a crowd of creepy-crawlers wiggling underneath the heat vortex and swarm of mosquitos.

Finally, a cool breeze could be felt as Hailey finished off, invigorating everybody’s spirits once again. Campers and counselors drifted off into their own respective circles, reuniting with old friends and meeting new ones, breathing life and community into the grounds. Already burnt bodies sticky from chlorine and Sun-Bum were packed like sardine and people of all ages hollered from the tree-tops.

The first afternoon and night had been a success in every sense of the word. Residents were comatose within their cabins before 10 pm, in anticipation for a day at Lake Dimii in the morning. Somebody was dreaming of the unmarred lake and its magical properties according to the Iroquois, at any given moment during the night.

Come morning, camp was bustling with movement in every corner. Louie, an independent, fire-cracker 11-year-old from Brooklyn led a large pack of his well-rested peers to the lake. The other kids couldn’t help but look up to Louie, who was often disinterested in the bull of the others, but who was also the first person someone would ask for help in messing with the counselors or sneaking into the girl’s dorm at night. The children sang Wapiti’s jingle on their trek:

We are the happy herd of elks
Roaming through the fields with stealth!
On our crow’s nest seat,
We are the Camp Wapiti fleet!

The children’s chants could be heard reverberating through the wood, like a canyon wall is to singing birds. The menagerie cannonballed into the lake from all perimeters, the counselors struggling to keep up. But the day swelled with happiness as the surroundings looked effervescent within the sunlight, everything appeared to be cast underneath a yellow, sparkly film. After head-check, Hailey could finally record the potpourri of foreign flowers in her scrapbook.

Michel Barre and his two most loyal pals, Barnett and Sal, were camped away from the others, scoffing at the troupe of wildlings swimming in the waters. Michel, son of hot-shot French socialites, had moved to the North-East just two years ago, and still couldn’t wrap his mind around the hobbies and traditions of American kids his age; especially the dreaded capture the flag. The counselors had attempted to urge the three to join the others in the water, coaxing them with extra pie during dessert, but with no luck.

Traditionally, the first few days of camp were a hedonistic blur with no planned activities or events. Counselors encouraged to introduce themselves with one another and become comfortable with their bunk-mates especially. After a blistering day in the heat at Dimii, the whole lot was absolutely worn-out and immediately returned to their quarters following a hearty meal of chicken fried steak and apple pie fritters. Another day of sunshine and splashing around in the surf awaited everybody tomorrow, with a round of softball and soft serve afterwards. Even Michel felt a knot of excitement grow in his stomach.

Yet at half-past three in the morning, just two remained awake. As the moon’s image was reflected upon the lake’s surface while the others peacefully slept, Michel had been awoken and dragged by his feet out of his bed, across floorboards punctuated with nails, and out into the night. He was dragged for what seemed like hours. Across the gravel, dirt, and bushes, his skin was battered, and his limbs mangled. He contained no mental or physical capacity to identify who on God’s Earth was forcing him through his misery.

After a while, Michel could discern a certain atmospheric change - the air had felt more serene - what could only be Lake Dimii.

SWIM AT YOUR OWN RISK “NO LIFEGUARD”

• Read a wasted sign, torn at its hinges.

“Please, I'm so sorry for whatever I did - please don’t-” Michel’s captor continued on to the edge of the lake and held him there, his face inundated like a trembling leaf caught in a storm. Michel didn’t know how to swim and tried to remember what his camping guide said about situations like this, but his mind went blank, and his lungs burned.

A passerby would be able to make out the two figures easily, even though the humid mist: One submerged and one forcing its grasp on the nape of the other’s neck, calmly watching. Michel was so incapacitated he wasn’t even aware that he was being forcibly held - he only regretted refusing to take swimming lessons as a child. And now his despairing amount of weakness against the dark waters was apparent. He thrashed about like a wild animal, a trail of bubbles circling his head. Gasps and sunken murmurs were the only sounds that could be heard on the lakeside at this hour.

And the other continued to watch, looking almost disinterested in the slump of his shoulders and the swaying of his feet. The moon still stubbornly shone, indiscriminate in its gleam, illuminating the other boy’s poor, sinking body. The scene was now still - a sharp contrast from a mere 8 hours ago.

The one on the bank turned to leave for the campgrounds, whistling a familiar tune.
The amount of time it takes to notice a person is missing is usually longer than one would think. In the case of Michel Barre, it took nearly 2 hours after the inhabitants of Wapiti rose. Barnett and Sal eventually realized that Michel was nowhere to be found and alerted Hailey before they were blamed for something they didn’t do. All campers were to report back to their bunks immediately for the rest of the day and stay there till instructed otherwise. A wave of confusion and frustration hit the camp – and rumors quickly spread like a nasty bout of lice.

According to the older kids, Barnett and Sal were messing around with Michel in the woods and left him there for inexplicable reasons. Others believed that Michel’s mega-loaded parents airlifted him out of the woods after just a few hours sleeping in the itchy twin sheets.

Meanwhile, in the counselor’s lodge, absolute pandemonium had settled alongside the cabin’s perpetual dust. These ‘designated adults’ were not adults at all, but hormonal, dewy-eyed teenagers who had been looking forward to an unsupervised summer. None of them were prepared for a situation like this.

“How on Earth will we ever explain this to Michel’s parents? The poor boy - he is probably wounded in the middle of the forest somewhere. Who knows, he could already be dead right now,” cried Hailey. The others stared at her blankly, not knowing what to say in response.

Javon Scott, who was only there for the massive paycheck that would hit his bank account at the end of the summer, couldn’t stop concentrating on Hailey's strawberry-blond curls. They smelled like apples.

“Hailey’s right, guys. Michel’s probably dead somewhere in a ditch. Shit, I can’t handle this right now, I need to smoke,” said Javon. He couldn’t keep his legs from bouncing, even with two hands on his thighs. Hailey let out a dry sob.

“You’ve been smoking too much Javon. The kid is probably fine, he couldn’t have made it that far into the woods,” chimed in someone from the back. A few other counselors murmured in agreement.

“We can’t bank on that. We have to tell Michel’s parents and call the authorities,” said Hailey. Javon aggressively nodded his head - the only one out of the bunch to agree.

“Like the cops? No way, I like this gig and my parents would murder me. Let’s all just split up and try to find him first,” said Bryce, one of the older counselors, a local town bum. There seemed to be a consensus already made at that point and all of Hailey's lamentations were paid any further attention.

The teens decided on rounding up the campers towards the center of the ground for the remainder of the day and to keep guard for God-knows-what, while the rest divvied up the surrounding woods in sections to search for the missing boy. Seemingly overnight, Camp Wapiti had transformed into a dire place – a canvas of frantic people and an obscure disappearance coloring the air.
Hailey had volunteered to scale the one of many huge rocks overlooking the eastern corner of the camp, a citadel over the surrounding area. Javon had offered to accompany Hailey, but everyone agreed it would be best if he stayed out at camp and watched over the fidgety kids. Javon grumbled about his role, because the last thing he wanted to do was spend the rest of the day with the snotty-sits, but he was sorely outnumbered. Besides, Hailey wanted to be alone.

The rock sat among the treetops, overlooking miles beyond the peripheries of the camp in each direction. It was a hot spot for late-night hookups, summertime dares, and sunrise viewings. Some of the graffiti that marked the base of the rock was almost two generations old.

It took a good 20 minutes for Hailey to reach the peak. Once she did, she was taken aback at the unstable illusion that was presented - the forest and vegetation seemed to have no end, swallowing all the land in its vastness. She shuddered to think where Michel could be within the thickets, as there was no way she could make out a 9-year-old from this vantage point. Her day had been spent in vain.

She plopped down at the edge of the overlook and began to burst into fitful tears. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how scared Michel was. Her stomach felt like a bowling ball. She decided that she would immediately contact the Allegheny preservative police and Michel’s parents before telling the others. She took in the horizon for a few months, ablaze in a deep mandarin, before heading back to Wapiti.

Except, someone had been watching her and her lovely head full of curls for a while now. It was a quite pleasant evening, and a single sight was more like a shout in the dead silence. And so, when Hailey could hear the heavy breathing of someone behind her, she chose not to stir.

“I know that’s you Javon. Look, I don’t have the time for this right now,” said Hailey, sniffling into her hands. Only silence followed and the breathing now ceased. Hailey looked over her shoulders and saw only rock. She felt as if she were becoming progressively crazier as the day went on.

Hailey turned back to stare at the view. And as she tumbled down the face of the cliff - from a single push or a gust of wind, no one would be able to tell - her last thoughts were of Michel’s ill-fated end instead of hers and how beautiful the sea of green looked when falling. Down, down she went, impaled upon the serrated end of a branch. Dark, gelatinous fluid sprayed from where she was impaled. She writhed in agony for thirty long minutes before her organs failed from the fatal amount of blood that was lost to the forest dirt.
By 10 pm, all of the inhabitants were united, and unlike this morning, there was a noticeable absence in the atmosphere. With the chief counselor nowhere to be found, the modus operandi of the camp had been altered. Campers were ordered to stay in their cabins and to not leave under any circumstances. Most of the counselors themselves hunkered in their bunks, too exhausted to search for yet another missing person or were a little paranoid themselves. Besides, Hailey probably bailed on the rest of them to avoid being complicit in anything that anything might have happened to Michel.

Still, a few agreed it was best to search the immediate vicinity at least once more, including Javon, who hadn’t felt this terrible since his parent’s divorce.

The crag wasn’t too far from the camp and so when five odd teenagers stumbled upon the grisly sight that was the remains of their fellow counselor – with what the forest scavengers had made of the relatively fresh carcass anyways - a wave of nausea and hysteria hit the group. Two immediately ran straight backwards towards the lodges, escaping into the night.

Javon stood within the fetid odor of the body, unable to take his eyes off the ravage in front of him. Tears silently raced down his cheek. The Allegheny Mountains had turned into an inescapable hellscape paradox.

The remaining counselors turned to wake and alert the others, concluding that the only possible explanation was that Hailey had tumbled from a rock. Javon contested this theory, adamant foul play was involved, but like always, he was ignored. Hailey’s body was left alone, and Camp Wapiti was bustling in panic for the second time that day, except everyone knew what had happened to Hailey. And now with the bus rentals back already less than 96 hours, followed by a parade of police forces, the warmth of the season had disappeared just as quickly it had come.

There simply weren’t enough buses available to transport the entire camp’s population in one batch, especially considering the time of night. The kids were priority and were bused off the premises as soon as possible, except for around two dozen. The police rounded everyone else - which included all the counselors – into the canteen, dead-center of the campsite.

By 6 AM, Javon had become sick of his environment and everyone in it. No one had been able to sleep the whole night except the police, who were used to sleeping in their patrol cars. A distinct tenor could be felt in the canteen, not a soul felt safe during those 9 dreadful hours.

Louie – the Brooklyn boy – entertained some of the other kids by reciting gruesome renditions of what could have happened to Michel and Hailey. The kids took morbid interest, looking over their shoulders for the monsters in Louie’s reenactments. A detailed sketch had been made of the killer. The kids described him as like the silent Northern Saw-Whet Owl, camouflaging within the dark envelope of the forest.

Javon snuck off into the sunrise to go smoke a joint in the hammock park behind the canteen, in plain view of the swarm of knocked-out cops. His nerves were in desperate need of soothing and he didn’t need to think twice about using the only medicine at hand.

The sunrise was dim and sullen, casting its gray halo throughout the sky. The hammock swayed slightly from the cool morning breeze and Javon was starting to get a little sick. Images of Hailey had been burned into his subconscious and he wondered how he would ever be able to sleep again. Well, not sober at least.

Javon could care less about the “owl” killer if he were staring at the end of its barrel, he just needed to forget about this place. This was the first time he had regretted not filling out college application forms, because now, he couldn’t escape this town even if he tried.

As he continued to ruminate in his limited prospects, he saw a shadow flit from the corner of his eye. He jolted awake from his existential morning thoughts.

It was a rather small shadow, one that emerged like a premature lightning strike. The figure disappeared into the woods – seemingly spawning from the direction of the cabins. Snuffing his joint, Javon waltzed in the shadow’s path, determined to not let the sly thing get away. The police were starting to stir. Javon dashed into the thicket’s cover.

While the figure had been in full sprint before, Javon had caught up to it within a couple of minutes. From behind a tree, looking onto an unobstructed clearing, there was the silhouette, his back facing Javon.

It was a boy. A shirtless boy. Quiet and unmoving. But Javon could easily recognize the person’s gait – strangely self-assured for just an 11-year-old. No doubt it was Louie, unruly, scraped and bruised, swaggering within late dawn’s mist. Javon observed quietly for a few moments, watching the boy sit in silence in the grass.

Louie knew someone was watching him. Besides, he had been on the other side – the one who was hunting the unsuspecting so many times that his instincts were deceivingly sharp. Louie turned his head around slowly, catching Javon’s direct line of vision and holding it. Javon froze under Louie’s blank expression towards him.

Slowly, Louie made his way towards Javon, carefully maintaining eye contact. Javon was almost in some sort of trance and had been. rendered immobile. Louie started to quicken his pace, opening his mouth to say something before Javon snapped out of his terrifying reverie.

Javon’s paranoia was through the roof, fueled by all that weed he consumed on an empty stomach. He ran towards the cabin for dear life to warn the others, convinced of Louie’s hand in evil. Something about Louie’s vacant eyes, devoid of emotion and almost-artificial like, sent Javon reeling for shelter from that empty expression. Even Hailey’s lifeless face exhibited more human-ness.

He finally had enough courage to look behind him when in view of the canteen, only to be met with a silent wood. Nevertheless, he continued to run, right outside to the main grounds, running right smack into the punchy gut of a cop.

“Do you think you can tell me what you are doing out here, hm,” asked the man in faded blue. Javon relayed his morning, leaving out extraneous details. But what he said fell upon empty ears and a boisterous laugh!

“Hmph, you kids sure aren’t meant to be out here as counselors. Clueless, all of you.”

But the police soon realized that Javon was telling the cold truth. Louie was thought to be on the busses, but the police received word that the boy was nowhere to be found in the vehicles. A small search-party was sent into the woods, but there wasn’t a single trace of an 11-year-old to be found. Only a lumbering 21-year-old, who took embarrassingly long strides.
Louie and his belongings had dematerialized along with warm winds of summer.

As the rest of the kids and counselors were sent away through a second round of buses, Javon looked longingly at the shrinking campgrounds from the back window.

On our crow’s nest seat,
We are the Camp Wapiti fleet!

Javon dreamt of distant heights and killer elks for months after the incidents.

R6 moved quickly along the side of the 8 tonne grain container, his hands running along its lid to snap open locks. Sam mirrored him on the other side and once he had caught up, they lifted the lid as one. The contents burst up out of the darkness, gulping down air and squinting against the lights above.
R6 reached down toward a manicled wrist, taking their hand and guiding it up to the edge of the container while their vision returned. “Please proceed-”
“Go go go go!” shouted Sam while pointing down the hall.
Bruised and teary eyed aliens scrambled to their feet, chains and collars jangling as they started to move en masse. R6’s eyes flicked over each, noting the pastel tan shades of skin and vibrant red hair, adding each to the crew manifest of the ‘Grain Silo’ ship that they jogged towards.
“CLEAR!” shouted Sam.
R6 felt a hand brush by his arm and whisper quiet thanks before vanishing through the airlock, out of the ‘Main Tent’ ship to join the other former slaves. R6 grabbed the side of the now empty container and slid it along the floor, weaving between the other unboxing teams and pausing as another group sprinted by.
A crewman ran sweat back from his face as he braced against the side of a stack of the grain containers, drilling holes through the steel to let the heat out and air in.
“Double time, go go go! More are coming in!”
R6 headed back to his station, mirroring Sam as a cargo flat moved in quick yet smooth calculated movements. The container eased down into the taped off square.
A buzz sounded through the radio’s clipped on each loader. R6 ran along the frequencies until he locked onto encrypted band 4. “Top priority, anyone about 6 foot 6 needs to come to challenger-prep 3 in the Main Tent immediately.”
R6 recognised the voice as Captain Reginald, leader of the Renisance Flotilla. He quickly looked over the container then to the pile yet to be opened with more on the way, but it was a top priority from the highest authority and could not be ignored.
R6 dropped into a sprint, racing across stations, over a container and hauling himself up through one of the transit openings, up through the structure of the Main Tent.
The ship was chaotic, more so than even the busier of the opening days he had experienced and he had to hug the walls. Villagers in linnen cloth ran beside crewmen and pilots. Kitchens in the attached Mess-Tent ship burned hot with shouts competing over each other. Grilled pork made its way from chef to hands to villagers who raced up stairs through the service entrances into the Main Tent’s stadium.
R6 followed the roar, it rose and fell like a rhythmic ship core. He slid down a ladder through an airlock and into an escape pod renovated into Challenger-Prep 3. Rifles and knives flinched his way but quickly relaxed.
R6 snapped to attention to await orders but his actual attention was elsewhere, glancing over the foe wood panelling that covered control panels, dust and hay that covered the floor, fake braziers that illuminated the space turning it from a space worthy lifeboat into a mediaeval locker room. It needed a good vacuum.
The Black Knight Rhoke lay back on a mound of straw, his squires pressing quick-stitch bandages to a bloodied cut running down his face. One of his eyes was swollen shut and he had to lift himself to bring his other around to glance at R6. His attention quickly fell away and rose up to Captain Reginald. “I was scared. I can finish this.”
Captain Reginald stood with a cane pressed to his chest and scars running down his face that turned his eyes into milky deformed orbs without focus. He shook his head, a pained look flicked across his features. “What is it, Loader?”
R6’s posture snapped straight again. “You requested anyone who was 6 foot 6 sir.”
“That’s not what I meant. Loader, find someone the same build as John and bring them here.”
R6 glanced over the armour, understanding the unspoken physical requirements and ran them through the crew manifest. “John, aka Rhoke and I are already present sir, the new crewmembers are also too short, averaging 5 feet.”
Captain Reginald winced and raised a hand but R6 was unsure why.
A sweaty messenger on foot slid down the ladder and dubbed over, panting between words. “They’re losing interest, we’re getting more encrypted chatter on the station bands.”
The Black Knight started forcing himself up, shrugging out of the hands that peeled away dented platemail and pink stained padding. “I can do this.”
“How many so far Loader?”
“412 slaves had been smuggled from the station when I left sir.”
Captain Reginald eased down and put a hand on the Black Knights chest. “You were a performer but this is no longer a costume. What you have done is knightly and enough. Put the armour on the loader.”
A squire’s eyes snapped up to Captain Reginald’s “The chief will see-”
“Do it anyway,” said Captain Reginald.
John let out a little relief and fell back to the hay.
R6 held mostly still, his hands pulled with the chaotic flurry about him, his body tugged this way and that as sweat stained padding and freshly welded steel platemail was layered around his body, secured tightly with leather straps. Captain Reginald raised the prop sword and with a slight smile felt the sharpness. “Take this.”
R6 accepted the blade. “Where am I to deliver it to?”
“While you hold this, you are a knight.”
R6 stared at the sword, his eyes flicking over it, up to the handle then back to the blind eyed captain. “I am a Loader.”
“I, Captain Reginald of the Renaissance Flotilla, issue command override whisky foxtrot. While Loader…” the world turned to dim thunder, the only sound were the carefully spoken words of the highest authority as he ran a thumb along the stencilled industry tag on R6’s shoulder. “... While R6 wields this sword, he is ‘The Black Knight Rhoke’ until further orders are given. Confirm.”
Black: Characterised by tragic or disastrous events; causing despair or pessimism.
Knight: A man raised by a sovereign to honourable military rank.
“Confirm…” said The Black Knight Rhoke but the word choice felt odd to him, it wasn’t at all the sort of thing he would say. “That is, I accept my duty, Lord.”
He stood firm against the thrashings of his squires while keeping his hand firmly around the hilt of his sword. He could have eased it down for a moment to adjust his right gauntlet but he felt a reluctance to do so. He felt the sword had a firmer grip on him than he it, and besides, the Good Lord, the highest authority intended him-… but that was not true.
Rhoke’s eyes rose from the blade to his sovereign. Lord Reginald was just a man, born with sin like all others, a man of god yes, but…
God: the creator and ruler of the universe and source of all moral authority; the supreme being. The highest authority.
Rhoke stepped through the strange double doored room out of Challenger-Prep 3, hearing the roar of the crowd rise to meet him. His world was narrowed down to a slit of light through the helmet and he had to duck beneath the door frame before stepping out into the summer sun of midday. Wooden stands bowed, filled well beyond capacity with strange pigmen, oddly dressed in security uniforms, spilling out into stairways and huddled against creaking railings. Villagers raced through stuffing them with a steady stream of crackled pork.
A metal monster stood opposite, shaped like the pigmen but towering twice as tall at 8 feet, mechanical muscles pumping black oil ran through his armour. A spear, long as a barge with a swordlike tip sat gripped in its three fingered fist.
It was the strangest sight Rhoke had seen but it was not enough to pull him from his goal. He knelt down, running his fingers across the arena floor, imagining he could see through it below to the metal catacombs where good souls were ferried out of the pigmen fortress.
They were his enemy, even if they did not yet know it.
Rhoke cast a silent prayer that he could hold their attention long enough and raised his hand from the dust, tapping his fingers to his temple and crossing his heart.
“Ay ay ‘old on! You’re not a Human!” shouted the boar-beast through speakers on his suit. He leaned the spear against his shoulder while his hands reached out, tapping away at nothing infront of himself. “There is a robot under that armour. The human’s are cheating!”
The invading army jeered and booed at hearing their generals words.
“This is my greatest warrior!” shouted Lord Reginald’s voice from behind Rhoke but it barely reached Rhoke against the jeering storm.
“You are no…” started Rhoke, his words vanishing into the noise of the crowd. He took in a breath and bellowed out, his voice carrying much further than it should have. His armour vibrated with the deafening sound. “You are no knight! I would sooner fight a peasant than livestock.”
The spear was up and rushing toward Rhoke, reaching far too close for his liking before he swiped it away at the cost of a gash down his arm. The dust burst into the air in plumes with their quickly moving feet. There were no boos to be heard, just the suddenly rising roar of the crowd and shriek of metal. The hog-chief was nothing like what Rhoke had fought before. The closest tactics he could use were anti-cavalry given the bulk behind the creatures movements. The spear sheared across Rhoke’s helmet sending a spark in through the visor and lighting up Rhoke’s sinuses with ozone.
Rhoke caught the haft and brought his sword down, splintering wood… black fiberous strands of the shaft and sending the decapitated point sailing back toward the beast. To the monster’s credit he didn’t go down. His beast's helmet turned one way then then another, the spear lodged in the side of his visor. His hands came up, removing the helmet to reveal a disproportionately small scarred head on the juggernauts shoulders.
Yellow poles raced in to separate them. “Round 4, a point to Rhoke.” shouted a referee with all his might.
Rhoke took a step back, giving the chief’s squires time to tend to his armour. He glanced to the side to see Lord Reginald and a few townsmen glancing around their arena, nodding to themselves and speaking into boxes on their out of place clothing. Lord Reginald’s lips moved and while Rhoke shouldn’t have been able to, he could clearly hear the voice as though he was speaking in Rhoke’s ear. “Push him, we don’t want them losing focus.”
Rhoke summoned the strange booming voice and roared out in their beastly language. “Do you need more time to tend to your linens? There is no shame in waddling back to your trough.”
The Chiefs face twisted and his armoured fists knocked his squires back. His face turned to madd glee as he stepped forward, punching at the air before raising his fists. “Who is the strongest?”
“Security Chief Grotch!” answered the crowd in a single voice.
The Boar could only see Rhoke, not the good souls pouring out of his fortress beneath his feet.
Rhoke wished he could have given the beast time to fight at his fullness. Despite himself, Rhoke had pride but what was the value of pride against a soul? Pride was a sin and a soul was…
Invalid… error #4D7C6F float infinity,
Rhoke glanced to his Lord for an answer when he saw The Black Knight Rhoke standing beside him, his reflection made flesh.
Rhoke stared down at his arm to see through a wound in his armour. There was no blood, no flesh beneath the padding. His eyes fell down to the sword that seemed to possess him so very tightly.
“What am I?” said Rhoke. His voice falling from his lips, then from his mind, the question bleeding out of him though hidden voices he didn’t know he had. He glanced up to see Lord Reginald’s brow furrow and his hand to start reaching toward the box- radio on his chest.
The world seemed far too slow, frozen in that moment as the question ran through his mind. He knew… He had orders from the highest authority and no time for clarification. He needed to distract the chief now, infinite value was on the line, there was nothing else to consider.
Rhoke dropped, his feet pressing to the dust as he pushed himself well beyond the industry recommended use, using the god given strength earned through good deeds. The world returned to its normal speed as he raced across the arena, sword coming about as he leapt.
They tore at each other, he ripped through dust and wind, cleaved his sword through black veins of oil and thudded his pommel into dented armour, in a bloody endless brawl.
“We’re done, send him on his way.” said Lord Reginald on radio band 4.
Rhoke danced back from a strike but kept his dodge too short, sapping the momentum from the blow across his bestplate to propel himself around, sweeping his sword to its fullness and down toward the beasts head. Grotch had a hand up and when steel met steel, there was a shatter of sparks and a half sword continuing down toward the hog-lords neck.
Half a sword.
R6 stood with the broken blade paused at the neck of one of their renaissance fair guests. He quickly pulled it away to avoid the hazard. He was not to harm the guests.
R6 clattered back, pinned to the dust, arms raised and punches rained down, burying him down through dirt into the bulkhead. His arm was heaved up and twisted from its socket, armour and padding exploded from the seam. He tried to rise but his ability to move with a missing limb was diminished.
“How much for the trophy?” shouted Grotch while holding R6’s armour clad limb above his head.
“Consider it a parting gift.” said Lord Reginald, then in almost a whisper to the side. “Get an engineer, now!”
“You’re leaving? Don’t tell me you’re sour about-...” started Grotch when his eyes flicked up to a pigman jumping over the arena wall at a sprint. His eyes narrowed, flicking across the pigman’s features. He only had to hear the words. “They’re missing.”
“Lock down the station! All ships, anchor locked, crews to be held for interrogation.”
R6’s radio cut out for a moment, all bands going silent as Reginalds voice spoke over the Renaissance Flotilla’s emergency channel. “Balderdash.”
The ship ‘Main-Tent’ whined as airlocks thudded down over each of the separate stalls. The room hummed with rapidly quieting thunder as each ship in the Flotilla separated from the Main Tent and burned away at the redline, but not the Main-Tent. R6 glanced around at the captain, the actors, the waitstaff who had been sealed on the wrong side, they were trapped here, anchored to the station.
Grotch heard the sound, saw the airlocks, an almost smile forming on his lips as his attention fell down onto Captain Reginald. “Arrest them, search the ship.”
The audience washed down into the arena turning the ship into a screaming mess. A thousand security personnel clamoured to be the one to find a hidden crewman, to drag them down the stairs into the arena before their security chief.
R6’s helmet was given to the Chief and his body was pulled along the dust and tossed toward the line of crewmen who knelt on the arena floor, hands behind their heads. A few nods were exchanged between the hogs and the room fell silent to hear their Chief’s words.
“Where is your meet up point? Where are they going?”
Captain Reginald was silent, his blind eyes holding firm.
“Are your knees vital?”
R6 flinched at the sound. He watched Captain Reginald drop to his side, his hand clawing at a wound. He screamed a note but pulled it back in, slowing down his breathing and clearing his voice to speak. “How many R6?”
“412 souls at last count sir,” said R6.
Soul: the spiritual or immaterial part of a life, regarded as immortal.
“Don’t say anything.” said Captain Reginald before screaming and gripping a new wound on his other knee. R6 would have told them to avoid further damage to his crew but his captain had ordered his silence.
R6 was without orders but he needed to act. He had a question for the highest authority and he needed to make it heard. He spoke, the voice buzzing out not from his speaker but in a broadwave blanketing all the radio bands. “What am I to do Lord?”
There was no answer but when he opened his eyes he knew what the highest authority wanted of him.
His question echoed out of each of the radios and stole the attention of Grotch. The chief took the pistol away from John, the Black Knight Rhoke’s knee, R6’s former reflection.
The chief eyed R6 for a moment, a smile crossing his lips.
“Don’t speak-” started Captain Reginald, his voice cutting off when his head was punched to the dirt.
“Little Knight, what do I want?” said Grotch. He stepped toward R6 and crouched down. “I had a good time at your party and I want to see it again. What station are you performing at next?”
Sacrifice: an act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else regarded as more important or worthy.
R6 glanced at his reflection, his eyes meeting John’s then glancing back at the former escape shuttle renovated into Challenger-Prep 3. He eased himself up on his remaining arm to his knees.
“Do you wish to know the location of the Flotilla?” said R6.
Grotch leaned lower. R6’s hand shot up, grabbing the collar of his chestplate and with all his might, he heaved his body up into the Chief’s stomach, wrenching 2 tonnes of metal off the floor and catapulting him over onto his back. He summoned his god given voice and roared out to the room.
“Fall upon me you heathens!”
R6 couldn’t process, there was no time for it as they descended upon him. He swung his fist and wrenched himself through the sea of security personnel. Armour was torn from his body and he was whisked along to rise and lose his footing. His body was wrapped in a thousand hands that spent as much time fighting each other for the chance.
In a brief moment he saw John lifting his captain from the dust, the sight cut away as the crowd rose up and buried him down toward the floor.
R6 sank into the heat and sweat. He couldn’t move. “Give me strength.”
R6 grabbed a three fingered hand, twisting it back on itself, he gouged an eye sending one squealing away. Bit by bit he regained control, smashing a fist, stomping on a face, fingers between his armour plates where sheared away. He became a wrathful blender at the eye of the storm, breaking apart the crowd and hurling himself toward the airlock to see it slam closed and blast away another 28 souls to safety.
Smeared in filth, leaking hydraulic fluid and coolant, he turned, his eye rising to see Grotch wade toward him, backing him up against the door.
“Best man I’ve fought, and a good trophy.” said Grotch.
R6 pressed flat to the door, his remaining arm gripping the frame
“I’m not a man, and I am not a knight. I am a robot.” said R6 and he threw the airlock control, catapulting himself out of the Main-Tent on a blast of wind and shredded pork.
R6 reached up as he passed through the black, eyes closed in those moments of silence.
Miracle: an extraordinary and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore attributed to a divine agency.
R6 felt something crash into his palm. He gripped the escape shuttle tight, locking his grip and whispered silent thanks into the void.

Hi! I'm looking for a film that my late mother watched when I was younger. I don't remember when it was produced, but it couldn't be later than the early 90s. The basic synopsis is that it takes place shortly after WW2; a teenage girl moves back to England after being sent to live in the USA during the bombings. There are a few scattered details that may help:
-when she arrives in England, she almost enters the right, driver-side of the car, forgetting that the steering wheel is on the right side, since it's on the left side in USA
-the attends a boarding school, and sneaks out at night via the scaffolding while renovation/repair takes place
-when she sneaks, she finds an abandoned house in the woods. She also meets up with a boy who also sneaks out from his dorm. They repair the house together and make a cozy sanctuary from it. I recall she uses special painting stencils on the walls to make it prettier (flower design, I believe)
-during a school assembly, they announce that the repairs are nearly completion, which means they will remove the scaffolding. This causes the main girl to faint in front of everyone else, since this removes her only means of nightly escape
Google was no help, so hopefully someone here is able. Best of luck!