Dress up venom

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

Previous Part
The first sound I heard that morning was foot steps outside my tepee.
“Get up! Shaoni wants you all in town.”
The gruff but familiar voice of my driver from three days ago shouted at me. It had to be some sick sense of humor on Shaoni’s part, sending this guy to come get me for things again and again. Honestly, even I was starting to feel bad for him. Bianca stabbed his friend I knocked him off that stage yesterday with one of the war clubs. I speak from experience when I say those things HURT.
“Alright alright, just give me a second to get dressed!”
I yelled back to the man as I rushed to get around inside. At least he had the common courtesy to stay outside. A minute or two later I stepped out to see everyone else gathered around the man. Brooke, Katrina, John, and Robert all stood there, just staring at me.
“Mornin’ sleeping beauty”
Robert finally said after what seemed like forever, nearly choking on laugher at his own joke.
“I thought you were never going to wake up. Did you not hear Shaoni last night? We were supposed to be up 6 sharp.”
He explained after his laughing fit. Apparently I had missed that bit of Shaoni’s whole presentation last night. Katrina grabbed a pair of keys out of her pocket and started walking away.
“Come on, we’ve got to get into town and finish this whole thing.”
She called back to us just a little too eagerly.
“She’s letting us drive? I thought she didn’t want us heading back to town without some kind of supervision.”
I questioned as we all walked toward the same beat up red pickup that had brought me here.
“I guess she decided to make an exception.”
Katrina replied, not even bothering to look at me.
“Besides I don’t think running is much of an option at this point.”
She continued, pointing up towards the sky. A storm was brewing there, a killer one by the looks of it. The odd thing was it didn’t seem to want to break, it was just stuck in that state right before it starts raining cats and dogs. The dark, angry clouds tapered off in the sky the further they got from town, Shaoni’s doing, it had to be.
The five of us would just about fit in the truck, not comfortably but we would fit.
“Oh hell no! I’m not dealing with you up here!”
“Why not?! You know you love it.”
Brooke and Katrina argued as he tried to take the passenger seat next to her.
“No you go in the back or I’m driving us straight into a tree, I can’t put up with you anymore.”
Katrina yelled at Brooke, tensing up and getting ready for a fight.
“Would you guys just knock it off! Just sit in the back Brooke, I’ll take the passenger seat.”
I scolded both of them, I was done with their little arguments, it was starting to get under my skin. An evil grin crossed Brooke’s face as he turned to me
“What’s up with you two? You’ve been all buddy buddy with him since we all beat the shit out of each other with wooden sticks. He didn’t get to you first did he? Hmmmm?”
Brooke prodded with a wink.
Katrina Immediately punched him in the face before I even had a chance to respond.
“Ey that’s a good right hook! Give em’ another one, come on come on!”
A heavily accented voice cut in from below my feet. Rocco had managed to slip in without any of us noticing. When Brooke lay eyes on him he just about jumped straight into the truck bed. Apparently whatever Rocco did to him yesterday had left quite the impression.
“I’m not even gonna ask, just shut up and take a seat.”
Katrina told Rocco, slamming her door shut as I took a seat next to her and Rocco hopped in the back. Robert and John pretty much made themselves flat to their doors as Rocco took a seat in between them in the back. Brooke rode in the bed, shooting nervous glances at Rocco every now and then.
Katrina drove like a bat out of hell through the woods and back into town. I’m not sure if she was in that much of a hurry to get all this over with or if she just hoped her crazy driving would throw Brooke overboard. Given where we were headed and how close we would probably be to Bianca, I can’t say I wasn’t hoping the same thing.
We pulled into the parking lot of the Save-A-Lot I’d gotten groceries from my first day here. The storm over head was raging but oddly enough It still wasn’t raining or anything like that. The wind was picking up and the sky looked absolutely sinister but other than that everything seemed fine in the town.
Before Katrina’s combat boots had even touched the ground she was already giving orders.
“Alright listen up, We’re working as a team this time wether you all like it or not. I want us to split up and see what we can find. Anything out of place, anything that seems suspicious, I want you to make a note of it. We have to figure out who the victim is going to be and who’s doing the killing. We have nothing to go on either so nothing is to small here. Lets all take a look around town and meet back here in two hours. That’s two hours sharp Keith!”
Katrina barked, taking charge of the situation and leveling one quick jab at me before turning on her heels and heading out into the town.
As everyone else hurried off in different directions I took a second to think. If I was looking for someone where would I go? Where in town would I most likely go no matter what? That line of thought is what led me to the front door of the Eagle’s Roost. Cliche I know, but a bar was a good a place as any to start, even if it was 8 in the morning. Maybe someone new had stopped by and Tuck would know something about it.
The door was unlocked as usual so I let myself in, if Tuck didn’t want guests I’m sure he’d lock it.
“Hey, Tuck? You in here?”
I called into the bar as I noticed the usually roaring stone fireplace had fallen silent.
“Tuck’s not here right now sweet heart, but I can take a message if you’d give me a moment.”
“Oh, ok take your time then.”
I answered before realizing the motherly southern voice couldn’t possibly belong to Tuck.
“Wait who are you?!”
I chirped as I rushed up to the bar and peered back into the kitchen where Tuck usually was. In his place was a dark skinned woman that looked a little older than Tuck. She wore a pink checkered shirt under an apron that read, “Kiss the cook”.
“My, I haven’t seen you around. I’m Richelle, Tucker’s wife.”
She answered. Her southern accent was smooth and calm. The exact opposite of Tuck’s brutal hillbilly speak that he tried to hide.
“Did he not mention me? He doesn’t like to introduce me to the new comers, always worrying about me that one.”
“No, I think he mentioned you helped keep this place running when I first met him.”
“He must like you then, most people round here don’t even know he’s married. Anyways what can I help you with sugar?”
Her motherly voice did wonders for my stress. I could see why Tuck married her, with just a few words I’m sure she could set anyone at ease.
“I was wondering if anyone new came into town or passed through here. Maybe someone out of place, something like that? Oh, and where’s Tuck?”
“Well I can help with both those things. There was a man here, got off a bus last night all alone and came right in. I don’t know what it was but I just had a bad feeling about him, made me shiver.”
She gave a little shiver at that, to demonstrate I guess?
“As for Tuck he’s been staying with those scientists and…. and I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that.”
She explained, a look of embarrassment crossing her face as she finished.
Before I had a chance to respond I heard the door slam open behind me. I swore I heard someone shriek my name. All I saw before someone knocked me over the stool I’d been standing next to was a blur of black hair flying toward me, and bright glowing blue eyes.
Bianca wrapped me in a bear hug on the floor.
“What happened to you, are you hurt, how are you back!?”
She fired questions at me as fast as she could.
“Bianca, crushing my… can you just, ease up a bit.”
I pleaded as she squeezed me harder than a boa constrictor.
“Sorry! I just didn’t think I’d see you…”
She squeaked, trailing off suddenly. A single tear making its way down her face as she blushed slightly and released me. In that moment I realized Bianca, who had stabbed a guy not to long ago for grabbing her hand, just bear hugged me. I’m not sure what I felt about that but at the moment, I was just happy to see her and even happier that she was happy to see me.
“Shaoni let us back into town for the last of the trials. We’re supposed to stop a murder in town.”
“A murder?! Is that what you were asking about? Is that man a murderer? My, what is going on in this town.”
Richelle shrieked, reminding Bianca and I that we weren’t alone in here. I felt the hot blood rush to my face as I looked up to see Bianca blushing as well, even redder than before.
“So, did you end up finding anything out about Shaoni?”
I asked Bianca as we took a seat at the bar, getting straight down to business as Richelle started stress cleaning in the kitchen.
I was a bit surprised by what she said. I never expected Shaoni to be THE Thunderbird or a descendent of them. I was still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing.
“So she went into hiding here then? That cave we stumbled into that was connected to the mines. Was that her… nest?”
I thought out loud, hoping Bianca would have some kind of answer.
“I guess, that’s what Frank and Stein have been calling it too. Speaking of Frank and Stein we should probably go see them. We were planning to break you out today, guess we were a little late on that huh.”
Bianca said, getting up from her seat at the bar. I’m not sure reuniting with Frank, Stein, and the rest of them was the best idea. At the moment I didn’t have a whole lot of other options though. I got up and followed Bianca out the door, heading back to her house to call off their rescue mission.
“Good luck darlin’!”
Richelle called after us, I felt sure we could use all the luck we could get.
“How the hell’d ya get back here son?!”
Tuck asked as soon as Bianca and I walked through the front door. Rocco had already found his way back and had apparently been filling everyone in on what had been happening. Stein was unloading some sort of pistol with a long thin barrel on the kitchen table.
“I’m glad I won’t have to use this at least. It’s been… many years since I’ve had to take this out of storage.”
Stein explained to no one in particular while staring at the gun. No doubt it brought back memories of his time with the German military. Frank walked out of the basement at that moment and nodded to me.
“Glad to have you back Keith.”
He said, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
“It’s great to see you all but I can’t stay too long, I’ve got to go back.”
“WHAT?!”
Everyone yelled in unison, even Rocco.
“It’s the last trial and Shaoni is overseeing it personally. You see that storm outside? That’s all her, if I don’t go back she’ll know and I’m sure there will be consequences. Besides Brooke is here too, I don’t want to give him any reason to go looking for me and bump into Bianca.”
I explained to everyone, not enough to wipe the shock off all their faces but at least Stein seemed to understand. Just the mention of Brookes name made Bianca freeze up. Only for a second but I could see this tension pass over her whole body and her eyes suddenly glowed blue and widened with fear. I was paying so much attention to how she’d react to that name that I almost didn’t feel her reach out and squeeze my hand from her place at my side. She sighed quietly before her eyes returned to normal but she still kept my hand in hers.
“You can’t go back! We only just got you back!”
Bianca protested, but my mind was made up.
“I need to see this through and besides someone’s life is at stake. I should try and stop that at least.”
Bianca couldn’t argue with that, neither could anyone else. I could tell Tuck and her wanted to but they didn’t. All Tuck did was quietly nod his head and grunt. I could tell Bianca was running through every possible argument in her head to try and make me stay but wasn’t coming up with anything. Bianca let go of my hand and asked,
“Can I at least come with you? To help stop the murder I mean.”
She looked into my eyes like a puppy, begging me to say yes.
In any normal circumstance I would’ve given in immediately to that, especially coming from someone who looked like her. This time though, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t take the chance that Brooke would see her and something bad would happen.
“You can’t Bianca, I don’t want anything happening to you especially with… him out there. I think Shaoni offered to help him find you if he showed up for these trials or something like that. Either way I’m pretty sure he’s here for you.”
I told her as gently as I could. I could see her recoil at the idea that Brooke might be here just for her. She was scared, maybe more scared than she’d ever been that there was even a small chance of Brooke getting his hands on her again.
“I… no, no your right.”
I didn’t expect her to give in so easily but it was a welcome surprise.
“I hope you know what yer doin son.”
Tuck told me as I got ready to head back out. Frank and Stein cornered me before I could leave as well.
“Take this.”
Frank said, thrusting what looked like a jury rigged walkie talkie into my hands.
“If you need anything call us on that. We’ll help however we can, and don’t expect us to sit around quietly when you go back. We fully intend get you out still, no reason to let a perfectly good plan go to waste.”
I thanked them for the walkie talkie. I was glad they were still looking out for me even if I doubted they could do much against whatever was to come, it was good to have people in your corner. Bianca was waiting for me when I got to the door.
“At least I get to say goodbye this time.”
She said with a little smirk. She’d been acting different since I got back, much more… personable?
“Yeah I guess so. What’s been up with you? You’ve been acting… different.”
I asked her, a little nervous for some reason.
“You helped me… a lot actually. Your the first person who’s really cared about me in years.”
“That’s not true, look at Frank and Stein.”
I responded, missing the point of what she was saying.
“No, not like that. I mean your a friend, a good friend… no that’s not, ugh.”
She said, shaking her head and looking a little embarrassed. Then she did something I really didn’t expect, she leaned over and kissed me.
“Just… make sure you come back ok? For me.”
She added as she pushed me out the door, starting to turn lobster red. My head was spinning but there was a bug dumb smile on my face, I’m sure of that. Filled with all the confidence that brought me, I headed back to the Save-A-Lot to see what everyone else had turned up on the impending murder.
As I walked back lighting began to crack across the sky. The lightning took all kinds of unnatural shapes. I swore one time it almost looked like a pair of eyes, watching me from the sky.
“Alright everyone, I want reports!”
Katrina shouted like a drill instructor, bring the group of us gathered around the hood of the truck to attention.
“The elderly cashier inside, she was… disquieted. More so than I would expect of someone in this strange town.”
John spoke, saying the first words I’d ever heard from him in a wise sage-like voice.
“I looked around for some kinda police station but this shit hole town doesn’t have one. How the hell am I supposed to report a murder if there’s no police!”
Brooke complained to the crowd.
“So, you accomplished absolutely nothing, I kinda figured that.”
Katrina scoffed at him.
“Yeah there hasn’t been a police station here as long as I remember. We never needed one, everyone either moved on to fast or stuck around and just wanted to be left alone, never caused any problems. Still, it’s a little strange come to think of it, would’ve figured the government would make us have some kind of police.”
Robert informed us before giving his own report.
“I looked around a bit myself, didn’t come across much on account of there not being all that many people to talk to in this town. Those old scientist types in the big white house never answered the door when I knocked and I couldn’t find their daughter.”
To my horror Brooke’s eyes lit up and he was suddenly razor focused on what Robert had to say.
“I did see some guy I’d never seen in town before walking around. Didn’t want to talk much though, he just turned around and walked the other way as soon as he caught sight of me.”
Robert finished with a shrug. Brooke seemed less interested after he heard nothing else about the daughter Robert mentioned. Did he know Robert was taking about Bianca?
“Wait that strange guy, was he wearing an old hat? Some kind of bowler I think, looked really out of place.”
Katrina asked suddenly, her eyes lighting up.
“Yeah now that you mention it I think he did.”
Robert answered after thinking for a second.
“Damn it! He saw me and ran when I was searching around town myself. So next order of business we find that guy. Keith! Did you see anything else?”
Katrina asked, whirling around to face me.
“I stopped by the bar and the bartender there told me someone new came into town a few days ago. Apparently she had a bad feeling about him. Maybe its the same guy you two saw?”
I proposed, pointing to Robert and Katrina. Katrina paced around for a bit, thinking I guess. She finally came to a rest again at the front of the truck, apparently she’d come up with another plan.
“Alright, I want that guy in the bowler hat found so we’re breaking into teams of two.”
“Uh, isn’t there five of us, that won’t work.”
Brooke interjected, earning him a look of pure murder from Katrina.
“Keep that up and I’ll find that raccoon, you can pair up with him!”
She yelled completely over Brooke’s attitude.
“I’ll go alone, Robert, John, you two are together same with you Keith and asshole.”
“I have a name you know!”
Brooke complained, getting yet another look from Katrina. If he kept that up I had a pretty good idea of exactly who the murderer and victim would be.
“Alright alright Jesus lady cool your jets!”
He said, putting his hands up in surrender as Katrina took a threatening step towards him.
A few minutes later Brooke and I had broken off from the other three having all agreed to meet up back at the truck in another hour. Brooke had insisted we go to the bar and search for the guy but I had a feeling there was more to it than that. He proved me right when he ducked into an alley and pushed me up against the side of a building right on main street. Usually that would be instantly seen by someone but here wasn’t like anywhere else. There was no one around to help me out or even see what was going on.
“I know we’re supposed to be looking for a murderer but I’ve got other things in mind. That daughter Robert was talking about, you know something about her don’t you.”
Brooke questioned with a growl, arm against my throat holding me uncomfortably tight against the building.
“Daughter? What are you talking about?”
I choked out, deciding to play dumb. He didn’t like this to much and pushed me even harder against the wall.
“That raccoon mentioned her name the other day when the fuckin thing attacked me and it seems pretty buddy buddy with you! Bianca! ring any bells!”
I felt my face grow red at the mention of her name as I thought back to the way she kissed me at the door. That reaction betrayed me and the beginnings of a twisted smile appeared in Brooke’s eyes.
“Oh yeah, you know her don’t you? Know what she can do to I bet. Did she tell you about me, how she threw away everything I could’ve given her.”
He hissed at me, venom dripping off every word.
“At first I didn’t care but then I heard stories of this whore who could wrap you around her finger like nothing else. She’d do whatever you wanted but you’d also pay whatever she asked, do whatever she asked. Imagine my surprise when I started looking into it and it turned out to be my little escaped bird.”
Brooke continued, grinning like a mad man. He was obsessed with her, it didn’t take a genius to see that. But I was in no position to argue with him, I could barley speak with the pressure on my neck from his arm.
“They called her a succubus, the crazy ones at least. Turns out they were right though, there was something off about her from the first day I met her but I had no idea she was something exotic like that. See I make a habit of collecting things, rare things, and she’s the rarest I’ve ever been able to find. I was so close to having her at one point but she just had to break away. When I met Shaoni late one night researching the supernatural she agreed to look into her for me on one condition. I agree to show up in this town in the ass end of nowhere and participate in some trials for her. Easiest deal I ever made, now I’m this close to getting my hands on her again. Imagine what she could do for me, what I could get with her powers.”
Brooke finished his monologue, finally letting me go.
“Now you’re going to show me where she is and I’m going to get the hell out of here. Get going!”
He shouted at me, drawing a pocket knife from his white suit jacket.
My first reaction was to look around and search for a way out. I couldn’t fight him, that was clear. I really didn’t want to get stabbed either. My eyes darted around trying to find anything that could get me out of this. Then I found exactly what I was looking for on the other side of the street.
Katrina had found the man in the bowler and he was running back toward the Save-A-Lot like Usain Bolt himself.
“Katrina, HELP!”
Brooke whipped his head around, trying to catch sight of her before she did anything. Katrina wasted no time though. She took one look at him, pulled the gun from its holster on her waist, and fired. The crack of the bullet made me run on pure instinct and Brooke dropped to the ground. It hadn’t hit him unfortunately, but it had bought me enough time to run.
“Argh that bitch! I’ll find her myself!”
Brooke shouted before getting back to his feet and running the other direction. The guy Katrina had been chasing used the distraction to make some distance on her. He was nearly to the corner that turned towards the Save-A-Lot. I took off after him as Katrina did the same, ripping the walkie talkie from my pocket as I ran.
“Stein get Bianca out of there! Head out to the mine, maybe there aren’t to many people there now, just get her out of town! Brooke is here and he’s looking for her I’ll meet you once this is all over ok.”
I think Stein said something back but I didn’t catch it. The adrenaline spike of getting shot at and chasing this guy who was likely a soon to be murderer made it hard to hear.
We weren’t as fast as we hoped but we were just fast enough to see the consequences of that. As Katrina and I got into the parking lot the guy was already inside, pointing a gun of his own at the elderly cashier that gave me a hard time about my ID. I made out the movements of her lips just before he pulled the trigger. It looked like she said “Oh, you’re the one she sent then.” Just before he killed her.
I stopped dead when I saw the body drop, I’d never seen someone die before. In Imalone people had died but I’d been knocked out for most of it. Seeing it up close though, it made my stomach drop. I fell to my knees and threw up on the spot, the blood, god the blood splatter behind her it was horrible.
Katrina didn’t stop after the shot, if anything she charged in even faster. The gun was still in her hand and she held it up in front of her, using the weight of the gun to smash through the glass doors with the bottom of the grip. The shards of glass rained down on the murderer who surprisingly, seemed just as stunned as I was by the corpse. Katrina dropped her shoulder and charged into him, hitting him so hard they both fell to the ground. She was back on her feet quick as lighting, flipping the guy over onto his front and putting a knee on his back in between his shoulder blades. Katrina locked his arm behind his back and said something I couldn’t hear. At that point I kinda spaced out. The only other thing I remember before getting in the truck was Katrina leading the man out of the store with his hands zip tied behind him. The few people who were in the store had come out and were starting to pick over the scene as we shot out onto the road back to the mine.
I noticed one of us was missing when we came to a stop.
“Where’s Brooke?”
“I wasn’t waiting for him, not after whatever he pulled in town. He can find his own way back.”
Katrina answered me while pushing the man she’d apprehended out of the truck and toward the entrance to the mine.
“Are you doing ok? You looked a little white on the way out here, like you saw a ghost.”
Robert asked me as we got out and followed behind Katrina.
“Sure sure I just… never saw someone die like that you know.”
I said, never so sure that I wasn’t ok. Robert gave me a knowing nod as we made our way down to the coliseum.
Shaoni and Katrina were waiting for us already. Brooke was there too, beaten and bloody against the wall. It looked like someone had dragged him back here against his will, probably Shaoni if I had to guess.
“I can’t say I’m pleased with what went on in town but in the end you did discover the murderer, even if it was too late. Now it’s time for the second part of this trial. I want to hear your judgements, what should this man’s punishment be?”
Shaoni greeted us, ignoring everything that had gone on before like it didn’t even matter. Something about that made my blood boil.
“Katrina, you first. What should this man’s punishment be?”
“P please.. you said.”
The man muttered before Shaoni slapped him hard across the face.
“You will be silent!”
She ordered, the room suddenly becoming electric with her temper. Katrina stepped up in front of Shaoni and gave her judgment.
“He took a life, he should be killed as well. It’s the only way to be sure he doesn’t do something like that again.”
Shaoni nodded at that and pointed to me.
“You next Keith, what should we do with him?”
I was filled with a rage I’d never felt before as I looked at the whole situation. Shaoni was meant to be a spirt of justice, or so I thought. Yet she let that woman die. Worse still, after what the woman said I believed Shaoni may have arranged the whole thing, murderer, victim, and all. That’s not justice, that’s playing god, using her power and influence to mess with people like pieces on a chessboard and for what? Just so she could “test” a few people who’d caught her eye?
“You deserve punishment Shaoni. That man is innocent, you put him up to it didn’t you? Him, the victim, all of it! It’s all just some kind of game to you isn’t it?! You keep claiming you represent justice but from what I’ve heard you’ve had a problem with that. This is something else though, where is the justice in this Shaoni, where! I don’t pretend to know what you’ve been through over the years Justice, but this isn’t right. If it was up to me this man should be let go so he doesn’t have you whispering in his ear and you should go back to sleep like you had been years ago.”
I shouted at her, not caring what she would do to me. It felt good though, to finally let her have it, especially after all she’d put me through.
I learned Shaoni’s real name from Bianca but hearing it seemed to make her shrink. The second I said it I had her full attention.
“No! You don’t understand Keith! These people were terrible, guilty of their own crimes. I found them both and offered them a deal. Submit to my judgment or do something for me and face the judgment of another. They got their punishments, I’m no monster!”
She roared back, the beginning of tears brimming in her eyes.
“Guilty or not you used them like pawns Justice! None of this is right, there’s no justice in it, no right and wrong. It’s just a game to you! Don’t you see this is wrong!”
I yelled at her again.
“DON’T YOU USE THAT NAME!”
She thundered back.
“Would you prefer Vengeance?!”
I added, shattering her.
The mention of that name brought Shaoni to tears and she lost her temper. She threw her hand out toward the man still zip tied on the ground in an act of anger. The tattoos on her arms glowed with a blue, ghostly light. The energy grew until a bolt of lightning arced from the tattoos, filling the room with the scent of ozone. The bolt hit the man in the head, searing the skin of his face black in an instant as his body went still.
“You don’t understand, all those years, all those mistakes. Do you know what that…!”
Shaoni started to scream to me again, but she was cut off by the sound of vehicles above us and the cracks of gunfire.
I looked around in surprise, still in shock after the brutal death of the murderer in front of me. I saw Katrina holding her own walkie talkie and smiling.
“Looks like my ride is here, time to end this little charade. Keith, I’d suggest running if I where you. Shaoni, I’d say its been fun but you’re the whole reason they sent me out here in the first place. You’ve been way too much trouble but for what its worth, good luck.”
Katrina hissed at the two of us. Robert, John, and I were stunned, even Shaoni herself seemed shocked back to reality by whatever was happening. With her piece said, Katrina turned and walked out of the mine, towards the growing sounds of shouting and gunfire coming from outside.

Previous Part
At some Point Bianca and I both fell back asleep. It was all I could do at this point, getting whisked away back to those mines seemed inevitable so I might as well sleep. The morning did not go well, largely due to Bianca, who threw me off the couch with a scream when she woke up.
“What’re you doing!”
Bianca squeaked, hand darting towards her pants pocket where her dagger would usually be. I woke up very quickly somewhere between the couch and the floor. I was fully awake by the time I was pushing myself back to me feet, raising my hands in a gesture of surrender.
“What’s going on?! You’re fine you just fell asleep on my couch!”
“Why were you… why was I?”
“Hey, calm down alright. We had a few drinks last night and I guess we both fell asleep on the couch together, that’s all that happened.”
I explained, leaving out the part where she pulled me back when I tried to go to my own room earlier.
“Yeah… yeah ok. Ugh my head is killing me.”
Bianca groaned, taking a breath or two then putting her head in her hands. I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was probably hungover so I just went to the kitchen to make something for her.
I decided on toast and some bananas, it was always a go to for me after a long night. In hindsight I probably should’ve seen her reaction coming. Look at what she did in the caves because that guy grabbed her, it can’t be that much better waking up on someones shoulder and not quite remembering it. The whole thing did give me second thoughts though. If she was such a live wire did I really want her stressing out over the trials and whatever that would bring? I suppose it was too late for that though, she’d already moved herself into my house so she could keep watch, for all the good that did seeing as Shaoni waltzed right in last night.
I still had a lot on my mind when the smell of burning toast sobered me up. I swore and ran over to salvage what I could of the blackening toast.
“What’s burning in here?”
Bianca asked a little worry creeping into her voice. She still had her head clasped firmly between her hands as she walked into the kitchen.
“Breakfast”
I replied flatly, holding my arms out to either side gesturing to the mild chaos I was causing. Bianca gave me an questioning, “thanks” and grabbed the plate I had made for her while I tried to think of what to do next. Like it or not, Shaoni had people coming to pick me up and take me back out to those caves today. I had to come up with some kind of game plan and right now, it seemed letting Frank and Stein know was the best idea.
Bianca stayed back at my place nursing her hangover when I left to visit the mad scientist duo. I had no problem with that, in fact it was probably best because I’m sure she would’ve insisted on going with me if she heard I planed to take Shaoni’s “invitation”. I wasn’t sure if Shaoni would let me take Bianca with me and personally I’d rather not push her buttons and try to negotiate bringing a plus one.
“Have you seen Bianca at all?”
Frank asked hurriedly as I came in. I was afraid of this, She hadn’t told them anything and just disappeared.
“Yeah, she pretty much moved the contents of her room to my couch yesterday. Something about keeping an eye on me, she’s fine though, I wouldn’t worry.”
I answered, a little worried myself that I’d catch hell from them if they knew she was currently working her way through her first hangover on that same couch. Frank seemed to calm down at that and finally got to asking the important questions like why was I back in the house… again.
“So let us get this straight, you just plan to go right to Shaoni?”
Frank and Stein said together in disbelief as the three of us sat at the kitchen table.
“It’s not like I really have a choice in the matter, besides I can’t really fight her if she wants me to go somewhere. If I try a stunt like that things go from bad to worse for me.”
They both shook their heads in solemn agreement, recognizing I was right.
“Anyways, I had a thought on the way over here, Thunderbirds are something from native American legend right? Well, if we’ve found a real one wouldn’t she have ties to a tribe or something in the area? She was sleeping here when they woke her up in the mine, maybe there was a reason for that, maybe she was close to home?”
I explained, hoping g they’d catch on to what I was asking.
“What exactly are you getting at then Keith?”
Frank questioned, furrowing his brow with an intrigued look on his face. Stein just remained silent but I could tell he was thinking, maybe even coming to the same conclusion as I had.
“What I’m thinking, is we check reservations in the area. Maybe they know something about the creature from their legends that just so happened to be sleeping nearby. I know it’s a stretch but maybe we could learn something useful. I’d go myself but I’m not going to have the chance. You guys though, you guys could take Bianca and Rocco with you and ask around.”
I explained, hoping I was onto something. I was pulling at straws but it was the best idea I had at a moments notice. Plus it would get Bianca out of town for a little while when I was figuring out what exactly Shaoni’s trails would mean for me.
“Keith that’s… no that actually makes sense let me check some maps.”
Stein agreed, walking away and into the basement. He came back a few minutes later with a map in his hand.
“There’s a Seneca reservation not to far from here, maybe 30 miles. That’s not the only one but I have a friend there from years ago, someone I helped. There’s a good chance he’d be willing to return the favor.”
“Great, then I’ll count on you. I’ll let Bianca know, I’m sure she won’t be happy about it but I’ll feel better if she’s with all of you.”
I walked out in a rush to get back home, almost stepping on Rocco on my way to the door. He made a frightening chittering hissing sound at me as he leapt out of my path. I briefly wondered where he was going and what he was up to, probably better I didn’t know though. As I got onto the bike and headed back towards home I hoped I’d be able to talk Bianca into going along with this plan. I was sure she’d rather come with me but after this morning I wasn’t sure she was ready for that. Don’t get me wrong I’m sure she wants to help and I know she means well but she’s jumpy and snaps at the littlest things. I didn’t want her to make things worse by accident or get hurt because she froze up again. My mind was made up as I drew nearer to my house but as it turned out I’d never have the chance to talk to Bianca. As soon as I rounded the corner I saw the rusty pick up waiting in front of my house, I’d arrived just in time to meet Shaoni’s “helpers”.
The men looked normal, just like the people in the cave. Come to think of it they could very well be those same people. I waved them over as I came to a stop in-front of the house.
“Can I just go in and grab a few things?”
I asked the three men sheepishly as I walked up.
“No, your late as it is, we’ve got to get going.”
A scruffy looking man with a gruff voice said from the drivers seat. Two men got out from the back of the truck and grabbed my arms, pulling me into the back seat. They weren’t rough with me but they were very firm. Like they wanted to hurt me but were ordered not to so they just made a show of force. After I was loaded into the back I saw the reason for their demeanor. One of the men, the one in the front passenger seat, was wrapped in bandages. The bandages covered his abdomen and snaked up around the back of his neck. It was pretty obvious to me that this was the man Bianca had stabbed. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say these four were probably the same ones we had encountered in the cave. As I turned and looked out the window I saw Bianca’s face peaking out of it. She looked angry and scared, like she knew exactly what was happening but she didn’t move. Bianca just sat there, watching me be taken away and I cursed myself for not being just a little bit faster on the ride back.
We took a way out of town I’d never seen before, turning away from the road leading to the dirt path we had biked down on our expedition into the forest. Instead we drove back through town, past Bianca’s house and the Eagle’s Roost before hanging a right onto a road I’d never been down. Eventually the road made its way into the forest and ended at a wooden sign warning that the road was impassable ahead. The driver stopped the truck and got out as another man emerged from the woods, holding up his hand and opening it to reveal the eagle tattoo I’d become so familiar with. The driver rolled up his sleeve and showed his own similar tattoo. Without a word he got back into the truck and the other man moved the sign off the road. It didn’t fill me with confidence to see the entrance to this place watched in such a way. It would make sense to have it hidden but being so brazenly out in the open meant they didn't really care who saw it. Not that anyone would think anything other than that the road was impassable but still. The truck eventually pulled off the road and into the woods, following a newly made track that lead to the entrance of the old mine that we escaped from just 2 days ago.
“I think you know your way in.”
The driver growled at me, parking the truck and signaling me to step out.
“Your just letting me walk myself in? Couldn’t I just run?”
“You could but do you think you could outrun her?”
He asked threateningly, pointing up at the sky. I knew exactly who he was talking about and no, I didn’t like my chances of running from Shaoni.
“She gave us all orders to leave any runners to her.”
At that moment I decided it may be good idea to be on my best behavior.
“Yeah that’s what I thought.”
The driver barked back at me as I obediently walked towards the entrance.
Walking into the mine I realized it had undergone a huge transformation in a very short time. The walls were now host to several torches that lit the pathway back down to the coliseum. It felt like I was walking into the dark ages as I made my way down into this pit by torchlight. Although I had to admit it was homey in an “evil layer” kind off way. The coliseum was lit up with torchlight as well but its not what drew my attention. Where the awful metal structure met the stone roof of the cave I looked into a brewing storm. Lightning flashed across the roof but there was no sound of thunder. Raindrops shown in the shadows cast by the lightning but I felt none of them on my skin. I had to admit, it was a pretty impressive trick. Paintings adorned the walls, all of them seeming to be tribal in nature. Many seemed to be various depictions of the thunderbird.
“Well at least she doesn’t have an ego”
I chuckled to myself as I walked into the center off the coliseum.
There were four other people waiting in the center of the floor. A clean shaven, well dressed man relaxed against the wall of the arena. He had perfectly trimmed slicked back blonde hair and a chiseled face. His rippling muscles seemed to be for vanity rather than strength. Just by looking at him I could tell I wasn’t going to like him. The only one of the bunch I knew, Robert, stood on the far side of the coliseum, watching me approach. He looked about the same as he had from the brief glance I got at the Eagle’s Roost. Balding white hair and a unkempt beard hung off his sagging face. Despite his age he carried himself with purpose, like he deserved to be there and wanted everyone else to know it. Then there was the blonde bombshell that was making her way towards the chiseled blonde guy. She seemed incredibly confident in herself but none of it was a show. Her confidence came from a place that made her absolutely sure of it. The final person stood in the corner and seemed to be talking to himself. He was a middle aged man of native American descent with a mess of black hair atop his head. He carried a look in his eyes that spoke of wisdom beyond his years.
I walked past all of them and took a seat on the floor, trying my hardest to ignore them. The effort was ultimately wasted as the muscular blonde guy walked over and held out a hand.
“Hey, my names Brooke, you are?”
My blood turned to ice as he said that, it couldn’t be the same Brooke Bianca told me about, could it? I stared dumbly at him for a moment before I responded.
“I’m… uh… Keith. Any idea what we’re doing here?”
“No clue, only know that the thunderbird wanted us here so we came. Hopefully she makes good on her promise, to me at least.”
His voice sounded like the “to cool for you” bully from any 80’s movie, it was almost annoying to listen to him.
“So you’ve met everyone else I take it?”
“Yeah, the weird guy in the corner is John, we don’t know much about him but apparently him and that Robert guy, the old one with the beard, worked for the thunderbird. Katrina, that beauty over there is a wild card, no-one seems to know anything about her but she looks like she’s hot shit and well, just plain hot.”
As Brooke gave me the run down of everyone in the room I quietly wondered to myself if Shaoni had given everyone the same offer as me. The way Brooke had said it, “promise”… that wasn’t how I would’ve phrased it. Maybe Shaoni cut everyone here a unique deal.
“…Anyways, I’m gonna go see if I can’t figure out that bombshell’s deal, I’ll see ya later Keith.”
Apparently Brooke had been talking to me the whole time but I only tuned in for the tail end of it as he walked off toward Katrina. I wondered where exactly Shaoni was, I had expected her to be here already but, as it turned out I wouldn’t have to wait long.
A thunderous boom cracked out above our heads and we all looked up at once, but the sound was coming from outside. I heard the flap of wings as Shaoni came in for a landing somewhere above our heads. It went so silent we could’ve heard a mosquito cough, then Shaoni stepped into the room. Not from either entrance but from a balcony above us I hadn’t seen before. She was wearing the same thing she had been when I ran into her in the cave, once again looking like a hardened, tattooed Pocahontas.
“Welcome everyone! I take it you’ve gotten to know each other?”
She thundered down to us as we all shot to attention.
“I’ve gathered you here to give a gift to one of you, but you must prove yourselves deserving. I’ve told some of you what I intended to do here and others may be hearing it for the first time. So for those of you who are gathering here for the first time pay attention. There will be three trials held here, one to test your morals, one to test your strength, and one to test your judgement.”
At this point Brooke spoke up in the way only a spoiled little shit like him could.
“You made me a promise! You never said anything about trials! I got all the way out here to this shitty little backwater and now your telling me I’ve got to compete to earn what you owe me?! Sorry, but I’m going to need more than that.”
Shaoni looked like she could’ve ended him right there. She was the judge and jury here, if Brooke wasn’t careful she’d become the executioner too.
“What you asked me for is in this town, that’s all I will say on the matter.”
Shaoni responded with less venom than I had expected judging by her expression. She didn’t actually seem to care that she had to tell him something to shut him up. It was the insult of being interrupted that struck a nerve. I was a little concerned by what she said, if he was looking for something that was in town and Bianca was there… could he be looking for her? “…Today though, just enjoy the company of one another. You’re all welcome to stay here at the camp I’ve had prepared for you outside. If you wish to return to town you may but you will be watched. No-one is to leave town until the trials are completed.”
Shaoni finished, I hadn’t really been listening to her welcome speech. She said everything I cared about when she told us what the trials where going to test for, after that I kind of tuned out. Shaoni disappeared in a flash, just like she had back at my house the day before and with that the five of us were alone again. I left, heading back outside to see this camp she mentioned. The others talked with each other but I really had no desire to. That didn’t stop Robert from running to catch up with me, wheezing when he got there.
“Hey you’re the one who ran out of the bar the other night! She’s said a lot about you, I’d almost think she had a favorite.”
Robert huffed out between breaths, punching me in the arm in a friendly but wholly unwelcome way.
“I’ve heard you know nothing about the supernatural, I’d be happy to tell you what I’ve seen working with Shaoni.”
Robert offered, fishing for any reason to hold a conversation with me.
“No, that’s alright really, I’ll manage. What do you guys do anyways, working for her I mean? I get the sense she could really run this whole operation on her own if she wanted.”
“She probably could do this alone. Most of the time we don’t work directly with her, this is a special case for those of us she’s got helping with the trials. There’s maybe 50 of us total and not just here, I mean 50 of us overall. She’s very selective with the followers she keeps so there isn’t many of us. We tend to sit around up-holding her ideals till she asks something of us through dreams, like the ones that brought you here.”
Robert explained, confusing me a little bit. I found it hard to believe a crew of 50 people got everything here done. I guess it wasn’t to outlandish when put in perspective though. If you told me Shaoni got all this done herself I probably would’ve believed you so 50 people organized by her, yeah I could see that.
“Wait, so you guys barley ever actually work with her, and what are her ideals exactly?”
“Have you heard the legends of the thunderbird? A lot of it depicts the thunderbird as a spirit of justice that fights evil spirits from the underworld, that’s really watered down but you get the point. I’ve never seen her do anything like that but she does uphold a certain sense of justice and that’s what she expects of us. Sure, she seems really intimidating but she wants to right wrongs that no one else will, it makes her a little harsh but she has to be. We just do that same thing when we aren’t getting orders right from her. Maybe you think she’s in the wrong here because she pulled you into this but we really want to help, sometimes there’s a price for that.”
Robert lectured, you could tell he really believed in what he was saying though. He may have been older but when he was telling me about the thunderbird and what she stood for he was filled with vigor again. Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought, I wanted all these people working for her to be some kind of weird cult like in Imalone. The more I heard the more I doubted that. They were people who followed her for a reason, not just because she gave them some kind of power. In reality I think what she really gave them was purpose. That sort of thing is more than enough for most people to follow someone.
When I broke away from Robert and got outside I found a huge camp had been set up while we were in the cave. Tepees of various sizes had been constructed all around the entrance to the old mine and one big canvas tent had a huge table running through it filled with food. For 50 people these followers of the thunderbird sure worked fast. I hadn’t decided if I wanted to go back to town yet. I hoped Frank and Stein had convinced Bianca to go with them, at least then they could get some answers while I was stuck here. If they were gone though what reason did I have to go back? As long as I was out here surrounded by people who work with Shaoni maybe I could get some answers of my own. I wasn’t really sure what information about Shaoni would do for us but she was a mystery to me. Everyone was here for a reason, I agreed to take on a burden, Brooke was here because of some promise Shaoni made, and I’m sure the rest had similar stories. Shaoni gained nothing from any of that though, besides this burden I had agreed to take. I’m not sure why, but it felt like figuring out what She stood to gain from this was important. If I could do that maybe I could put the pieces to this puzzle together. Two people had pointed out I knew nothing about the supernatural as well, Shaoni and Robert. That didn’t seem to matter to much to me but if all the others here had some experience in it maybe it should. It seemed like we were all on a level playing field though, Brooke hadn’t heard about the trials and neither had I. Robert and that strange John guy probably had some idea but they worked with Shaoni, I would expect them to know. Katrina, the blonde was probably just as surprised as Brooke, if I had to guess. None of us knew exactly what the trials would test for, so why did everyone keep brining up not knowing about the supernatural like it put me at a disadvantage?
“Why indeed.”
A familiar voice said, sending lightning through my veins and breaking my train of thought. I just about tossed the turkey leg I’d been eating directly at the source of the noise.
“Shaoni, you have got to stop doing that.”
I said, crawling back into my skin after she scared me out of it. Shaoni still looked just as she had when she addressed us earlier, adorned in her animal skins and feathers. It took me a second but it finally clicked that she had said something strange when she sat down next to me.
“Hang on a minute, can you read my mind? Was I thinking out loud or something?”
“No, you just looked lost in thought and I figured I’d chime in.”
“Oh, alright… why?”
I squeaked out, abruptly realizing that this was Shaoni, the thunderbird who was sitting next to me. There was a second there where I wasn’t as intimidated by her as I normally was but it had passed quickly.
“I wanted to know how your doing, I know all this can’t be easy to take in.”
“I’m doing fine, I think I’m adjusting pretty well but I did want to ask you some questions.”
An amused look ran across Shaoni’s face at this. She wasn’t being as commanding as before either, she almost seemed to genuinely care about my well-being.
“Would you walk with me, I’ll answer your questions on the way.”
Shaoni asked, standing and waiting for me to follow her. Not seeing any better options I stood up and left alongside her.
We walked around the perimeter of the camp, out of ear shot of anyone else. I’m sure she did that on purpose, though I wasn’t sure if it was so no-one could hear my screams if I asked a question she didn’t like or if she just wanted privacy.
“Why me Shaoni? Why chose me out of everyone, was it just a coincidence?”
“Straight to the point hmm. Think Keith, when I found you in the position you were in you needed my help. Sure, I planned to dispose of the cultists that were threatening you anyways but I stopped to help you. You saw me descend from the sky, swoop down, and bring them to their knees, I extended an offer to you and you just took it. You didn’t bargain or ask for anything more after I shattered your perception of what does and doesn’t exist, just accepted my offer. Most people would have bargained, tried to look for a better deal for themselves but you saw what the price of my help would be and paid it, no second thoughts. That interested me Keith, you recognized what had to be done and didn’t try to avoid the cost, that’s why I chose you.”
“So I appealed to whatever sense of justice you have? That’s it, that’s the only reason?”
She looked almost hurt as I asked this and she stopped walking. I definitely stepped on a nerve, I expected her to snap but she didn’t, She just asked very quietly,
“Do you think I’m a monster Keith?”
I was stunned by the question. Could I really say she was a monster? What had she done so far? Save me, that’s what, was that really so monstrous? Sure it may have come at a cost but nothing is ever free. Shaoni even came to warn me about the trials ahead of time, just barely ahead of time but it was something.
“No Shaoni, you’re not a monster just… someone with the powers you have… it’s terrifying for a normal person. Can you really say I’m in the wrong for being afraid of you?”
Even as I said it I knew it was a lie, at least partially. I wasn’t just afraid of her, I wanted her to be evil and she just wasn’t, not really. Maybe she was a bit intense but everything she had done to me so far couldn’t be called evil.
“Fear is only natural when you see something like me, but I’m not a monster. The thunderbird has always stood for justice. That’s what I represent, I can’t be everywhere but I make it a point to uphold justice where I am. Those who I’ve chosen to follow me hold my justice in their own town, in their own lives. I can be harsh but I am just.”
She said this with such intensity I had no choice but to believe her. Her conviction to justice was zealous but I still wanted to pry a little bit more.
“So what does justice mean to you then? I don’t mean to be disrespectful but I want to hear it from you,”
I asked, growing a little more confident in talking to Shaoni. For once I didn’t feel like she would kill me on a whim. Give her a reason, and Shaoni would do it without a second thought but I don’t think she cared that much about my questioning.
“Justice is black and white, right and wrong. Normally there’s a pretty good system in place to punish those that deserve it but sometimes things slip through the cracks, that’s where I come in. I take care of the heinous acts people get away with, people that think they’ve gotten away with murder, so to speak.”
“So your a vigilante then? That’s what I’m hearing here.”
“I wouldn’t be so crass but yes, I suppose you could call me a vigilante but I promise you that’s an oversimplification. Suffice it to say my opinion on matters of serving justice is respected.”
Shaoni seemed a little uncomfortable at the word “respect”, I think a better word would’ve been “feared”. I wasn’t going to say it to her but I knew she suspected it. I could see something about that really hurt her. I couldn’t put my finger on it, the reason Shaoni didn’t want to be feared. Despite being the scariest thing I’d seen so far she didn’t want to be known for that.
We talked for a while longer about a whole lot of nothing. Eventually we got back around to the camp and she bid me goodnight despite the fact it was 3 in the afternoon at the time. She was probably right though, I was going to need the rest if I wanted to be ready for the first trial tomorrow. I found my way to a tepee conveniently marked with my name. I didn’t remember it being marked before and I didn’t understand the point of giving us specific tepees, privacy I guess? The fur sleeping bag was a rustic but welcome touch and despite lacking the amenities of a usual home the tepee was quite comfortable. As I settled in for the night I heard a rustling on the far side of the tepee, then a voice, one whose heavy accent I recognized immediately.
“So, turns out they don’t check under the truck. Ya got me here with you now.”
Rocco said, emerging from a blanket in the corner. That revelation didn’t exactly set my mind at ease. Rocco must’ve sensed my apprehension to the fact that he was anywhere near me right now.
“What?! I’m here to help out! I heard you going on about a trial or somethin’ so I figured I’d tag along under that truck when they picked you up, can’t have enough back up ya know.”
He continued, pulling a belt with several tools out from under the blanket as he spoke. I wasn’t pleased to have him here but maybe I could make use of him.
“I was hoping you’d go with Bianca and the other two but honestly, it might be nice to have a friendly face around here. Just… try to stay out of trouble.”
“Trouble? When do I ever get into trouble?”
I hoped he was being sarcastic, you can never tell with him. I bit my tongue as Rocco walked out into the camp, silently praying no-one would see him. With that I settled into my sleeping bag and tried to think of what I could expect from the first trial tomorrow.

I slowly drift from my sleep and think to myself, ow, why is everything warm? I check the thermostat and see that it is at a temperature as cool as canada and when I turn back to go back to bed so that I can sleep in, I see that my stuff has been knocked over? Oh sorry, where are my manners? I'm James O’Maley, I put everything back into place, and lay down on my bed but nothing is comfortable! I just decide, you know what, whatever, I’m just gonna get ready for work, and with that i get dressed, everything feels harder to put on, but it really hits me when I go to brush my teeth, when I looked into the mirror, I saw that their were, wings on my back, and a tail, growing out my butt like a lizard, I obviously spend several minutes having an existential crisis about this shocking revelation, and I decide to look at what these wings can do, I open a window, crawl out, with some difficulty and some slamming the window on my tail. I go to the edge of the fire escape railing, hop on, and jump, and I flew, higher and higher, until i nearly flew into a mountain but that's when I suddenly breathed fire, from my mouth, and bore a hole straight through the cliffside, I could spend all day flying, breathing fire, and fiddling with my tail, but I began to feel as tired as if I’d just gotten back from lifting weights with tigers, I landed on a cliffside and fell asleep. When I woke up I wasn’t on the cliffside anymore, there were monitors and scientists all around me. I tried to show some sign that I was awake, but I was chained up! I spent several moments struggling to get free, I must be free, I am not something they can chain down! I struggle, I roar, I attempt to move my head enough to burn the surrounding area, but I can’t, until someone finally talks to me,
“Hello there, James, please forgive us for our caution, but with your kind we can never be too careful.” I can see the scientist, I read his name tag, Dr. Crane William, I roar out
“My kind!? Get me out of these chains!” I breathe fire, claw, kick and swing my tail, trying to free myself, until I see two other people watching, one with weird whiskers, a long tail and a smug look on his face, and the other with a similar appearance to me but her wings are her arms. The next few days go by, until the two finally decide to talk to me, and in those days, My face becomes a snout like a komodo dragon’s, the one with the whiskers opens his mouth first and I already hate him
“Would you look at that, he’s even uglier up close!” I glare at him with absolute hatred, that seems to anger him more,
“What are you mute or something? Speak before I tear you apart!” he takes one step closer and that's all I need, I Bite his shoulder and use his head to break the chains on my right arm, I continue to break the rest of them with ease, and tell whiskers
“You want to fight? Let’s fight!” I leap on top of him, clawing at his face, he tries to slash me with a blade on his tail but I grab it and stab the wall with it, until I feel a burning sensation in my veins, The girl had bitten me! She looks at me with sadness,
“Sorry about this,” I look at her and drift into unconsciousness, when I wake up next I’m in some kind of, medical wing, ha, wing, as I look around I feel that my mouth is bound shut, but other than that, I can move my body, I get up off the gurney and just when I think it looks nice, whiskers shows his face,
“Well thanks a lot freak, now I’m on probation with Dr. Crane.” I motion to my mouth and he seems to have enough brain cells to understand what I mean
“Ha! You got the boot, Lily had that on her when she wouldn’t stop biting staff, I’m Ryan Mist.” I just walk away and try getting this muzzle off, That's when Crane walks in,
“Well, I must say it has been a while since we’ve had to use the boot, Ryan, your behavior was unacceptable!” I can tell that Crane is annoyed, and right as he finishes his sentence, click, the boot falls off my face and clatters to the ground. I don’t bother trying to fight Ryan again, I’m just happy to be able to talk!
“Well that’s a lot better, now, talk, I want answers.” I growl, Crane and Ryan seem surprised that I got the boot off but they talk, turns out, I’m what’s called a dragonkin a Human who has dragon genes in their genome, Lily and Ryan are also dragonkin, although they can’t breath fire, Lily has fangs and a venomous bite, turns out she’s the girl that bit me, and Ryan just looks weird, apparently we are the only dragonkin who evaded the organization that Crane works for, Called ‘Kadmus,’ into adulthood, Lily being found at 22, Ryan at 20, and me at 24, on top of that, we are the only dragonkin who have survived that long, it’s at that moment that I notice Lily looking at us from behind some glass, I decide that I’ve heard enough and open the door, and I leave the room.
As I leave the room I can tell that Lily was not expecting me from the look on her face, I start a conversation with her, trying desperately to be friendly and not notice all the scientists glancing at me nervously.
“Hey, Lily, Right?” I say in the friendliest tone I can, “I’m James.” Lily looks at me with a calculating look before answering
“Hello, yeah my name is Lily, Lily Megan.” she clearly is wary of me, but I can tell a few things about her, making herself look small, clearly smarter than she lets on, seems shy,
“How did you get it off?” Lily breaks into my train of thought with the question,
“What?” I ask her, confused,
“The Boot, how did you get it off?” She gestures to the room where Crane and Ryan were having an argument, but more specifically to The Boot, laying on the ground
“Oh that? I once took a lock-picking class when I was younger.” I explain
“Huh, you mind teaching me that sometime?” She catches me off guard with that one, I can tell that she is being genuine so I agree, And we begin working out what time works best.
—————————————————————————————Unfinished———————————————————————————
Because of rule 2 I should explain the dragonkin, The dragon kin are humans who have dragon ancestry, the three dragon races are: Flying flame drakes, The basic dragon you see in wings of fire, and most other media, wyverns, venomous bite, front legs are the wings you get it, the eastern long tails, look kinda like the luck dragon from everlasting story and the wisest of the three (Ryan inherited none of that wisdom) The flying flame drakes are from Africa and Europe, the eastern long tails are from Asia, and the wyverns are from the Americas, and the dragonkin characters have ancestry in those areas, James has European ancestry, Ireland specifically, Ryan has Asian ancestry, Japanese and Chinese, and Lily is native american either, Sioux, Navajo, or Lakota, And Crane, While not a dragonkin, Is from Africa along with his family, all the dragons are near extinct, with small pockets all over the world.

The YouTube Teen changed the rules. We are still earning $1,000 a day to stay in the insolvent, decaying galleria mall that has even the gigantic central skylight boarded up so we have no idea what time of day it is—part of the “social experiment,” according to the YouTube Teen.
Micah, who lost tenure track at SUNY Binghampton because of “a dalliance with a matriculated temptress from Hong Kong,” says the YouTube Teen is not using the term “social experiment” correctly.
Still, the YouTube Teen told us he’s going broke due to our astounding okay-ness with surviving on rank fountain water and rock-hard Mrs. Fields’ oatmeal cookies. Since we signed the four total pounds of legal waivers and were sealed inside the Walden Galleria, just two of the original six have dropped out: Lawrence, because he earned enough money to get his lupus properly treated, and Jessica, whose mind broke.
To date, the YouTube Teen told us—giggling, hair freshly permed, eyes substance-glazed, palm trees swaying lazily in the background on the giant monitor set up in the food court just for these check-ins—we have personally cost him $725,000. Which would be “valid as fuck,” except the Views have gone down and the various memory foam mattress and ejaculate-volume-enhancing supplement sponsors are grumbling. Viewers are becoming bored with the highlight reels edited together from the three hundred GoPro cameras bracketed throughout the mall above us inside small plexiglass boxes.
In the end, The YouTube Teen tells us, he is as beholden to the algorithm as we are to him. And so now, the snakes.
Non-venomous, mostly (the copperheads representing the BIG exception), and—the YouTube teen has assured us—all species native to the region. The YouTube Teen is committed to the Environment and will not upset the local ecosystem by losing track of an invasive snake. Should an eastern hognosed or striped racer escape the confines of the mall, it will be happy and healthy and find plenty of its preferred prey in the drainage ditches and fallow farmland surrounding the mall.
Micah has called bullshit on this, too. He is positive he saw a desert king snake, native to the Southwest, casually contorting its body up a slicker-wearing toddler mannequin inside GAPKids.
But the answer is yes: we have been bitten. A lot. Which is the point, I guess. Any rustling through the Mrs. Fields’ wrappers sends us running—usually into another angry snake’s hiding place, which, of course: more bites. Because of the highly-aggressive northern water snake, we don’t go near the fountain anymore except to risk a quick dip with our filthy TGI Friday’s pint glasses for a gagged-down gulp of gray-green water.
On a positive note, the views are up—not to their peak, when Jessica went into the eerily pristine Lids store on the second level and started setting Florida Marlins Official New Era fitted caps on fire before flinging them like frisbees into the Fredericks of Hollywood beneath the mezzanine on the level below, setting ablaze several plus-size Lara May Lace Babydoll Sleep Dresses that put off smoke so black and acrid that air quality and general visibility both went to zero for hours.
Susan, a single mother to two spectrum-diagnosed precious angels, was overtaken by the flames while holding her drinking cup—a giant plastic wine glass from Spenser’s Gifts reading I’M THE FUCKING BIRTHDAY BITCH—and it was melted more or less permanently to her hand. She has chosen to stay, though, despite the pain and embarrassment—“at least it will make sense one day a year!” Susan says, brandishing the blackened novelty cup and mangled, terrifying hand at us.
Jessica had to go, is the upshot. She also had to forfeit her earnings—attempted involuntary manslaughter of the other participants being one of the disqualifying circumstances outlined in the four total pounds of legal waivers. But it was far and away the best week views-wise, and we each got a large bunch of rubber-banded beet greens as a reward which we immediately devoured raw, sitting hunched on the dead escalator, our deepening anemia making us ravenous for the iron.
This is all to say, the snakebite highlight reels have “revitalized the channel” (Re: the YouTube Teen).
We all hate the snakes but Sylvie talks the most about how much she hates the snakes. She calls me “Kyle” but that’s not my name—I don’t tell her because I don’t want to embarrass her and I am in love with her.
Sylvie is not here for the money—Sylvie has a lot of money because she shares frequent online photos of her large and unique ass, which has had several popular songs written about it—but to pay penance and rehabilitate her image after she used some slurs when she assumed she was free to do so.
It’s unfair, Sylvie says. She would not have said those slurs if she knew there were any type of video or sound recording devices around. Plus, South Asian people should be able to take a joke. No sense of humor—that was another thing that was wrong with them.
I don’t tell her my granddad was from Lahore. Me and my sister called him Nana. He called me Chotu and would cut up mango slices for me until my hands were slick with juice.
But he’s dead now and he didn’t speak English (another thing Sylvie hates) and Sylvie is committed to being a Good Person. Also, I think she believes I am South American or Mexican based on her habit of calling me “Papi” when she occasionally forgets my name is Kyle (it’s not). It’s fine, though, because her heart is in the right place and it’s the least I can do to keep her spirits up while she “really does some listening and reflecting.”
One of the things I do with that in mind is assure Sylvie that you can barely see the snakebites on her large ass, which she also fears is getting smaller due to lack of proper nutrition. A little secret is that I would love her if her ass was even just a quarter its current size. And one day I’ll tell her that and she’ll look into my eyes and smile, and then I’ll tell her my name is Kader, not Kyle, and I don’t think she’ll even get that angry, like when I disagreed with her about the Moon Landing (I still basically think it was real).
Before Sylvie, I didn’t have a purpose of any kind. I came to be sealed inside the Walden Galleria in the same way everything happens to me: first something isn’t happening, and then it is, and I can’t really untangle the millions of decisions and non-decisions in my life that led me to any particular time or place. But I usually don’t feel any kind of way about why one thing happens and another doesn’t, unless something hurts me or makes me uncomfortable. Like snake bites, for example, which sometimes make me wish I was back at the apartment with my mom and my sister. Not that we really saw each other or talked much, except when we ran into each other in the kitchen while grabbing toaster strudels or a can of peaches before scurrying back to our separate little blanket nests and preferred online videos.
So when Micah asked me what sort of “outdated social mores” brought me to the mall, I didn’t have a good answer. The only thing I know for sure is that before the mall I wasn’t anybody and you have to have a lot of people know who you are or your life is bad.
This made Micah quiet (rare) and then he asked me what I liked to do in my life before the mall. I told him I liked to watch videos of crayons being made. Over and over again, I would replay the part when the still-warm, rubbery sheets of colored wax are scraped out of their troughs and forced through the metal, crayon-shaped molds. I told Micah I like to watch orange crayons get made best even though green is my favorite color. I don’t know why.
Micah said entropy is the natural state of the universe and the making of crayons flies in the face of entropy by creating order out of chaos, and this makes me briefly forget about my own mortality.
Probably? Micah’s smart so I believe whatever he says. Even when he talks (all the time) about how it should be totally fine for people in positions of authority to have sexual relationships with younger women who take their Intro To Natural Sciences course, even if these women’s command of English is not one-hundred-percent, and how that sort of thing is very normal because women are attracted to power and have been for millennia and it’s these later-in-life sexual conquests that people with minds like Micah’s are owed when everyone finally realizes how great and smart they are, especially after they had dog shit put in their backpacks pretty much every single day in seventh grade.
Micah also says it’s winter now. The owls that made their way into the mall in order to eat snakes have started nesting (having snake blood dripped on you from the track lighting above is pretty common). Nesting is a winter-time occurrence, according to Micah, instinct forcing its way through the temperature-controlled bubble of the mall.
After one of the owls attempts to make a nest inside a large fuse box and is electrocuted, we know it’s winter. The Macy’s end of the mall stinks of burned owl for three days and the heat and electricity are “completely donezo,” according to a text we receive from the YouTube Teen on the Communal Phone. But the YouTube Teen is very excited about the new dynamics below-zero cold will add to the social experiment. He also told us we can breathe a sigh of relief due to the long battery life and night-vision capabilities of the GoPro cameras, assuring us that the Channel will not experience any disruptions despite the pitch dark and intense cold that have settled in.
Also, we will still be delivered a freshly-charged Communal Phone every few days when the YouTube Teen’s Street Team comes to collect and replace the GoPros before delivering the spent ones to the overnight editorial crew. So we will still get our one hour of Internet access per day, per person, ideally to be spent in part or in whole on updating our social media and “driving engagement.”
Sylvie uses her time to share photos of her ass and also to monitor the activity of her competitors in the large-and-unique-ass influencer space. I usually give Sylvie my hour of Internet time so she has extra, even though lately I’d really like to see a crayon video so I can forget about the cold and dark. Instead, I watch Micah snap wooden Banana Republic clothes hangers over his knee in order to burn them in Sur La Table soup pots to stay warm. He struggles with this due to the dozen or so XXL Nike Dri-FIT athletic shirts he’s wearing, layered one on top the next, the combined girth of the jerseys preventing him from being able to touch one baseball-gloved hand to the other and get a good grip on the hangers for snapping.
It’s funny to watch, and I understand why the edits of Micah falling down while attempting simple tasks are gaining in popularity, but I don’t laugh. Micah didn’t laugh when I broke my nose after I tripped over the poncho I made from a Martha Stewart California King Duvet I found in Bed, Bath & Beyond.
The toilets have frozen solid and the Yankee Candle has become the new bathroom, the theory being that the Sweet Vanilla Horchata and Fresh Cut Rose candles, among thousands of others, would cover the smell. Nope. Instead, these aromas have combined with the odor of our waste to create a stench so overpowering and unique that none of us has the words to describe it. Susan came closest when she said it smelled like someone dumped a million of gallons of perfume into a sewage treatment plant
One day during Sylvie’s (my) Internet time, she lets out a howl. When I rush over to see if one of the snakes managed to somehow survive the owls or freezing temperatures and sink their fangs into Sylvie’s ass, she brandishes the Communal Phone at me and scrolls through photo after photo of gigantic-assed women enjoying a special, head-sized fried chicken sandwich.
Sylvie begins to weep with despair. The sandwich—a Limited Edition Drop from Arby’s that comes in a hand-hewn mahogany box emblazoned with the familiar cowboy hat logo—is so desirable that at least twenty people to date have been murdered during disputes in the massive lines snaking for miles outside the restaurants. Obtaining one is currently the greatest indicator of power, with various dictators from around the globe sharing photos of themselves enjoying the coveted sandwich.
Sylvie says she needs one of those sandwiches more than anything she has ever needed, and I tell her right then and there that I’m going to get one for her. She hugs me and kisses me on the cheek, and it is the best thing that has happened to me in my life.
Susan, waiting for her turn on the Communal Phone so she can video chat with her non-verbal precious angels, points her melted Birthday Bitch cup hand at me and reminds me that if I get caught sneaking out and back in, I forfeit my earnings like Jessica did. Attempted manslaughter and cheating are given equal weight in the four total pounds of legal waivers.
The Street Team is coming soon for a camera swap, so the next day I use my Internet time to look up directions to Arby’s—six miles if I cut through frozen fields and drainage culverts.
During the swap, a piece of plywood is usually left unscrewed at the doors near the carousel and the unblinking plastic horses watch me slip out as the Street Team removes the spent GoPros, creating a momentary video blackout.
It’s nighttime and the snow comes down not in gentle feathers but in tiny knives, given a painful velocity by the wind. The snow is in uneven drifts stretching out beyond the short distance I can see. I discard my Martha Stewart duvet-poncho after I trip for about the tenth time while crossing a corn-stubbled field.
After hours of leaning into the wind and snow, my steps slow to a frozen crawl. But finally, between a Valvoline and a Dollar Tree, the familiar glowing red cowboy hat shines through the slanted snowfall.
I fall through the doors and there is no one inside but a single, furious, pockmarked 20-something behind the counter. He glares hate at me and recoils from the smell of my unwashed body as I crawl up to the counter and order the special chicken sandwich.
Smiling for the first time, thin lips pulling up shittily around ratty teeth, he tells me they sold out days ago, and that I smell like shit. Which is true, but rude.
As I uncoil the Forever 21 Active Seamless Flare Leggings from around my face, though, Rat Teeth recognizes me—he is a fan of the YouTube Teen’s channel. He excitedly tells me he stole a sandwich that he has already promised to sell to the current Burmese dictator, but instead he’ll let me have it for free.
I think maybe I cry a little from gratitude as he goes out to his car to retrieve the mahogany box. But as he shakes off the snow back in the restaurant and I take the sandwich from him, Rat Teeth suddenly puts his arm around me and takes a photo of the both of us with his phone.
I ask him what he plans on doing with the photo. He says he will post it on every platform known to man so he can get “two truckloads of pussy” which he says will back up to his house now that he has proof he met me. I beg him not to—I tell him I’ll lose my earnings and be banished from the Walden Galleria and lose Sylvie if he posts the photo.
Rat teeth tells me tough shit, and I lunge for his phone. We struggle until I bash him in the head with the mahogany box and he has a really bad seizure, a halo of blood spreading across the bleach-smelling tile floor.
I grab the bloody sandwich box and run out into a corn field and back toward the mall. But I’m not sure which way it is, and the storm is way worse. I go slower and slower and I finally sit down and can’t go any more.
After a bit, I see Nana. He’s super pissed and he doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then:
“I think you would have benefited from some structure in your life,” Nana finally says without moving his mouth—he somehow puts the hot words right into my brain.
Yeah, probably. But I tell him that’s not really important right now because I’m gonna die.
“Eat the sandwich, Chotu.” Nana urges.
I tell him the sandwich is for Sylvie. When they find me, they will find the sandwich pristine and untouched and perfect. Then Sylvie will know what I did and she will love me. I tell Nana I need her to love me or everything will be pointless and so fucking stupid.
Nana shakes his head and clucks his tongue like he used to when he read his squiggly Urdu newspapers. And then I don’t see him anymore.

Good evening, Everyone, I'm back with another practice writing post.
The Subject I shall be practicing today for my writing therapy will be Dialogue And Expression Practice.
Today's writing therapy story will be.. Odd to say the least.
I Also need to integrate some new words in my grammar structure in order to further extend my writing capabilities.
Very well, Let's begin. Reimu's talk with a friend from Over The Hills And O'er The Main. (Through Flanders, Portugal, And Spain.)
The Tranquility of the forest around the small Hakurei Shrine was almost welcoming if it were not for the fact it was the place most Yokai within the confines of Gensokyo called their home, One should be wary when treading the forests of Gensokyo, As a single blunder can have you sent straight to the Yama... How grim.
But on this night, Three shall partake in some Jolly Bonding, Two natives to the land of Gensokyo, And a friend from Over The Hills And Far Away.
Through the thick foliage of the forest, Between the bugs within the bushes and the birds resting in the trees, There was a fire crackling about within a small encampment, A Warming Welcome for any travelers seeking refuge, or a free ticket to bloodshed for any violent or malevolent Yokai... But, There shall be naught of that tonight. For the three sitting among this fire goes as follows, Reimu Hakurei, Hakurei Shrine Maiden and devout follower to the Hakurei god, Marisa Kirisame, Ordinary Human Magician, and friend to Reimu. And then, The third...
The third individual among the fire was none other than an Undead, A Skeleton to be precise. Reimu has dealt with Undead Skeletons before, Every time she's encountered one, all they've been were mindless husks for violence raised by the foul magic of Necromancers, Reimu's expressions turned to one of pure disgust before her face returned to it's usual blank expression...
But this one.. Had intelligence, It was sentient, Seemingly keeping the humanity it once had before they died.. Reimu's face was taut with an expression of pure confusion as she observed the skeleton sitting next to her, It was fully dressed and wasn't aggressive, Infact, it gave them shelter for the night...
Before Reimu could utter any words, Her body jumped up a bit before twisting into an expression of annoyance, Reimu proceeded to turn her head around and putting her gaze upon Marisa, Who was happily smacking down on a plate of food the skeleton had cooked them up, Consisting of Potato's, Sausages, And a slimy brown substance. (It's Gravy.) Nothing they've ever seen made or sold within Gensokyo, But none the less, Marisa was scarfing it down like she had not eaten in days, She's even forgotten her basic table manners.
Reimu's look of annoyance forged itself into one of irritation as she continued putting her gaze on Marisa, Reimu then lifted her hand up from her lap as it drifted away from her cup of tea as it went towards her chest, Reimu then proceeded to give her chest three small hits before getting Marisa's attention by clearing her throat loudly.
Marisa had snapped out of it and finished scarfing down her meal, Her face was... A Mess to say the least, Little Scraps of the mashed potatoes were scattered about all over her face, and once she had realized that her face burned with a crimson red... She fixed her head towards Reimu, Her face was currently the epitome of embarrassment, And her mouth forged a small smile to try and recover some of her dignity and pride. She then reached her hand into her dress's pocket, Rummaging around a bit before she pulled it out, A Long with it a handkerchief. She then wiped the mess off her face, albeit with an expression of pure embarrassment.
Reimu then let out a hefty sigh, Biting her lip and turning her eyes towards the sky with an expression of what only one could describe as pure unfiltered vexation. Reimu decided it's best not to dwell on petty anger, And instead decided to fix her gaze back on the Skeleton... It was just looking at the fire infront of them, It's skull holding a blank and lifeless expression as the holes where the eyes were once held peered on the crackles of flame.
Reimu's expression turned into one of confusion yet again, As she thought about it. Every Undead she's met up to this point was either some Jiangshi Servant to their master, Such being Yoshika, Or just some mindless skeleton used as cannon fodder... But, This one was different, It was sentient and had intelligence, It even gave them food... Such can anything happen within the confines of Gensokyo's Barrier.
Reimu couldn't hold the curiosity that was burning within her psyche so much, So she cleared her throat, coughing a bit to clear it and making sure to have a clear voice. She then asked, A Curious tone within her voice. "スケルトン、名前は?"
The skeleton having heard Reimu, Tilted his head up a bit before fixing it towards Reimu, Tilting it as he looked at her. He then spoke up, A Masculine Voice rang out with a Foreign Accent. "Huh? What'dya Say?" The skeleton said with a curious tone.
Reimu hearing the voice could confirm it was a Male, Though her face forged into a scowl as she realized something... This was the only barrier not even Yukari could manipulate.
The Language Barrier.
Reimu gave out a giant sigh of defeat as she realized she couldn't converse with this odd skeleton, He spoke an entirely different language almost unknown to Gensokyo. For what should she do? Reimu then remembered she had a witch friend next to her.
Reimu turned her head back over to Marisa, Who was now finished with her meal and was washing the metal plate she ate it from, A Modicum of redness could still be sighted on her face as she did so. But, Marisa's attention switched from the plate over to Reimu once Reimu had lifted her hand and gave Marisa and small bump in order to grab her attention.
Marisa, Utterly confused and still quite embarrassed from the events that transpired a bit earlier wondered what Reimu wanted, Before Reimu asked Marisa if she had any translation spells? Marisa then understood Reimu's request, Without any moments of question or hesitation, she had reached her hand into her satchel and pulled out her grimoire, Before reciting a small chant and the spell taking hold of Reimu, She could now communicate with the skeleton.
Reimu gave Marisa a pat on the shoulder as a thanks before putting her gaze back at the skeleton, Once again Reimu cleared her throat to make sure she was speaking clearly and not hoarsely, A Timid Expression plastered upon her face. Beginning to speak with a hint of shyness to her voice: "So... What's your name, Skeleton?"
The skeleton had now twitched a bit hearing some English, Quickly turning his skull towards the Shrine Maiden and tilting it in utter confusion, before responding with a small laugh: "You're suddenly speaking English? Hiding secrets from me now, Are ye lassie?" He chuckled after that, Which put a small blush on Reimu's face from slight embarrassment.
She shook her head a bit, Before returning a reply: "No, It's just that I don't speak "English", My friend Marisa just used a translation spell in order for me to talk to you." She said, Hiding her embarrassment behind a tone of irritation.
Somehow, The Skeleton's jaw somehow uncannily bent upwards, The bones could be heard cracking as they moved, Forging something similar to a smile. This unnerved Reimu a bit before the Skeleton Spoke up again, His tone filled with heartiness and humour: "Well, I Guess that gives me my answer. Now, It's rude for you to talk to a stranger without properly introducing yourself, What's your name?" He asked with a tone sincerity, As his skull returned to its normal expression as the bones morphed back to the position it was once in.
Reimu still unnerved from seeing a skull morph into a smile, Shook her head and hid it with an expression of Irritation, She then replied with a bored tone: "It's Reimu, Reimu Hakurei, That's my name. Now, Tell me yours, Skeleton." She asked with a tone of suspicion as her face was forged with an expression uncertainty.
The skeleton gave a small laugh before returning a reply to Reimu, as his tone was still filled with an odd happiness: "Campbell Evans Kerr The 2nd, 23rd Regiment of Foot, Nice to meet you, Reimu." He said with a jolly tone, His skull contorted into a smile again before morphing back into a normal expression.
Reimu's curiosity had been lifted, This skeleton was a foreigner, And by his outfit, It's obvious he's a soldier of some kind, So she then asked a simple question: "Where are you from?" She asked, Some curiosity in tone, An Expression of interest upon her face.
The skeleton known as Campbell skull once again contorted into a smile, As he spoke with a more Happy-Go-Lucky tone, Giving Reimu the response she wanted: "Well, None other than Mother Britain." He Said, a smile still plastered on his skull.
"So, You're a European like everyone at the Scarlet Devil Mansion?" Reimu asked, Her tone betraying her eager interest as her expression was that of a little girl hearing her Grandfather's Stories.
Campbell laughed a bit, His tone now turning more curious as he looked at Reimu, Now asking her a question: "There's other Europeans like me here in this strange land?" He asked with a tone of inquiry as his skull contorted into an interested expression.
Reimu's face then forged a frown as she heard "Strange Land" That oddly upset her, Before she snapped back: "It's called Gensokyo. And there's a mansion with a Vampire Mistress who claims to be a descendant of "Dracula Von Tepes", She's known as Remilia Scarlet." Her irritated tone held a bit of venom in it.
Campbell had completely ignored Reimu's irritation and gave a small chuckle and he responded with a satisfied tone: "Ah, Vampires.. Read all about them when I was a young lad... Never liked the leeches that much." He chuckled after that.
Reimu's cheeks puffed out a bit as she tried to hold in a laugh, Her mood going from irritated and annoyed to ticklish in an instant, Before finally bursting and she began to giggle. After that, She then sighed once she was done laughing. Her attention suddenly fixed over to Marisa, Who now looked tired after finishing their meal. They have been solving a major incident all day, After all... And the fact Marisa always got sleepy after eating.
Reimu then realized she was exhausted herself, She then lifted her arms and stretched out her back before yawning, Turning her gaze back over to Campbell, Speaking to him in a tired tone: "Me and Marisa are quite tired, Should we head to bed?" She had asked in a questioning yet exhausted tone.
Campbell nodded in understanding, Before his skull morphed into a smile again and spoke in a tone of sincerity: "Surely, You two can take the tent. I'll keep guard. Since we skeletons don't require sleep." Campbell said as he got up from his sitting position on the log and reached bony hand to his side before equipping his musket and turning off and walking to a tree, Taking up Position there.
Reimu was surprised her and Marisa got the whole tent to themselves, But none the less she shrugged and grabbed Marisa's hand, Which caused Marisa to blush a bit. Before dragging her off into the tent where they could sleep.
The stars within the vast abyssal cosmos glared down into Gensokyo's surface, The fire that kept the three warm during the cold night would soon be merely embers by the morning, And soon the trio would set off to solve the incident...
Splendid.
Anyways, I'm aware that an Undead British Skeleton Soldier being friends with Reimu doesn't make a lick of sense. But I went with it anyway.

I was hoping on some critique on this story before a pursue it further.
Session 14342276897
“Now, with our deliberation concluded”. He said with a sense of exasperation “We will now decide on the fate of man” Like he has done for the past eternity, Abel cast the first vote. And like he has done for the past eternity, he voted to stay.
Abel returned to his dais and watched as the damned cast their ballots in the wrought iron box. In the long ago he marveled at the chamber that sat so many bodies, but he has since grown sick of the white stone benches and marbled walls. He did not hold the same hatred for this room as the one that had flourished in him around the time that David came;he simply had become bored with it.
The body waited until the final vote was cast. As always the final vote was cast by the newest. He was a scrawny boy barely sixteen in age. It had been easy for Abel to introduce him to his new life. Gentiles like him were usually the quickest to acclimate. It was the holy which usually had the hardest time understanding the truth. They would insist that this was the serpent’s work until they inevitably ran out of fight.
The boy deposited his ballot and the room grew silent. The box ignited in a horrible dirty flame. Abel saw the smoke. Black as night and thick as syrup. He cleared his throat and addressed the crowd. “We have spoken”. His voice nearly shook the room with its authority. “We shall remain another day and adjourn in the morrow to decide our salvation”. The crowd made its way towards the antechamber and out into the city. Abel took a moment to enjoy the solitude he so rarely got. There would be another he would need to introduce.
Session 3
“ Would you please stop pestering father,''Abel said with a hint of venom. “ You aren't winning either of us over, can we please just move on to the vote”. He glanced at the old man. He was wearing radiating over the trios state of dress.
“ I’m just saying that he must want to return to a place of paradise like he was born to. He had existed without suffering and can now bless all with that pleasure”.
The old man looked up “In time I will be ready, but I do not yet feel worthy to exist as He does”. He took a long quaking breath and continued “ I must still repent for the world I brought everyone else into”. Cain saw an opportunity and responded like a leopard pouncing on his prey “ You cannot be at fault; you had not yet existed with the concept of lying. You saw two truths and chose the one which was more relevant to you”.
“ Do not defend my actions. I made a choice to betray the only thing that can truly love. We knew what we were doing. Perhaps not completely, but enough to know on some level that we were doing wrong”. The old man was now standing on trembling legs and scorning Cain with his sunken face.
“ Both of you need to calm down. We’re not discussing ideas anymore, we are digging up grievances which can never be reburied.”
The room went silent. Cain took a second to recompose himself. “ Me and father are clearly at an impasse, but you must understand me. We have a chance to save all of humanity that could ever exist. I just need one of you to agree with me”
Abel tensed for a second. “No”.
“What do you mean “No?”
“ I hear what you have to say, but I know you don’t believe a word of it” Abel sat up taller in his chair “ You wish for paradise so you no longer feel guilt over what you have done. I will not let you hide from your actions”.
“But father is avoiding his gui-”
Abel stood on the dais, towering over Cain. “ He feels guilt because he knows he has done wrong. YOU feel guilt because you were CAUGHT”.
Another wave of silence spread through the room. The men looked at each other for a second. Silently, they all cast their votes. All knew the results before the first spark appeared.

--⧼ BEGIN Broadcast Message ⧽--
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Priority Level: Urgent
:: From ::
Center Arm of the Emperor, Planet Laran
:: To ::
All Survivors of Fellow Royal Cast Broods
:: Message ::
The Emperor has graciously permitted the use of his Excellency's summer home on Planet Laran, located in the Empire's Center Arm, as a temporary refuge during the unprecedented violent Terran offences against His Holiness and the holiness of the Omni-brood of Ix.
:: Attachments ::
Coordinates and Flight Key
:: Royal Cryptographic Signature ::
Lord La'Ix, The Emperor's Right-Center Arm
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
--⧼ END Broadcast Message ⧽--

earlier

"CURSE THEM! The great houses are going to have my bloody head for this! There is no way this should've happened and under my command too! The Golden Emperor's own exotic holiday world has gone to ash and the only one to blame is going to be me. Well it was basically my watch anyways. Curse. Them. All"
Those were the only legible sounds one could hear among the frantic stamping of one particular Ixian lord as he hurried away through the underbrush of the royal reserve just outside the centre palace. The same Ixian lord that, only hours earlier, was delighting in his typical cooked boar while enjoying his evening's entertainment of a young Terran girl running for her life from a loose Laran tiger. Something about the way those bipeds run always makes him laugh. Some similarly caste Ixian would call this form of entertainment childish, lowbrow, and immature. He would tend to agree. But sometimes he just wanted cheap slapstick humour. The day to day life of the royal caste tends to get dull with all the fine arts an Ixian of his caste is meant to enjoy.
"How did it all go to shit!?! I was always attentive, and there hasn't been an uprising since those terrans were tamed for the palace. I mean we mostly neuter the problematic ones anyways, so why all the sudden aggression?", he shouted in agitation at the emptiness in front of him.
Speeding through the royal garden which in actuality is a repurposed Savannah of the island the palace is on. The Ixian was a beast of speed. Perfectly honed and trained over decades, and genetically maintained over eons, he always proudly held that he was the fasted in his brood of 16. Making a name for himself among the other broodkin for being the most genetically suited for the rank of high general (not that there was any need for generals, there hasn't been need for war in so long). Of course the Ixians always pride themselves in having no excess potential, and adapting your environment to suit your biology, but it never hurts to have perfect biology. That's the true pride of an Ixian.
That innate need to change the universe rather than changing themselves is what led to their vast interstellar empire. One that reached from constellation to constellation and then eventually to the arms of entire galaxies, terraforming worlds to the same environment they were already adapted to. Since forcing nature into one's bidding was the most sacred duty of any that shared a lick of Ix biology.
Which was why the Ix was confident in themselves. This Ixian in particular surely felt surprised, but mainly he was only moderately upset at the sudden change of situation, from being comfortable in the royal dining hall to sudden exercise.
"Everything can be changed back. Everything can be changed back." It repeated the mantra to itself. As it began to relax and turn its snarled sharp mouth into a toothy grin.
"Yes, there is nothing to worry about at all. Then let's make a game plan. Just need to make it to the space port at the harbour. Grab a ride out and find someone else to take the fall. That old royal butler is as ancient as the dirt of the broodworld. Hell, he probably was there when it vanished in the shadow of the holy empire's long past." chuckling to himself at the quite witty remark, but saddened that no one else was there to hear it.
Should be realistic enough for the others to believe. But first things first, I need to reach the harbour-master. It thought while its dense muscles powered the beastly lizard-like form on its journey, as it bound in the direction of its destination at top speed on all fours.
The blood red sun was already kissing the horizon by the time the Ixian went to nearly collapse under exhaustion of the extended sprint. He hasn't ran this far and fast than when he a young broodling that won competitions and competitions in the royal sports. I think I might have overdid it. He thought while massaging the oncoming threat of a sneaky cramp in his hind leg.
The Ixian were well known for speed. But their stamina was another thing. There bodies simply didn't have the evolved features for long distance travel. There was never truly any need in the past, as their very steady and controlled climate and sparsely diverse ecosystem on Ix never truly required much challenge.
It turned its panting head to face the way it came, gazing proudly at the great distance it made in such a short while.
But something was off by that view. Something different to what he was expecting. The view itself was mostly fine. Well, as fine as a smoking mark in the distance, presumably from the summer palace being engulfed in flame and spitting great plumes of black smoke. But no, something about this view chilled him to this spine. Craning his neck from his vantage point he could swear there was a small speck in the distance.
What on great Ix is that?
All of a sudden realisation hit like a rock on a peaceful pond. Something was following him. Something unknown and cold was making its way to his location. He was certain it wasn't any of his guards, all guards permitted to serve under the royal summer home were Ixian of course. Physically bred for their strength and speed, and placed into roles of importance like protecting the higher caste such as himself. (Whereas this day being the only exception). It did look like he was the only Ixian that actually made it out of the palace so far. Ixians are able to cover short distances in phenomenal speed, akin to a scaly 4 legged beast of the hunt.
No this was something else.
Feeling a very small panic build up inside, but veiling that cold, unwanted terror as impatience at how far he still needs to travel yet. Lord La'Ix flexed his anterior legs and sped on leaving behind a red-yellow cloud of dust in his wake.
He frowned. Feeling strange at a never before felt sensation. Like something in the back of his perfectly designed brain was screaming a silent, but terrifyingly familiar warning.
"Ix itself is an ancient world. Temperate in climate, while abundant in vegetation and small game. It is unknown how the Ixian was formed on paradise.
The old priest can drum into your heads that I'Ix made us into being by indenting his form in the sand of the first beach and filling the shape with his life. Moulding us into being.
The heretic would counter and say we evolved from a previous species akin to ourselves over the course of untold lengths of time.
The philosopher would suggest that only on paradise would the sentient universe fill in the space for the perfect beings to enjoy the fruits of existence.
Lastly, even the lowest caste Ixian would point and laugh at the rest and say 'why talk about antiquity, when we can make more paradise to fill the heavens'."
-A popular Ixian parable
Lord La'Ix bolted up all of a sudden from his resting spot. Heart suddenly beating frantically. The stars had barely enough time to shift positions when last rested his weary body, only a couple hours must have passed since dusk fell and the world plunged into night.
The silence of the Savannah made sound from afar travel better. Aside from the quiet rustling of the wind he wasn't so sure what he heard. Assuming his bored ears were playing tricks on him.
Calming down, curling up on the flat cool rock he found he started to drift to the shadowless lands where all Ixian go when they dream...
Drums, no, not drums. Some sort of mechanical tool? Not that I ever heard of a tool that just beat the ground senseless. A strange beating sound could be heard, pounding into the ground. As he stayed frozen and very awake, he could have sworn it was getting louder. Closer.
CRACK. SNAP. CRACK.
Suddenly the entire valley echoed the sounds of a few broken sticks.
La'Ix jumped up, whirling around, and came to face something approaching fast that could only be described as a cold predator, not that there were any predators on the homeworld's recorded history. But every cell in his aching body reacted the same. DANGER, DANGER, RUN, RUN.
The silver light of the planet's 3 moons barely lit the valley but what that light bounced off of was a figure in motion. Front Legs pumping up and down, nostrils flaring, eyes too close together, and pupils so large it was like staring at darkness itself.
Hold on there are only 2 legs right? Sudden familiarity hit him hard, memories of last night's entertainment stained his mind. In the name of Ix is that a Terran?!?
La'Ix didn't realise it then, but it was looking at a Terran, despite the Terrans characteristics looking different to the standard slave he was used to seeing. The pumping body of the runner was made for such long distances. Sweat acting as a cooling mechanism, making the man glisten in the harsh moonlight, the enlarged nostrils taking in all the air the body needs for this type of strenuous activity. And the enlarged pupils, made for adjusting to low light environments.
Down on the plains of the Savannah were two creatures. One a perfect evolutionary miracle, practically evolution's first try gone right, Perfectly made for its environment and was never truly exposed to varying climates and environments. And the other, having crawled through the primordial ooze, and struggled and fought its way through dangers, diseases, and competition on its own horrifying world. Where deadly heat in deserts can dry out any living thing, and such freezing poles that can turn anything that enters it in pure ice.
The man's lean and sweat-slicken form was steadily making its way towards the frozen statue of La'Ix. Just as he got within 50 paces did La'Ix sprint away scattering pebbles in its path the echoes of which bounced back from the valley's sharp walls. Undeterred, the chaser kept steadily running. Jaws grit. Eyes locked on afar.
And afar was its prey. Sprinting away.
HOW IN IX'S NAME DID THAT THING KNOW WHERE I AM? The La'Ix in a fit of sudden excitement mixed with a heavy dose of panic, began its high octane sprint from the sudden looming threat of being found. Hind Legs propelling the creature's body forward, while its front arms, which were historically also for four legged locomotion, pulled the terrain closer with each stride. Increasing its momentum until it reached max speed.
"Broodling La'Ix!" said a stern but educated voice.
"Huh? Oh! Yessir!" a young Ix jumped to attention still thinking about more enjoyable things specifically outside of the classroom walls.
"Well? Can you please answer my question or will you make your other broodkin wait until Ix falls to ash first", the tutor said expectantly, prompting several muffles giggles in the room.
"Sorry sir. What makes the Ixian race its place in eternity is the attention we put in perfection. After our home-world of Ix's climate and terrain began to change, the leaders from antiquity decreed we carry on the spirit of the home-world in maintaining a consistent biological and genetic profile that will always be suited to Ix's surface. As we change worlds to be more like Ix, we can spread the spirit of Ix to them. As such, Change is- uh, change is..."
"Change is the poison of perfection, Remaining unchanged for Ix enable us to carry its spirit to other planets in the heavens", continued the tutor. "Well you certainly paid some attention to today's lesson at the very least. But remember that final part. It's the last of the core tenants you will need to remember."
"Yessir!"
A good half night passed on the surface of the Savanna. Where a previously noble and alert Ixian who took great care in appearances and status was no longer to be seen. Instead of that proud domineering alien representative of ix was a dishevelled, dusty, ragged creature, dehydrated, hungry, and exhausted from the various sprints it forced itself to endure to stay ahead of fate's ever closing hand.
Is this the sword of Damocles that was mentioned in the ancient Terran records? Always hanging down on those who hold power and seek more? Fate's sharp blade? But why me? I was never in any real power. All I wanted out of this life was a comfortable posting with no dirt and grime from the lower worlds. Why me? Why now? Why do I-
La'Ix snapped himself out of a daze. Is he here- No, no I should be far far away from that Terran now. Maybe I can find some-
A dim glow interrupted its train of thought. Much too early to be the Sunrise on the Emperor's summer planet, and much to low to be the light from one of it's 2 moons. It was a light from a town.
"That's right!" The Ixian barely managed to rasp in between haggard breaths. Its body barely able to continue the amount of self inflicted abuse it has suddenly been put in.
A lot more hunched over than the Ixian was earlier. It made its way towards a small town it knew was in between the palace and the harbour. The emperor loved his royal rustic towns and villages. It is said that his royal emperor would sometimes tour around them marvelling at the romantic theme of a simple rustic life. Although getting a personal town full of Ixians required a lot of lower caste be forced into long and expensive work contracts as background entertainers for the king's planet, all this excessive show of wealth was partially for peackocking the emperor's reputation, and partially for his own personal enjoyment. The Emperor is almost culturally required to flaunt his royal wealth in all forms in order to keep connections with all the royal houses. An emperor that doesn't shower their supporting aides and houses with grand gifts is fated to eventually be found cold on the floor of the royal banquet due to 'suicide from accidentally ingesting poison', as was the previous emperor.
To avoid such an unfortunate passing, the Higher Royals would trade vast resources, delicacies, and even exotic slaves to court 'royal favours'. Slaves of the Terran variety especially are considered to be the most unique of gifts the empire has ever acquired.
Terrans weren't necessarily large and bulky. Fighters were assigned to the Slave Obniraks. Powerful creatures used to fill the fields on tougher worlds where mechanical services would be deemed to expensive. The growth of a Obnirak into full working adulthood is only a few cycles. Meaning mass producing a workforce is quite an easy feat.
Terrans instead would take vast cycles to mature from a childling to an average adult. Meaning growing a slave force would take vast quantities of resources, immense patience, and strict guidance from their owners as to not create faulty creatures. All of which increases the general standing on any house that manages to keep a vast amount of Terran slaves in the best quality.
Terrans weren't necessarily docile and obedient. That role was perhaps given to the oldest slave race the Ix ever controlled. The Iralisa. It was known that they were made remarkably docile due to generations upon generations of select breeding, and pruning off the 'aggressive traits' from the gene pool. However, that led to the adverse effect of physically weakening them to a point where such docility and lack of a frame to keep up with their workload led to a general lack of Ixian interest and were subsequently purified.
Terrans are notoriously independent and herd-minded in larger quantities. Similar to growing a very stubborn Terulian Rose Vine. Which only looks impressive when great care have been given. Terrans need to be given an illusion of being ever so slightly free. Which typically involves owning vast amounts of land and nature to let them roam and graze. Of course, the only ones that can accommodate grand work forces of Terrans are the larger houses with the appropriate territory for humans, as is studied in the Ixian art of Servitude.
One can only guess which species is the Emperor's favourite.
The following town should indeed have both, low caste Ixians, and possibly none of the Emperor's favourite slaves.
The Ixian approached the glowing town. As it reached closer it straightened its back, upright on its hindlegs in the royal fashion. And proclaimed. "It is I! La'Ix, royal courtier. Lend me aid imme-"
Something is off. Not a single shadow in the town, I can see lights but no movement, where is every-
After turning the corner to the center of the small town, the dustied and weary creature froze in its tracks when it saw it. A pit nearly as wide as an Ixian land cruiser and who knows how deep filled with a stench so powerful it watered his eyes. Despite the Ixian's lack of a proper sense of smell. It knew the foul fetor of death.
The crudely dug pit was nearly overflowing when he approached it. Large, smoking, smouldering pyres cast that eerie light that had drawn him in.
"H-how? Wha-What the..." he trailed off when a local species of Laran boar growled and squealed as it tore a dead Ixian limb from the mountain of corpses.
"Who could've..."
He stopped. The shock of seeing his own kind laid like broken dolls in a bleeding pit slowly faded, replaced by a numbness. The Ixian had just noticed they were of Ix. Only of Ix.
Not a single terran colour was visible in the black and spotted pit of bodies. Not a single slave body was visible.
I-Impossible...
His legs gave way, either from the strain of the entire nights run, the horror facing him, or the threat from behind. He just dropped.
Minutes passed, or hours. It was hard to tell. But the Ixian lay slumped. Body unwilling to move further. Battered flesh unwilling to be propelled by a shattered spirit.
Mind slowly spinning up again. Thoughts began whirring to life in its mind. Could the rumours actually have been true? It had read the sparse reports of odd activity from certain Ixian-controlled worlds on the outer arms of the empire. Small uprisings of unknown origin. Hardly anything of note. If it had no affect on the greater houses then it was of no real concern to Ix and its emperor.
Could this threat have made its way to the centre arm already? Impossible. But what else could have done this to us?
Something caught the Ixian's eyes. In the middle of the pit it stood. A large stake, wet with deep Ixian crimson, dripping ever so slowly. Towering over the pit like a battlefield flag was a head of an Ixian rammed onto the tip of the spike. But the particular detail that caught the Ixian's eyes was a symbol cut into the flesh of the large forehead.
Looking from the outward-in. Eight concentric rings, which proceeded to get smaller and smaller in size until it reached a dark mass at the centre of the symbol. The Ixian never forgot the symbol and the affect it had on it.
Eight concentric rings, and a centre mass. Eight rings, and a mass. Eight- Eight what? Eight planets? And a star? ...
A growing pool of cold dread rose in its guts that made it shiver despite the fair night. This dread reflected the sharp reality on its frigid surface.
This Ixian was well-bred, well-trained, and well-educated. Although anyone with a basic education would know of such a pattern.
Terra and her sisters. THEIR star system...
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
It's not possible!-
Knowing what that sound meant, the Ixian tried to whirl around, its body barely being able to heed its masters commands. Just when it was starting to move again it felt it.
Sudden sharp agony. Sudden sharp, raging agony. The Ixian looked at it's hind leg. A sharpened wooden stake was jutting out of it.
It loud out a tight lipped scream, as it grasped the pulsating wound as one does immediately after an injury. It barely had enough time to look up at its attacker when the Terran bolted forward, shortening the distance between hunter and prey from metres to mere paces. The Ixian barely had enough time to block the hand grasping the knife as the arm flew forward at the last minute with a crash.
What phenomenal force!
Using the momentum from that sprint plus the wind up of his arm. The Terran was able to impart a phenomal show of force for a creature its size. That's when La'Ix for the first time saw a human in its raw unchanged form. Great beads of sweat collecting dust on its brow, to prevent it from entering the eyes. The constant release of sweat from the countless pores on its soft fleshy skin. Constant cooling? Even the visible veins and capillaries visible from the fire light.
What a beast of endurance-
Suddenly the horizon fell before the Ixian only to reveal the inky black sky dotted with pigments from stars like a painters masterpiece. When did I look up? Then a crash and blunt force from the ground.
The Ixian had been toppled over by that ferocious exchange of force.
Barely able to get up due to the wind being knocked out of its single large lung, the searing pain in its hind leg, and the exhaustion from the chase. It was too late. The terran was already on top of it. Taking up the entire view of the sky as the terran stepped forward into its field of vision.
The sudden perspective change made a once small and frail looking slave look grander than life, grander than all the legends told to Ixian broodlings.
The punches rained down. Repeatedly. A constant bombardment of beating rained like the drops of rain before the first dew. The previous pain in its leg forgotten, to invite a new visitor in the form of blunt force trauma. So ferocious were the raw blows to its carapace that the Ixian felt the exoskeleton crack under the increasing pressure and strain.
Something cracked, another thing snapped. The amount of pain too much to comprehend. The neurons firing in its second brain just assumed it was everywhere. Its half-working eye glimpsed the fist as it came down for the nth time. Red and split knuckles, revealing pure white bone beneath—a reinforced weapon. The perfect natural offence. All the muscles moved to propel it downwards where something else cracked and split.
Is this where I die?
As if understanding its fate the Ixian's form slumped over. Its body barely holding onto the natural exoskeleton shielding that covered its chest and facial area. Fluids leaking from the cracks that went too deep, and who knows how many internal ribs are shattered.
Its body, knowing that that more movement will cause more injuries, and further stimuli would confuse it further. It simply shut down.
The last moments it had as it fell backwards on its side. Was a small running figure. Hand clutching wooden spears. But the truly petrifying sight was behind it. A vast shadow flickering from the light of the lit pyres from the hunter in front of it. A shadow cast so large, jagged, and menacing it appeared to swallow the town whole.
And into a hole did the Ixian fall. A vacuum with no sensation or thought. Just darkness.
How... did we never notice such a... monster... in their... shadow...
All Ixians were taught about 'violence' and 'conflict' at an early age. As a sort of rite of passage that any of them would go through as they survive their early broodling days. As Ix have no natural predators, they had begun to instil a serving of some necessary conflict to keep their generations fresh and somewhat physically strong. As a precaution, only rudimentary forms of civil sports, races, shows of strength and courage were ever really explored. But always in a controlled and calm settings, as there would never be any true need for actual conflict.
As there was always a need to maintain ones own environment. The need never arose for the development of fighting techniques and schools of training. That was one of the best parts of being an Ix that many thought. Having supreme control over the worlds you inhabit means setting gravity, atmospheric pressure, humidity, and temperatures to the perfect levels for comfort replaced any need for biological change. Why grow when you can keep everything the same way, how you like it.
They were a vast empire. An empire of statues.
-Excerpt from the history of extra-solarian species, Author unknown
It awoke to a burning radiating heat from in front. The large sun was already starting to set on the horizon when it awoke. Had a whole day passed? Or two?
Trying to block the setting sun from its eyes it couldn't. "What?...", barely made out in a whisper.
I'm tied up.
And indeed the Ixian was right. Tied up next to a small brook, with a scorching fire in front of it. The monster nowhere to be seen.
"No good... it's too tight", it grunted in an attempt to escape its bindings.
Going slack in defeat it avoided any additional movement. Not having the energy to spare to move. It was lucky to have always been lazy at shedding its carapace - a frequent nag from its broodmother - might just have become its salvation in this case.
Thank Ix.
So there it stayed.
Hours passed. The Sun fully set and the stars awake in this dark world barely lit up the wildlands. Only the prisoner in this cone of firelight existed out here.
A rustling up ahead caught the prisoner's attention disturbing the eerily still silence of the Savannah night. And ungodly horror of a squeal ruptured the air invoking a deep visceral terror within the bound prisoner. Something. Something close but just outside the firelight was eyeing it, glinting from beyond the light. Those dark predatory eyes stabbed the prisoner with a sudden coldness. All while the squealing suddenly halted. SNAP. SQUELCH.
Now it came, emerging into the light. A beast. Holding a knife in one bloodied hand, dripping on the dirt. And dragging by the leg, a massive adult Laran boar grotesquely smearing thick blood still warm from the cut in the neck on the dirt.
The prisoner watched, barely moving, barely breathing. Frozen with the horror in front of it as the bloodied carcass was skinned; fur sliced away with harsh, scraping sounds with the crude knife. Spurting remaining blood all over the site.
The pink naked flesh then washed in the brook, leaving a distinct smell of oxidised blood in the air, before being skewered and roasted over the roaring flames. Fat popping violently in the heat.
In this gruesome display, the beast revealed not just a fate for the boar, but a dark hint of what might come. The realisation struck deep—this could be more than just a demonstration; it was a terrifying preview of its own potential end.
It passed out again.
Only to be awoken by the haunting echoes of a wild, desperate squeal that once thrummed through the savannah's eerie silence. Dare it open its eyes?
After a great heavy effort -utilizing its every last drop of courage- one eye cracked open. And what it saw. Made it regret ever having done so.
Right across from it, the hunter was a grotesque silhouette against the flickering fire. Grasping a severed boar leg was a mouth viciously biting, ripping, tearing into the flesh with primal ferocity. Each bite was deliberate, each tear of sinew was a clear, calculated demonstration of supreme savagery. Its jaw muscles bulged with the force of a bite.
All the while, the eyes—deep, abyssal pits—fixed intently on the prisoner. Deepest black pits stared back at it. Watching. Observing. Calculating, with a dark intelligence. it was calculating. It was relishing the terror it inspired and the control it exerted. Or planning its next meal.
The sounds of ripping flesh filled the thick, blood-soaked air. Deep into the night. Deep into this never-ending nightmare.
Never once did the prisoner move. Not an iota. Frozen in abject horror.
The night passed quietly. After the feast the human had, or the desecration of life that the prisoner saw, whichever way you look at it. The human nodded off to sleep. Content in the success of his mission. But the tied up creature had no such rest. Sending silent pleas to the stars that it might be saved. But not daring to make a sound, less it awaken that sleeping horror. Or was it sleeping? Dear Ix, it might be watching me. Feigning sleep to keep an eye on its meal. Dear Ix I'm next...
All through the night, the demons plagued its mind. Until the warmth of the morning rose, and with it the sound of an Ixian cruiser.
Elation could not be an understatement for the tired, tied, beat, and bruised thing. Craning its neck to the direction of the sound about to bellow out an Ixian warning to the demon resting next it.
"BE CAREFUL! THERE'S ONE HERE-". It stopped speaking. That previous elation it felt at a saviour arriving to rescue it from the demons grasp, fizzled out like a drop of water in a drought.
That all so familiar cold remained. And the dryness of despair. As pairs of dark pupils shot back at it.
On the cruiser were tall adult Terrans. Clean cut, well fed, well dressed Terrans. Four, no Six, no eight of them. All hanging onto the side of cruiser while it made its way to their location. Compared to the demon waking up beside it, these creatures were organised. A savageness neatly packaged in a uniform with a symbol. The prisoners eyes grew wide in its sunken sockets. 8 rings, and a centre mass. They must be the cause of, well all this.
Accepting fate, its head fell in part defiance, in part to avoid the stinging eyes of these others. It felt their gaze burn through—cold, cruel, calculating. There is nothing I can do any longer.
"You're finally here. What took you so long?" The runner said to his approaching comrades, "Took all night to catch up to him."
"Hey Jan, great work", the tall militant woman shot back. With a playful punch to his arm. "Guess all that cardio really paid off, didn't I tell you it would!" She let out a playful guffaw.
"Thanks Chel", replied Jan.
"Ok chop chop people, we're on a schedule. We need to reach the port ASAP remember? Come on Jan, rest up all you like, you're still on the clock."
"Aye sir." Jan shot back in a mock salute, gaining a sneer from the commandant, then a sneaky smile.
"Don't forget your trash. And make sure its breathing still."
It creaked open its eyes, seeing pairs of boots moving towards it and standing in front. In silence. Then all of a sudden, felt pairs and pairs of hands pull and tug. and lift it up The thing let out a pathetic silent sob. While it was loaded in the back of the cruiser, face up. Staring at eyes, piercing black dots peering back. It could never understand what was being felt by those eyes and those faces.
Ixians wear their emotions on their carapace; spots and stripes would slowly appear in certain parts, representing emotions and feeling that their bodies felt in a general sense. But the most private thoughts were of course, still kept private.
But this. This was just too foreign. The eyes never stopped. Even in the swaying movement of the cruiser the pupils never broke contact. Those eyes. As if it was peering into it, envelops your entire mind. There was no way to hide, even hiding in his inner self would do no good. Those eyes. Those predator eyes can find me anywhere I try to escape to. Inside and out.
Some times passes.
"You know. I lost good friends to the royal caste. Especially to this one's brood clan or whatever they like to call it." One of them was looking right at it when they said it. It turned its eyes over to the source. A short one, with a slave scar on the neck said it. A scar that shot through his memories. A scar inflicted to property owned by, his brood. This one is dangerous..., it thought.
Jan, and the others didn't look but felt it. The cold darkness in that tone made it clear what it intended to do.
The female militant, Chel, I think her name was. Slowly reached to the side arm on her holster. Sensing the oncoming problem.
"You still understand me don't you? I've had to watch good people die. Damn good people." The scarred one one stood, grabbing the upper rail of the cruiser to steady themselves. "I hear that even if you get ill, you become the entertainment for the night. What was it now?" She paused for a brief second. "Oh I remember".
"Stil" Chel said slowly. "Cool it". Hand still on the butt of the sidearm.
Not hearing or not wanting to reply. Stil continued. "Torn apart by those raptor pets. Hands or feet cut off as souvenirs for those fucked-up parties and those fucked-up guests. Oh yea, and the 'toy play' or whatever they call it. Can't have Ken and Barbie fight back now, can we?"
Stil leaned closer to the now cowering, shaking thing, "I wonder which one was your favourite." The words cut through La'Ix like an icicle. This was the first time these demons actually spoke to it directly. And it didn't like it. It could sense the venom from the words.
"Stil..." Chel slowly got up, hand still at the ready. "I said cool it." The line had a steely warning to it. Chel wouldn't risk the mission. Even if it meant doing what must be done.
Agonizing seconds passed. The cowering, shaking thing seemed to grow whiter and whiter by the second, It's spots clearly showing what it felt. Staring up, Not willing to move but being unable to hide. It felt the absolute crushing weight of the present. Grinding it down to a paste.
Everyone stayed still. The two militants didn't move. The rest didn't seem to even have paid attention to the converstation, still looked away.
Longer passed.
Stil smiled, "Oh come on Chel, you know I wouldn't do anything to our friend here? You know I was just playing around." Stil laughed. Chel didn't react.
Stil immediately crouched, faced the shaking prisoner inches apart eye to eye, and in a whisper said "Right friend?"
She wants me to reply? Dear Ix I can't even think with those eyes in front of me What do I do?! What do I say?!
"Right. Friend?" Stil repeated slower and colder. Like the blade of a surgeon hovering over skin, ready to plunge.
The gears of its Ixian brain grinded to a screeching halt. In utter desperation to find a reply it simply gave up. Instead, it felt a warmth slowly spread. Slowly spread between its hind legs. It had released its bladder.
"BAHAHAHAHA LOOK AT IT" Stil roared in laughter. The sound of it rattling the prisoners brain with the sound. Disorienting its senses. "NOW THAT'S CLASSIC TIMING IF I'VE EVER SEEN IT!" She plopped back down face red and still laughing.
The Ixian didn't know what to do but tremble and sob silently on the cold surface of the cruiser surrounded by laughter. and the warmth of its piss. It tried to plug its ears. But the sound still came. Laughter. Laughter. Laughter. Dear Ix, what are these demons... where are they taking me? To hell?...
The cruiser kept cruising. Towards the port across the island. Trailing laughter behind. Or to the sobbing wreck of a thing, demonic cackling.
The scent of familiarity wafted into the senses of the prisoner as the cruiser started to slow. The smell of the salt, the chirping of familiar aviaries. Sound of the crash of sea. The port.
Braving a sentence for the first time in for what seems eternity. It let out a question "...w..w..where ... why... are... ... we ...h... here?" It managed to say shakily, eyes downcast.
As if in response, a sharp shove greeted it from the back and a hard hit on the ground was as much of an answer it was getting.
"Move it", Jan said gruffly.
They walked. the ixian still bound but free to walk in the middle of the group of humans. Towards a destination still not known. The walk twisted, and turned, and twisted again. One thing struck out to the prisoner. It was too clean, especially for what it was expecting, it's last experience being in the previous blood-soaked town laden with bodies and carrion eaters.
The port town was completely silent, free from the regular hustle and bustle it usually had even when the emperor was not present. And superbly clean. Not a single piece of dirt to be seen. Not a single Ixian either. Where did everyone go? Did they make it out somehow when these invaders came?
In the background, the surf broke relentlessly.
Piercing eyes caught the prisoners glance, as it wandered curiously around the town. Realising its mistake La'Ix tried to look away but the burning gaze gripped his own.
As if reading its soul. The human answered the hidden question bubbling up in La'Ix. "You should've seen them your royal majesty". The one called Stil said while bending in mocking courtesy.
The surf pounded the shore even more loudly now.
"They don't swim well. Especially the young ones. They dropped like stones. Turning all white by the time they stopped moving."
Louder now. The sea roared.
Nothing came. Not a thought in La'Ix's mind. Its mind struggled to comprehend the depth of what was said by Stil, the scarred human.
The waves boomed louder now. Louder than the sun, echoing louder than the screams of all the Ixians that must have perished.
It saw the lips of the standing-devil in front of it. But all the came from its blood red lips were obscured by the sound of the pounding of the waves. The echoes of drowned kin, thudding and slapping against the shore, merged with the relentless surf in La'Ix's mind.
This is for our sins.
Wave after wave, the relentless surge continued, each one a haunting reminder of the souls lost to the sea, each crash a ghostly thud of bodies hitting the shore.
Very slowly did some exhausted neuron in the Ixian's head come to a conclusion as to how these creatures in front of it can be so relentless, so cruel, and so evil. When pushed to beyond its breaking point, did their true carnivorous instincts rear their ugly head.
Oh dear Ix. What sort of environment could breed such demons?
La'Ix didn't remember what happened next. The memories feel like a distant dream now as he sits watching the port sky now.
The aching brand on his forehead of the 8 ringed system, pulsed in pain—a departing gift from his newly made friends, stung from the salty sea air.
He barely recalls the staggered walk from the empty inter-arm transmission office and the inputting of his biometric royal seal. He barely even remembers the message that was sent under his name and signature
And even less does he remember what he heard what will happen next.
All alone now, he stares at the sky of the empty port town. As he watches more royal ships enter the atmosphere.
He gazes upward, thoughtlessly, statue-like Knowing fate will come for them all. Fate in the form of piercing black eyes and a monster so large it can fit in a shadow.
A single thought, carried its way from above the despair to the surface. Slowly. Like a bubble in a pool of tar.
What was I meant to tell the emperor again?

“I want to be human. I want to be human.” I repeat to myself, as I stare into the dusty bathroom mirror.
Doesn’t look like anyone’s been in this bathroom since nineteen-o-dirt. I’m surprised I even found anything way out here. Ran into a couple people on the drive over, but none too friendly.
If I were a betting man, there’s gotta be some place nearby I can get some gas. Car ran out about a mile back, I’ve been hoofing it ever since. Now I’m exhausted, real glad I can’t overheat.
What the hell is with this place anyway? One mile is barren, the next is overgrown. Pockets of leafy green, stitched into this khaki pant leg of earth. It’s confusing to say the least.
“I want to be human.” One last time for good measure, then I throw my bag over my shoulder and step out of the bathroom. Peeking down both ways of the hall, to make sure no one heard me talking to myself.
“Who am I kidding, this place hasn’t seen a soul since my dad got here.” I mumble to the seemingly empty building.
“And it still ain’t seen one yet.” a voice calls from down the stretch of room doors.
I freeze in place, something about that voice seemed familiar. I can’t recall where I had heard it, but l definitely have.
“I’m not here to hurt anyone, just looking for some place safe to stay.” I call down to the disembodied voice.
“A refugee, huh?” A man dressed in a ranchers hat, and a poncho steps from around a door frame. it’s about twenty feet to my right.
“Aren’t we all.” his face is covered by the hats wide brim, but his voice is menacing. “You know, you’re one tough son of a bitch to track down.”
I knew it was stupid to stop in a motel, broad daylight and all. I just wanted to wash up a bit, then I’d be on my way.
“If you’re going to kill me, you better do it quick. Cause hell’s comin’ right behind me.“ I shout, seeing if he’ll call my bluff.
“Sly little devil, but no one is comin’ for ya. Not yet anyhow.” he kicks the base-board of the hall with his spurred boots. “Now, you can either come to me or…” he pauses, letting out a long sigh. “You’re gonna have to do your running on crutches.” He’s serious, hand already on his hip.
“Out of all the hunters, it had to be you.” I wasn’t going to run, there was no point. But how did he know? I stepped into the hall.
“My scouts watched you leave y’all’s little empire of bones. Gave me where you were headed.” He said smugly, I could hear the grin behind his words. He was swaying on his hips. (Could he read my mind?) “Never thought you’d fly the nest, but whaddya know? Looks like fallen angels, regrow wings.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Spare me the monologue, Jesus! Is this all the time with you?” I put both hands together, and slowly approach so he doesn’t get too antsy. The last thing I want is to catch a bullet from a professional cosplayer.
As I approach, I can see the long hair poking out from under his hat. It’s greasy, probably been on the road for awhile. I know I have. His beard is immaculate though, full, and medium length. I almost ask him where he finds a barber out here. My guessing is he cuts it himself, unless it just always looks that way. The thought annoys me.
Stripping me of my backpack, and searching for more goods, which he finds… (my knife, and a half eaten raw scrap of meat I’d been snacking on.) He wraps my hands in a rope binding. After he’s satisfied the knot is secured, he pats my head.
“There, there, kid. I ain’t gonna hurt ya, but your pa? Yeah, ole’ Baphy might. Once we tell him where you are that is.” That word, kid. It always stung, but this time was especially potent in its venom. His hand grips my shoulder, and pushes me toward the exit.
This place is in ruin, dust on the walls. The floors are starting to decay. Everything in here has either been broken, or scavenged. It’s picked clean. I can’t help but wonder what it was like before, what kind of people stayed here? As we enter the light outside, he steps in front of me. Strapping my pack onto his horse.
A beautiful creature, all white. Shiny, and well fed. No gas required. Dammit, why didn’t I think of that?
“You know he’ll kill us both. My dad doesn’t forgive, like you.” I call out, hoping he’ll show some semblance of mercy.
He finishes fixing my gear to his nag, and turns to me. “Oh, I don’t do the forgiving thing no more.” He steps to me, I can feel his breath on my face. “I fucking hate my neighbors.”
He points to the horse, and steps aside. I guess he wants me to climb on? I step forward and put one foot in a stirrup, while he helps me climb up and over. I laugh to myself. “Look ma, no hands.”
“If I find out who she is, she’ll be buried right beside you and pa.” The laughing stopped, he was serious.
“So, where are you taking me?” I managed to choke out.
“Don’t you worry about that kid, you just make sure you don’t fall off. Can’t make a deal with the devil, if all I have to offer is damaged goods.” He kicked the horse twice, clicked his tongue, and we were off

Last night my university appeared on the news.
As I watched the broadcast, listening to my old television set sputter and cough like a used car engine, I swore the temperature plummeted several degrees. The newscaster was still droning on in the background but it could’ve just been static. Meaningless.
It is always the same with this news broadcast. Burned and charred stone and concrete lying around in a pentagon in a way that could make any abstract artist proud. I try, whenever it comes up, to ignore everything scrolling on the screen. Or at the very least, skim through the programme. The less details I remember, the better.
But every time, my eyes are drawn to one tiny thing on the screen. It stands out screaming, a splash of red in an ocean of black. I can’t forget it no matter how hard I try, and it slips into my nightmares and I wake up screaming.
A rune of a blood-stained sword, inked in red and carved neatly in the stone.
“This is our pride and joy,” he nodded, gesturing to a rune of a blood-stained sword. His sunflower name badge read James and he was cute. Tousled hair, playful freckles–the works.
I swear girls swooned when they saw him.
The year was 2004 and I wished fighting over James was the least of our problems. Even now, during orientation week, a great hush fell over our little tour group. Everyone shifted their feet nervously and tied their fingers into knots.
James laughed.
“The stories about Helena Sword? That’s just it. Stories.”
“All the stuff you heard about her before you came here, they’re simply not true. Just something stupid to scare the freshies, that’s all.”
He trailed off in the middle of his speech, staring off into the distance.
“It’s been a thousand years after all…”
He laughed again, but it was as empty as the wind blowing down the halls. He cracked a smile, but his face was pale like the rest of us.
“Anyway,” he said, “the library is just down this hallway too. When our founder, Sir Gallus, founded this place, he sought out books from all over the world…”
As the rest of the tour moved on, I couldn’t help but stay behind. I was no archeologist, but there was something about this rune that would not let me go. I stroked the rune, fascinated by how my fingers crossed tall ridges and tiny valleys. It was very simply carved, almost like a child’s drawing of a sword brought to life, but as I turned to catch up with everyone else, I realised I wasn’t alone.
She was pretty, a girl around my height and build, with striking red curls and a rather long neck, almost like a giraffe. A tattoo poked out behind long blue sleeves, dressed in red ink. The girl turned to me and grinned sheepishly.
“Are you lost?”
I frowned. “Sorry?”
“The tour group moved on without you,” she stated, pointing ahead. Indeed I could hear James’ voice in the distance, rambling on about the portraits in the halls. I looked back at her and she nodded grimly.
“My name is Ginny,” she said, extending her hand. I shook it. It was as cold as ice. In fact, when I looked at her, it was like gazing at an ice sculpture, with frosty eyes and dainty lips.
“It’s my first day here too. Except well…my parents brought me here yesterday. So I know this school inside out. Do you want me to show you around? You don’t need that tour group. Especially since they well…abandoned you.”
My head was suddenly foggy. “Yes, please,” I mumbled.
In spite of her offer, Ginny didn’t say much as we walked through the campus. Didn’t point out anything interesting landmarks or anything like that; didn’t talk much about herself either. Instead we wandered through the grounds, enjoying each other’s company. It was the beginning of autumn, and golden leaves were falling down and the trees looked like they were on fire. Overhead we could hear migrating birds singing. It was lovely.
Eventually we reached my dorm.
And hers.
Ginny was my roommate. I found it strange, since I didn’t recall having a roommate or asking for one; and even if I did, wouldn’t I be informed of it months ago? Someone that I would share my life with for the next three years? But then she looked at me and smiled and all my questions flew out of my head. I mumbled a yes to her offer of assistance and we spent the rest of the afternoon making our dorm look like home.
Then we went down for dinner and were joined in the mess hall by two other girls, Ivy and Cleo, who told us their room would be next door to us. We sat down with our mashed potatoes and roast chicken and they immediately drummed up conversation, talking about their lives before they came to university, what they hoped to achieve during their time here, and everything in between.
“So what are you guys studying?” Ivy asked.
“Psychology,” I said. Helping people has always been a lifelong dream.
“Computer Science,” Ivy and Cleo said at the same time.
We all looked at Ginny. She stared back, completely taken aback by the question.
“Um,” she said, “Computer Science too, I suppose. That’s getting popular, right?”
“Yup,” Ivy mumbled, her head bowed over her mashed potatoes like a broken flower. “Everyone is fighting to get their slice of the Internet these days…”
We continued our meal in silence, the conversation suddenly over. We walked up together, too, and it felt strangely uncomfortable. A dark cloth had fallen over our little group, leaving behind an itch we could never scratch.
Finally we reached our dorms and we looked at each other.
“Well, good night then,” Ivy said. Cleo was already inside and I could hear her brushing her teeth.
“See you at breakfast.”
“Good night,” I said. Ivy nodded and closed the door.
Ginny was already in her bunk, her nose in a book. There was already a stack next to her, as tall as a mountain, and by the glare in her eyes, passionate and intense as fire, it looked like she was going to be reading all night.
“Don't classes start next week?” I asked with a frown.
“Yeah,” Ginny said distractedly. Her eyes were glued to the pages and she was flipping through them so fast her hands were a blur. “Just wanted to get started so I’ll be well-prepared, that’s all.”
She peered down at me, her icy blue eyes fixated on my muddy brown ones. “Go to bed. We have a big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I mumbled, and soon I slipped away from the real world for a world of restless dreams.
For some reason, I woke up in the middle of the night.
I got my torch from under the bed and checked the time on my alarm clock. 4am.
Great.
I lay down on my pillow with my eyes open. I strained my ears, listening out for the sounds of nature. Back home there were birds that sang no matter what time it was, porcupines and rats scavenging around our trash, and crickets that performed symphonies that lulled me into slumber.
But out here there was nothing.
Great.
I couldn’t even hear my roomie. I didn’t really peg Ginny as the type who snored, but her bunk felt…empty. I peered upwards and couldn’t make out her shapeless form huddled beneath her blankets. Books were strewn all over her bunk, their pages wide open like the wings of lost paper birds.
I yawned and squeezed my eyes shut. It was too early to do anything and as Ginny said, we had a lot of things to do tomorrow.
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehh!!
It sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Or rather, that of a clawed hand scraping down someone’s flesh, their hooked nails peeling off their skin in strips.
I groaned and smashed my pillow against my ears, but even my fluffy shield did nothing to muffle the loud screeches that rattled from my ears down my spine and to my toes.
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehh!!
I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I wobbled out of bed, clutching the bed frame as the world spun in front of my eyes. I breathed deep as another eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhh screamed in my eardrums, making my hair stand on end.
Then I heard someone scream.
Was that Ginny? An image tore through my mind of my roommate in the corner, slowly strangled by rusty iron chains that curled around her body like venomous snakes. I know I shouldn’t open the door–it is a critical mistake made by so many horror movie heroines–but the thought of Ginny, alone, made my heart shiver.
So I yanked open the door.
There was Ginny, frozen like a popsicle stick. The shadows gathered and morphed into a hooded figure that blanketed her bodice.
Something—someone—slithered towards her, dragging behind a long blade. Eeeeeeeeeeeh
Ginny opened her mouth. Was she screaming?
But no, the silhouette brushed up against her skin and whooshed right past her, disappearing into the dorms. Ginny looked over, saw me screaming, then ran over and knocked me back in the room, locking the door shut.
“Are you okay?” she asked urgently.
I nodded a yes. Everything I felt at that moment couldn’t be put into words. It was dammed somewhere in the back of my throat, fighting to get out.
But I just couldn’t.
“What did you see?”
Nothing. Just nothing. My mind was blank. Everything was a hazy mess zooming around through my neural pathways. I sat down and rubbed my head. The room was spinning out of focus.
I needed to sleep.
“Yeah, sleep tight,” Ginny said kindly, pushing my blanket up to my neck. I curled up like a cooked prawn and breathed in deep. It smelled like home.
“Good night, Ginny,” I mumbled.
“Good night.”
We woke up to a sea of noisy chatter. It sounded like a thousand parrots squawking at the same time.
Eyes closed, mine still hazy, I stretched—and immediately bumped my head against the wooden frame.
Ow.
People were talking—no, shouting. It rang in my ears like a bloodcurdling scream. I groaned and attempted to muffle it with my pillow above my ears. Why do people have to be so goddamn loud?
Finally I gave up and sat up straight, forcing my crusty eyes open. Ginny was already gone, and her nightgown was draped across the top bunk like a country flag. The door was creaking in the wind. It slammed against the wall and came back strong.
Ow
Ginny came back. Without a word she took me by the arm and dragged me out of the room. There was a crowd mulling outside Ivy and Cleo’s dorm and as we passed I could hear snippets of their conversation:
“Dead…”
Ginny marched past them and took me down the stairs and to the mess hall, her eyes staring straight ahead like the world had vanished around her. Then she sat me down on one of the benches, took a sip of water and stared at me, her face white and shaking.
“WHAT?”
Even in the foggy haze of sleep, the bizarreness of the morning and the crowds outside the dorms were getting to me. All I had was questions, and I hated having so many questions.
For the first time since I met her, Ginny’s eyes didn’t meet mine. “So uh, you know the guy leading you around yesterday? When we first met?”
The description scratched my memory, and then I remembered. Tall and lanky, with tousled brown hair, freckles and a charming smile. He had a sunflower lanyard pinned on a checkered shirt–and that badge contained a name.
“James?”
“He…”. Ginny took a deep breath.
“He is dead. They found his body this morning.”
Ginny was still talking but I was barely listening. I only met this boy yesterday but it felt like I knew him forever. I felt like I was being pulled under, my reality torn asunder, everything that I know just…shattering around me.
Dead?
My throat was dry. Closing up. I sounded like a strangled cat.
“Yes,” Ginny confirmed dryly.
I looked at the two empty seats opposite me and that momental wave of dizziness turned into nausea.
“Bathroom,” I said.
Ginny watched me go, unblinking.
I rushed to the first unlocked toilet I found, ignoring the glares of girls already in queue. I gagged and watched my dinner and what little of my breakfast I had eaten swirl down the bowl. Then I flushed and staggered out. Everything was lit up way too bright; the chattering of students heading to their classes was way too loud; and I sat down in the corridor and closed my eyes.
I wasn’t sure how long I was out, because the next thing I knew someone was shaking me awake and helping me on my feet
“Come on,” Ivy said.
Her voice was brittle, her face pale. She was as fragile as stained glass, and she could barely walk herself. We limped together, nearly tripping over each other as we went up the stairs, until we collapsed, tangled between each other in a rope of legs.
That was when I felt something sharp brush across my cheek, drawing blood.
I looked up to see a hooded figure standing above us, wearing black gloves and a cloak made out of human skin. Her eyes were glowing crimson as she raised the sword. Rust gleamed at its sides like dew.
The sword slammed down, nearly missing Ivy’s leg.
We looked at each other, barely breathing, barely a word said between us. Then as if on command we got up and hightailed it back to our dorms. Through the shadows as we ran I could see a girl my age watching.
Her red curls shone in the dark like fire.
Ivy slammed the door behind us and shoved chairs up the edge to boot. I wasn’t sure it could hold a sword slicing through a wooden door but it would have to do.
Ivy sat on the bed and closed her eyes, whispering prayers in her native language. I didn’t feel like talking either
Author's Notes
If I remember correctly, this one is about a student who haunts the university 300ish years after her death. She is a witch, immortal and summoned by touching ruins. Her main weapon is the titular sword and instead of wielding it herself she hypnotises other students to kill for her.
The next scene is Cleo framed for killing James, the first sinister look at her powers of hypnosis.
The ending reveals that Ginny (taken from Ginerva, a romanized version of Queen Guinevre, yes me and JK Rowling had the same line of thinking) and Helena Sword is the same person and hypnotising all the other students. She dies when the narrator burns the school to the ground accidentally while trying to get away, ending the curse and resulting in the ruins at the start of the flashback.

Whats good buds. I hope I did not keep you all waiting too long for a new chapter. I am back with a new fun section of the interlude story between Human Trauma 2 and 3. This time we get a big peak into our leading man's mind and our leading ladies. one being a stuck-up spoiled brat, the other a gruff and too stubborn for his own good gunslinger.
Let's go save our bread
Conor slowly descended the stairs, muscling past a drunken pair of Purletric dancers loitering at the bottom. Once on the ground floor, he vanished into the crowd of undulating, grinding bodies.
None of the dancers paid him any mind as he weaved in and out of their groups. All were far too inebriated to note the predator stalking past or any weapons he carried beneath his jacket. Be it the knife on his hip, the pistol in hand, or the stun granades on his belt.
Clutching the pistol in his metallic hand, Conor wondered what the worn stippling was like to hold. It had been years since his right hand could feel, and the L1-JKL was nowhere near as sharp as when it was manufactured hundreds of standard years ago by Nekarilaqa arms.
At this point, the JKL was ancient, being over tenfold his age. But the Slug thrower was still effective and was integrally suppressed. Those who loved the weapon model would call it the Jackle; Conor was not one of those people.
He preferred to call it the Joker because the pistol was the perfect weapon for his needs or as helpful as breathing on someone. At least the suppressor would make it impossible to hear the weapons report beyond a few meters —-especially with loud base drums.
In an environment as ridiculously voluminous as the nightclub, Conor would not even be able to hear the weapon going off, much less the drunk and high partygoers keying their senses into the ear-splitting music.
Conor’s theory on the level of ignorance the inebriated attendees was given credence when he wrapped his hand on the slimy mouth of one of the Voodal mooks and sent four slugs through his back, blood and viscera showering a group of scantily clad dancers; all of them none the wiser that the warm liquid glowing neon in the club lights was the orange blood of the amphibian.
Instead of taking the time to hide the body in a trashcan like this was a B-rate hollow-flick, Conor shoved the limp body off to the side. the Voodal collapsed against the damp, durecrete wall with a dull thud.
Club security would find the body soon enough and toss it in the alleyway outback, likely assuming he passed out. Until then, the dancers would continue blissfully unaware of the cadaver in their midst. Conor just knew he would likely have to explain to Zyntle why he and Brakul were conducting business in his nightclub; that was in a way taboo for the duo.
“Good kill. Move to the right,” Brakul instructed through the radio. “Next target is lazed.”
“Copy,” Conor muttered coldly into his mask's communication device.
While he passed a pair of green-skinned Kubutals grinding hard against one another, Conor spotted Brakul's laser stock steady on the chest of the next Voodal. He moved quickly, distancing himself from the couple that was only two layers of cloth away from fucking on the dancefloor, needing to speed things up if he was going to win the bet
Once past them, Conor closed the gap between him and the next target, pulling her close. Before the woman registered that she now had a new and less-than-provocative dance partner, Conor slammed her against the wall, pushed his suppressed pistol into her groin, and stitched off four quick shots.
Usually, a bullet smashing your pelvic girdle would cause uncontrolled screaming, But with Conor's metallic elbow crushing the amphibian's trachea, she could only muster a weak croak.
As the Kyrail woman thrashed, her windpipe cracked and crackled; She struggled against Conor like an untamed Rehal: kicking, punching, clawing, all in a desperate animalistic desire to survive. But that could not last forever, and they both knew it; after half a minute, the fight in her amber eyes faded, having drained out with the blood coating her and Conor's boots.
“You better hurry it up; there are only four left,” Brakul mocked as Conor let the dead woman's corpse slump against the wall, and running her pockets.
“You could fucking help me, you Nurlik!” Conor flippantly replied while pulling a bag of visage from the woman's pocket.
“I am helping, just not too much; I still have crit riding on you failing—-remember,” Brakul sniggered.
“This was your idea,” Conor grumbled, leaving the woman gbehind and wafting past another dancer towards the next Kyrail.
Thankfully Brakul did not comment further while Conor was actively dealing with the next target; Brakul might be an asshole, but he was a professional and knew to let Conor work.
Conor covered the gang member's nose with the open bag and drove a swift knee into his grundle; the man’s autonomic functions did the rest. The strike caused them to gasp and breathe in a lungful of the acrid yellowish powder.
The amphibian coughed, bluckling over as his brain was forced to error code by the narcotic. Conor silently thanked Orphian Manufacturing that filters in his mask saved him from the zombifying cloud, unlike the other patrons within arms reach of his last target who also began to fall tot he deck.
“Do I have to remind you of our bet on the Driltol mining platform? Because last I checked, that was your idea,” Brakul commented, shifting his laser to the next target.
Conor huffed in annoyance, remembering that bet and horrible day all too well. He lost five thousand crit and his arm over the course of an hour. All because he was young, inexperienced, hot-headed, and not keeping keyed in on the task.
On top of the physical and financial damage, Conor also learned two important lessons about this line of work. Firstly, he had to stay focused on his current objective while being aware of what was happening nearby.
The second lesson he learned was to trust Brakul's wisdom and counsel. The older mercenary had a far better sense of business and an uncanny ability to tell when a gig would go bottoms up, and they needed to pop smoke.
Those lessons were things Conor still had to remind himself of regularly. He was far more reliable and wise than those days but could not hold a candle up to Brakul.
“Are there any updates on the others?” Conor questioned, slipped behind a pillar, pulling the trigger and splattering another Voodal ganger's brains on the bar, wall, and an unsepecting Farun’se.
“You better hurry up, conman. They just figured out something is going on and are starting to move,” Brakul said calmly.
Grunting to confirm he understood, Conor gave up on flowing like an unseen predator through the crowd and started to force the comparatively diminutive aliens out of the way. Sometimes speed was safety, and with his time hack being measured in seconds—now was one of those times.
Conor pushed through the last group of dancers, most falling to the ground with painful yelps. Once through, he finally had sight of the group of Kyrail. One of the Kyrail was bleeding out on the deck, and two were left standing.
One was a hulking brute with a beer gut, grey scales, and wore a tight tunic like cloth. The red scaled woman was using the older lizard like a shield, yelling something at the Voodal gangers, but the club's music drowned out her voice.
Conor had to give it to the old fool; he had some balls. Even though he was outnumbered and unarmed, he stood stalwart against the last three Voodal gangers, closing the short gap between them.
Balls or not, the Kyrail were not in a winning scenario and would be overwhelmed quickly. With their back-to-wall, Conor had to act fast; there was no way he would lose another bet. Brakul would never let him live that down.
—--
“Stay behind me,” Torkla hissed, pushing Eivaley back from the three aliens.
Eivaley clutched tightly to Torklas clothes and did what she was told. He was the champion appointed ot her by her father; and would fill most of the rolls of a champion until she found someone who could best him.
Her heart was slamming like a hammer and anvil in her chest while the three aliens cackled and kept getting closer. The only question running through her mind and body right now was, what was happening?
This was supposed to be an enjoyable trip, not whatever this nightmare was now.
Daddy had invited her to Heavalun and the COS to get a feeling for the city and the area of space his shipping company was expanding into.
Her father, Vuraley, handled all the tedious paperwork: setting up contacts, buying warehouses, hiring security, and setting up a private spaceport. All she was supposed to do was stay out of trouble, look pretty at a few meetings with clients, and stay close to her security detail.
Now Eivaley was cowering behind the back of one of her clans proudest warriors while three meter-and-a-half tall bipedal frogs brandished weapons and were threatening them. She could not imagine what Daddy would say about this when she got home. Would he cut her allowance? Not let her go out in town again? Or worst of all, not let her go out and see her friends anymore?
Either way, she was not looking forward to what he would do to her—it wasn’t like any of this was her fault.
“Oi, soljah, ‘and, ‘er ovah, and we hont ‘urt yah,” one of the grey-skinned toads croaked, pointing a pistol at Vuraley and flicking off the weapons safety.
“You had better get out of here,” Eivaley hissed reflexively, far to use to having others of her species following her everyword like gospel. “My daddy will have none of this; he will make you all regret this,”
“Stop talking,” Torkla yelled, keeping his eyes on the encroaching Voodal. “you’re not helping.”
What in the grand broods name? Torkla yelled at her. He never yelled at her, even though he had been guarding her since she was a little girl. Torkla was under Oath to obey her, and keep her safe; that includes listening to her. He should not be able to yell at her.
“Yah lil’ lady, yah should listen. We know yer daddy and don’t care, and you are worth too much to pass up,” The Voodal sniggered. “So soljah, yah gonna ‘and ‘er ovah?”
Torkla looked over the men who had paused, slinking closer, and were waiting for his answer. Then he glanced over his shoulder at Eivaley. The girl he might as well have helped raise was shaking like a leaf and needed him to be a rock right now.
“No deal,” Torkla replied, drawing a knife and readying to fight off the aliens or die trying.
The front toad clicked his tongue and languidly twirled the pistol while stepping off to the side. “Come on, no reason tah die fer ‘er. Be reasonable,”
“Torkla would never—” Eivaley started, but he yelled at her again.
“I said shut up,” Torkla barked. “You can get made at me later.”
Eivaley jumped then clutched his jacket and nodded silently, not wanting him to yell anymore. While yes she might be in charge of Torkla and the others her father assigned to her; until she found her own champion she would never have any true power.
“I said no deal,” Torkla affirmed.
The lead toad rolled his eyes and sighed while raising the weapon toward Torkla, readying to slump the stupid royal guardsman.
Once the pistol was full raised they nodded. Both accepting accepting that there was only one way this would go. One of them would end up in a body bag. While the Kyrail and Voodal had many differences this was one thing both accepted.
Neither group would detest giving someone a good death—even though both thought it would be others turn to hit the deck.
The next few seconds were some of the longest, most horrendous moments of Eivaley’s life.
Torkla roared like a beast dredged up from the bottomless dark pits of hell, shot forward, and tried to slip the pistol from the Kyrail’s grip; his fangs snapping as his potent venom trailed passed his lips.
But at his age, Torkla was not the young proud palace guard he was when he was first assigned to be Eivaley’s personal guard.
Now that he was pushing fifty, he was old, slow, and more willing than ever to lay it all on the line for the few people he was bound to protect. Right now, he regrettably could not meet the bill.
A deafening, unsuppressed shot cracked like thunder just as Torklas claws caressed the handgun. The round ripped through his palm and carved a deep canyon in the old warriors skull, showering Eivaley in blood, bone, and brain matter of the man who earlier was chuckling and asking her to dress more modestly.
The crack of the weapon turned the nightclub into pure bedlam. Drunken partygoers screamed while they shoved and trampled one another, desperately trying to get away. Their panic blaring overwhelmed the club's music and Eivaley’s screams.
As soon as the first Kyrail shot Torkla, the others tossed their bags of visage onto Eivaley, showering her in the drug that burned the image of Torkla’s canyoned skull and slumping body into her mind. An image she would remember until her dying breath.
Over her life she would se many more, and had seen hundreds if not thousands of commoners die so far. That one death meant something more to here; but how much it affected her would take many years for her to understand.
“Grab ‘er,” The lead croaker said just before the metallic hand of a massive beast grabbed his head and crushed it like an egg, blood glowing as it squirted between shining metallic fingers.
Whoever just killed the man who shot Torkla picked up the lead ganger and effortlessly tossed the corpse into another one of the gang members. As soon as he was done with that, he lifted his handgun and fired three rounds into the remaining mook, not even bothering to glance fully at them.
In her drug-induced stupor, Eivaley’s mind and body could not focus on anything beyond critical details. Sparse things that stood out so much she could never forget them.
One of the mans arms was covered in metal; whether it was armor or cybernetics, she did not know, nor could she care. At this moment, it was the shining armor of a night of yor: strong, valiant, and rescuing a damsel in distress.
The vissages causing her neurons to misfire, rocketed stories of strong brave men rushing to the rescue of the noble women when their homes were under siege. And as far as seh saw it, this situation was just that.
Her guards failed,and now as if summoned by the gods themselves a brave knight burst forth from nowhere and defied the darkness threatening the dainty princess. No it did not matter she was the 5th princess and would never be queen, just that she had her champion, and it seems that chose her.
Before the visage entirely took effect, Eivaley heard the man say a few words. It was difficult to listen to him through the skull art covered mask he wore, but her savior's voice was deep, reverberating, and filled with clear, driven intent.
“I got the girl; meet you at Stitches’s place,” the man said just as he tossed Eivaley’s now near limp body over his heavily muscled shoulder and rushed through the crowd.
The last thing Eivaley could remember before the visage sunk its fangs deep into her mind was the man kicking open the back door and rushing out into the Heavalun night, bright neon signs, and the dingy alley welcoming them into their midst.
So how did you like this one? nothing to bad right? we are just getting started, and have a fat chunk of chapters left. like my other stories, expect well-timed and thought-out violence and inter-character moments. I hope you give my new tale a chance.
Please do not forget to updoot and comment.
Your baking Buddy
-Pirate
Prev
Next
buy my novels

Banned bird......This is a report (Elphaba)
To whom this concerns,
On the evening's 30/4/24- 1/5/24, I was absolutely horrified and left in disgust at the behaviour of one of your creators on tiktok live. Elphaba Orion Doherty, who also uses other accounts to side step account bans, displayed extremely horrifying behaviour that should never be witnessed on the app.
Thousands of people, potentially even many more thousands after the initial incident, were subjected to dangerous suicide baiting behaviour and violent content by Elphaba Orion Doherty. She held a knife to her throat and threatened to kill herself to thousands upon thousands of viewers, whilst appearing to be very unstable after an incident the previous evening of claiming she had self harmed. On the day of the 1/5/24, she was even showing her viewers, who again were in the thousands her self harm "injuries" on her wrist and arm, saying that she would "show them" to her viewers so she could manipulate her audience for more gifts.
Elphaba Orion Doherty was allowed, despite thousands and thousands and thousands of reports for online safety due to the content of brandishing a knife to her own throat, threatening harm to herself and saying she "wants to die" These reports were all received with no violations and the live was allowed to continue for over twenty minutes.
Children under the age of sixteen years of age have self harmed as a result of this. Adults who experience mental health battles have harmed themselves as a result of this. Families and friends of those who have committed suicide have been affected by this.
This creator has a track record of inflammatory behaviour on the app, which again has been reported on numerous occasions because of the very real risk to children who do have access to the app. Not only just children and impressionable young people, but also the vupnerable adults and everhone else who is subjected to this behaviour. The content of this creator suicide baiting, threatening to kill themselves, actively abusing alcohol and narcotics whilst on live is completely unacceptable. If she isn't displaying the above-mentioned behaviour, then she is demanding gifts and money from her viewers, literally demanding.
Due to Elphaba being a trans creator and also young (20 years of age) She is very attractive to the younger generations, the target audience being children as a large percentage of her gifters and viewers are children. She already has an extremely negative influence on these children, with her regular intoxicated ramblings, narcotic induced tantrums, and now suicide baiting and self harming while on live, is a psychological and emotional minefield for children. Elphaba needs IP bans and enforced bans from making other accounts for the safety and well-being of so many people who use the app and platform for welcomed, creative purposes.
On a daily basis, Elphaba breaks the platforms own policies. Please see below. And I am using general terms in referring to youths 13+ who are legally allowed to have accounts and access to the platform.
TIKTOK POLICY BREACHES
•"Youth safety is our priority. We do not allow content that may put young people at risk of exploitation, or psychological, physical, or developmental harm. This includes child sexual abuse material (CSAM), youth abuse, bullying, dangerous activities and challenges, exposure to overtly mature themes, and consumption of alcohol, tobacco, drugs, or regulated substances. If we become aware of youth exploitation on our platform, we will ban the account, as well as any other accounts belonging to the person."
As we are aware that Elphaba Orion Doherty has regularly exploited 13+ youths to emotional and psychological harm by displaying the above mentioned behaviour of suicide baiting, self harm, narcotic and alcohol abuse on a regular basis. Elphaba regularly discusses sexual exhibitionism and sexual assault incidents that have allegedly happened to her, and she routinely sexualises comments and innuendos that are inappropriate entirely. Not to mention how Elphaba regularly manipulates her young viewers for gifts.
•"We are committed to bringing people together in a way that does not lead to physical conflict. We recognize that online content related to violence can cause real-world harm. We do not allow any violent threats, incitement to violence, or promotion of criminal activities that may harm people, animals, or property. If there is a specific, credible, and imminent threat to human life or serious physical injury, we report it to relevant law enforcement authorities."
The platform does have many qualities and content that is perfect for what is described, however Elphaba has threatened to physically harm other creators on a regular basis, has been active in criminal activities such as using narcotics, encouraging underage drinking of alcohol and encouraging dangerous behaviour.
• "TikTok is enriched by the various backgrounds of our community members. Our differences should be respected, rather than a cause for division. We do not allow any hateful behavior, hate speech, or promotion of hateful ideologies. This includes content that attacks a person or group because of protected attributes, including: Caste, Ethnicity, National Origin, Race, Religion, Tribe, immigration status, Gender, Gender Identity, sex, sexual orientation, disability, serious diseases."
Elphaba has repeatedly broken these guidelines which have been reported, again thousands of thousands of times in her lives. She has been transphobic, racist remarks, direct racism to other content creators, discriminatory towards other genders. She has also made sexualised remarks regarding other's sexual identity and violent sexual exhibitionism regarding others of the opposite sex.
• "TikTok is a place where people can come to discuss or learn about sexuality, sex or reproductive health. We are mindful that certain content may not be appropriate for young people, may be considered offensive by some, or may create the potential for exploitation. We do not allow sexual activity or services. This includes sex, sexual arousal, fetish and kink behavior, and seeking or offering sexual services. However, it does not include reproductive health and sex education content."
Elphaba does not host informative content such as sex education or reproductive health discussions. She regularly broadcasts that she wants to find a "man" and how he needs to have particular attributes. She often discusses what she would do to these men, quite graphically which again, is not appropriately for her target audience.
• "We celebrate all shapes and sizes and want people to feel comfortable in how they present themselves and their bodies. We understand societies approach body exposure and clothing differently, so we seek to reflect prevailing cultural norms about nudity. We do not allow nudity, including uncovered genitals and buttocks, as well as nipples and areolas of women and girls. Sheer and partially see-through clothing is not considered covered. We allow regional exceptions for showing nipples and areolas in limited situations, such as medical treatment, educational purposes, or as a part of culturally accepted practices. Not all young people have the developmental maturity to respond to unwanted physical attention and uninvited sexualization, which may lead to psychological or physical harm. We do not allow significant body exposure of young people. Content is age-restricted if it shows significant body exposure of an adult. Content is ineligible for the FYF if it shows moderate body exposure of a young person, or significant body exposure of an adult. We allow regional exceptions for body exposure in limited situations, such as common cultural practices."
Elphaba on more than one occasion has exposed their genitals, full genitals while dancing provocatively in a dress at a club and this video has circulated. She has also exposed herself on her own lives while wearing a different dress on a separate occasion. She has also exposed her chest and cleavage in provocative dresses, including adding make up to accentuate herself to be more visually appealing.
•" TikTok is a place where people can come to discuss or learn about sexuality, sex or reproductive health. We are mindful that certain content may not be appropriate for young people, may be considered offensive by some, or may create the potential for exploitation. We do not allow sexual activity or services. This includes sex, sexual arousal, fetish and kink behavior, and seeking or offering sexual services. However, it does not include reproductive health and sex education content."
Elphaba regularly discusses her sexual preferences and discusses her kinks and broadcasts her sexual desires whilst on live stream. She routinely discusses her slime fetish, venom fetish, vore, human bodily fluids and often discusses masturbation.
• "In a global community, it is natural for people to have different opinions, but we seek to operate on a shared set of facts and reality. We do not allow inaccurate, misleading, or false content that may cause significant harm to individuals or society, regardless of intent. Significant harm includes physical, psychological, or societal harm, and property damage. It does not extend to commercial and reputational harm, nor does it cover simply inaccurate information and myths. We rely on independent fact-checking partners and our database of previously fact-checked claims to help assess the accuracy of content. Content is ineligible for the FYF if it contains general conspiracy theories or unverified information related to emergencies. To be cautious, content that warrants fact-checking is also temporarily ineligible for the FYF while it is undergoing review. To help you manage your TikTok experience, we add warning labels to content related to unfolding or emergency events which have been assessed by our fact-checkers but cannot be verified as accurate, and we prompt people to reconsider sharing such content."
Elphaba regularly discusses dark conspiracies such as governmental conspiracy, wars and conflicts and repeatedly spreads misinformation medically, politically and in general day to day life and has consistently preached anti governmental propaganda.
• "Content shared online may be seen by anyone, and has a wide reach. We are committed to making sure that any personal information shared intentionally or accidentally on TikTok does not lead to harm. We do not allow content that includes personal information that may create a risk of stalking, violence, phishing, fraud, identity theft, or financial exploitation. This includes content that someone has posted themselves or that they consented to being shared by others."
Personal information has been broadcasted by Elphaba where she has, on numerous occasions attempted to "expose" other tiktok creator's who have spoken out against her behaviour. She has actively put out personal information in terms of photos, names, addresses and incited hatred from her own viewers and supporters on these people she believes is against her when these people simply want to make the app safer for everyone involved. Essentially, Elphaba has "doxxed" also known as, leaking private information in the belief to cause malicious harm. She has also financially exploited vulnerable viewers who have sent ridiculously large amounts of gifts in (monetary value) under the agreement or promise of personal interaction on a one to one basis, or to join the live, or her usual speech is "Send a big gift for a follow"
UK LAW BREACHES
• Threatening behaviour with an offensive weapon - This can be prosecuted under The Offensive Weapons Act 2019, Threatening with an offensive weapon etc in a private place – Section 52.
•Threatening behaviour to other creators - This can be prosecuted under the Malicious Communication Act 1988 and the Communications Act 2003. Online threats could take many forms including threats to kill, harm or to commit an offence against a person, group of people or organisation
• Talking sexually to Minors - This can be prosecuted under Section 67 of the Serious Crime Act 2015, Section 15A. Furthermore, it can be prosecuted under Protection of Children Act 1978 if "sexting" occurs towards a minor. To also add that if the offender is under the age of 16, the following legislation can be pursued Protection of Children Act 1978.
• Obtaining money through tiktok gifts and Go fund me under the representation it for transitioning surgery - This can be prosecuted under The Fraud Act 2006, a,b and C, being false representation and misinformation. Other charges under the same bracket can be made due to the nature of the offences.
• Refund fraud, ie ordering food and returning it for monetary gain and at the loss of another - The above act also covers this.
• Fraud committed through the use of computer or mobile, technology devices including using the above mentioned methods to further commit crimes - This is prosecuted under Computer Misuse Act 1990.
• Blackmailing or threatening particular actions or behaviour that is to force someone to do a specific thing - This is prosecuted under The criminal offence of blackmail under the section 21 of the Theft Act 1968.
There are so many more things that could be added to this report.
Also, please see the attached online safety bill, which Elphaba is in direct breach of in regards to her content and live streaming behaviour ;
https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/2023/50/enacted
I look forward to your reply.

Groaning awake, panic twisted my features at the sight of Marcus slumbering peacefully next to me. Flying off the bed, the sound of me hitting the floor had him snapping awake. Patting the bed, a tender blush painted my cheeks at him grinning flirtatiously in my direction. Seconds from reprimanding him, the door blew open. Tarot bounced over to me, a tarot card flipping through his fingers. Flashing a bemused grin, he flicked the card into my palm. Of course, he had to dance his way in. When was he going to stop being such a child?
“First job and you might like it. We have an unknown killer in the seventies. We have intel that they are meeting with Glanda.” He explained with a wink, confusion twisting my features. “Glanda Kills the witch we are dealing with. Prevent their meeting and you get to put another serial killer on the map. Your disguises are on the door. Have fun, my lovely weirdos.” Floating out in a scarlet velvet suit, pale blue bell bottoms and a green floral disco shirt had me rolling my eyes. Popping to my feet, Marcus looked less impressed with his navy bell bottoms and a cheesy blue and white button up shirt. Low growls rumbled in my throat, my fingers dancing along the material. Excusing myself to give my hair the Farrah Fawcett treatment, the hair curler worked overtime to give me the perfect bouncy flips and curls. Flipping through the makeup bag, the correct pallet greeted me. Painting my face the best I could, the bold lines contrasted wonderfully with the blue. Coming out to get dressed, Marcus looked miserable in his outfit. Fussing with the colorful material, a fit of laughter burst from his lips at my hair and makeup. Flipping him off as I tugged on my modern undergarments, he turned his back as I tugged on the denim bell bottoms. Tying the front of my disco shirt, hesitation lingered at the faded scars covering my bare stomach. They weren’t completely visible, a lump forming in my throat. Getting lost in my thoughts, Marcus dropping my pendant over my head ripped me back into reality. Sliding his hands down to my hips, his lips brushed against the top of my head.
“No one is going to see them and witchcraft isn’t so taboo. At least you look sexy. I look like someone’s dad back in the day.” He complained with a snarl on his lips, a quick peck on his cheek softening his frustration. Plucking the tarot card from his fingers, a date was required for me to work my spell. Lifting my pendant over my head, his hand stopped me. Fishing around his pocket, he pressed a silver engraved dagger into my palm. What was the point of this weapon? It wasn't that I didn't know my way around them but a deep disdain lingered with using them.
"I can’t have you trapped without a way out again.” He whispered gruffly into my ear, a shiver running up my spine. “Cut your palm and it should shrink into a charm.” Listening to him with a look of pure annoyance, my magic tended to keep me alive. Cutting my palm, a bright light blinded me. The light died down to reveal a jingling charm bracelet on my left wrist, pride glistening in his eyes. Offering him my palm, hunger burned in his eyes. Licking off the blood, the substance would keep him healing throughout our next mission. Remembering that I needed boots, Marcus crouched down to slide on a pair of worn black boots. Thanking him while reading the date one more time, something told me that today was going to get heated. Clearing my throat, it was time to go. Spinning my pendant clockwise, time would always be on my hand.
“I call upon the sands of time to whisk me away to the Quincy Market in Boston on the twenty-sixth of August in the year of nineteen seventy-six!” The pendant spun faster, a blast of energy knocking us onto the cobblestone street. Landing on our asses, one would think that we could land on our feet by this point but the energy was unpredictable. A sea of bell bottoms and brick buildings greeted us, a long sigh pouring from my lips. Staring at the card in my hand, nothing but the card of death greeted me. So much for the details, Marcus tapping my shoulder causing me to quit my silent fuming. Dropping my pendant over my head, his head rested on my shoulder.
“Any more information about our mission or are we in the dark per usual?” He grumbled venomously, his fingers drumming on my lap “Of course it had to be on a busy day.” Helping to my feet with him, the food vendors had people lining up and blocking the way. The energy shifted, a woman with a sleek silver bob and dazzling emerald eyes walked past me. Time slowed down, emerald ribbons following her. Her green crop top matched her brown bell bottoms to a tee, our eyes meeting for a second. Flipping her hair with a middle finger, my temper visibly flared. Chuckling under her breath, Marcus had to hold me back. Glancing around for the person she was meeting with, another energy giving us pause. A blood soaked man with dirty blonde waves around his shoulders darted after her, crazed ruby eyes lingering on us for a little too long. A golden spiked club dangled off of his wrist, screams and chaos erupted in the distance. Pushing our way through the crowd, a man lay at my feet. A jar of souvenirs rolled out of his pocket, the face having been beaten to a pulp. That mission was a bittersweet ending, a blast of green energy catching my eyes. Stomping on the tail of her time travel spell, Marcus grabbed my waist. Twisting through time to the land of the dinosaurs, the sheer force of the energy had us splashing into a pond of mud. Dragging ourselves out, she wasn’t getting away that easily. Grabbing onto her magic trail, one yank had them in the mud. Low growls rumbled in her throat as she pulled herself out, a steady stream of curse burst from her lips. Mud dripped to our feet, dinosaurs of all kinds darted around us. Parting our lips to speak, screeches had us hiding behind thick trees. More problems, right? Why did Murphy's law have to taint my plans?
“What the hell is your fucking problem!” She screeched over the chaos around us, a giant leaf tickling my legs. “The great Glanda Kills refuses to listen to anybody! The world will be ruled by chaos!” Rolling my eyes, someone was full of herself. Marcus poked his head around the tree, his club spinning in his hand. Placing my hand on his chest to calm him down, curiosity had me wondering who the hell she thought she was.
“Wow! We speak about ourselves by our names. The fact you speak of yourself by your name implies that you are less of a wicked witch.” I returned sarcastically, waiting with bated breath for a response. “Now we don’t have a backbone after time traveling like a reckless buffoon.” Marcus shot me a warning look, my palm rubbing against his chest to keep him calm. A fit of laughter burst from my throat at her mate and her arguing, the two of them weren’t in sync. Yanking Marcus down by the collar of his shirt, a purr rumbled in his throat. Not now, you hungry demon.
“Calm down, killer. We are going to split up and figure out how they fight.” I teased with a wink, disappointment dimming his eyes. “Play your cards right and we can have fun very soon. You do recall that a pure witch can only engage in such activities if she is married, right?” Huffing a playful fine, he pretended to get on his knees. Sticking out my tongue, I took my necklace off of my neck. Extending it into a smooth violet wand, violet ribbons swirled down my arm. Combining all four elements of nature into a single ribbon had been my specialty. Stepping out from behind the tree, Marcus crept in the opposite direction. Spinning my wand in between my fingers, something had to give.
“Miss Glanda, are you down for a good old fashioned witch’s duel or am I going to have to call you chicken?” I challenged her with a hearty laugh, the muddy witch stepping out from behind the tree. “She makes an appearance.” Raising her palm into the air, ruby poured down her arm. Bowing in my direction, a look of disdain leaving her lips at my steady bow. Manners weren't her strong point either, her disrespect pissing me. Refusing to show it, my composure remained as strong as it always was.
“You act like you are all high and mighty but you are no different than me. We keep breaking the laws of time and you never have yet to face any consequences like me.” She spat icily, my brow raising at her harsh words. “Oh wait, I forgot! The time guardians gave you a free pass because you want to improve people’s lives. How pathetic!” Pointing my wand her direction, another fit of laughter had me doubling over.
“Sure because destroying what has a right to live makes you so much cooler than me.” I taunted with a sly grin, storm clouds rumbling to life. “Screw you with that bullshit. Time isn’t my only strength, you foul wench. Unleash a storm!” Heavy rain soaked us to the bone, the mud splashing around our feet. Snapping her fingers, a blizzard replaced the rain. Snapping my fingers, the rain took over. Grinning ear to ear with triumph, a wave of my hand stopped the storm. Her lips parted to speak, a shrill roar ending our duel. A tyrannosaurus rex roared behind me, true fear rounding our eyes. Looking up slowly, angry yellow eyes met mine. Cursing under my breath, a bright flash of green announced her leaving with her partner. Marcus skidded up next to me, fresh bruises and cuts dotting his exposed skin. Shrinking my wand back down to my pendant, another roar rattled the ground beneath my feet. Dropping it over my head, we needed to get away from the current danger. Splashing through the mud, our eyes scanned the overgrown land for a solution. Hopping into a raging river, rough waters tossed us all about. Holding me close to him, his body took the brunt of the rocks hitting us. The water speed picked up, the sounds of a waterfall roaring away frightening me. Wiggling my fingers in the water, a wave tossed us onto a sandy beach. Rolling onto our backs, his wounds sealed shut. Turning over to face him, the corner of his lips curled into a twitching grin. Curiosity mixed with love, scarlet painting my cheeks.
“Did you plan any of this?” He inquired with a wink, a snort causing him to laugh. “Too bad that we couldn’t get him in jail. At the very least the guy will have the crimes linked to him. Why are you so beautiful?” Snorting at his compliment, his eyeballs must not be working. Sitting up, my hands rested on my knees. Taking off my necklace gingerly, Marcus grabbed my waist as I began to spin it counter clockwise. Time to blow this prehistoric dump!
“Time to go home. I call upon the sands of time to whisk me back home and to set this timeline in place.” I chanted with a wry smile, a blast of energy knocking us into a random park during present time. A familiar energy had my hair standing on in, a demon gang coming our way. Marcus noticed the numb but panicked expression on my face, his hands cupping my face. Struggling to find the words, chains had me paralyzed in my spot. Laughing with an apologetic grin, my past was coming back to haunt me. His stern expression told me to speak, my hand beginning to tremble uncontrollably. Why today of all days?
“I might have pissed off a gang of demons before I met you. So let’s say about twenty years ago.” I expressed with another nervous laugh, his hands dropping to his lap. Mumbling under his breath for a couple of minutes, his harsh words were sure to come my way. Staring around the park to seek out the gang, his attention returned to me. Working through what I had said, a long breath drew from his lips.
“Given your track record of running your mouth, I can presume that you talked yourself into the issue.” He pointed out simply, my eyes averting to the grass. “Judging by your expression, I am correct. While I enjoy our banter, most people don’t.” Jumping to his feet, his hand hovered in front of my face. Accepting his hand with vigor, one tug had me in his arms. Spinning me around, his lips brushed against the top of my hand. Was he ever the flirtatious Casanova or what?
“Wake up your dagger and get ready to talk in a different way.” He ordered with an annoyed expression, my charm expanded into its dagger. “Please do your best to keep your sharp tongue under control.” Clenching my fist, he didn’t flinch the moment I pressed my blade into his throat. As much as I adored him, he didn't have a right to talk to me like a child.
“My banter is my blade and my words are the sharp edge of it. Sue me if I like to mess with my enemies. They broke into my place in search of my pendant and I couldn’t let them take what was given to me.” I spat back, his expression twisting into a bemused grin. “Why won’t you marry me already! Am I not good enough for you! I can’t keep dropping the hint hard enough! I have been alive since the seventies. Do you know how long that is! I didn’t get abused by my father in a shitty home in the worst part of a small town to suffer an empty eternal life! Why did they have to stop me from aging at fucking twenty!” Cupping my mouth, his expression softened. Silent tears trickled down my cheeks, his mind putting two and two together. His lips parted to speak several times, seven masked demons approached us with black iron chains curled around their hands. The tallest one stepped forward, his chains whistling over his head. Preparing for a battle, dread bubbled in my gut.
“Do I have to burn you to get what I want?” He sneered furiously, my lips curling into a sadistic smirk. Must he interrupt an important conversation, my dagger spinning in my palm. Pointing it in his direction, Marcus towered behind me like a shadow. Marching up to him, surprise rounded his eyes. Did these demons not expect me to stand up for myself? Honestly, where were their brains?
“Even if you wanted the pendant, you still need me. Time travel is blood magic and that one person who has the blood is the one in charge of the crystal. Study your damn lore!” I berated him venomously, hovering the dagger over his heart. “Screw off or let me cut your freaking head off!” Rolling his inky eyes, his giant hand swallowed mine. A hearty laugh cascaded from his lips, his hand dropping to his worn jeans. Why put on a big show? Did he desire to mess with my mind in a friendly manner?
“I didn’t come here to fight. I came to warn you. My respect for you was garnered a long time ago when you mouthed off to me.” He warned me with a polite bow, Marcus lowering my blade gingerly with an apologetic smile. “No need for that, mate. Her sharp tongue is her blade. Back to why I wanted to talk to you. Glanda is hiring my cousin and his gang to come after you. Can’t help you because of family ties but know that I won’t be helping him. Have a fine day.” Turning to leave, my hand snatching the hem of his t-shirt had his eyes widening with shock. An apology was necessary, the words tasted odd on the tip of my tongue.
“Don’t leave like that. I am sorry for being rude. Thank you for the head’s up.” I apologized politely, a natural smile curling on his lips. “Where are we?” His words faded in and out, Marcus taking in the information for me. Crunching away, Marcus snapped his fingers in front of my face. Tuning him out again, Glanda’s energy seemed to be near. Dragging him towards the energy, his protests fell on deaf ears. Marching into a city, a pizza parlor ultimately being her destination. Hiding him behind a tree, our eyes watched Glanda stomp into the pizza parlor. Mumbling a spell under his breath, the filth lifted off of our outfits. Seconds from going in, Tarot stepped out of a flurry of tarot cards. Two ordinary bands glittered in his palms, Marcus grinning ear to ear. What did the two man children have planned?
“What I have here is two wedding bands that unify the lovely couple standing in front of me. They are both blessed by the demon king and the grand witch. Slide them on and you are a married couple.” He announced while floating around with a Cheshire Cat grin, Marcus turning towards me. “You didn’t tell her that you planned on asking her. After all that floating around!” Cupping my cheek, his other hand tucked my hair behind my ear. Blushing a deep scarlet, his golden heart made it impossible for me to be mad at him.
“I didn’t know about your past but I don’t care. Hear me out for a second.” He choked out adorably, his cheeks burning a deep crimson. “Do me the honor of becoming my wife in this crazy world. I have to admit something to you. Your light bathed me that day you darted past me with those wounds. You stopped to ask if I was okay and I couldn’t believe it. Everyone hated me at the time. Every moment since has been a blessing and I wish to have many more years with you. I ask again. Will you be my wife?” Melting into his arms, this had been my dream since I was a young child. The image of a big family flashed in my mind, the sight of our children running around a yard while laughing had me smiling softly to myself.
“Why would I ever say no?” I answered in an uncharacteristic lack of sarcasm, his nervous grin swelling into one of relief and pride. “Are you going to slide the ring on or what?” Returning our usual style of banter, his shaking fingers slid on the smaller wedding band. Accepting his band from Tarot’s palm, my own quaking fingers slid on his. Swinging me underneath him, his lips pressed against mine hungrily. Time slowed, the sound of the outside dying down. Our heart beat to the same beat, a tap on my shoulder had the sounds rushing back in. The bands twisted to matching silver metal flames, Marcus kissing the top of my hand. Tarot pointed towards the pizza parlor, Glanda stepping out of the restaurant. Hopping into a onyx town car, our target rumbled away. Tarot shoved his phone in my face, the article that pinned that man to those crimes. Happy to see that, something else ate at me. Why murder them if you could use them? Perhaps there was a special spell you could perform with those souls.
“Don’t worry about his death. Asphy told me that he was going to die that day, regardless.” He assured me with a comforting grin, Marcus embracing me from behind. “She is one of my friends and in charge of the universe. Maybe one day you could meet her. In fact, she is younger than you. The grand witch told me to give you this.” Feeling around the pocket of his suit, he pressed a lilac envelope into my palm. Ripping it open, my heart sank into my stomach at a request to meet with her personally. Lowering the card with a huff, Tarot shrugged his shoulders. What did she need with me now? Every time she asked for me, it was simply another witch hunt.
“Can you tell me if I am going to be ripped to shreds or is this a little spot of tea?” I questioned through gritted teeth, hating that my aunt was calling for me. “Fine, let’s go!” Bringing my dagger back to life, a quick slice had blood staining the paper. Lilac smoke swirled around us, a force of energy whisking us outside heavy lilac doors. Marcus kissed the top of my head, my dagger shrinking back down to its charm form.
“Whatever comes your way, I will be by your side.” He promised lovingly, shooting me a playful grin. “Your words are your blade and your bite is the sharp edge.” Looking back up at him, my husband watched me with all the love in the world. Our marriage may have been rushed but both of us would be more powerful. Perhaps the flames of hope could burn bright once more.

Link to Previous Part
Somewhere around my head hitting the ground and that damn raccoon laughing hysterically at me, I drifted out of simple unconsciousness and into a memory. This particular memory was going to be unpleasant, I could tell that right away. It was part of the reason I left Wisconsin in the first place, that damn abandoned town of Imalone.
Something I’d always liked to do was explore, its one of the reasons I decided on somewhere like Eagles Peak in the first place when I left. It’s also the reason I ended up in Imalone. It was a new place to check out that had been left untouched for several years. As the story goes the town popped up around a gas station, the earliest any recorded records of the place include a date, is the 1940’s. For a while a church and bible camp garnered the interests of tourists and members of the church in Imalone but it wouldn’t last. One day the church closed its doors and so many of the towns residents packed up and left. Without the church and its bible camp what little revenue the place might have generated ceased to exist. After that, the town’s bones were left for nature to pick through. A few friends had relayed the story to me and I decided I just had to see it for myself. So I packed a bag one night, jumped in my car and headed out. That’s where this memory began.
I pulled off the old road embattled with undergrowth in my old Honda civic and stepped out into the night air. The town was faintly illuminated for some reason despite being abandoned years ago. The light flickering off into the otherwise pitch black forest was foreboding. For the first time that night a tiny part of me pulled back, away from the town.
“I’m sure there’s a reason as to why the power wasn’t cut. Maybe some homeless moved in or something, it was a town at one point and its not like anyones claiming this place.”
These thoughts did nothing to calm my nerves as I walked through the overgrowth and towards the town. In fact those thoughts inspired me to try and be as quite as possible.
“Just get in, see what there is to see and get out Keith.”
I was still really on edge as I came to the overgrown gas station that marked the beginning of the town and the end of the forest. Though, that border was a bit disputed as of late it would seem. A huge tree had grown in the middle of the wrecked gas station, bursting out of its windows and roof. Weeds grew up through the pavement and both old pumps lay on the ground, rusted and beaten. I walked into the decrepit gas station, searching for a way up onto the roof to see if I could find the source of the light in town. As I got inside I heard a rumble of thunder.
“Weird, the forecast didn’t call for any storms?”
I thought as lightning flashed through the sky. Briefly illuminating the room and showing me a path up the tree through the hole it bored in the roof. The flash from the lightning hung just a few seconds longer than I would’ve assumed and I swore I heard the very faint cry of a bird in the distance.
Up on the roof I dropped my bag and grabbed my binoculars. As soon as I focused them in on the town I saw a bedraggled man on a bicycle. Well, bicycle may not have been the right word as it was stationary and hooked up to a series of rusty gears. As I followed the path of rusted gears and cogs with my eyes it seemed to lead to a fallen silo. Inside this silo there was a turbine.
“They made some kind of rudimentary generator!” I exclaimed to myself, seeing the mess of wires sprouting from the far side of the collapsed silo. To call the setup ramshackle would’ve been a compliment. It looked like it was a light breeze from falling apart with all the corroded metal of the gears and turbine. I was far enough off that I couldn’t hear the contraption but I’m sure it sounded awful.
I turned my attention back to the man on the bicycle, paying more attention to what he was wearing. It was unusual to say the least. He was covered in bits of moss and dead branches all stuck to what looked to be a canvas tarp converted into some kind of robe. I couldn’t make out his face, but I imagined it would be marred with an unkempt beard, laden with bits of twigs and leaves. I put down the binoculars and put them back in my bag. Once again I felt like I shouldn’t be here, that I should just turn around and leave, but I still didn’t listen. Instead I climbed down from the roof, back into the gas station and started making my way into the town as quietly as I could. Thunder roared again as I crept through the overgrown town. This time when I heard it I was sure the flash of lighting that followed was accompanied by a distant bird’s piercing cry. It sounded like some kind of bird of prey. I shuddered but remained undeterred as I crept deeper into the town.
Eventually I came to a rotting building with half a wagon wheel attached above where its door used to be. My curiosity got the best of me and I decide to check out the building. Walking into what I could now see used to be some sort of bar, I was instantly hit with the distinct smell of mold.
“Maybe that’s why they left. Black mold has a way of clearing out the neighborhood, or so I hear” I mumbled to myself.
Bushes had sprouted up behind the bar and I thought the scene of nature taking over this building would make a good picture. I pulled out my phone and turned on the flash, as soon as the click sounded I dropped my phone. In the light of the flash I saw a figure nestled among the bushes. It was another man clothed in a similar way to the one I had seen on the bicycle. Only this time he was far closer to me and very aware of my presence. The man also wore a mask that looked like it may have been native american in origin. The mask was faded and scratched but obviously carved by an experienced hand. It resembled a bird with a large tuft of split feathers adorning the top of the mask. The man recoiled at the light of the flash at first but soon he was back on his feet. He said something as he stood but the mask muffled his voice to such a degree that I couldn’t make out a word. I jumped back screaming, it was all I could do to snatch my phone out of the air before it hit the ground as I turned and ran. As I burst back out of the building I found the street suddenly full of those ominously dressed men. I slid to a stop and looked behind me, finding my path blocked by the masked man from the bushes. I was weighing my options as thunder cracked again, louder than ever. Lightning followed with another bird like screech as loud as a train.
“SCREEEE!”
“SCREEEEET!”
“SCREEETH!”
“SKREIITH!”
“KIETH!”
“KEITH!”
I was shaken out of the memory and back into consciousness by Bianca. Shaking me from my position on the basement floor.
“Keith! Oh god! What the hell happened to you?! We found you thrashing around down here!”
Bianca screamed inches from my face, her eyes now undeniably glowing.
“There was a raccoon and, and…. It… talked” I strung together as I searched for an answer.
“You should have seen his face! He went as white as a sheet and fell like a bowling pin when I pulled the whole cat gag!” Cackled the raccoon in the corner as Bianca’s uncles stood over it glowering.
“Your eyes, They’re glowing!” I remarked, trying to change the subject.
“Yes of course they… oh damn it! I.. I’ll explain later Keith I guess you have to know now. You’ve seen enough in this basement alone to have questions. Here clean yourself up and meet us in the kitchen.”
Bianca tossed me a wet rag to try and clean the dust and sweat that had covered my face during my unconscious episode.
“And YOU Rocco, you’re going to stay here and we’re going to have a little chat about manners once I’ve cleared this mess up.”
She spit more than said, gesturing towards the raccoon who almost immediately stopped laughing and skulked off deeper into the basement.
Bianca and her uncles turned and went up the stairs leaving me alone. I washed my face off with the cloth as best I could and tried to come up with a strategy for the shit storm waiting for me upstairs. I had to come up with something believable for why I directly ignored their one rule, don’t go into the basement. Bianca had looked concerned more than angry. Had I said something while I was passed out reliving that memory? Do they all think I’m crazy now? Maybe I can use that, yeah plead insanity to them. They may send me off to a home, but If I told them I was remembering the time I got abducted by some crazy bird cultists it would definitely be the padded room for me. I pulled myself together and climbed the stairs opening the door into the last thing I would’ve expected.
Bianca was crying as her Uncles tried to comfort her. It was the first time I got a good look at her uncles. Both looked fairly old, I’d guess mid 60’s to early 70’s. One had a bald spot covering the top of his head and long har besides that with a mole on his right cheek. His face was weathered and a bit wrinkled with lines around his eyes that could only come from prolonged use of goggles. The other had a circle of hair on the top of his head but no more hair to speak of. This ones face was the mirror image of the other with the only difference being the mole on his cheek was on the opposite side. Their hair was really the only way to tell them apart.
“This one is all here at least, I’ve said before there’s a risk! You can’t just charm…”
Her uncle stopped suddenly as I walked into the room and Bianca suddenly looked up at me, Her tear stained eyes still shining an electric blue. I just couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
“I’m soooo sorry, I never meant to end up down there but there was this meowing noise and it sounded like it came fro..”
“Stop, just stop its ok. I guess I should’ve figured you’d end up down there, Rocco likes to torment new people. But I’m sure you have questions about us.”
“Oh I sure do but we’ll start with your eyes, what’s going on there?”
This conversation lead into something I didn’t quite expect to hear, these people weren’t entirely human. There I said it, I still don’t quite believe it but Bianca’s “uncles” tried to explain it to me. Her uncles names were Frank (the one with the small hair circle) and Stein (the one with the reverse bowl cut) and they weren’t her uncles at all. They were researchers, but not for the government like she had claimed, at least not anymore. They researched the supernatural and the paranormal. Rocco was one of their more successful experiments and Bianca, well that’s a different story. Bianca is a succubus, an honest to god supernatural entity. According to Stein she can influence emotions and how people feel about her. That’s what I felt when I met her yesterday and I lost control. I didn’t lose myself, she simply took the reigns and steered me in the direction she wanted. Normally you couldn’t tell there was anything off about her aside from her stunningly good looks. But, when she got overly emotional or she was trying particularly hard to influence someone her eyes would start to glow that trademark blue. This whole time Bianca looked like a scolded puppy. She was embarrassed it seemed, though I couldn’t say if it was because she got caught or if she really felt that bad about what she had done.
After those three explained what they could in such a short time they offered to let me spend the night, or well, at least the rest of it. Frank showed me to my room on the second floor and I slipped into a dreamless sleep… for all of about an hour before I heard a knock at my door. Groggily, I stumbled to the door and snapped it open.
“What is!… oh hey Bianca.”
Bianca stood in my door, eyes no longer glowing, looking sullen.
“I wanted to apologize, I had no right I, I… it wasn’t right I should’ve given you a choice.”
“Please just, stop. Apology accepted, ok. Look I don’t even know if its me talking to you or you jerking me around again. I wan..”
“It is, I promise, I’m not doing anything to you right now, what you feel is just you.”
Binaca responded, eyes beginning to faintly glow, choking back tears.
“Oh geez I’m sorry, its just hard to know if its really me in there with your whole…. you know”
“Funnily enough that’s exactly the problem. Anyone who knows about me always stays away because they don’t know if I’m in their heads or not. There’s Frank and Stein but that’s about it, and that’s only because my powers have no effect on them for some reason. Maybe all that exposure to the supernatural all their lives gave them some kind of immunity?”
“That must be rough, I never really thought about that”
“Yeah I know, why would you.”
For some reason that last bit cut pretty deep. Could have been because of how she looked away when she said it. Like I was just yet another person who didn’t get it. To some extent she was right, I only found out about exactly what she was an hour or so before. But I still didn’t like the fact she seemed to be judging me for it.
“Anyways, what’s Imalone?”
Bianca asked, breaking the awkward silence. The question threw me off guard right away.
“What?! Where did you hear that?”
“When you were trashing around in the basement you said it a few times.”
I don’t know why, but I suddenly felt guilty as I tried to come up with something to say to dodge the question. Maybe I was just tired of trying to pretend nothing happened. That I’d moved halfway across the country to some little nowhere town for no particular reason. Maybe I just wanted to talk about it finally. Maybe I just couldn’t come up with anything convincing to say. I think, what it really was though, was the fact that no-one had been genuine with each other since this whole thing at Bianca’s house started. I never spoke up about the fact I felt something was off, Bianca manipulated me into thinking I wanted to help her, and Frank and Stein just kind of tried to stay out of the whole thing. I had to at least try and show some honesty, which is why I decided to tell Bianca about Imalone.
“Imalone is the reason I’m out here in the first place. Something happened there that really shook me up, I couldn’t stay there anymore.”
“Stay where?”
“Wisconsin, where I’m from. I’m sure I don’t sound like I’m from around here, not that you cared to ask before.” A little bit of the venom from her comment earlier seeping into my own voice.
“But I’m sure you don’t want to hear that whole story tonight…. Or this morning? What Time is it anyways?”
“Late enough that I don’t really want to go to sleep. Besides, now I want to hear this story.”
To her credit Bianca didn’t fall asleep during my story. I’m sure she had to be tired cause there’s no way she slept before this given her earlier state, but she stayed up to listen. She didn’t try to tell me I was crazy. Which is exactly how I expected someone to act hearing about Imalone. When we got to the point in the story where she had shaken me out of the memory earlier I stopped.
“There’s more isn’t there?”
“Yeah its just… hard to relive is all. Maybe it doesn’t sound all that awful now but in the moment I thought I was going to die in that little ghost town.”
Then she did something I didn’t expect. She reached out and grabbed my hand and I immediately felt calmer. The feelings of fear washing away leaving nothing in their wake.
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry about it just finish your story, its easier now right?”
Whatever it was she was doing she was certainly right, the fear of no-one believing me was gone and I found I was able to keep going.
"SCREEEE!” The screaming birds call resounded in my ears. So loud and unexpected that I briefly forgot I was surrounded by these strange canvas wrapped men. As I came back to my senses The one in the bird mask placed a gnarled hand on my shoulder and muttered something unintelligible. I pulled away but his grip was strong and he pushed me to the ground. The rest descended on me cackling and cheering to one another, all in words I couldn’t make out. Rain began to fall, thick and heavy as thunder rolled once more right on top of us. As the men picked me up I gazed into the sky to see something in the clouds illuminated by a flash of lightning.
The thing in the sky looked like a bird of prey, its form translucent against the dark and stormy heavens, only visible by the distortions it left around itself as it circled. Looking back down, I could see the men carrying me to the area I had seen from the top of the gas station. The bicycle sat deserted, though the lines of lights illuminating the town square still flickered, being blown around in the steadily quickening wind. What I hadn’t seen from the gas station roof was the device these people had built in the bones of an old house. The things purpose was clear, to restrain. It was constructed of wood multicolored by rot or the fact that it had originally been part of a building. Four shackles sat at the corners of the structure, each made of a different source of leather or metal. One was simply an old dog collar according to the tag hanging off of it that simply read “spot”.
The men carried me toward the structure that was giving me splinters just by looking at it. Once they arrived there they strapped me into the thing, each of my limbs splayed out in the cardinal directions as the storm raged around us. The rain tore like sandpaper at my skin as the one in the bird mask stood up on the wooden stage next to me. He “spoke” to the others, twelve by my count, in more of this gibberish language they spoke. Whatever he was on about the crowd seemed to be going wild until he held his hands up and they split down the center. I was thrashing around as best I could in my bindings this whole time. Trying to find some give in the ramshackle structure so that I might have a hope at freedom when I noticed what they had split for.
The bird from before had started to come in for a landing and it seemed huge. The beast looked to be about 10 feet tall with a wingspan almost four times that. As it flew closer to the ground lightning struck a house to my right, instantly showering us in wooden shrapnel and setting it alight. In the firelight I could finally behold the bird making its final approach to land. As the black mist surrounding it billowed away it became less translucent and more visible. I could make out Its scaly clawed talons that could’ve shredded a car, and its muscular legs that could’ve picked up that same car and thrown it with enough force to crush a building. Its head resembled an eagle and its deep blue feathers glittered in the rain, firelight, and lightning that crackled off of it and its steely grey pointed beak shown like a great and terrible razor. Once its talons had touched the ground it began to skink and warp, ultimately folding in on itself to reveal a woman, tattooed and naked as the day she was born. She had a hard angular face that demanded respect with nothing more than a glare. My eyes wandered over her body, tracing the lines of the numerous black tattoos that covered her. They were all tribal in nature, involving various wings and talons the came together in an eagle wreathed in lighting on her back. The tattoo resembled the creature she’d just been. She spoke to the masked man in a language that I immediately recognized as Algonquian from a class I took back in college. I still didn’t understand a lick of it but I had at least heard the language before.
The masked man responded with his gibberish which the woman seemed to understand. The man was visibly shaken by her and so was I. This lady radiated pure power and the air was electric. If the fact that she was naked wasn’t enough for me to try and turn my head from her bashfully, the aura she gave off was enough to make me do it out of fear. The woman finally turned to me and spoke,
“You should be honored little trespasser” Cooed the woman, grabbing my head in her hand and turning it up and toward her. With this closer look I could see her steel grey hair that whipped in the wind and her cracking white eyes that seemed to be little storms of their own.
“I’ve decided to spare you this once. Leave this place and forget.”
“And then I woke up back in my car the next day” I said to Bianca as she let go of my hand.
“Are you sure that’s all that happened?”
“Yeah, that was it. Then I started losing it with stress, always thinking I’d stumble into one of those places again. I decided it was time for a change and I moved here to get away from that feeling of being watched I had back home.”
Something about the way Bianca looked at me after I said that told me she didn’t quite buy it. I told her goodnight and rushed her out of my doorway where we had been talking after that. She was right to doubt me though, that last part was a lie. The woman had more to say to me and she certainly hadn’t mentioned anything about sparing me. Despite the calming effect Bianca had brought over me I couldn’t quite bring myself to put that last part of the story into words, at least not out loud.
The woman had told me the men brought me as a sacrifice to her, that the masked man had sought to be her “chosen” whatever that meant. Then she told me all I had to do to be free was allow her to pass a burden onto me. She would deal with these misguided men and I could go home. I’ll admit my decision was cowardly but I was scared for my life. As soon as she gave me an alternative to death I took it. The smile she cracked told me my decision was a mistake. She placed a hand on my back and white hot pain shot through my nerves. I couldn’t see but I could hear the screams. Screams that were cutoff with the brush of feathers against my cheek and the thunderous flap of wings. Thunder roared and lightning cracked, I could hear nothing but the cataclysmic storm that woman had apparently caused. Then as suddenly as it began it stopped.
I awoke the next morning in the middle of Imalone’s town square, it had been leveled and ash was strewn all around me. My clothes were singed but they would have to do on the walk back to the car. The further I walked from the town square the more the town looked as though nothing had happened last night. The ground wasn’t even wet by the time I made it back to my car, like the storm had been centered on the town square and that place alone. When I got home and went to shower I found a black mark seared into my back where the woman had touched me. The mark was a bird covered in lightning and mist, not unlike the woman’s own tattoo on the center of her back.
As that memory crept through my head another thing weighed on my conscious, see I haven’t been entirely honest with you either, whoever it may be seeing this. I didn’t leave Wisconsin just out of fear, no the dreams pushed me here as well. The dreams of storms and shrieks, the dreams of that woman speaking to me in a language I couldn’t understand, The dreams of this town.
It wasn’t random chance that I stumbled upon Eagles Peak. I had looked for places that resembled the flashes of images in my dreams. Ending up deciding that this place must be the town I’d seen. It’s also the reason Bianca’s house stuck out to me when I arrived. It may have been odd to see in this town but I’d also seen it in my dreams. When I came into town and finally went to sleep in my new house it was the first night I hadn’t dreamt in a long time. I’d done something right, or maybe wrong, who’s to say. But something about this town calmed my head, something about this town was connected to that night in Imalone. Whatever it was I intended to find out what. The only issue is I have no idea where to start.

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
High above in her hiding spot, Zildiz had heard enough. The Leapers were her kindred’s most hated of adversaries, and she could not allow them to gain even a fraction of the grey behemoth’s awesome might. An apocalyptic vision arose in her mind of titanic Leaper variants towering over the rooftops of Chthonis, setting the Parchment City alight with beams of all-destroying light emanating from their many eyes.
Four against one. Those were slim odds even under the best of circumstances. Still, she had the element of surprise, and ambush predators were often unaccustomed to being preyed upon themselves. But Leapers were notoriously difficult opponents to sneak up on as they literally had eyes on the backs of their heads. But Zildiz was a veteran of countless border skirmishes, and had learned of a small blind spot in their vision. It was above and slightly behind the axis of their posterior lateral median eyes. But many Gallivants who had tried to make their first kill that way did not survive to tell the tale—the flutter of their wings gave them away. She would have to drop straight down on her first target. No hesitation, no second chances.
She saw the alpha Leaper lean down to extract the prey-form’s gilt helix, and saw her opening.
Rene heard a branch snap somewhere above him and felt a gust of wind blow across his neck, bearing with it droplets of moisture that pattered lightly against the visor of his mask. His first thought was that it had started to rain. He glanced up at the monster to find that it had extruded a new mouthpart, some manner of sharp, serrated tongue whose tip oozed a wet and viscous fluid. Rene flinched reflexively, expecting at any moment to feel the point punching through his skull before draining out its contents like a straw. But then the blade twisted sharply, wrenching its way out of the back of the monster’s head and drenching Rene’s mask in a shower of gore, the four-eyed devil letting out a wet gurgle as it slumped over in a twitching heap.
Pawing at his mask with his bound wrists, Rene peered through his smeared vision and saw a figure standing atop the corpse that, if anything, possessed an even less lovely countenance than his erstwhile interlocutor. A bulbous compound eye stared back Rene like a shattered mirror, a thousand miniscule reflections of himself repeating across its scaly lenses.
Rene recognized the creature as one of the harpies from earlier. One of its broad wings was missing. It drew its bloodstained blade across its mandibles, casually licking the weapon clean as an eight-limbed devil leapt at the harpy from behind, letting loose a bloodcurdling scream. But the harpy did not even turn at the sound, merely pointing its other blade arm behind it and letting its attacker impale itself upon it, clean through. With its dying spasms the devil pulled itself up the length of the blade in an effort to reach the harpy, even as its two kin recovered from their surprise and pounced at the harpy from either side. What followed was a blur of movement almost too quick for the human eye to follow as the harpy spun in place, cleaving the monster on the left halfway through its sternum. In the same movement it turned the devil stuck on the end of its blade into the path of the attacker on the right, using it as a living shield. The impact still bowled the harpy over, all four of the combatants rolling on the ground in a ball of threshing limbs and furious struggle.
The din was horrendous. Siezing the golden opportunity which had presented itself, Rene reached once more for the sword of the ancients, stretching his sinews for all they were worth. It was just enough to let him pinch the pommel-button between his middle and forefingers. Raising it up in spite of his trembling, sweat-slick grip, Rene coaxed the hilt into palm of his waiting hand, then pounded the button against his chest, feeling the sword come alive in his hands. As the fight raged on behind him, Rene sliced his legs free. He tucked in his head as he hit the ground, rolling onto his arse and reversing his grip on the sword, swiftly cutting the bonds around his wrists. When he tried to stand, however, he found that his legs were still unresponsive, all the blood within them having flowed up to his torso during his time spent hanging upside down. Pounding the life back into the clammy flesh of his calves with his fist, Rene looked anxiously around and discovered that the battle had since moved elsewhere, leaving two black-furred corpses in its wake. Cries of rage and a frenzied shaking among the bushes allowed him to guess where the other monsters were. He hoisted himself to his feet, picked up the safety kit and staggered away from the sounds of fighting, pins and needles still numbing the soles of his feet.
As he stepped over the dead bodies in his path, Rene was just about to congratulate himself on a smooth escape when his toes snagged on something and he tripped, going down heavily on his side. Rene felt a powerful yank on his ankle and looked to see the previously impaled monster glaring up at him. It wriggled on its belly and pulled him closer with one hand while it held in its spilled guts with the other three. By the ancestors, was it strong! Rene hacked at the hand holding his foot and lopped it off at the forearm, feeling only the slightest tug of resistance as the edge sheared through bone and meat alike. The hand was still clamped shut about his ankle with a death grip as he stood back up.
The fiend’s back arched as it brought its vile hump of flesh to the fore, dozens of sucking orifices on its misshapen surface spreading open wide.
Thwip! Thwip!
Jets of silk flew out of the spinnerets, the monster using its claws to grasp the threads and shuttering them back and forth like the shuttles of a loom. Cords flicked out and ensnared Rene’s sword arm, pinning it to his side while the weaver applied a lightning-fast field dressing on its abdominal wound, closing off both ends with wads of its makeshift bandage. Rene strained mightily against the loops of silk, but they never budged an inch. Meanwhile, the monster raked him with its claws, opening bright lines of agony across his chest and shoulder. Rene bit back a scream and dropped the sword point-first into the soil. It sank quivering up to its hilt, leaving him completely defenseless as the monster jumped and snatched him up in its gangly embrace. Rene fell to one knee as its weight bore him to the earth, reaching out with his free hand to draw the sword out of the ground and cleave through its rows of hairy legs.
Severed limbs went rolling every which way, the black devil tottering. Yet as it fell its outer mouthparts seized Rene by the temples and pinned him in place as it bit right into his face. Venomed fangs skittered across the transparent surface of his mask, scoring it with deep scratches. To his amazement the crystal held strong and did not shatter—once more the materials of the ancients had proven their incredible durability. Rene worked his arm clear and chopped wildly at the monster’s arms, felt its hold on him slacken as they fell away, leaving only spurting stumps. The butchered devil fell on its humped back and began shrieking its head off.
Rene raised his sword to deliver the coup de grace but was interrupted by the sudden reemergence of the other combatants who burst back onto the scene. The harpy was grappling with one of the devils, quickly being overpowered by its brute strength. As the devil sank its fangs into the bulging pair of compound eyes and tore off the top of the harpy’s head, the latter found an opening and slipped both its blades through in tight uppercutting motions, ramming them under the devil’s chin and out the other end. Ripping outwards and across with its arms the harpy tore its enemy’s head apart and sent the soggy chunks scattering into the treetops.
Reeling in obvious pain, it kicked the body aside and took off with a shutter of its wings, attempting an escape. A feral scream split the air as, the last devil leapt up to intercept it, entrails dangling in the place of its missing lower body. Devoid of sanity or self-preservation, it tacked the rising harpy and sent both of them crashing into a stout branch. They fell back to the earth with a bone-crunching thump, followed by a confetti-shower of dead leaves shaken from their stems.
Rene looked back at his enemy and saw the devil stubbornly gathering itself up for another spring. All it had left were a single arm and leg apiece, that and a merciless glitter in its eyes.
“You can’t be serious,” he complained, and put an end to its efforts by splitting its head right down the middle. Rene shook his head in disbelief and went over to polish off the other two, snipping his webbed arm loose as he did. He found the bisected devil crawling on its elbows and mewling with pain as it wriggled towards the unmoving body of the harpy, clearly intending to finish what it had started.
There were eyes on the back of its head, Rene now noticed. Four of them, the same number as on the front. It saw him coming and rolled over, raising its arms to shield itself.
Rene’s boot came stomping down all the same. He felt its head crunching under his heel as he squashed it into a flattened pie and was nauseated. Rene then approached the harpy, eyeing its blade arms warily and giving it a wide berth. He didn’t want to get anywhere near those frightful things, not after what he’d seen. Instead he went over to a fallen log and cut himself an oversized club from one of its boughs. Sticking the sword back into the ground, he hefted the length of wood over the harpy, intending to smash its head in from a distance.
He felt strangely squeamish at prospect of another head going splat. A wave of dizziness came over him and he had to take a moment to collect himself, doubling over and beginning to dry heave. Leaning heavily on the bough like a staff, he examined the harpy and thought that it looked sufficiently dead. Through the gaping holes in its face he saw the gooey interior of its head. Was that its brain poking through the cracks in the armored hide? Blimey, it had a big one. Equal parts revolted and intrigued, Rene reached over with the branch and prodded at it, testing for a reflex.
Nothing. Better to be safe than sorry, though. Rene raised the bough on high and steeled himself to do the deed once and for all.
A piece of the head fell away, and Rene gasped. Abandoning common sense, he threw aside the club and squatted over the body, frantically tearing off the rest of its cranial casing, plunging his fingers into the sticky mess and pulling out clumps of armored flesh until what lay beneath was finally revealed.
Rene clutched at his forehead as if it was about to explode. Backing away with a sense of dawning horror, he repeated over and over to himself: “It can’t be. It can’t be, it can’t! That’s not possible! It’s…it’s…”
Beautiful.
That was what Rene had meant to say. But the word felt so utterly absurd given the context that it took all his will to keep from bursting into a fit of deranged laughter. And who could have blamed him?
For beneath the ruined visage of flesh, the creature wore the face of a woman.
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

“I expect you to die!”
My shout echoed off the sandstone pyramid. I swung my briefcase downward in a large arc, hopeful to catch the adventurer unawares. The multicolored rune shield stopped me short of a connection. I took a step back as a flash of red-green came rushing past. Once. Twice. I stepped back in for another attack. Three. Four. The poison from the dagger took hold immediately. I could feel it working its way through my veins. Up my arm, closer and closer to my heart. I knew it would kill me. I had to get out of here.
In a twirl of my purple robes, I dropped a smoke rune. The vapors twisted their tendrils, fingers wrapping around my body. I broke the tablet and teleported away the instant the smoke became too thick to see. Just at the last moment, I caught a glimpse of magenta. More specifically, the robes of Uri.
“Damn you, brother! How do you always appear as I’m leaving?”
Limping into the portal, I made my way to the pool. Bending and cupping my hands together, I gulped the liquid down. It tasted horrendous, but the effects were immediate. I could feel the poison being sucked back down, slowly dripping from the cuts on my arm. It made a small pool in the grass, the greens playing tricks on the eyes, as it faded into the dirt.
Although I felt physically better, the damage to my psyche was still there. Every single time my alarm goes off, I run out to protect my hidden caches. Every single time, some young buck adventure is there with some gods forsaken armor to beat me back to my hovel. And every single time, my damned brother, Uri, shows up when I leave! Every. Single. Time. It drove me mad. How do they find my treasures? How do they know the way to unlock the doors? Even the alarms don’t seem to help. I’m sick of it! I’m sick of my good for nothing brother laughing away with them while I slink back here.I need a new job. I’m tired of this protection agency. “Oh, you’re so good at your job, Double Agent,” I mocked, venom on my tongue. “Tomorrow,” I said. “Tomorrow I’ll finally make a name for myself. A new name. One other than ‘Double Agent,’ or ‘Bad Guy.’”
Early the next morning, I awoke and stepped to my wardrobe. “There’s not much for options,” I mused. Spotting the patch of black between all the H.A.M robes, I quickly grabbed it and shook it out. “This’ll do nicely,” to nobody in particular. I threw on the vest and slacks and gave myself a once over in the mirror. Twirling my mustache between two fingers, I mused “Yes. I’m just missing one…” I went to the cape rack and found it. With a twist, I threw the cape on, the sashes falling over my shoulder. White with a small gold shoulder trim, blazend with a saw and log. “Dress for the part you play, they say.”Heading to the portal, I grabbed my bowler hat from the stand and slapped it onto my head. With a flick of the brim, I grinned and stepped through. The world shrank and grew with a purple haze as I was transported from Rimmington to Varrock in a flash. “I’ll never get used to that,” I grunted.
Walking around the city felt good. Nobody seemed to recognize me. Nor did anyone pull a dagger behind my back, though not for lack of checking. Playing the role of the double agent has taken its toll on my mind all these years. It’s time to settle down and build my own empire. No more silly scavenger hunts with my brother. No more taking beating from “adventurers.” No. This was my time.
After searching the city for a few minutes, I found the perfect location. It was a small, single story building just outside the palace courtyard. “Yes, yes. The palace guards will want a better place to sleep. Maybe the church goers across the street are looking for new homes.”
The “for sale” sign hung just on the corner of the shabby building. “Well, it’ll certainly need a little work, but nothing I can’t handle.” I grabbed the sign off my new home and made my way down the road toward the courtyard. The birds whistled as I passed. The leaves twitched with the breeze. I made my way up the stairs and into the castle itself. Looking around for a clerk or knight, I decided to head to the left. The faint sound of quill scratching parchment made its way down the corridor.
Peeking inside the open room, papers and books scattered around what I only assumed was the library. A small, squirrel looking man sat at a desk writing away. I cleared my throat… Twice… Three times.
“Ah! Hello, hello,” he said with a start. “My name is Reldo. I am the palace librarian.” He pushed his thick frame glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“That’s why you’re in the library, then.” I said. “I’m here about the property for sale just east of the courtyard. And perhaps a seller's permit, if you’re the man to see.”
“Yes! You’ve come to the right place, err..I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“Yuri.”
“Ah, Yuri. I’ll just grab the paperwork and begin filling it out, shall I? Now then.. Where did I put that…” Reldo mused, rifling through his paperwork. “S-sorry,” he stuttered.“Take your time, comr- my good man.” Blast. It’ll be hard to break the old habits I’ve had all these years.
“Here we go!” He began filling in the forms. “Now then. The fees for the permit, on top of the property, and also the permit to own land in our great Varrock total to 10,000 gold pieces.”
Highway robbery, this. “Perfect,” I said with a devilish smile. I sat my briefcase on the table and unclicked the latches. The gold shone out like a brilliant light, dancing in the torch flames. I counted out my coins and collected my paperwork.
“The tax collector will be around once a year!” Reldo called after me.
I couldn’t wait. I’d extort the lumber yard for commission. If their planks wanted to go into my homes, they’d have to pay. Need a few decorations, adventure? How about a new property elsewhere? Ha! I’d take them for everything they’ve got. And then some.
Back at my new business, I took the “For Sale” sign down and unlocked the door. Time to get to work.
“Hello. Welcome to the Gielinor Housing Agency! What can I do for you?” I asked with a flick of my hat. The words “I expect you to die!” fading into an echo over the castle walls.
If you've made it this far, thank you! I hope you enjoyed it! I really enjoyed writing this and "researching" for it. If you have any other in game characters you'd like me to write about, let me know! Can't wait to see what kind of feedback I get. Common questions I've recieved so far:
"Why?" Eh. Boredom? Fun? I enjoy writing and I'd like to think I'm halfway decent at it. The Double Agent/Uri are the same as the Estate Agent, so I got this idea.
"What's the point?" No clue. Entertainment, I s'pose. Mabye an "atta boy" from a Jmod or something.
"Do you have any other ideas?" Yup! They're in the works, but we'll see.

lost love spells in Australia-Best Love Spells That Work Fast & Easy 2024 are among others lost love spells in Usa cast online and in-store to bring back lost love spells in #24 hours!! simply email (intclairvoyant@gmail.com) Call/WhatsApp: +256755470380 return lost love spells even after all other spell casters have failed!! What are you waiting for?? lost love spells caster in Johannesburg https://powerfulspellspsychic.wordpress.com/ free lost love spells-"Allure Astrology," learn how casting ethical love spells is the perfect way to invite more positive energy into your relationship goals...lost love spells in Uganda. .lost love spells in south Africa lost love spells in Paris France //+256755470380// lost love spells in Singapore -lost love spells in USA lost love spells in Paris- love spells results in #24 hours
black magic lost love spell caster in Uganda +256755470380 how to restore with lost love spells@ Lithuania, India, China, Cuba, Uruguay, Turkey, Maldives, Malta, Mexico, Morocco, Milan, Mali, Malawi, Mozambique, Mongolia, Thailand, Singapore, Russia, Ukraine, Israel, Oman, Yemen, Sudan, Kenya, Chad, Nigeria, Senegal, Ivory coast, Cameroun, Togo, Ghana, Uganda, Tanzania, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Botswana, Namibia, Belize, Jamaica, Brazil, Seychelles, Mauritius 100% guaranteed results mudi spell homes WhatsApp +256755470380
love spell$ Online Best love spell decanter֍+256755470380 (MD , USA ) yet stimulating Love Spells IN Bridgeport CT, Baltimore, MD. 1.֍Get back Ex lover. get your Ex back https://rwenzoripsychics.myportmoni.com/
★ how to reuniting with lovers and make him or her- how to bring lost lover back my powerful bring back in Barbados, Saint Lucia, Palau Andora Tonga Dominica Bahrain Antigua and Barbuda Marshal Monaco Tuvalu Vatican City Nauru Liechtenstein Luxembourg Comoros Sao Tome and Principe Kiribati Samoa Cape Verde Trinidad and Tobago Brunei Cyprus Lebanon Qatar Vanuatu The Bahamas Eswatini Fiji Slovenia Kuwait El-Salvado Djibouti North Macedonia Haiti Burundi Equatorial Guinea Albania Solomon Islands Armenia Lesotho Belgium Moldova Estonia Costa Rica
lost love spells in Washington-We dug into the rich history of love magic to help you wrap your head around how it all works- Powerful Spell To Make Someone Love You((+256755470380 where to Find a spell to make someone love you or specific spells to bring ex back! // lost love spells in usa // lost love spells caster in New York // lost love spells in new york // lost love spells caster in Canada https://rwenzoripsychics.myportmoni.com/
lost love spells in Uk- Powerful Instant Best Love Spells©╬⓿ ☎(+256755470380) U.S.A, U.K, Australia, Singapore, Canada, South Africa, Uganda, Norway, Guam, Grenada, Switzerland, Sweden, Austria&))))
lost love spells in Texas //lost love spells in Norway- How to Make Someone Fall in Love with You//lost love spells in boston // lost love spells in dallas // lost love spells in london // are lost love spells caster in johannesburg cheap??
You are not recommended to try spells to bring a lover back if you are going through the following: You know that your relationship with your ex is toxic and the best painful option to take in this is to move on. It is not a good choice to be in a relationship that is un-natural, one that is built on witchcraft. The love spark as to be their at all times.
Even the most powerful love spell may not fulfill the things that are required for a real relationship to be in place. Love should be natural and if your partner looses interest in you, its better that you let them follow the heart. If one door closes, expect another open infront of you.
Therefore witchcraft or love spells should not be the ultimate solution to mending a broken heart in a relationship, one has to make love exist naturally by doing the right things to your partner, the things that will recapture the inner feelings of love and affection as you did in the start of the relationship.
Only if and when all has been tried and failed to work that one should order for my love spells that actually work, and indeed this will be the last nail in the coffin to fix your troubled relationship permanently.
asmr ariana grande avengers endgame ace family act up apex legends abc song aladdin 2024 ali a avengers endgame trailer amazon amazon prime https://lostlovespellz.wordpress.com/ american airlines airbnb aol mail amtrak apple abcya autozone aol airpods amazon gift cards aa batteries airpod case aaa batteries apple watch band 38mm air fryer apple watch apple watch band 42mm alexa american express accuweather bank of america best buy bryce harper bed bath and beyond billie eilish bitcoin barnes and noble Bosnia Herzegovina Georgia Ireland Sierra leone Brazil Benin Eritrea Honduras Liberia Bulgaria Guatemala South Korea Iceland Hungary Portugal Serbia United Arab Emirates Azerbaijan Serbia Panama Algeria Argentina Kazakhastan bing bb&t bloomingdales bluetooth headphones bluetooth earbuds baby wipes bluetooth headsets bluetooth speakers blood pressure monitor biotin bath bombs blender bubble wrap big lots bbc news britney spears bass pro shop belk baby shark blueface bts bill nye planet on fire blackpink bad bunny bye sister tati bruno mars bohemian rhapsody cardi b cocomelon city girls coryxkenshin ceeday cj so cool chris brown country music clout offset cardi b captain marvel craigslist chase costco capital one cnn cool math games credit karma calculator cvs comcast compression socks women cat litter collagen powder coconut oil condoms coffee grinder creatine crocs women can opener cbd oil craigslist dc chernobyl dry erase markers digital photo frame dog treats dishwasher pods dog bed dog toys diffusers for essential oils https://rwenzoripsychics.myportmoni.com/ dog harness dish soap dry shampoo david dobrik dolan twins drake shaman in uk da baby astrologer despacito dude perfect danielle cohn dantdm ddg darius garland doris day dominos dow jones dictionary detective pikachu dsw doordash dollar tree draft lottery 2024 docs delta airlines discover card login discord domino's pizza drudge report delta driving directions dropbox earbuds essential oils echo dot electric toothbrush extension cord essential oil diffuser external hard drive ear plugs earphones epsom salt ebay espn expedia etsy easter 2025 english to spanish enterprise elizabeth holmes emilia clarke epic games earth emma chamberlain eminem envy me endgame trailer ed sheeran ellen ella mai elmo email edible arrangements ebates enterprise car rental ebay motorsfacebook flights fox news food near me fortnite fashion nova fandango fedex forever 21 fedex tracking fire stick flowers for delivery prime fitbit fitbit charge 2 bands flowers fitbit versa bands food scale fan foam roller fanny pack funny videos fgteev future faze rug funnymike frozen 2 fearless flamingo faucet failure facebook log in to facebook friv facebook search frontier airlines fidelity gift cards for amazon gift card graduation party supplies 2019 gift cards for amazon birthday game of thrones merchandise grandma gifts gaming chair graduation gifts for her garden hose gel nail polish google gmail google translate google maps google classroom google docs game of thrones google flights google drive google slides gabriel zamora gacha life gods country gunna ghost recon breakpoint gypsy rose blancharde gummy bear song genius game grumps google search groupon home depot hotmail hulu harris teeter h&m hobby lobby harbor freight https://rwenzoripsychics.myportmoni.com/ hbo go hbo h&r block happier horses in the back halsey homicide logic happy birthday song high hopes hindi songs hit or miss hey julie h3h3 hdmi cable headphones hydro flask hummingbird feeder hangers hammock heating pad hand soap high waisted swimsuit howard stern comes again hsn hotels huffington post happy birthday it chapter 2 trailer i got the horses in the back imagine dragons i dont care ed sheeran iggy azalea itsfunneh i like it cardi b inside edition inquisitormaster i think moto moto likes you instagram indeed ikea iran ixl ihop icloud irs imdb iphone xr iphone charger iphone xr cases iphone 8 plus case iphone xr screen protector iphone xs max case iphone 7 case iphone x case iphone 8 case iphone 7 plus case iphone 6s case itunes illinois lottery images jcpenney jetblue jennifer aniston joann fabrics juegos friv jimmy john's menu jennifer lopez justice jeep jcp jumpsuits for women jojoba oil jump rope jewelry organizer jade roller jewelry cleaner journal juicer juul charger jewelry box james charles jeffree star jake paul james charles apology juice wrld joe vs james charles joe rogan jeffy jojo siwa j cole jordyn woods john wick 3 ja morant john durham jussie smollett jobs near me jimmy johns jeff bezos keto pills kindle fire kindle paperwhite e-reader keto snacks keto knee brace knife sharpener ketone strips keurig coffee maker kleenex tissues kohl's kahoot kayak kroger kim kardashian khan academy kelley blue book katy perry kizi kylie jenner kohls kevin durant keto diet kamala harris kings dominion keanu reeves kaiser permanente kodak black kevin gates kawhi leonard game winner khalid kids videos for kids kane brown kid cudi playboi carti kendrick lamar ksi lightning cable lingerie for women lol surprise dolls led strip lights laptop lg stylo 4 phone case laundry detergent effective sex love spells that really work how to cast an african love spell to get ex back how to cast an attraction love spell with candles how to cast black magic love spell with blood powerful witchcraft spells for love that work fast most effective witchcraft spells for love how to cast a beauty love spell strong effective sex love spells that really work powerful love spells in surrey, Buckinghamshire and Hertfordshire U.K liquid laundry basket lavender essential oil luggage tags linkedin lowe's home improvement lululemon louis vuitton lands end lord and taylor lady gaga lane bryant little caesars lexus lil baby logan paul lazarbeam lil nas x old town road lachlan lia marie johnson lil wayne lil uzi vert lil pump lil durk lowes lakers loft lebron james labcorp lindsey graham mothers day gifts for mom from daughter mothers day gifts for wife metal straws mothers day card micro sd card mouse pad maxi dresses for women makeup brush set mothers day flowers for delivery prime only mct oil murders on my mind music mrbeast maleficent 2 mo bamba marshmallow michael jackson middle child markiplier memes msn mapquest maps menards macy's mail mega millions winning numbers minecraft michaels mapquest driving directions macys momo mcdonalds march madness mega millions mlb scores nba youngboy nipsey hussle ninja nikita dragun nle choppa nicki minaj nelk nba draft lottery nba lottery 2019 nikocado avocado nba nba draft netflix nba lottery news https://lostlovespellz.wordpress.com/ nba playoffs nordstrom nba scores nba mock draft nintendo switch nespresso capsules nose hair trimmer no show socks women nintendo switch games nursing bra nintendo switch case nail clippers nespresso vertuoline pods night light nascar nike new york times neiman marcus national weather service old town road old town road billy ray cyrus olivia jade one punch man season 2 episode 6 ozuna old town road lil nas x lyrics offset oneplus 7 oneplus 7 pro ocean eyes outlook old navy office depot office 365 overstock orbitz olive garden olx oriental trading omegle opm outback oral b replacement brush heads one piece swimsuits for women office chair oh the places you'll go by dr. seuss oil diffuser outdoor rug ovulation test strips oculus quest outdoor string lights oral b electric toothbrush paper towels pop socket psn card digital code portable charger packing tape playstation card ps4 controller paper plates pregnancy test protein powder pinterest paypal pandora prodigy pizza hut powerball winning numbers pnc bank party city pottery barn petsmart powerball papa johns panera popeyes pooh pathology test arsenal pewdiepie pewdiepie vs t series peppa pig please me bruno mars post malone pop out projared paw patrol polo g panic at the disco queen quando rondo queen naija queen live aid 1985 full concert quin nfn qka ka shpija quavo quran tilawat quadeca queen don't stop me now qvc quizlet quest diagnostics quickbooks qvc shopping online quotes quill queen elizabeth qatar airways queen sheets q tips quest bars queen bed frame queen mattress qtips cotton swabs quest protein chips queen mattress protector qtips queen comforter set quizlet live quizizz quadratic formula quick draw roblox realtor restaurants redbox reverse phone lookup reddit rotten tomatoes royal caribbean rei regal cinemas redfin restaurants near me r kelly rj barrett ashida tlaib run 3 ryan's toy review robbery juice wrld rihanna rebecca zamolo r kelly interview roddy ricch rage 2 review ricegum reusable straws roku ring doorbell resistance bands ring light roku streaming stick rompers for women revlon one step hair dryer and styler rice cooker reusable produce bags southwest seth curry spotify https://rwenzoripsychics.myportmoni.com/ spanish to english staples safeway snake steph curry starbucks solitaire shane dawson songs sunflower post malone soph slime snl sicko mode shallow lady gaga ssundee sonic the hedgehog movie southwest airlines sam's club sears soundcloud shutterfly social security spirit airlines shower curtain shower curtain liner scale shoe rack summer dresses for women scrunchies for hair scrunchies swimsuits for women spray bottle sunglasses for women tim conway translate target twitter turbotax ted bundy trump tulsi gabbard thesaurus ticketmaster toilet paper teacher appreciation gifts https://lostlovespellz.wordpress.com/ toothpaste tea tree oil teeth whitening tide pods trash bags thank you cards tapestry travel accessories tati t series tana mongeau trisha paytas tati and james charles drama thotiana blueface tim conway dentist taki taki try not to laugh tim conway elephant travelocity traductor tractor supply tmz twitch tripadvisor us trailer undisputed upchurch us unspeakable usher ufc unthinkable smiley unspeakablegaming un poco loco usb c cable umbrella usb flash drive usb hub unicorn gifts unicorn party supplies usb extension cable usb wall charger uber gift card unicorn united airlines usps ups tracking usaa ulta uber usa today urban dictionary us map united usps tracking uber stock us movie uber eats usa jobs erizon wireless verizon vrbo victoria's secret vanguard Casting a Spell on Someone to Make This Person Love You https://sheikhabdulkarimspellscaster.wordpress.com/ vistaprint vans venus vimeo vera bradley vitamin d vacuum cleaner vitamin c serum vitamin c visa gift card vitamin e oil velcro strips with adhesive vital proteins collagen peptides vitamin d3 vape pen vines vanossgaming vy qwaint venom vice veronica wang vicente fernandez vamos pa la playa valuable pain vines that keep me from ending it all verizon fios venezuela virginia tech dmv weather walmart warriors washington post wayfair weather dc wells fargo walgreens washington gas washington capitals whatsapp web white pages wikipedia webmd weight watchers wireless earbuds wireless headphones water bottle waist trainer wireless mouse womens tops weighted blanket where the crawdads sing waterpik wireless charger wwe worth it wow post malone without me halsey without me wild n out wheels on the bus wow wrong wiz khalifa https://rwenzoripsychics.myportmoni.com/
https://sheikhabdulkarimspellscaster.wordpress.com/
https://lostlovespellz.wordpress.com/
love spells that work instantly love spells that work in 24 hours love spells that work immediately love spells that work immediately without ingredients love spells that work immediately free love spells that work in 24 hours free love spells that work in minutes love spells that work instantly free binding love spells that work fast binding love spells that work fast free best love spells that work love spells that simple work for beginners best love spells that work free free love spells that work instantly for beginners free love spells that work instantly for beginners without ingredients love spells that work overnight free love spells that work overnight free love spells that work overnight without ingredients simple love spells that work overnight
Email: [intclairvoyant@gmail.com](mailto:intclairvoyant@gmail.com) [spellsherb22@gmail.com](mailto:spellsherb22@gmail.com)

[First] [Prev]
Most beings think they understand the scale of space-time, they’re wrong. Usually, they barely have a hint of an idea of the scale of their own local system, much less the distance the stars are separated by. The majority of the galactic member species are hundreds to thousands of light years from their nearest neighbors. Only the eighteen species in the core halo were closer than that. The further from the core a species civilization was, the farther they were from anyone else. Earth happened to be thirty thousand light years from the core worlds, and at the opposite side of the galactic core.
The long delay between humanities spread to the stars and their discovery of FTL had led them to master sub-light propulsion and maneuvering. Each colony had built shipyards to construct their own fleets, sharing innovations and developments as quickly as sub light communications would allow. Six centuries after the first interstellar flight to Proxima Centauri humanity discovered worm hole communications, and the pace of their advancement accelerated exponentially.
Upon discovering FTL the humans had retrofitted or rebuilt their entire fleet of military and civilian craft. The practical result was that the Human Federation navy and the Galactic Confederation’s navy were approximately the same size. Humanity had long held that sometime in the future a threat would come, and the old adage, “best to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it,” was something of a guiding principle. And so they had built warships, many, very large warships.
The same tech that was used in the suits the Four wore was taken from the inertial compensation systems in use throughout the human fleet. It enabled human ships to accelerate and change course in ways that would inflict instant lethal acceleration and deceleration forces on any being in them if those systems were not in place. The ion plasma shields they developed to deflect cosmic radiation at near light speed had also proved to be remarkably effective against everything else.

The Xielion swept into the galaxy from above the plane on the outer edge, Teltharus being the first inhabited world they encountered. As reports came back from the outer edge the human and galactic strategists had analyzed the tactics of the Xielion. The surveillance drones reported that their fleet was spread in a two light year arc bowed in the direction of their vector into the galactic plane. The front edge was populated with their capitol ships and support carriers, with the supply craft and infantry carriers trailing behind.
What data they had on the sack of Teltharus was played in holo vids across the Confederation, obligating Confederation officials to send a portion of the fleet to answer. The Xielion had all but crushed that force of three hundred ships. Five escaped, one with the most valuable cargo possible, a captured Xielion troop carrier and its crew.
They were, in essence, spiders; very large eight-legged arthropods. The humans called them, “the spiders from hell.”
Much like the galactic arthropod species, they communicated with clicks, chirps, chemicals, and body language. The galactic intelligence community left translation to the Alkar, the species most like the Xielion, and the interrogation to the humans. To say the galactic intelligence community was surprised at the human’s methods would be putting it very kindly. They were even more surprised at how effective those methods were.
The Xielion were as arrogant and entitled as they could possibly have been, but after a few cycles with their assigned human they would volunteer information as soon as the human entered their cell. The Xielion had come from a death world, but the force of gravity on that world was less than half of Earth’s. A single human could physically overpower a Xielion warrior with a modicum of effort, and in their holding cells on the human worlds the Xielion could barely lift themselves from the floor.
Thier race had arisen in the Sagittarius dwarf galaxy eons ago, and when they had finally exploited everything they could from their home galaxy, they turned their ambitions to the great disc of the Milky Way.
One of the other things most beings can’t grasp is the number of stars there actually are, but the human strategists had. They sent teaser strike forces into the flanks of the Xielion armada, poking at them from every system they passed to try to get them to split their force, and to chase down the persistent attackers. On the worlds the Xielion had occupied the humans had landed disruption forces; specially trained operatives that sabotaged critical facilities and then disappeared. The humans and galactic forces would set traps on uninhabited worlds all along the vector of the Xielion, mining space lanes with cloaked hunter mines and automated missel platforms that mimicked asteroids, and all the time the Xielion bled ships and numbers.

“Okay let’s form up,” Andre said loudly. “I’ve got some updates from my uncle.” He smiled. The SDA, as they called it now, gathered and quieted. They weren't soldiers, but neither was he. Andre had no illusions about his capabilities, as good as they were. His father was in the defense ship building industry, his mother a sociology professor. His mother's brother was a commander in the fleet special forces. His uncle had taken Andre as a kind of surrogate for the son he never had. The Commander had helped the shy young boy become a confident teenager, mostly through training him in self-defense and weapons. They had talked about the tactics of warfare, and at age 14 Andre had received a vintage printed copy of “The Art of War” by Sun Tzu.

: Laying Plans, point eighteen, “All warfare is based on deception.”:

“He’s got some updates on ‘The Garden’.” Andre said, and the students grew very attentive. “He says that things are growing very well, and he may need help this year.”
There was a burst of conversation among his troops that he quieted with a stern look.
“As I was saying, my uncle says he’s very happy that we have been studying gardening for the last two terms.” he smiled broadly. Andre had divided his volunteers into those that could fight, and those that could help. In the last two terms they had developed fighting styles and strategies that built on the capabilities of his troops. Most species were not close to human strength, Liara being the most prominent exception, but several were, and Andre had chosen them and one other for his fighter core. They had trained almost daily for two earth years, and he was very proud of them.
The helpers, under the direction of Susan, had focused on weapons and tactics. The fabricator had again steadfastly refused to make weapons or their parts, so the engineers had to find a way around that particular roadblock. It turned out that the fabricator would produce things it could not find in its database as pieces of a weapon. The railgun pistol that all the fighters had was one result.
Another result was the suits. Susan had an epiphany one brainstorming session, and that led to a development that was now in place across the galactic infantry. She had reasoned that, if the gravity compensation systems of the fleet could be miniaturized to make their suits work, then the shielding technology could too. It had taken the combined efforts of the physics department and the mechanical engineering department, and an entire term, but all the fighters at the academy, and the entirety of the Galactic Infantry, now wore shield suits.
The Very Important People had wanted to drag Susan and the team back to Earth to thank them, but Susan and her friends had politely, but firmly, refused to leave the academy.
Andre continued, “He says, “you will need to do your own gardening this year because the academy gardeners will be needed for the harvest.”
“It’s happening at last,” Keleth rumbled with venom. The enormous bear like being, dressed in his shield suit, had lost more than any of the other students at the academy. To his knowledge there were perhaps a thousand Teltharians not on-world when the Xielion came.
“Teltharus will be avenged,” Liara said from Andre’s side. His second-in-command. She was becoming a force of nature thanks to her human friends giving her a master’s level course in badassery ala human style. He loved it. The faith she now had in her physical abilities had changed her. She carried herself with grace still, but there was an unspoken power in her movements, and a confidence in her manner that made him proud.
“I’m going to ask the provost to let us do the modifications to the facility we’ve been talking about,” Andre told them. “Support, I’d like our weapons ready to deploy in the next few cycles. Fighters, we’re going to double our training time.” He turned to Liara. “We don’t hold back.”
“This one’s Si Fu has taught her well, and continues to,” she said, smiling coyly. “This one and her Si Fu will make certain that those are ready.”
Andre chuckled, “Yeah, yeah we will.”

: Weak points and Strong, Point nine, “O divine art of subtlety and secrecy! Through you we learn to be invisible, through you inaudible; and hence we can hold the enemy's fate in our hands.”:

Twenty cycles later the three light cruisers that normally patrolled near the academy quietly left the system, and Liara summoned her personal ship, the Volar, from Sural. She had, until this point, kept her position in Suralial society a confidence among the humans and a few friends. When her nine-hundred-meter yacht arrived, there was no way to keep the secret.
She had asked Arwen to explain it to the SDA, she was a better choice than her or Jason. They were too close to the situation. Arwen had woven a compelling tale, and when she came to the crucial bit the entire SDA had risen in anger. Liara had been moved deeply by her classmates' show of dedication to her.
“The Dulphan is safe as long as we live,” Keleth had declared, and the rest of the SDA had shouted their agreement.
“When the time comes, this one is allowed a guard,” she said, low and earnestly. “This one would be honored if these would accompany her to Sural, and the fighters to the field.”
“They could not keep us from you,” S’Calor, the eight-armed Nalthean said.
“See, baby,” Jason said as he hugged her. “You may be a trouble magnet, but you’ve also got very devoted friends.”

Maneuvering, point thirty, “Disciplined and calm, to await the appearance of disorder and hubbub amongst the enemy:--this is the art of retaining self-possession.”:
“Tormalriel, you’re up next,” Andre said. They were doing hand to, in this case claw, blade practice. Liara stood in the center of the practice ring with a titanium rod a meter and a half long in her right hand. Susan had produced the weapon after Liara, Arwen, and Andre had explained the rules around weaponry in her upcoming dual with Liara Ah Ang. They were allowed any one weapon that did not shoot a projectile. Knives, swords, whips, clubs, and staffs were all allowed. Andre and Liara had settled on a fight strategy, and the staff was part of it. Arwen and Liara were also working on a separate strategy of their own.
The two-meter-tall hexapod that, to the humans, resembled a locust to an alarming degree, tapped its blade against the shield its suit was generating. “I am ready,” its translation module said.
“Begin,” Liara said as she advanced.
Tormalriel jabbed and slashed at her, and Liara parried with her staff, always complimenting her opponent on style and encouraging them to come at her. Dancing with Jason, which had become one of her favorite things, had also been incorporated into her fighting style. She and Tormalriel wove and dipped around each other as they each sought an advantage in the deadly dance. As with all the SDA, Liara slowly increased the difficulty of her attacks and defenses as that dance went on.
She also talked, a lot.
“You credit the Thorm, Tormalriel,” she said as they parried a thrust from her staff. “Always be ready for the return,” she said as her staff came back around, barely missing thier head as they ducked. “Very good,” she complimented. The Thormian came back up under Liara’s outstretched right arm and staff to slash at her torso, but she wasn’t there. Sensing the feint she had simply collapsed to the floor and rolled away.
“Never stop,” Liara said, as she sprang to her feet and advanced again. The Thormian threw itself at Liara using its back legs to propel itself across the ring. “Excellent,” she encouraged. Using her staff she pushed Tormalriel’s blade into the ground and the Thormian tumbled sideways twice before regaining its feet.
“Well done, Dulphan,” Andre said with a grin, encouraging his own student.
“This one’s SI Fu is kind,” Liara said back, with a smile of her own. “Suspend.”
The Thormian stood from its crouch and approached Liara and Andre. “I nearly had you, Dulphan,” they said.
Liara smiled. “Nearly,” she acknowledged, “Conceal the blade better in your feints, and this one will have a harder time anticipating your next move.”
“This is surveillance one to commander,” a voice said from Andre’s wrist device.
“Commander,” Andre responded.
Background sounds of a commotion preceded the voice. “We have a ship, in bound, from thirty degrees above ecliptic,” the voice said, and Andre could hear the stress in it. “Light cruiser size, three semi cycles out.”
“Liara, marshal the fighters,” Anrde said, and she sped off with Thormian beside her. “Arwen," he called into his wrist.
“Here,” she responded.
“Let’s use plan four,” he said. “You get the non-fighters to their safes, and then meet us at muster.”
“Got it, boss” Arwens voice said.
“Susan,” He continued.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Assemble the weapons team.” he said.
“You want the forge?” Susan asked.
Andre thought for a moment. “Yeah, have it staged and ready.”
“Romeo?” Andre said with a smile.
“Kiss my ass,” Jason’s voice said back.
Andre laughed, and said, “Get up to the Volar, and hide her at Seca Secunde like we talked about.” The SDA commander straightened and pressed the general broadcast tab on his wrist device. “Allright everyone, we’ve practiced, we’ve trained, we’re ready. Hopefully this is nothing, but if the spiders are here, they’re walking into our web.”

: Waging war, point nineteen, “In war, then, let your great object be victory, not lengthy campaigns.”: