The alphabetized items below are from golf-drives.com. What are the other need-to-know slang terms that would arm someone for being a non-stop infinitely-annoying color commentator for a full round?
I’ll add a few to get things started:
Pure: A fairway shot which is flushed.
Flushed: A pured shot.
Nutted: Means pured or nuked.
Nuked: Flushed hard.
Nice: Classier way of saying nutted.
Solid: Nice.
Mashed Potato (or anything else yelled instantaneously after a tour player’s shot): I have severe mental issues, and I’m drunk.
Beaver tail: Massive divot.
Piss Missle: Slightly higher trajectory than a worm burner, but normally not hit with wedge.
Worm Burner: Ground contour hugging supersonic shot often struck with leading edge of pitching wedge.
A-Z Golf Slang and Terminology
A
“A” Game: A golfer’s best game which is executed on a regular basis.
Ace: Hitting the ball into the hole in one swing of the club.
Afraid of The Dark: When the putted ball refuses to fall into the hole.
Airmail: A golf shot which travels a considerably longer distance than planned.
Albatross (aka Double Eagle): This means a score of three strokes under Par, which as you can imagine is very rare.
All square: Tied score in match play.
Army Golf: Like a marching rhythm: Left-right-left, in the game of golf it means hitting the ball out of bounds to the left then to the right the next time.
B
Backhander: When you hit the ball casually with the back-side of the putter to “Hole” a very short putt.
Banana Ball: The ball travels in a ”banana-shaped” curve. A very sharp fade shot known as a “slice”.
Barkies: Hitting the golf ball at trees and obtaining a good score despite it.
Beach: Term used for a sand bunker.
Birdie: A score of one less than par.
Bite: If a ball has lots of backspin it is said to “bite” because it stays close to where it landed or may spin back toward the player. If a ball appears to be going past the hole a player may shout “pray” or a more humorous way can be to shout, “grow teeth!”.
Bogey: A score of one over par.
Bracket: To be prepared for a different situation where you need to hit a certain shot you will need to take additional clubs – one higher and one lower known as a Bracket.
Buzzard (aka Double Bogey): A score of two over par.
C
Cabbage (aka Spinach): If you hit the ball into inescapable thick rough.
Can: Refers to the “Cup” on the Green.
Carpet: Term which refers to the “Green”.
Casual water: A build-up of water on the golf course after heavy rain that is not part of a water hazard.
The player can move the ball without penalty.
Cat Box: A sand bunker.
Chicken Stick: If faced with a difficult shot, a golfer will choose a play-it-safe club that is within his capabilities to properly complete the shot.
Chili Dip (aka Fat/Chunk shot): Hitting the ground behind the ball before impact with the ball.
Chipping: Short shot usually made from just off the green.
Cuban: Putting action where the ball stops short of dropping into the cup.
Cup: The hole on the green – 4.5-inch diameter, 4-inch-deep.
D Dance floor: Refers to the green.
Dawn patrol: Golfers who play at sunrise.
Dew Sweepers: Reference to players in a Professional Tournament who have the earliest Tee times (when the dew is still on the course), in the third or fourth round of the tournament.
Dog Track (aka Goat track): When a golf course is in poor condition.
Dribbler (aka Fat Shot): When a shot that only goes forward a few feet.
Duck Hook (aka Snap Hook): A ball that curves right to left on a low trajectory and off target.
Duffer (aka Hacker): An “inexperienced” or mediocre golfer.
Deep: A hole/flagstick that is located on the back of the green.
Divot: The small chunk of turf that is dislodged when a club head strikes the ground as a player hits the ball.
Drained: Slang term for having sunk a putt.
Draw: A golf shot (for a right-handed golfer) where the ball slowly moves right to left.
Drive: The first shot taken at the teeing ground at each hole.
Driver: The longest club with the biggest head, used for tee shots as it’s designed to hit the ball the farthest.
Duff: A bad shot.
E
Eagle: A score of two under par.
Executive course: A golf course that is shorter and has a lower par than regular golf courses suitable for beginner golfers and juniors. F Fade (aka Cut Shot): A golf shot (right handed golfer) in which the ball gradually moves left to right. Fairway: The centre, short-mown portion of a golf hole in between the teeing ground and the green. First tee: Where a round of golf play begins. Flyer: Hit from the rough, a ball which goes a lot further than envisioned. Fly the green: A shot that goes over the green. Fore: Shouted when the ball is heading towards someone. Forward tees: The teeing ground located closest to the green. Flop shot: A golf shot which is hit quite high and short, which upon contact with the Green, rolls very little and stops. The ball is “Flopped” onto the putting surface. Flub: A terrible shot which causes a loss in scoring. Foot Wedge: Where the golfer uses his “foot” to push the ball into a better position. Four-jack: On any given Green taking four putts to get the ball in the hole. Fried Egg (aka Plugged): Where only the top half of the ball is visible when buried in a Sandtrap. Frog Hair: Closely mown grass surrounding the Green. G Gimme: A shot so close that only a short putt is needed, and the other players agree can count automatically without being played. Get up: An expression shouted at a ball that looks like it’s going to land short of the target. Grounding: Setting the heel of the golf club on the ground. H Handicap: A numerical representation of a golfer’s playing ability. Honours: The right to tee off first based on having the best score on the last hole or being furthest away from the hole. Hook: When a right-handed player strikes the ball such that it curves sharply from right to left. Hot: A shot that goes faster than intended. Hacker: An “inexperienced” or mediocre golfer. Hand Wedge: Where the golfer uses his “hand” to nudge the ball into a better lie. I Iffy lie: A ball that is in an unfortunate lie and dubious whether the ball can be struck well for a good golf shot. In the Leather: A putted ball close enough to the hole to be accepted by the other players. J Juicy lie: Offers a nice clean hit. A juicy lie indicates the ball is sitting on top of grass as if it is mounted on a short Tee. Jungle: A ball hit into the deepest and rough area on the golf course. K Kick: A golfer who asks for a good kick is hoping for the ball to bounce in a good position. Knee-knocker: A nervous reaction when a golfer has a short putt (3 to 4 feet) remaining for the next Putt. L Lay up: When trying to reach the Green could be a risky shot and it is a lot safer to hit a drive or fairway shot short of the Green. Lip out: You have “lipped out” when your ball hits the lip but doesn’t go in the hole. Loop: Refers to one 18-Hole circuit around the Golf Course. Lumberjack: When a golfer hits a ball into a wooded area numerous times during a round and continues to hit the trees trying to get out of the woods. Lie: While in play the Lie is the position/location of the golf ball. Loft: The degree/angle of the face of the club. M Mickey Mouse course: Refers to a course with many short holes and bad maintenance. Mulligan: Referring to a second shot from the Tee, after a bad first shot. Match play: A golf format where the goal is to win individual holes rather than tallying the total of all the strokes. Modified scramble (aka Shamble/ Texas Scramble): Tournament format where golfers select the best shot off the tee, move all balls to that spot, and play individual stroke play for the rest of the hole. N Nineteenth (19th) hole: The Clubhouse Bar. Nip it: A Clean hit which tends to lessen the amount of backspin. Nuked: When you gain a greater distance than your average or typical distance. O Out of Bounds (OB): The area of the course is often marked by white stakes which should be avoided where play is not allowed. P Pin (aka The Stick): The flagstick on the green standing inside the cup. Playing through: When a group of golfers pass by another group of slower playing golfers. Provisional ball: A second ball that is played if the first ball is or may be lost or out of bounds. Putting: The golf stroke used to roll the ball on the green. Q Quick: Rushing your swing or trying to hit too hard. R Rainmaker: A golf shot with a very high trajectory. Ready golf: To speed up or maintain the pace of play players will hit when ready. Rough: The long grass bordering the fairway. S Scratch: A golfer with Zero handicap. Snowman: Reference to scoring an 8 on a hole. Skull: A stroke made above the equator of the ball which is mis-hit, resulting in a line-drive trajectory. Sticks: The plural “sticks” means golf clubs not to be confused with flagstick. Stroke play: A golf format in which the objective is to finish the game using the fewest total shots. T Tap in: A short, easy to make Putt. Tester: Tends to test a golfer. It is where a Putt is too far away for a “Gimmie”, but short enough a good putting golfer can hole it. The Tips (aka Championship Tees/Back Tees): The farthest teeing ground from the green, usually defined by blue, black or gold tee markers. Thin (aka Skinny): A shot strike near the centre of the ball, characteristically causing a low flight. The turn: The halfway point in a round of golf. U Up and down: Only taking two strokes to get the golf ball into the hole when your ball is resting around the green. U-turn: A Putt that rolls almost all the way around the edge of the “Cup” before actually coming out and around without falling in. V Valleys: Relatively flat areas with sharp undulations between mounds on a green. Victory lap: The circle a Putt makes around the rim of the Cup before going in. Velcro: Is the speed of the Putting Green on a golf course. W Worm burner: A golf shot (not a putt) in which the ball never gets but a few feet off the ground. Watery Grave: A final resting place for your “Miss-Hit” shot over a water hazard. Whiff: A poor golf swing with a complete miss of the ball. Y Yips: Due to nervousness and lack of a smooth putting stroke, Yips is the inability to make short putts. Yank: When a Putt is pulled sharply to the left. Z Zone: You’re said to be “in the zone” if you are playing well.

As always, if you know of an event that's not listed here, feel free to share it (with a link) in the comments. Feedback on events you've attended or plan to attend is welcome.

Things to Do May 6-12

*Free (or no admission/cover)
--Recurring Event
Noteworthy: Mothers Day is Sunday, May 12.
This week is Dallas Observer Burger Week, with $7 burgers and other specials at 32 area restaurants.
Weekend & Multi-Day Events
NBA Playoffs Round 2: Dallas Mavericks vs. Oklahoma City Thunder
NHL Stanley Cup Playoffs: Dallas Stars vs. Colorado Avalanche (TBD - We won't know officially till tonight, but I believe. GO STARS!)
Through May 18 Fannie: The Music and Life of Fannie Lou Hamer at Bishop Arts Theater Ctr
*May 6-11 Sounds of Spring Performances at Galleria Dallas
May 8 - Jun 9 Hamilton at Winspear Opera House
May 9-25 Echo Theatre: Beyond the Yellow Wallpaper at the Bath House Cultural Center
May 10-12 Dallas Jewelry and Bead Show at Grapevine Convention Center
May 10-12 Art and Garden Festival at Trophy Club Town Center
May 11-12 Swiss Avenue Historic District Home Tour at Savage Park
*May 11- May 24 Women in Art – A Joyful Journey Exhibition at Art on Main
*Through May 19 The Art of Embroidery from India to the World at NorthPark Center
Through May 27 Scarborough Renaissance Festival, Waxahachie
Monday, May 6
“Spider Mondays” The Amazing Spider-Man on 35MM at the Texas Theatre
*Mad Monday Karaoke at Three Links
Canaan Cox at Club Dada
Heather Little "By Now" Album Release Show at Opening Bell Coffee
*--Open Mic Mondays at The Wine Therapist
*--Monday night social run at Westlake Brewing
Mixology Mondays at The Parlor at Sheraton Dallas
*--Monday Night Karaoke at the Box Garden, Legacy Hall, Plano
Tuesday, May 7
FC Dallas vs. Memphis 901 FC at Toyota Stadium
*--Lakefront Live Concert:: 박준하 Junha at the Bath House Cultural Center
*--Meet the Maker Series: Stephen Ormandy at Ellie’s Lounge
*--Just Dance: Salsa & Zumba Series at Harwood Park
*--Free Rooftop Movie: The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 at Sundown at Granada
*--Book Club: Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage at Interabang Books
*--Thought Provoking Trivia with Josh Provo at Vector Brewing
*Art Exhibit Opening Reception - Tranquility & Chaos at Deep Ellum Art Co.
*Young Artist Showcase - Live Music at Chocolate Secrets
Money Man Purple Heart Tour at South Side Music Hall
*Live Music Tuesdays at Thibodeaux's Authentic Cajun Cookin', Duncanville
Wednesday, May 8
\*Intro to Crochet Class at Fair Park Visitor Center
*Country Two-Step Lessons and Dance Social at Wyly Studio Theatre
DFW Premiere of LOST SOULZ at the Texas Theatre
An Evening of Sherry Tasting Dinner at Sketches of Spain
*--Inner Moonlight Poetry with Reverie Koniecki at The Wild Detectives
*Art Exhibit Opening Reception for Dallas artist Ben Fluno at Atelier Gallery
*--Geeks Who Drink Trivia at Bryan Street Tavern
Blueprint - Falling Down Tour at Three Links
Echo & The Bunnymen: Songs To Learn And Sing at House of Blues
Thursday, May 9
Jake Shimabukuro with special guest Remy Reilly at The Kessler
KXT 91.7 Presents Gary Clark Jr. at The Majestic
*Poetry Reading and Book Signing: The Lengest Neoi, Stephanie Choi at The Wild Detectives
Big Sandy and HIs Fly-Rite Boys at Sons of Hermann Hall
AFTRDRK w/ DJ DailyBreed, FUNKRULA!, Quickweave at Ladylove Lounge & Sound
Battle Grounds: Breakdance & Open Style Dance Battles at Ruins
--Ping Pong League at Community Beer Company
*Shark's Comedy Club UNDERGROUND Grand Opening & Comedy at Frankie’s Downtown
Deeper Purpose at It'll Do Club
New Music Thursdays: Knocked Loose Unofficial Album Release at RBC Deep Ellum
Grilling, Hawaiian-style at Central Market Cooking School Lovers Lane
*--ODDERÍA Mexican Bingo Night at Odd Muse Brewing, Farmers Branch
Friday, May 10
Dallas Jackals vs. RFC Los Angeles at Choctaw Stadium, Arlington
Class of 99: Fight Club w/ Brian Raftery at the Texas Theatre
The Starck Club Co presented by The Dallas Film Society at the Texas Theatre
*Book Presentation: Picnic, Willie Nelson’s 4th of July Tradition at The Wild Detectives
*Music Bingo in the Park at Klyde Warren Park
Mom's Lit Creations Candle Making Class at Jade & Clover
JACKOPIERCE with special guest Creede Williams at Granada Theater
Songwriters In The Round at Opening Bell Coffee
*Books & Booze: Manga Swap at Hush Events
*Dallas Voice 40th Anniversary Celebration at The Round-Up Saloon
*Stranger Things Late Night Trivia at Lava Cantina, The Colony
*--CityLine Live Music Series: The Coronado Jazz Collective at CityLine, Richardson
Don't Be Strangers Convo Game Night at Dallas Meditation Center, Richardson
*Jackie Venson with Jacob Serrano at Levitt Pavilion, Arlington
Little River Band at Arlington Music Hall
*Justin Pickard & the Thunderbird Winos at Third Rail, Harvest Hall, Grapevine
*Historic Mansfield Guided Walking Tour - Crime Tour at Downtown Mansfield
Saturday, May 11
FC Dallas vs. Austin FC at Toyota Stadium
*--Tai Chi with Tribe Wellness at Klyde Warren Park
*Le Bloom May Flower Market at the corner of Knox and Travis
*Spring Scene at Knox Street: Live Music at Lululemon
*Charlie Cope Live & Acoustic at The Hill Shopping Center
The Starck Club 40th Anniversary Pre-Party at The Kessler
\*FutureFest at 4DWN
*Opening Reception: Diving Deeper and A Bit of Surrealism at PDNB Gallery
*--Farmers Market at Fair Park
Monster Truck Wars at Fair Park Coliseum
*Open Studio at Hardwick Yards
*Silent Disco: EDC Night at Sweet Tooth Hotel
Museum Murder Mystery: An Artful Game of Clue at the Dallas Museum of Art
An Evening with Judge Reinhold & Screening of Fast Times at Ridgemont High at The Majestic
Tres Artes: Pintura, Poesia, y Pasion at Strauss Square
Stevens Park Golf Course Centennial Shamble and Party at Stevens Park
*Vandoliers with Sam Morrow at Levitt Pavilion, Arlington
Sunday, May 12
BIPOC + Queer Yoga in the Park at Reverchon Park
Comics to Keep on Your Radar at Dallas Comedy Club
Latte Art Workshop at White Rock Coffee Brew Lab
*A Reading with Friends at Deep Vellum Books
*Licia Chenoweth Book Signing at Half Price Books Flagship Store (NW Hwy)
Gavin DeGraw at House of Blues
40th Anniversary Emerald City Concert at the Dallas Arboretum
Mother's Day Goat Yoga at The Westin Irving Convention Center
Feijoada & Pagode at Sports Garden DFW, Coppell
Mothers Day Sip & Shop at The Northside, Rockwall

DISCLAIMER: I am NOT very good at narrating fight scenes so it may end up being a bit overly cinematic and awkward. Apologies in advance.
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Special thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the NoP universe.
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I'd also like to thank u/xskipy10 for their awesome fanart of the main cast as well as their recent Tohba meme and their fanart of Michael baysitting. You're work is a treasure!
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Thank you as well to u/Accomplished-Golf-59 for his take on Michael, Teylim, and Tohba in his submission for the Banner Art Contest, and u/Spacer_Catgirl4969 for their awesome music video featuring a pixel-art Dohkar in his bar. Be sure to give ALL of these awesome creators your love and support.
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And let's not forget u/Guywhoexists2812 who has been an awesome source of memes as well as sick pixel art, such as THIS and THIS!!!! And even THIS!!!!!! Thank you so much!
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Today, we join Dohkar, Michael, and Khornel as they finally face off against The Guild's forces, and Dohkar gets a hint at the old instincts inside every Venlil. LETTUCE...continue...
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CW: Violence, Death, Mild Implied Gore
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First
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Previous
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Songs Mentioned/Used: Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd
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Memory Transcript Subject: Dohkar, Venlil Bartender Date:[Standardized Human Trme] January 15, 2137
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The silence… The pure, deafening, silence was the worst part of all of this. My bar…my bar that I had all the love and pride for in the world…the symbol of my second chance at life…was in shambles.
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The windows were shattered, the door broken off it’s hinges. Shelves full of memorabilia from my life, and the lives of those I cared about were knocked to the ground, their contents scattered and broken.
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The air was full of fear. Anyone who didn’t manage to get out in time were now lined up against the walls at flamer-point. Parents held onto their confused and frightened pups, keeping themselves between them and the pilot lights.
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Khornel was surrounded on all sides. The table she’d hid behind saved her from the glass shards of the windows blasting in, but once the exterminators were inside, there wasn’t anything she could do.
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Mike was cornered on the stage. The semi-circle of fans and listeners had been replaced with a ring of fire. There had to be at least a dozen officers in this bar, and over half of them were all closing in on him. It was just like what happened to Loh all over again. The way they encircled him, slowly inching closer, while I once again could do nothing.
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I stared across the bar at another flamer pointed directly at me. It’s wielder stared at me with eyes full of spite and hatred through the tinted visor. My paws twitched slightly. After what happened to Loh, I’d made it a point to keep a weapon under the bar just in case of something like this happening again, but if I so much as moved, I’d be in flames before I could even think of helping Mike.
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“You filthy, tainted, TRAITOR! Every single officer here looked up to you like a hero! How could you throw in your lot with predator filth?!
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For a moment, any fear or worry I did have was replaced with annoyance and anger. These morons, these misguided fools still believed that I was someone to be admired? Was THIS what my legacy led to? Holding a bar full of innocent people hostage?
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“Oh yes, I, Dohkar the Star Exterminator who took down an entire pack of shadebeasts by myself. That’s the story you were told, right?”
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Their grip on the flamer tightened, but I could still see their shaky resolve.
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“Well it’s a LIE. That “pack” was just a family of four. One sickly mother shadebeast and three pups. And I killed them all in the slowest, most painful way possible, with fire. And in the process, I maimed an innocent child and got her locked away in that torture facility for EIGHTEEN CYCLES.”
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It was hard to tell if they believed me or not, but it didn’t stop them from doubling down on their twisted beliefs.
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“You were everything all of us strived to be. The harsh training, the missed meals, Albiel’s punishments, we put up with all of it was so we could be even HALF the exterminator you were. So that MAYBE we could become what The Chief wanted you to be. But now I know the truth. You’re nothing but a disgrace!”
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“A disgrace?! The gall!”
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My heartrate spiked as my eyes turned to Telvrin, still sat at his stool. His eyes were filled with disgust as he glared at the exterminator in front of me.
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“Shut it, old man!”
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“No. You listen here, you whiny, little, brat! I was an exterminator for longer than you’ve even been alive. And I have NEVER been so disgusted by a Guild’s actions in my life. Ha! I thought all that nonsense in Dawn Creek was just propaganda until I found out what you lot were up to!”
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“Telvrin, don’t do anything stupid.”
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He ignored me, hopping from his stool and getting straight in the exterminator’s face. Other officers in the bar turned and began watching the old exterminator’s rant, just waiting for an excuse.
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“We, ALL OF US, are born with a natural fear of predators. We can’t control it, but that’s why WE exist. Exterminators are meant to fight AGAINST that fear, making the galaxy a safe place so the people can live their lives free of the fear programmed into them. But you? You wield that fear like some kind of sick cudgel against the very people you're SUPPOSED to protect!”
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“BACK OFF!”
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“You call Dohkar a disgrace, but he had this parody of a Guild pegged from the beginning. You lot are the very antithesis of everything we exterminators are supposed to be!”
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[Warning!: Anxiety Response Spiking Rapidly!: Attempting To Compensate…]
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“Telvrin, STOP!!!”
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I panicked as I pleaded with him. I wasn’t the only one. Many in the bar were silently begging for him to just shut up and stop antagonizing them. The other exterminators began slowly closing in. Every last bit of tension in the room was concentrating in one spot.
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“I’M WARNING YOU, OLD MAN!”
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“Dohkar isn’t the disgrace here. YOU ARE! That musician on stage may be a human, but the only predator I see is YO-“
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PTTCCHHZZZZZZZZZZZTT!!!!!!!!
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[Warning!: Transcript File Corrupting!: Memory Overlap Detected!]
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. . .
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I see Loh in the exact center of a room, tied down to a chair. I know what that chair is. I know what it does. I want to reach through the screen, pull him free, but I can’t…
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PROTECT…HERD…
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“Dohkar…They say this message will be sent to you… I know what they mean to do…but you mustn’t blame yourself. All I ask is that you watch over them. Watch over my family, Dohkar…”
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“HURRY IT UP, PRIMITIVE!!”
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A voice shouts from just off-screen. I want to reach through the screen, and tear them apart for what they’re about to do, but I can’t…
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MUST…HERD…PROTECT…HERD…
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“We…found out the gender… Did I tell you that? It’s a boy, Dohkar. We’re going to have a precious little baby boy…”
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“I SAID HURRY IT UP, TAINT!!”
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“Maximum charge…”
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“Sir?”
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“I said…MAXIMUM…”
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“Y-yes, sir…”
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That voice… It’s him… Albiel... He knows what that chair will do… He knows…and he doesn’t care…
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NOT…HERD…KILL…NOT…HERD…
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VVRRRRRRRRRMMMMM!!!!
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Loh… Please…
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HERD…PROTECT…HERD…
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“Protect him, Dohkar. Protect my son… We’ve already picked out a name… His name… My son’s name will be-“
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“Now…”
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PTTCCHHZZZZZZZZZZZTT!!!!!!!!
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“TOOOOOHHHHBAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! TEYLIM!!!! TOOOOOOHHHHBBBBBAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”
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[WARNING! WARNING!: STRESS LEVELS FAR EXCEEDING ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS!]
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My claws dig into my paws as my fists clench, drawing blood.
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Rage… PROTECT…HERD…
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My teeth squeak and squeal as the grind against each other…
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Anger…. PROTECT…HERD…
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An audible growl escapes my muzzle as I glare at the exterminator standing over Telvrin, shock baton still in hand. Every herd member in the room stares on, their own anger building as the glare daggers at the monster that just struck down one of their own.
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NOT…HERD…KILL…KILL…KILL…
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My gaze shoots towards the corner of the room as I instantly notice the circle around Michael closing in…
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HERD…PROTECT…HERD…
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“Any last words, Predator?”
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I have to help. I have to do something. I can’t let one more single member of the herd get hurt… No more… No more! NO MORE!!!
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PROTECT…GUARD…FIGHT…KILL…
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My sight focuses. Something in my legs wants to do something I’m not sure they’re even capable of. Something in my face feels like it should be moving, sensing, huffing, but the only thing there is my mouth.
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I focus on Michael, looking for any way I can help him. He gives me a look. He knows about my hidden weapon. He gives me a wink…before bringing the mic closer to the speakers…
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I know what he’s doing…
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My ears pin back in anticipation for what will come next. Many of the herd around me notice, and follow suit, covering their ears. Knowing full well what will happen with the mic so close, Michael let’s out his war cry.
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“FUCK THE GUILD!!!!!”
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His shout is immediately followed my an ear-splitting, teeth-rattling ring as the microphone sends feedback through the speakers. The exterminators closest to him collapse entirely, dropping their weapons and writhing on the ground, clasping their ears. The one in front of me drops their weapon as well. Any who don’t are still sent reeling from the sound. Before any of three can recover. He cries again.
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“FUCK THE FEDERATION!!!!”
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Another shout. Another ear-piercing ring. Many have now taken a knee, trying frantically to cover their ears under their suits. One finally finds the strength to stand back up right in front of Michael. But before they can try anything, Michael cries one last time.
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“AND FUCK…!”
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“YOU!!!!!!!!!”
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PANG!!! CRASH!!!!!
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Time slows as Michael picks up the mic stand and swings it, the weighted base making contact with the beleaguered exterminator’s visor, shattering it and sending them flying directly into a table.
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Everyone freezes. Herd, exterminators, everyone. We all freeze, just staring at the limp exterminator, laying against the overturned table. All except me. I had my distraction. I had my opening.
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I’m not sure when Michael’s pad was knocked over, nor did I know what song it had randomly decided to start playing over the speakers. But as I pulled out the sidearm from under the counter, and aimed it directly at the head of the exterminator that had electrocuted [Loh-] Telvrin, I didn’t care either.
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NOT…HERD…PROTECT…HERD…
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I simply let the calm, soothing, chords of the organ calm my nerves as I aimed…and fired…
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BANG!!!
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LORD, HELP ME!!!
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I CAN’T…CHAAAAAAAAAANGE!!!!!
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And just like that…the whole herd around me, upon seeing what these INTRUDERS!!! NOT…HERD…
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These ATTACKERS!!! NOT…HERD…
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THESE PREDATORS HAD DONE TO ONE OF OUR OWN, they moved in as one. Without their fire, without their power, without our fear, these attackers no longer had any control over the herd.
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We descended on them like animals.
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LOOOORD, I CAN’T CHANGE!!!
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WON’T YOU FLYYYYY HIIIIIIGH, FREEEEE BIIIIIIIRD!!! YEEEAAAHHH!!!!
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PROTECT...THE...HERD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Wailing guitars filled my ears as I hopped over the counter and charged. My gaze darted from herd member to herd member in a daze.
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Multiple herd tackling a lone attacker to the ground.
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Threat neutralized…
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I duck under a shock baton from my right. My tail swings almost on its own, sweeping their legs out from under them. They only get to grunt from the fall before a bolt silences them.
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BANG!!!
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Threat neutralized…
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I look up and see another of the herd. She’s fending off additional attackers from behind cover. Another attacker approaches her from behind.
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PROTECT THE HERD!!!
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BANG!!!
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The attacker cries out as another bolt from my weapon catches their knee, sending them to the ground. The herd member’s feathers ruffle when she sees the threat. A kick to the head knocks the attacker unconscious.
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Threat neutralized…
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“DOHK!!! DUCK!!!”
​
My gaze shoots forwards, seeing the large member of the herd in front of me. His forward facing eyes, blue eyes glare with hatred at something behind me. I duck forward as he sends a glass mug soaring over my head.
​
SMASH!!!
​
My eyes follow the mug as it smashes directly into the visor of another attacker, staggering them and opening them up for a shot.
​
BANG!!!
​
Threat neutralized.
​
I turn back towards the herd member to thank him, only to spot another attacker coming up behind him with a flamer.
​
PROTECT THE HERD!!!
​
I won’t fail him again…
​
BANG!!!
​
The bolt catches the attacker in the shoulder, making them drop their weapon and use their free paw to grab at their wound. They don’t have time to react before the mic stand connects, smashing them to the ground.
​
PANG!!!
​
Threat neutralized.
​
He turns back to me and nods before moving to protect his fellow herd mates. My gaze darts to the left as I hear a frightened shriek. A pair of pups is being chased by an attacker. They dare attack the children as well?
​
PROTECT THE HERD!!!
​
I raise my sidearm, but hold my fire as another herd member shrieks in rage, placing herself between the attacker and her children. Her teeth and claws flash as they’re brought to bear.
​
“Not MY pups, you BITCH!!!”
​
Another shriek erupts from the mother as she flings herself at the attacker, scratching and clawing and biting, before finally getting a good grasp on them.
​
“SCULLY!!”
​
I follow her gaze back towards another herd member, guarding the children. His eyes widen with realization as he immediately turns around and puffs out the quills on his back like a wall of spikes. The attacker cries out in pain as the mother flings them in his direction. I don’t need to watch the rest.
​
Threat neutralized.
​
“MICHAEL!!!”
​
I immediately turn back to my right and reel in horror as I see an attacker jamming a shock prod into the side of the large herd member.
​
PROTECT THE HERD!
​
He growls in pain as he drops to one knee. I raise my sidearm to fire, but someone else does before me.
​
BANG!!!
​
The feathered herdmate throws her sidearm to the ground and runs over to the downed attacker, holding the wound in their leg where the bolt hit. Before they can so much as speak, she plants her foot in their gut, before continuing to kick and stomp at them.
​
“YOU! DON’T! BRAHKING! HURT! HIM! YOU! BRAHKING!-“
​
“‘Nel! ‘NEL! Easy! Easy! I think you got ‘em!”
​
[Warning!: Stress Levels Returning To Acceptable Levels!: Transcript Integrity Verified…]
​
The herd mem- No. Mike’s words finally seem to snap me out of my haze. A shook my head before cradling it in my paws. My head was throbbing, but the music had stopped…and things were finally quiet.
​
I looked back up at Michael and Khornel. He had a hand on his side while still keeping the other on Khornel’s shoulder. She was a complete nervous wreck now that the adrenaline had worn off.
​
“Are…a-a-are you okay?”
​
“Yeah… A bit done around the edges, but I’m fine. You saved me.”
​
He looked back towards me, giving me a weak smile.
​
“You both did.”
​
I…did...? I…DID save him…protect him… At least…I think I did…
​
My mind was a complete mess. Every last bit of me ached. My chest felt like it was twisting in knots as I panted and huffed to try and get a hold of my breathing.
​
What the HELL happened?
​
The herd…
​
My mind focuses and I turn around.
​
“Is everyone alright?”
​
I looked back at the rest of the bar. It was an even bigger mess than before, but…it was quiet again. A dozen exterminators littered the floor of my bar. It was hard to tell which, if any, were still alive, but they were all down.
​
That wasn’t what I was worried about, though. I was more worried about my people.
​
Protect the herd…
​
The parents that had been holding their pups were now covered in cuts and bruises, but their children were safe and unharmed, if more than a title terrified. Trivah and Scullen looked particularly bad, slumped over next to the booth they’d been sitting at before. Trivah was more roughed up, and her paws had a rather unhealthy amount of orange on them that I was guessing wasn’t hers.
​
Scullen , on the other paw, just seemed exhausted, but had more than a little bit of that orange on his back, coating his quills. They were both a wreck, but alive, and holding each other.
​
Thankfully, Trilly and Dailo were perfectly safe, hidden underneath the booth’s table. Scared, worried, and definitely needing help, but safe.
​
Safe…
​
Suddenly, my mind immediately remembers how this whole thing started.
​
TELVRIN!
​
Protect the herd…
​
I sprinted back towards the bar and immediately found him. His heartbeat was faint and irregular, but it was there. Still, he was already an old man who had no place getting into fights like this. Those shock batons might have adjustable settings, but even the weakest setting couldn’t be good for his health. He needed a doctor, and he wasn’t the only one.
​
“Who has their pad?! Someone get Dr. Forrik on the line!”
​
“O-on it!”
​
Khornel went back to her table and found her pad. The screen was cracked, but from the looks of it, she was still able to use it.
​
“W-what should we do with…them…”
​
Many in the crowd looked at the downed exterminators nervously. The intensity of the moment and rush of adrenaline had long since worn off from all of us.
​
“Tie up the ones that are still alive. The ones that aren’t…toss them outside…”
​
Reluctantly, the townspeople began following my orders, gathering weapons and supplies from the exterminators. I…decided to handle the bodies myself…
​
The rest simply continued restraining the officers still alive and doing their best to tend to our wounded until Dr. Forrik arrived.
​
“I’ve called him! He’s on his way with an ambulance!”
​
A vice rang out from deeper in the bar.
​
“We’ll never move everyone with just one ambulance!”
​
I already could feel an argument brewing between everyone, but with what’s going on, that was the LAST thing we needed.
​
“Then keep searching the exterminators until you find one with keys. We’ll use the exterminator vans outside to transport the wounded. Get to it!”
​
The bar came to life with movement as we all got back to work. Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait long for Dr. Forrik to arrive with the ambulance. He and his nurse staff only paused for a moment when they saw the state of my bar.
​
“Tenets preserve… What the hell happened here?”
​
“THEY happened.”
​
Mike pointed an accusatory finger at the small group of unconscious and wounded exterminators tied up in the corner of the room…along with the half a dozen dead ones outside…
​
Why… Why couldn’t you have just listened?
​
Pointless. This was ALL so damned POINTLESS! None of it had to be this way! Not just this paw, not just this town, but this whole damn pointless war!
​
I did my best to focus on working, helping Dr. Forrik load the wounded onto the ambulance and the exterminator vans, starting with the most in need of help…Telvrin…
​
Trivah was next, and was followed out by the rest of her family. Many others had been injured from the sudden all-out brawl. I still didn’t understand what came over me, over ALL of us. Something about seeing Telvrin get electrocuted just set something off in my head…
​
Protect the herd…
​
Once everyone was loaded up and on their way to the clinic, the only ones left in the bar were me, Mike, Khornel, and the other half of the patrons who were still unharmed. Mike was the first to speak up.
​
“What were they doing here, Dohk? Why attack NOW?”
​
I thought for a moment. The fact is, we knew SOMETHING would happen, just not when, where, or why. I tried to think back.
​
It was right when Mike was finishing his first song when I got a call on my pad from that prick, Agent Tevis. I didn’t get the full picture from him, but he mentioned losing contact with his team inside the Guild Office. Why he wasn’t doing any investigating himself was anyone’s guess. But him losing contact with the rest of the investigation team and THEN The Guild decides to attack? That CAN’T be a coincidence.
​
I still didn’t have enough information to make a solid theory, but it seemed to me that those investigators might have finally found the smoking gun they were looking for. Even so, that alone wouldn’t be enough to elicit this kind of response on its own.
​
Then…a thought occurred to me, something I hadn’t really considered. But after Mike rubbed at his side again, most likely nursing the small burn he got from the shock baton, I remembered something from my time with The Guild… Suddenly, it clicked…
​
I wonder…
​
“Tell me… On Earth, what happens when you corner an injured animal…?”
​
Mike seemed to think for a moment before responding.
​
“It…lashes out…”
​
I knew it.
​
That had to be it. Hell, this wouldn’t even be the first time it’s happened. In recent cycles, even before first contact with the humans, more and more Guilds and facilities had been getting exposed for the corrupt disgraced that they are. And almost every single time, those organizations begin to lash out as soon as they start losing control.
​
And now it was happening here. The whole town, even their once fervent followers have turned on them, protesting at their door. The Magistrate has them under investigation, and now, with no more allies and no more sway, they’ve now been backed into a corner.
​
“That’s what you think this was? Them ‘lashing out?’”
​
“Until we know more, yes. I think The Guild and facility’s leaderships are getting ready to make a break for it, and THIS was just them tying up any loose ends on the way out.”
​
A grim atmosphere fell over the bar. It only broke when Mike’s head shot back up, his eyes wide with realization…and horror…
​
“Wait…ANY loose ends?!”
​
As soon as I saw the sheer terror in his eyes, I knew EXACTLY what he meant.
​
[Warning!: Stress Response Spiking Rapidly!: Attempting To Compensate…]
​
TEYLIM!
​
Protect the herd!
​
They wouldn’t!
​
They would… They have…
​
I checked my sidearm. It still had decent charge left in it. I would’ve charged out the door right then and there…if I didn’t still have a whole bar full of panicked people to look after. Instead, I walked up to Mike…and held out the weapon, pointing out the three things he’d need to know.
​
“Cartridge release, safety, trigger. Keep your finger off of it until you’re ready to fire. GO.”
​
Leaving Teyrin here, he grabbed the weapon and darted for the door, only to be stopped by Khornel.
​
“I’m coming with you.”
​
“You sure?”
​
She simply nodded, and the two were off.
​
Please… PLEASE be alright…
​
With an aching pain in my chest, I turned and headed back towards the kitchen where I’d left my pad.
​
I had a call to make…
​
That incompetent bastard Tevis BETTER still be alive!!!
​
Next

The results are in for Match 16. The winner is…

R.K. Viswanathan Ashok, with a score of 73 to David Jackson’s 51!

Category	Winner	Point Totals	Comments
Popularity	R.K. Viswanathan Ashok	24 (11+2) - 6 (1+2)	Votes came out in strong favor of Ashok!
Quality	R.K. Viswanathan Ashok	19 (7 6 6) - 15 (5 5 5)	Reasoning
JoJolity	Tie	20 (6 7 7) - 20 (7 6 7)	Reasoning
Conduct	Tie	10-10	Nothing to report

As his ball steadily rolled into its hole, Ashok turned to his teammates and smiled with baleful politeness at the pattering of their applause. “No, no, thank you, you’re all too kind. I wouldn’t have done so well without your tips.”
A smile of bared teeth met David’s glare, the other donors between the two of them. Ashok had played the part of endearing newbie whose ｢beginner luck｣ had gotten him through the varying obstacles the golf course had presented. Yet, over the hours of golf, he had demonstrated that all had been under control, his control.
With a roll of his eyes, David walked up to Ashok and extended his hand, motivated that same politeness. “Good game.”
“Good game!” Ashok replied, shaking in a sign of sportsmanship. It would be rude not to follow the request, the display of normalcy! Ashok turned and began to lead the group back towards the country club proper. “Now I overheard something about that magistrate, Luiviton? You wouldn’t believe—”
Distracted by the hand shake, Ashok’s shoe had been infused with ｢The Fine Print｣’s goo, a chain forming between it and a patch of the ground, causing Ashok himself to stumble. Ashok looked back at David, whose expression was flat—Ashok had won their wager and David would comply with its terms and no further. That the other golfers couldn’t see his Stand giving Ashok a rude gesture was his own form of rebellion. How quaint.
“Ah, I merely slipped.” Ashok waved their concern as he pulled himself back up. “I’ll continue at the parlor.”

If you want more overt sabotage and aggression, check out this operation down by the docks!

Scenario: Near the Bedtown/Sapatibhatt Border — 4:27 AM
The wind whistled through tall grass. It was a cold night. The moon hung above. Tomorrow it would be full. There was some solace to be found there, in having that light to shine down on you. Perhaps a path forward would show itself.
Texas Aco knew better than to count on it.
Her black hair billowed in the wind, dull eyes staring forward at nothing. She lifted a cigarette to her lips. She didn't remember quite when she started smoking. Everything seemed a blur, now. One day to the next.
Tsch.
A pair of fingers crunched down on the lit end, smothering the flame. Texas stared to her side.
She never quite imagined Rasna Kaliya to be a quiet person. Rumors upon rumors had spun her into a frantic god of war, screaming like bloody hell wherever she went—and here she was, quiet, serene. She hadn’t imagined she’d ever actually meet the woman, actually. It was a quiet realization. She was just standing there, next to her. After all this trouble, there she was.
Texas stepped back. This was probably because of her attempts to mutiny VULTURE. Should’ve figured the old head of things would get pissy about somebody trying to-
“It’s not that.” Rasna exhaled, rubbing out Texas’s stolen cigarette with her boot. “I didn’t come here to hurt you. I’d feel awful about that.”
“..?” Texas just stared.
“I trust you’ve seen what happened a few days ago, around Nema Street.”
“With the wires.” She’s quiet when she says it. Hurt.
“Mmm. Poor taste. Suppose that’s just what this place is coming to. That madness won’t stay stuck here for long, either. It’ll spread until it’s everywhere. It’s coming. Maybe it’s already here.”
“What do you want.” It took a moment for Texas to collect herself. “People like you don’t just show up to chat. You want something from me.”
“The opposite, actually.” Rasna stared at her. Not with malice, not with any judgment. She almost smiled. “VULTURE’s yours. Congratulations.
Texas didn’t know what to say to that. So she didn’t say anything. Just stared, slack jawed.
“I’m not a very good person.” Rasna continued, turning back to almost-full moon. “I’ve recently met many people who would insist that there is some sort of good in me—that there is good in everyone. I don’t know if I believe something like that. But regardless if it’s true, you can’t ignore the plain facts of a person. I am made of violence. So is Susie. So are the rest of them. None of us are fit to lead. We are swords, not shields.”
“And I’m... a shield?” Texas looked a little incredulous.
“Of course you are. You wanted to take over VULTURE to better things, did you not?” She chuckled. “Me and Susie took it simply because it was there. You’re different. That is something I want to believe. I’ll put all my faith in that ‘purity’, despite myself.”
Texas stared at the moon with her. She looked as if some small amount of emotion had reentered her body, putting color back in her cheeks. She almost looked happy.
She began to laugh. Loudly. In such a way that Rasna’s eyes widened with the realization that this was no happiness. Texas did not laugh at her, nor with her. It was as if the absurdity of the situation had simply broken the girl. Eventually, though, she calmed down, and returned to watching the moon.
“You wanna know why I did it?” She smirked. “I don’t fucking know. I don’t know why. I don’t want to make anything better. I can’t. I didn’t do it for some noble fucking reason or whatever you think I did. I just wanted something. Anything.”
Her skin seemed to pulse. Rasna was silent.
“And you know what? Part of me just wanted to see if anything would change. If I could do a single thing, make a single impact. If I could just make one difference, if my work could hold any significance, maybe her death would’ve meant something. Maybe any of this would’ve had some meaning.”
“It has to.” Rasna cut her off, staring her down. “There’s no such thing as meaningless violence. There cannot be. All of this, has to be for-”
“Fuck off!” Texas’s skin bulged under her shirt. “None of this means anything! We can’t fucking do anything! I almost died trying to get even a shred of any sort of meaningful influence and I couldn’t even get scraps! And now an angel comes down from heaven just to do it all for me! You just... You don’t get it. You could never get it. You’re a human being. I’m just an insect.”
Rasna might’ve said something to combat that, were it not for the insectoid limb now sticking into her abdomen. Blood spurted onto tall grass. Rasna was silent. This was the ‘ideal’ she had praised. The ideal forged in isolation, based only on one’s own thoughts. This was her teaching. This was supposed to be good.
“W-We’re all... Just... Insects...” Texas’s body shook and shuddered and tore itself apart, limbs sprouting from her skin, her body losing its humanity in a mere instant. The girl screamed in agony, and ran on stilted limbs, tattered wings rising from her shoulders. “We’re all...!”
Rasna had become ‘complacent’, acknowledging the fact that violence was a part of her, irreversibly. That she could be the change to carve through the city - that she had to be, one way or the other. It was her nature to be a force of change. A sword, not a shield. In a sense, Texas was her opposite, utterly consumed by the belief that she could not do anything. That she would toil in miserable violence and grief for the rest of her life, and yet, never change anything. That she was the ant under the elephant, unable to do anything meaningful in the face of the oncoming heel.
If that sort of ideal were to consume a person... What point would there be in even thinking?
Rasna watched her take flight, hand resting on a hole in her abdomen. In every aspect, tonight, she had failed.
Scenario: Vasitanagarh — 11:37AM
“...That is quite a story.” Steric scratched his chin, leaning forward on his elbows. The bustling sounds of a busy cafe surrounded him, an impromptu meeting place for PINDROP’s latest clientele. “I suppose we’ve got no reason not to believe you, given the news lately. And, er, also, that.”
He pointed to the bandages hastily wrapped around his client’s torso. Rasna looked worse for wear than usual. She’d disguised herself for a meeting in public, but that disguise only amounted to a new hoodie (one which her emerald hair spilled out of incredibly conspiculously), so it didn’t really amount to much.
“My associate here,” He gestured to Drippy, who’d insisted on being his bodyguard for this discussion, and who was currently staring daggers at Rasna, “insists that you aren’t particularly someone to be trusted. I’ve heard a few rumors myself. It's, ahem, pretty dour stuff. Not to say I’m immediately against taking the job.” He chuckled, clasping his hands together. “It’s just a bit surprising that you’d come to us, considering your, er, reputati-”
“We’ll do it if you tell us who the Middleman is.” Drippy slammed her hands down on the table, eliciting a ‘yeek!’ from Steric. Rasna stared at the two for a moment, and took a sip of her drink. Black coffee. Bitter as it gets.
“I’m not doing that.” She placed her drink on the table calmly. “We went over this.”
“Wait.” Steric held up a hand to stop the inevitable Drippy outburst. “Do you actually know that? That, erm, that’s a big deal, miss.”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“And why is that? It doesn’t seem likely that you’re still involved with the Suite, judging by the words of those I’ve interviewed, but if you’re still looking out for them, that’s-”
“I don’t want to.” Rasna exhaled, a bit stressed - which was her equivalent to a full breakdown. “There’s more to this than just telling you a name and sending you off. Do you understand that? That nothing about this is easy?”
Steric and Drippy stared at her, for a moment. Drippy was the first to speak, remembering their last encounter.
“...Cause we’re the same, right?” She sighed. “Death surrounds us, or something? Hah...”
Steric’s eyes lit up at that. He whipped a notepad out of his coat pocket, frantically scribbling something down. “Alright!” He placed it back in his pocket, enthusiastic smile lining his face. “We’ll take the case!”
Drippy gawked. Rasna raised her eyebrows.
“The fact that you can’t tell us is a hint in itself, isn’t it?” He grinned, rising to a stand. “This is the most information we’ve gotten in weeks. It’d be rude not to pay you back.”
“Wh-You’re going?” Drippy pinched her forehead, sighing. “Okay, uh-”
“Our client seems to be a bit injured.” Steric turned before just before reaching the cafe door. “Do me a favor and patch her up in the van, would you? Don’t want her bleeding out before I solve the case. Toodle-doo!”
The bell above the door jingled, and just like that, Steric Lou Farin was off, hot in pursuit. Drippy’s eyes slowly turned to meet Rasna’s. The ex gang leader stared back at her.
“How’s Susie been.”
“Don’t make fucking small talk with me.”
Scenario: Outside Halogen Geothermal Power Station, Vasitanagarh — 9:43 PM
Steric stood in a field of tall grass. He had found that usually, whenever civilization ended in Rakin, you found these fields. They seemed to stretch on for miles. No buildings, no lights, no nothing. Just tall grass, the full moon, and a sky full of stars. Of course, if you kept walking, you’d probably find your way to the mountain, or the swamp, or the jungle, or some other biome. But that wasn’t quite in his plans for today, much as the exercise would be invigorating.
He stared down a hill at the Halogen Geothermal Power Station, the only thing of any signifigance situated out here. It was where his deductions had lead him. He stood in silence, taking in the breeze. He still had time, time to wait, and more importantly...
“I was waiting for you to show up.” He grinned. “Suppose that means I’m in the right place. Y’know, normally, tracking you folks down is pretty damn easy. You just sorta stay put for a while. But I haven’t been able to find you anywhere I looked. I should’ve figured you’d be looking after her.” He paused, pulling a business card out of his pocket. “Steric Lou Farin. Ghost detective, in employment of PINDROP. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Aco.”
“Please, call me Paris.” The ghost of Paris Aco, a flickering spirit floating just next to him, grinned and winked. “Likewise. You’re the first person I’ve actually been able to talk to like this.”
“I happen to be in possession of... Certain talents. I’ll say, though. Normally a spirit doesn’t keep itself together emotionally this well. You’re pretty resilient.”
“It’s just cuz I’ve had something to do.”
“Mmm.” Steric nodded, turning back to the power plant. “My condolences about your daughter. She’s been all over the news lately. It’s a shame.”
“Ain’t like she’s hopeless yet.” Paris smirked. “I raised her tough. She’ll make it.”
For a moment, the two stood in silence. Steric had deduced that Texas would wind up here. She’d been on a warpath of mindless destruction recently. Only made sense she’d head to a place where that destruction could really make a difference.
“It’s her seventeenth birthday, today.” Paris placed her hands in the pockets of her coat. “Shame I can’t tell her happy birthday. ‘Least I can watch.”
“I’ll be sure to wish her a happy birthday.”
“How long do I have, detective?”
Steric winced, his eyes turned downcast. “Most likely a month. Spirits don’t tend to stick around that long, except in special cases.”
“Hah.” She turned her gaze to the full moon. “That’s a shame. I was hoping I’d get to see her turn eighteen. I guess that’s what every parent wants. Haah...”
Steric was silent. No matter how many cases he solved, this was his least favorite part of the job.
“Give her a push for me.”
“Hmm?”
“She’s a good kid. She’ll do great things. Just needs a little push. Do that for me.”
Steric nodded. “That’s the least I can do.”
The two stood in silence for a moment longer, enjoying the sound of the breeze, waiting for the inevitable. Steric scanned over the power plant yet again... And paused.
“Hmm?” He leaned closer, squinting, and then sighed. “Sorry, Miss, I’ll have to depart. Something’s come up.”
“No worries.” Paris grinned. “I’ll be with my kid. You know where to find me.”
Steric nodded, and rushed down the hill, kicking up dust and dry grass as he ran. He’d been keeping in shape lately, so this wasn’t too difficult a dash. The harder part was climbing onto the expanse of massive pipes that made up the plant. Still, having an extra arm certainly made that easier. He rose onto the top of the plant, staring down the ‘problem’. A shambling man, making his way across the pipes. This was not Texas Aco. This needed to be dealt with quickly. He needed the stage to be set.
“Excuse me, sir!” He called out. The figure stopped. “I’m sorry, but you’re in the wrong place. Please exit, er, immediately.”
The man, known to some as Marcus Keller, simply pushed his hair out of his eyes, and glared. Steric was taken aback. The look in those eyes would not be so easily dissuaded. He could only wonder just what exactly they’d seen to make him so...
It was difficult to describe the emotion. All that Steric knew was that this man was where he intended to be. And he would not leave easily.

Scenario: Mist City — Some time ago
In front of Marcus sat a dog. It was an angular beast, there was a sharpness to its ears and snout, a sharpness to the teeth hidden beneath. They made good guard dogs, this breed. The Indian Pariah. An outsider protecting insiders from intrusion.
It stared back at him with dark eyes. Marcus looked back, because he could not stand to glance up at its owner.
At his owner.
But, through his shallow breaths, he dared to speak. “You... You’re...”
The dog’s owner chuckled, a sound as dark as his hound’s gaze. “Yeah, yeah. I just explained this. I’m your boss. You got that in your head yet? You even listen to anything else I just said?”
Before Marcus could respond, Binay pressed his fingers underneath Marcus’s chin, tilting the man’s head up to meet his eyes. “You’d better look me in the eyes, Mars…cause I am not fucking kneeling for you.”
Marcus swallowed nervously, throat twitching against Binay’s fingertips.
“...Sorry.”
Binay laughed again, giving the man a little scratch under the chin.
“Hey, I don’t need a ‘sorry,’ okay? I need you to do something for me. Something important. So important that if you fuck this up, it’s going to ruin the city. But you won’t fuck it up. I chose you, you, over all those other guys, because you will not fuck this up.”
Marcus moved his jaw to speak, before Binay simply pressed it shut, still smiling down at him.
“I’m not done talking. This is important, Mars, so I need you to shut your mouth and listen to me until I’m done, got it?”
Marcus nodded. Another dog had joined the first, staring at him with beady black eyes.
“I’m gonna go ahead and assume you ain’t the kind of bloke that checks out the news.” Binay casually pet the new dog with his free hand as he spoke. “Long story short, there’s been a little somethin’ somethin’ on the news lately. A monster, tearing through shit all around Rakin. And it’s gonna be a bit of a problem if it starts to get in our hair. Trust me, The monster’s name is Texas Aco.”
Marcus’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, sad shit. Little Miss Aco went and completely lost her mind. She’s not even a human being anymore.” He paused, awaiting some sort of objection, but Marcus was silent. “I don’t exaggerate. You should see the photos. It’s like when a dog comes down with something bad. Rabies or some shit. Sure, it totally sucks to put it down... But can you imagine what’d happen if you didn’t? How many people would get hurt? How much the dog itself would get hurt, just by living? At that point, you’re a terrible person if you don’t kill it. And you don’t want to be a terrible person, do you?”
Marcus shook his head. Regret was fresh in his mind.
“Exactly. I’m giving you a chance to be a hero, Mars. I’m giving you a chance to fix every little fuck up you’ve ever done. You’re gonna get a taste of atonement. And you’re gonna lick it up, unless you want to really be nothing more than a fuckup who needs to be put down himself.”
Marcus shuddered. He was silent. Even if he could speak, he wouldn’t know what to say.
“Think you can do that for me, Mars?”
Many dogs were watching him now, as if in solidarity.
Marcus nodded.
“Atta boy.”

“I’ll give you one last chance.” The arm of Phantom flexed out of Steric’s back. He glared. “Get out, or I’ll have to be a bit forceful.”
“Not leaving.” Marcus growled, muscles pulsing. The full moon made him feel a bit frenzied, and he could hardly stop himself from lunging at the detective, teeth bared. He felt like a proper beast.
A wolf.
About a month ago, Marcus had become quieter. He had stopped interjecting as much in conversation, stopped volunteering himself for jobs so that others could get out of it.
About a week ago, he had stopped speaking. Moony had tried to talk to him, but he ignored her. Ignored Chandra and Amelia’s blunt remarks, ignored the panicked looks Kid always gave him, ignored Sunset’s concern. When he didn’t have a job, he shut himself away.
He figured that it was better this way. He had a habit of troubling others. Those who got close to him, those who saw him as a friend, or as a mentor, always found themselves troubled, in one way or another, by his presence. He sickened himself. He was a man of regret.
Several days ago, he had begun scratching scars into himself. He had convinced himself it was simply stress getting to him, that made him dig his talons into his own pale flesh.
Marcus stood, alone, beneath a pale moon. It would be a disservice to call him a mere dog of the Metropolis Suite, even if it was certainly what he had become, in this moment. No. He was a wolf. A wolf, alone, without his pack. He was a beast. He would say that he had ceased to be a man, but in truth, he had never thought of himself as one.
He was a beast and he had come here to gorge himself on misery until he could no longer think for himself. It was a role that suited him. He thought it did. It wasn’t like anyone could tell him otherwise. He hadn’t left himself anyone who could.
Steric sighed. The pressure of this misery was so immense that he could feel it baring down on him. The man in front of him looked like a man, spoke like a man, walked like a man, but the look in those eyes suggested an animal.
“So be it.” He put on his most confident smirk - it felt a bit false, but he didn’t care to think about that. “Two cases at once won’t be a problem. I’m a pretty good detective, y’know.”
Marcus huffed in response, lowering into a combat stance.
“Not one for conversation, eh?” Steric’s brow furrowed. “Well, isn’t that just-”
In hindsight, it was a wonder he hadn’t noticed the moon being blotted out, for the briefest moment. It was a hard thing to miss, given the way the moon had shined down on the man opposite from him. It took him a few seconds to register something had been there, but that was a few seconds too late.
Something came crashing down onto the lattice of pipes near him, sending a shockwave throughout the plant. He struggled to hold his footing as a cacophonous buzzing began to fill the space around him, massive insects emerging from the cloud of dust that had risen just nearby. Slowly, a massive, insectoid arm pushed through that very cloud, slamming into a nearby pipe and almost puncturing it.
The news had not done quite the best job of selling just how much of a beast Texas Aco had become. Her flesh was torn through in several places by insectoid parts that came ripping out from beneath her. It was a wonder she hadn’t bled out, but her body simply wasn’t bleeding, as if these new additions had always been a part of her. The puppetted her around, as if she was on stilts, high above the two men. Her face was twisted into a weeping scowl.
Steric had seen many things. A job history that put him against both Stand users and spirits had given him quite the resilience to being spooked. But he couldn’t help shivering, here.
Texas screamed, breaking through the sound of buzzing. It was an incoherent wail that seemed to shake everything around her. He massive limbs punctured steel around her as she thrashed.
”GIVE IT BACK! GIVE IT B-ACK TO ME!” Within the screams he could hear desperate words. A longing for something, anything of her own. Steric sighed. This might take a while.
Marcus, meanwhile, was completely frozen. Tantalized. He stared at the beast and the beast stared back at him. He was the beast. This thing in front of him was him. He wondered if he could kill it. If he could kill it. If there was something to be found in this misery.
He couldn’t do anything if the man in front of him stuck around. He knew that much.
Marcus howled to the moon, joining in on the surrounding cacophony. His muscles flexed and grew, hair overtaking his body. He felt his heart beating everywhere. He felt pure adrenaline shoot through his body. When he finally turned his head down to face Steric, it felt like everything had frozen. For just a moment, it was only them, staring each other down.
They did not need words, so no one bothered to speak.
In the next few seconds, time would move again.
Location: The side of a large silo, in the middle of a geothermal plant! A top down overview of the map has an area of roughly 4x10 meters. The players are on a metal platform 8m off the ground.
There are metal pipes strewn around the area, between 12 and 5 meters off the ground. Here is an album with each of the layers. The areas marked with xs are where pipes go to the layer above. Beneath is a concrete floor with a few pipes leading up to the main area of the match.
Players may not break the pipes in the match, as doing so could lead to superheated steam gushing out and RETIREing both players. However, the pipes are all well insulated and durable enough that they should be fine as long as you aren’t careless.
Goal: RETIRE your opponents!
Additional Information: The map is filled up with buzzing horseflies, created by Texas’ Stand. Swarms of horseflies congregate in groups about the size of a large cat. These horseflies will be attracted by the players, swarming any exposed skin and biting them viciously. Horsefly bites are extremely painful, and besides draining blood will lead to heavy use of that body part causing significant pain going forwards.
If a player has covered themselves with clothing or construct and has no exposed skin, locusts will begin to eat holes in the constructs, before flying away for the horseflies to feast.
Swarms of horseflies can be defeated, and more swarms will enter the map at regular intervals. If swarms are not killed, then they will build up until they’re a constant presence. Swarms are more dense lower in the map, but otherwise will move aimlessly until a player gets near or they’re agitated.
Incidentally, a single horsefly swarm has about ⅕ of a liter of blood for Marcus to harvest. Horseflies can be stunned by use of bright flashes of light.

Team	Combatant	JoJolity
Cause for Concern	Marcus Keller	“You could kill them and tear their corpses from limb to limb a hundred times, but it still wouldn't be enough. Because it won't even compare... to the terrible suffering that awaits you.” You don’t deserve to call yourself a man. So now, for this miserable moment, embody a wretched and terrible beast.
PINDROP	Steric Lou Farin	“This will be a difficult battle for everyone. And it will leave nothing but deep gashes in our hearts. But...” One beast would’ve been trouble as is, but two will put your skills to the test. A detective is ill fitted for this kind of situation, so now, for this miserable moment, embody a noble and honorable hunter.

Link to Official Player Spreadsheet
Link to Match Schedule
As always, if you would like to interact with the tournament community and be among the first to get updates for the tournament, please feel free to PM a member of our Judge staff for an invite to our Official Discord Server!

Special thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the NoP universe.
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I'd also like to thank u/xskipy10 for their awesome fanart of the main cast as well as their recent Tohba meme and their fanart of Michael baysitting. You're work is a treasure!
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Thank you as well to u/Accomplished-Golf-59 for his take on Michael, Teylim, and Tohba in his submission for the Banner Art Contest, and u/Spacer_Catgirl4969 for their awesome music video featuring a pixel-art Dohkar in his bar. Be sure to give ALL of these awesome creators your love and support.
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And let's not forget u/Guywhoexists2812 who has been an awesome source of memes as well as sick pixel art, such as THIS and THIS!!!! And even THIS!!!!!! Thank you so much!
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Today, we join Dohkar, Khornel, and Michael as music night begins, and for a brief moment, it seems the town is finally united in one beautiful moment...until...
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First
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Previous
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Songs Mentioned/Used: Kiss The Sky by Shawn Lee's Ping Pong Orchestra
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Memory Transcript Subject: Dohkar, Venlil Bartender Date:[Standardized Human Time] January 15, 2137
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“Heya, Dohk! Got a slot for me?”
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It took me a moment to fully register what I was seeing. From what Teylim had told me, Mike was bedridden most of the time and completely out of it for the rest. It was only a few paws ago when she told me he was actually making progress. But this? The only thing that was even slightly different about him was his appearance. Otherwise, it was as if nothing had happened to him at all. The scar on his head might as well have been decoration. Still, that wasn’t what I had a problem with.
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It’s the pair of pups that he brought to a BAR of all places!
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“Ape! What in the heck are you doing bringing pups in here?!”
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“Showing them how funny it is when you have to censor yourself!”
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Why you cheeky, brahkass, piece of-
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“Ugh. Whatever, Ape. Put the pups down will ya? You should know better.”
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“Fine. Down we go, kiddos.”
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“Awwweee…”
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Mike slowly knelt down and let Trilly and Dailo off his shoulders one after the other. The two gave him a final hug before returning to their parents. Honestly, what was he thinking? While the drinking age here on VP was far younger than on Earth, those two were still far below that margin. Still, that didn’t stop the family of four from sitting at one of the booths close to the soundstage and ordering a round of stringberry juice. I was suddenly glad I’d decided on not having Happy Claw this paw.
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My mood DID improve however when a whole new crowd of customers followed Mike in through the door. Apparently THAT was the commotion outside. There were many who had been anticipating the return of “Michael In The Meadows.” Not least of which was Khornel, who stood stock still next to the bar, completely speechless.
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That was, until the two made eye contact. Mike just gave another smile, before slowly walking over to her. She finally snapped to her senses, almost taking a step back before stuttering at him.
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“Y-y-you had me worried sick you know? Y-you DO know that, right?”
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He didn’t say a word. He just kept walking.
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“I…I-I thought I watched you DIE, alright?! People don’t just SURVIVE getting shot in the head. And now!”
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He still didn’t respond. Khornel held her drink tray to her chest as he got closer, almost like a shield.
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A shield to her heart, maybe. Hehehehe…
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“Y-you don’t get to just come back in here like nothing happened! You don’t, alright? We’re supposed to be partners! You can’t just leave me alone like that and then just think you can- Oof!”
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Before she could finish, Mike finally got close enough to pull her into a hug. His arms clamped around her like a vice. It looked like he was clinging onto her for dear life. It didn’t take long for her to break down. Her voice was muffled as she sobbed in his arms. She returned the hug, but didn’t wait long before lightly slamming her fist into his back from behind.
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“Don’t! You! Ever! Die on! Me again! You stupid! Primate! ‘Cause I’ll never! Forgive you! Never! Never! Never!”
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Mike’s responded in a shaky, muffled, whisper.
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“I missed you too, Bird Brain. I’m sorry for leaving you hanging. You didn’t deserve that. I am so, so sorry.”
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“Are you…okay?”
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“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, a lot better with you here…”
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They stayed like that for a while, only loosening the hug when they’d gotten a hold of themselves. Even then, the hug was only loosened, not broken.
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“Uuuhhh. Ya know, Nel? We can let go anytime. We probably don’t want people getting ideas.”
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“Just…shut up and let me have this…”
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Mike gave a light chuckle before giving her another squeeze.
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“Alright. Alright.”
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Heh. Lovebirds.
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Telvrin rolled his eyes and returned to his drink. While it was clear he didn’t necessarily “approve”, he did still find it amusing.
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“I’ll give those two a cycle before they’re mated with an egg on the way.”
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“Ha! I’ll take that action.”
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The sight of the two lovebirds reuniting had definitely served to lighten the mood a bit. But that’s when something caught my eye, something that almost made me freeze up entirely. I hadn’t even noticed it at first. I was just always so used to seeing Mike with a case on his back that I hadn’t even realized…that wasn’t his guitar case…
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How could it be? After what happened at the concert, there was almost nothing left of it, nothing that could be fixed, anyway. No, that wasn’t his case. It was a different one, one I knew all too well. There was no way…
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Did she really pass her on to him?
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“Mike… Is that…what I think it is? Is that…WHOSE…I think it is?”
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After finally breaking free of the hug with Khornel, Mike turned to me and slowly hoisted the strap over his head and gingerly held the case in his arms, almost as if he was holding a newborn pup.
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“It is… It’s Teyrin, Dohk.”
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As soon as I heard that name, Teyrin, I felt a nostalgic warmth fill my chest…right before a jolt of pain.
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Loh…
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“Teyrin?”
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Khornel cooed in curiosity, peering over Mike’s shoulder as he gently set the case down on the counter.
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“That’s the name of my new instrument. It belonged to Tey’s old husband…before he…”
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“Ah…I see…”
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Many in the bar had begun to crowd around Mike as he began to open the case. I suspected I wasn’t the only one who recognized it. Teylim really did it. She’d passed on Lohrek’s legacy. It was Mike’s turn to hold the torch now.
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I held my breath as Mike’s hands undid the two old latches.
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Clunk! Clunk!
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Slowly, the lid opened, and a number of people, including Khornel, gasped in awe at the pearly white, engraved, plehr Mike pulled out of it.
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“It’s beautiful, Michael…”
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“Yeah. She really is…”
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It was a strange, conflicting feeling, seeing Mike with Teyrin in his hands. On one paw, it was nice knowing that Lohrek’s music wouldn’t be forgotten anytime soon, and that Teyrin’s voice would fill these streets again. On the other, just seeing her at all brought back more than a few memories, both good and bad. And seeing her in the hands of another, even if it WAS Mike… It only seemed to hammer home the fact that Loh was well and truly gone, that no matter how much I might want it to not be true, I’d never see my old friend again.
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Still, I knew if ANYONE would treat that plehr, and everything it represented with respect, it would be Mike.
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“So. She’s yours now, I take it? Teylim saw fit to finally go into the back room and pass it on?”
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Mike gave me a solemn look before looking back down at the beautiful plehr in his arms, running his fingers down the length of the strings. His movements seemed…familiar…
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“Yep. Teyrin, the studio, all his works, it’s all mine now. I’ll be honest…it’s a lot. I was already trying to carry on Dad’s legacy, and now I’ve got Lohrek’s on my shoulders, too. I won’t lie…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully live up to it all…”
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He closed his eyes, clearly trying to keep his emotions in check. But after a moment, he looked back up with a determined stare, filled with more conviction than I’d ever seen from him.
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“But I’ll be damned if I don’t try… SO!”
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SLAM!
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Without skipping a beat, Mike slammed his free hand onto the counter, leaning over it to get nice and close.
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“You still haven’t answered my question.”
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His question?
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He lowered his tinted frames, revealing his blazing, sky-blue eyes to me in all their supposed horror.
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“You got a timeslot open for me or what?”
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I’m not sure what it was when I looked into those eyes, but that familiar sense of nostalgia filled my chest once more. Those eyes might not belong to a Yotul. Hell, they weren’t even the same color, but when I looked into Mike’s eyes, I could still se just a little bit of Loh staring right back at me, giving me the same look he’d always give me before a show.
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“Come then, my friend! Let’s be a thorn in the side of those Guild cronies, shall we?!”
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Heh… Sure thing, Loh…
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A crooked human smirk crawled its way across my muzzle.
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“I’m sure that can be arranged, Ape.”
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Applause and cheering swept through the bar at the news, and for a moment, it truly felt like the god old days.
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Memory Transcript Subject: Khornel, Krakotl Civilian Date:[Standardized Human Time] January 15, 2137
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Holding up my pad and accessing the camera function, it felt like a welcome return to form. This is where I’d be during his shows. Before Michael’s accident, before the concert, even before Twilight Valley, this is what we’d do while Dohkar and I would work in the background to gather evidence on The Guild.
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He’d do his shows, while I sat in the background recording and editing. It seems so long ago now. Even though it was only just over a month ago, it feels like a completely different lifetime, led by a completely different person. So much has happened in such a short amount of time…to think it might finally be coming to an end soon, I’m not sure what I’ll do with myself.
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I’ll have to take care of grandfather while he recovers from whatever the hell they’re doing to him in the twisted facility. I’ll also have to find a place for us to stay while our house is being repaired. Somehow, I doubt Ms. Teylim will be able to house both of us.
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Oh, what am I going to do?
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“Feathers, you alright?”
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I almost jumped as Dohkar’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
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“Oh! S-sorry… Just thinking… I don’t…really know what we’re going to do after all this. My home is still in shambles. Even if I get Grandfather back, I don’t know where we’ll go…”
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He gave a tired sigh before placing a comforting paw on my back.
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“Honestly, I don’t know what comes next either. Telvrin and I have just been taking it day by day, trying to keep the town from catching fire. I haven’t had time to put much thought into what comes after, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, let’s just enjoy the first bit of joy we’ve gotten in a while.”
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A reassured whistle escaped my beak before I returned to my task, recording the show. Looking through my lense, I could get a good angle from where I was at the bar. This has easily been the best turnout Michael’s shows had gotten besides the concert. The booths and tables closest to the soundstage were completely filled. Where there wasn’t room to sit, people simply stood in a semi-circle surrounding the soundstage.
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The floor directly in front of it was almost completely invisible beneath the small group of various hatchlings that had been snuck in by their parents for the show. As it turned out, Michael had one the hearts of many children throughout the town, not just Tohba, Trilly and Dailo. The two floofs themselves were front and center, Michael’s two biggest fans.
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Besides US, of course.
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Hush.
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Finally, a faint pop, followed by a steady hum was heard as the speakers thrummed to life. After a few light taps on the mic, Michael spoke.
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“Before I start, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone here, and everyone else that couldn’t make it. To those who sent my family their love and support while I was still recovering, I am forever grateful. If even half of what I’ve heard about what’s happened these past few paws is true, then I’m glad that so many have opened their hearts and minds to the truth.”
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“It’s been a rough recovery, one that’s still not done quite yet, but I feel so much better knowing that there’s still good people in this galaxy, willing to take a stand in the name of change. It’s scary. Believe me, I know. But that’s all the more reason for us all to stick together, as friends, as family, as a community.”
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“I still don’t know what’s in store for us in the coming weeks. I’m sure most of us aren’t, but in the face of such uncertainty, it’ll be important for us to face it together, with our heads held high. I hope this first song helps.”
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My heart warmed from Michael’s words. This was exactly what we needed, what this town needed. Sure, Dohkar and Telvrin had done a decent job keeping order, Dr. Forrik had been taking great care of all who had been injured at the concert, and even I was starting to break free of my funk, but there was still something missing.
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Morale.
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And THAT was where Michael came in. We might’ve done well to keep the people calm, but Michael could bring them together. He could say exactly what we all needed to hear to bring our spirits up. This was how we’d get through this.
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And before I knew it, it began…
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A single note from what sounded like a guitar came from the speakers before Michael began to play. I’d heard plehrs before, but this was the first time I’d heard a human use one to play a human tune. The melody was calm and steady, dual tones coming from the strings as Michael plucked at them.
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A sharp, driving, beat cracked from the speakers as Michael nodded and tapped his foot to the beat. The melody looped and continued, forever driving forward. I had to keep myself from swaying back and forth just to keep the camera still. Michael shook his head with the rhythm as he got into and began to sing.
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I hold my head up just enough to see the sky…
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And when we go, we won’t go slow. We’ll put up such a fight!
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When they fade into the dust and into ash…
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A smile formed on Michael’s face as he looked across the group of hatchlings in front of him.
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But all the children know, for sure this pain will surely pass.
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He continued, as if speaking just to them.
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Strong, and wise, and you are loved.
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And when the tide, it comes, you will float above, Cuz.
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And you will be, one day, exactly what you are.
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His head rose up to the ceiling, proclaiming his message to the heavens.
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Just keep your head held high! Kiss your fist and touch the sky!
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Not TOO LATE! to keep the world from dyin’.
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It’s not, TOO LATE! to spread the love you have.
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And ONE DAY! when we are ready for cryin’,
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ONE DAY! I know that we’ll be there, little girl…
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Protector…I forgot how much I missed this. I forgot how much I missed him. His voice. His singing. His spirit. He really HAD returned, more full of energy and fire than ever. The words of the song seemed to infect me, making me truly feel hope for the future. And I wasn’t the only one.
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All around me, tails and ears flicked in affirmation. Partners hugged and held onto eachother as the swayed to the beat. The hatchlings giggled and smiled, holding hands and listening to the music. Even that old grouch Telvrin was tapping a paw on his knee along with the rhythm.
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TOO LATE!
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Michael’s voice drew me back in, returning my focus to my task. I slowly zoomed in as he seemed to get serious. These next few words had to be important.
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The sound we hear, it is our hearts. They are in time.
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They’re marching clear and swift, the beat forever in our minds.
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It gives us hope. It’s gives a strength. You know, to carry on!
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Keep fighting ‘til the end and past the end, you will be strong!
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TOO LATE! to keep the world from dyin’!
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It’s not, TOO LATE! to spread the love you share!
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And ONE DAY! Wooohooohoo we’ll all be there…
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YEAYEAYEAYEAYEAYeah…
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Yes. This was what this town needed to hear. We might not know what comes next. We might not know what’s going to happen with The Guild, but so long as we all stick together, as a town, we’ll make it. We all will.
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Yeeees, we will…
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Michael continued playing his steady, ever forward-marching melody, as the combined voices of the chorus emphasized the beat. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Dohkar eyeing his pad before heading into the back.
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Slowly, it all faded away, and the song ended. As the crowded applauded and the hatchlings cheered, I couldn’t help but pick up Dohkar’s voice coming from the kitchen. It sounded like…he was…taking to someone…
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“You’ve got a lot of nerve calling now, Tevis-“
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…
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“Woah woah woah. Slow down! What are you talking about?”
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…
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“What do you mean, ‘lost contact’? For how long?”
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…
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“They’re still in there? But what does that have to do with-“
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…
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“Oh, you’ve gotta be-! How close?!”
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…
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“BRAHK!!!”
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CLATTER!!!
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Dohkar rushed back into the main sitting area and quickly made his way up to the stage.
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“Sorry to interrupt Music Night everyone, but I need you all to stay calm and follow my instructions: Starting with the women and pups, I want everyone to start making their way through that door, through the kitchen area and out the back entrance.”
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A combination of disgruntled complaining and confused, worried, murmurs spread through the crowd. Mothers quickly swarmed front of the stage collecting their hatchlings and making for the door to the kitchen area.
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“What’s going on?”
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Telvrin grunted and hopped off his bar stool.
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“Telvrin, keep the people calm and moving. Tevis just called. I don’t know the full story but we’re about to have company.”
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“Speh! Understood. Alright people, you heard the man! Everyone out! Single file! And stay together!”
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I was in the middle of stowing away my pad and fishing for my sidearm when I heard the sound of sirens and screeching tires outside.
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Exterminators...
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I looked up in a panic. There were still way too many people in here. We’d never get them all out in time.
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“DOHKAR! THEY’RE HERE!”
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“DAMMIT!! EVERYONE, GO! GET OUT BEFORE THEY-“
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SMASH!!!
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I ducked behind a table, just barely dodging the shattered glass fragments from the door and windows. Heavy boots marched against the hard wood floors, only to stop, and be followed by the hiss of flamer fuel…
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“NO ONE MOVE!!! BY ORDER OF THE FIVE MEADOWS EXTERMINATOR GUILD!”
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Memory Transcript Subject: Teylim, Yotul Refugee Sponsor Date:[Standardized Human Time] January 15, 2137
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The air was humid and smelled of fresh fruit and herbs. It was a clean smell, a very clean smell, one I was very fond of, and one Tohba very much didn’t like. For this smell only ever filled the air during one completely horrid, truly traumatic time for him…bathtime.
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Luckily for him, the ordeal was already over and I was currently busy ruffling him up with a towel. I was just in the middle of drying off his head fur when I noticed just how funny he looked in his towel. It was far too big for him, which meant when he was all wrapped up in it, he looked more like a pile of white fluff with nothing but the very tip of tiny brown snout sticking out of it.
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The hilarity only grew when said tiny snout stuck an even tinier green tongue out at me.
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“Pthoo!”
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I giggled relentlessly at my precious joey’s antics before nuzzling his little nose with mine.
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“I love you, my joey.”
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“Wuv you, Mama.”
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Speaking of joeys, I do hope Michael’s alright…
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My mind wandered as I continued drying Tohba off. Michael’s recovery this past week had nearly been night and day. Even the psychologist I found for him said as much. Still, I couldn’t help but worry. While he HAD recovered some, he still hadn’t fully healed. Not physically and DEFINITELY not mentally. I had a feeling we’d be working on THOSE particular wounds for a while yet.
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“Mama? When Mikey come home?”
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Precious joey…
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“Well, it IS music night at your Uncle’s so he might not be here by bedtime…”
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“Awwwweee…”
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Poor precious…
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“But don’t you worry. Knowing our dear Mikey, I’m sure the first thing you see when you wake up will be him.”
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While that did seem to reassure him some, it was clear he was still a little sad. In all honesty, I was too, a little.
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He should be home…resting…
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But I had to believe in him. He’d be fine. I knew he would. I’ll just have to wait…
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Bang!!!
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“Or he’ll be back early.”
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“YAAAYYY!! MIKEY HOME!!”
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I’ll admit, I was pretty excited as well. And it was nice hearing that things had finally returned to somewhat normal, as far as the doorframe goes.
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Still the same, goofy, spaceman.
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Since I was still busy in the bathrooms, I decided instead to shout back towards the front door.
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“Good paw, Mi-!”
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BANG!!!
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Wait…that…didn’t sound right…
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BANG!!!
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That’s not the doorframe… That’s the door!
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BANG!!! CRACK!!!
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[Warning!: Anxiety Response Spiking Rapdily!: Attempting To Compensate…]
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That’s not Michael…
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BANG!!! BANG!!! CRACK!!
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“WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, PRIMITIVE!! BY ORDER OF THE FIVE MEADOWS EXTERMINATOR GUILD, FOR AIDING AND HOUSING A KNOWN PREDATOR, YOU ARE TO SUBMIT YOURSELF AND YOUR PUP FOR IMMEDIATE PREDATOR DISEASE SCREENING!!!”
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BANG!!! CRACK!!!
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“M-Mama…? Whad goin’ on…?”
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BANG!! CRACK!!! CRACK!!!
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. . .
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No…
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Next

I own a Polyphemus for home defense, since that's what Lazy Mattman intended. Four Frowning Gapers break into my treasure room. "What the devil?" As i grab my Mom's Wig and Mega Tears. Blow a golf ball sized hole through the first gaper, he's dead on the spot. Draw my Haemolacria on the second Gaper, miss him entirely because of my high range and nails a fly on the other side of the room. I have to resort to the Urn of Souls mounted atop the item pedestal loaded with spirit flames. "Chaos deniers in shambles!" The blue fire burns two Gapers to a crisp, the sound and extra smoke set off a nearby challenge room. I grab my Mom's Knife and charge the last terrified meatshield. He bleeds out waiting on the Bishops to arrive since the knife deals damage per tick. Just as Lazy Mattman intended.

Felt the need to make this subreddit as public golf on LI is in complete shambles. This is meant to draw attention to the current state of golf in our area, specifically Nassau County. Stacked tee times, overpriced 9 holes, bots buying up all the EisenhoweBethpage tee times at 8:00 on Sundays. Share your experiences about LI golf here! I'm convinced this is (minus places that have 0 golf courses) the worst place in the country to play golf.

In the Land of Law, chaos reigned.
As we all stood (those of us who could stand) we had only six hours left until our last day, Recognition Day, ended. Once it was over, we would never be smacks (freshmen at The Citadel) again. The worst year of our life would be behind us. Forever.
It was also the last time the upperclassmen could get their licks in on my classmates. Seniors would be graduating and when they did they‟d never get to beat on a smack again.
I’d seen many unbelievable things in the last twenty-four hours since Recognition Day had begun. One of them was being dropped for push-ups in the hellhole, the small area at the base of the bottom of our spiral staircase. What we didn’t know was that someone had dropped light bulbs into the hellhole the night before so when we dropped to start cranking out the push-ups a few smacks cut their hands open.
Mr. Kenney, an upperclassman, heard someone gasp as his hand landed on glass and ordered us to stand up. He looked at smack Prindle’s hand and said, “We’ve got enough goddamn pussy smacks from this fucking company in the infirmary. Take care of it yourself.”
Fourteen years later Mr. Kenney’s head would be separated from his neck during a rocket attack on a mountaintop in Afghanistan.
Finding tape and gauze was not easy. Every smack’s room was a wreck. The night before upperclassmen herded us in packs from one smack’s room to another. As a result every smack room on all divisions was a shambles. In each room we did pushups, sit-ups, crunches, or simply hung by our exhausted arms from our full presses (the standalone steel closets we hung our clothes in) or the steam pipes that ran through each room until our arms gave out and we cried when we tried to make a fist.
Desks were upended, chairs knocked over, beds overturned. There was hardly any furniture in the rooms but they still looked like a disaster. The contents of half-presses(what silly-villains outside the gate call a chest of drawers) and desks mixed in with the gunk that had been yanked out from beneath the sink and dumped on us while we were grinding out pushups in the room. Some upperclassmen just went through rooms to wreck them for no other reason than getting one last dig at us before it was all over.
During the past twenty-four hours we‟d had two smacks wounded. The first was smack Everett who was hauled off on a stretcher in the middle of the night, his skull cracked into pieces (cracks from which would emerge an honor trial). The second one had been one of the ten of us packed into a room with two upperclassmen. One of the upperclassmen, a huge backwoods redneck country boy named Kinard ordered us to do sit-ups. So we all did sit-ups in that room. We would knock heads with each other and some even cried but all of us moaned.
Kinard said we weren’t “putting out” enough, weren’t sweating hard enough, weren‟t all crying. He reached under the room‟s sink for things to pour on us. Windex, 409, green scouring powder we used to scrub the toilets the upperclassmen puked in when their leave ended at midnight on weekends.
Everything and anything he could find under the sink he dumped on us as we writhed on the floor.
One of the things he did was pour brass cleaner onto smack Kim’s eyes. When Kim started screaming an upperclassman pulled him out by his legs while another shouted at us to work harder. But nighttime was now over and it was daylight. We were no longer half naked, screaming, sweating in a dark room with someone pouring Ajax on our faces.
Lunch at The Citadel was always terrible for smacks because of the abuse involved. The Lunch for Recognition Day, however, was a smorgasbord at a slaughterhouse. We had to eat whatever culinary catastrophes the upperclassmen fixed for us.
At lunch I’d watched in horror as an upperclassman poured two bottles of ketchup into a platter of squash and then dumped a jar of mustard into it. He ladled the resulting hazardous waste onto bread and made three sandwiches.
He told me to eat the first one while he found stuff to add to the other two. With every bite of that culinary abortion I gagged and felt something hard, warm, and round rise up to the back of my throat.
When I finished it, he handed me a glass of tea filled with pepper, ranch dressing, mustard, and grape jelly. I drank it and then had to eat the ice cubes dipped in salt and mustard and peanut butter – one by one.
When he handed me the second sandwich he said, “Here’s some peanut butter and ziti. Eat up.”
Whatever that hard round thing in the back of my throat was it leapt into my mouth the second bite.
The upperclassman stared at me calmly as my eyes popped open, my cheeks bulged out and I looked for something to vomit into. Every table has a steel bowl of ice on it and I yanked ours under my mouth just as I threw up the first sandwich and that glass of tea.
When the heaves stopped I looked down into the bowl of cold regurgitation looking so much like a cannibal‟s gazpacho. That‟s when the upperclassman handed me a spoon. I vomited again after the third spoonful.
Then the regimental adjutant called second rest which meant the meal was over.
The upperclassman got up and walked away from the table leaving me to get up from the table and stagger back to the barracks. As I did, upperclassmen from all around pointed at me.
“Look at that fucking smack! He’s walking like he’s got a load of Jell-O up his ass!”
“What’s the matter, smack? Didn’t you like lunch?”
“If you thought puking was bad wait till you have to take a shit!”
“You goddamn smacks have no fucking system! You don’t deserve a goddamn recognition day!”
“It’s not too late to quit, smack! It’s never too late!”
Now it was after lunch and we were sprinting around on the galleries and heading back to our company. The shouting was so loud in the battalion. There was music pumping from somewhere, Steely Dan’s “Back Jack, do it again.”
We were bracing so hard. All year we’d rolled our shoulders back farther and farther, pulled our chins in until our Adam’s apple dropped down into our crotch so that we had three testicles. Upperclassmen would come behind us and run the side of their palm between our shoulder blades. If there was room for their palm that meant we weren’t rolling back far enough. “Pull ‘em back!” they would shout. “Farther! Farther!”
I swear to God, when my smack year was over I was temporarily double-jointed.
Our only goal after lunch once we got back to our company from the mess hall was to stay on our feet long enough to hear the officer of the guard come on the Public Address system and say, “Class of 1994, the fourth class system is now over.”
We were all on the galleries now with only about five or six hours left until the end, until it was supposed to be all over for good. I was on the second division with my vomit-smeared shirt on when I heard the shouting. My pants sagged because moments earlier I’d had one of the most disgusting shitbag sophomores yank off my belt and then wrap it around one of the metal bars on the railing that ran along the gallery. The shitbag pulled back and forth on it, dragging it across the bars until smoke actually started to rise from the belt. I’d worked on that belt for months by rubbing heel & sole edge dressing across it until it was a fucking disco belt.
After the belt was smoldering and all the paint had been stripped off the bar on the railing he dropped it on the cement floor. At that moment I knew exactly what he was going to do and my shoulders slumped in expectation. I’d paid off one of my classmates, Ward, who was from Tallahassee, Florida, to get the buckle “blitzed” (lacquer removed and shined) like I wanted it after I’d destroyed two buckles (one I set on fire to try and get the lacquer off). I went to Ward because I realized that “blitzing” the buckle was something I could not do. And your belt buckle was the most noticeable part of your uniform.
How the fuck was I going to blitz another one? Ward, the guy who I’d finally gotten to blitz the thing wasn’t coming back next year. In the very beginning of Hell Week back in August Ward had been generous and glad to help. He’d come to us from a religious college that prepared students for the seminary. He later told us he considered the Catholic college he’d come from as a much more liberated place than The Citadel could ever be. But he was leaving at the end of our first year, proving that often the best of a group are the first ones to leave.
That shitbag upperclassman didn’t disappoint my expectations when he hauled his fat ass up into the air with a jump. With the grace of a leapt whale now falling back to water he landed the heels of his shoes on the buckle. Then he did it again.
Cracking a fellow smack’s head open I could understand and accept. Blood and guts were part of Lima Company and The Citadel. But destroying that buckle. That was too much.
Now I was watching something unbelievable happen in front of me in the no-man’s-land between Lima and Kilo Companies. In heading toward the source of the shouts I saw something that was horrifying but somehow made perfect sense. It involved my classmate Prindle who was a perennial problem.
Prindle’s hand was taped with athletic tape from the cuts that morning. And that hand was curled into a punch and taking a swing at the face of an upperclassman. Here, on the galleries of the Land of Law, the Citadel’s Third Battalion, Prindle was in a fistfight with an upperclassman! During my smack year I saw a lot of ridiculous things. But this was unbelievable.
A fistfight between a smack and an upperclassman was so bizarre I couldn’t believe my eyes. The most ridiculous part of the whole nightmare was that Prindle had picked a fight with Vipperman: a short, angry guy with a lump of red hair. Prindle couldn’t have beat Vipperman even if he’d been asleep. If there is reincarnation then I believe in a former life Vipperman had been a lion that ate Christians tossed into the Roman Coliseum.
Vipperman was the closest thing to a Nazi I will ever meet. A year after the fistfight Vipperman would be the one cadet a year who would undergo special forces training over the summer to qualify for the Green Berets. He would be one of the few who would complete the training and not quit. He was that tough.
Transfixed by the fight I did something just as unimaginable – I stood still on the galleries. That’s the one thing smacks are never to do. The rules are run here, run there, run in place, do push-ups, run some more, scream every now and then.
Prindle didn’t have a chance but he’d managed to pick a fight anyway, his foolhardiness being nothing new. Prindle had slowly made the transformation into something of a punk during smack year – a transformation that only hardened over the next three years. That transformation has been, to me, one of The Citadel’s great losses.
Despite his thuggish talk, Prindle was excellent at dodging punches and had a horrible swing. This made his transition to thug even sadder because if he was going to act like a thug you would hope he learned to be an effective one after throwing away such a fantastic future. But the guise and tongue of a thug was what he took on, not the fighting skills.
As I watched the fight somebody pushed past me and I saw it was Anderson. He was a Marine in the Reserves who’d arrived at Hell Week fresh from his boot camp at Parris Island. On our first day he didn’t really have any hair to shave off.
Sadly, Vipperman being the animal that he was saw Anderson coming and decided to aim for a target he could hit. And Anderson ran right into it. In rushing to aid a classmate Anderson was paid back with a punch square in the dead center of his chin, while Prindle had yet to take a single punch.
Anderson squinted his eyes shut, backed up a few feet, then fell back against the wall. The crowd around us went silent probably because they expected Anderson to fall down dead. But he didn’t. Instead Vipperman just sent him to limbo. Then to my horror I found myself running forward at Vipperman. Why I was doing it I don’t know. Prindle had treated me worse than the upperclassmen. Perhaps I was still caught up in the stupid belief that we were all in this together. That teamwork mattered, that I wasnt part of a company that inspired hatred and backstabbing, that encouraged betrayal and promoted hostility in the ranks.
When I slapped my hands down on Vipperman’s shoulders I had no fucking idea what the hell I was supposed to do. There was no doubt in my mind that from the moment I grabbed Vipperman to the second he easily stepped out of my grip, spun around, and swung at me that I was going to be hit. But instead, luckily, he missed.
“Your brother can’t save you!” Vipperman spat at Prindle, which hit the nail right on the head. Prindle‟s brother was a junior over in Golf Company, a dumpy potato of a guy whose one distinguishing characteristic was that he had been one of two cadets from the entire school to wear the medal of an air force flight officer. The air force during that time was very selective about pilots and only gave two guaranteed flight slots to the school. One of them had gone to Prindle‟s brother which led the rest of the school to wander around scratching their heads. He presented an especially bewildering image. Cadets thought pilots were dashing, masculine types who girls fought over. Prindle’s brother was as masculine as a set of pearl earrings.
It was a known fact that Prindle would get in trouble and then his brother would come along and get him out of it. It wasn’t that Prindle’s brother pulled a lot of weight, but that medal on his chest marked him as pretty special. (The entire Corps burst into laughter, though, when a year later the air force rescinded the medal meaning that the only thing Prindle‟s brother would fly in the air force was a desk.)
In response to having a brother who took care of him Prindle got more and more arrogant. I would have loved to see Vipperman clean his clock. Instead I was doing my best to keep that from happening.
Prindle’s swings were weak and wide while Vipperman’s were hard and sharp.
Unfortunately not one of Vipperman’s punches connected and if just one had Prindle would be the third smack carried out of my company to the infirmary on a stretcher in the past twenty-four hours. In the fight the only thing that Prindle had proved to everyone watching was that Vipperman was right – he was a stone cold pussy and that without his brother around he really was useless.
The funny thing about all the cadets on the division gathering around us was that no upperclassman tried to stop the fight. I think that was because everyone wanted to see Prindle get laid out. He and his brother had pretty much exhausted everybody in the corps. Everyone hated them both.
Then a hand landed on my shoulder and pushed me back against the gallery wall. I spun around, ready to take a swing at what I sure was Vipperman’s demonic and bloodthirsty roommate, Cadet Corporal Smith.
A lot of upperclassmen were certifiably insane, but Smith wasn’t. He was a sober-eyed sadist who would torment smacks for hours on end. Once when I was on guard Smith got chewed out by the sergeant of the guard because he had a smack in his room being tortured for hours while the smack’s family was waiting down in the sally port to take him to dinner.
Smith fed off the suffering of the smacks sweating it out underneath him. And what was so frightening was the cool, detached way he could observe what was going on right underneath his nose. He was a black badge, heading into the army after graduation.
Right after seeing him go to work on some smack I decided army life wasn’t for me.
Instead of Smith or some other sadistic upperclassmen standing in front of me there was only the bewildered and anxious face of my battalion commander, Cadet Lieutenant Colonel Clabby. I’d been on his mess before and he was something of a sarcastic smartass who was always asking questions about the mating habits of yaks and wildebeests that none of the smacks could answer. He played in a rock band in the school talent show that had sounded god awful.
Some looks can speak volumes but Clabby‟s only said one word – terror. Then he said the words. The words that I remember to this day, words that shook the very foundation of my being when he said them in a jittery tone of voice that frightened me because it was a glimpse at where The Citadel was headed.
“You’ve gone too far.”
Clabby looked around and then remembered that he was still the highest-ranking person in his battalion. Tired of looking ridiculous he grabbed Vipperman and pushed him back against the wall. True to form Vipperman (still in a blind rage) swung at Clabby and connected.
Clabby was then thrown back against the wall next to Anderson. Grabbing his jaw and pushing himself away from the wall, Clabby shouted, “Clear the goddamned galleries! Every single swinging dick in this company is confined to their rooms! Now!”
A few minutes later we heard the second battalion officer of the guard come over the public address system in the barracks and give an order that the galleries in Third Battalion were to be cleared immediately.
The damage, however, was done. For the next four years for those of us who saw that fight would never forget the chaos that unfolded around us so quickly. Order had broken down. Things had happened far too fast even for the system to catch it.
And we would have to live with that memory.
Forever.
The violence didn’t just “start” on Recognition Day. The day before we charged the stairs. That was when all of the upperclassmen in a company stood on the first flight of stairs leading from the shirt-tuck well/Hellhole to the second division. All of them stood packed onto the stairs, mashed between the peeling steel railing and the concrete walls.
Upperclassmen screamed at us and waved to us, daring us to come up the stairs as all the smacks in my company sprinted from lunch to Smack Burns‟s room in front of the stairs. All of us packed in there together were excited, frightened, and drenched with sweat. As soon as all of us were there we looked around the room for someone to say “go.”
Outside on the stairs the upperclassmen were each trying to make themselves more insulting than the others by throwing out profanity and insults. They screamed about pussies and faggots and pieces of shit.
“Brown, you fatty! Get out here so I can rip that belly off you and sell it by the pound!”
Or
“Grant, that cross-eyed mother of yours won’t know who you are after I cut that big nose off for a doorstop!”
Or
“‘‟m going to smash all the brains out that fat ass of yours, Gooding!”
Cadets who had attended airborne school in the army told me that you’re in a line that shuffles forward when the time to jump comes. You just shuffle forward, then – amazingly – you’re standing in an open door looking several thousand feet down at the ground. Then you jump. No thinking about it, no pausing, no stopping. You just shuffle forward by habit and then you’re falling so fast you can’t even scream. No thought or planning involved. It just sort of happens.
That’s what occurred in that room. The door opened onto the galleries. (Who did it I don’t know.) No one in the room had said anything. There was no signal. Simply put, the noise from the staircase exploded into the room louder than any artillery when the door opened. Then we smacks just started shuffling forward toward the door, the noise on the stairs getting louder and louder as we did.
When I got to the door I saw several of my classmates in front of me, wrestling and fighting with upperclassmen. One of my classmates was picking himself up off the ground, both lips split. Another was inside the Hellhole and had climbed up the side of the stairs and was punching two upperclassmen and trying to climb over the railing. Both of them were pushing and punching him back.
What I was supposed to do I had no idea. How does one enter a gangbang of pummeling? Running forward I felt my stomach punted through my back.
Falling down,I grabbed my stomach and fell to my knees. I tried not to vomit even though I wished I could. If I could maybe I could spit up the shoe that I felt was lodged in my stomach after the kick.
Picking myself up off the ground, I stood up and shuffled toward the stairs.
I couldn’t tell if my classmates had made any progress. There was just a mass of cadets in gray punching each other.
As I shuffled forward I looked around on the gallery and saw Edwards, a pot-bellied Neanderthal senior who rarely shaved, kneeling down on the galleries beside me, his face purple. His head was resting on the cement beneath his knees and he had both hands cradling his testicles.
A junior, Cobb, was standing on the galleries, one hand on the wall for support, another covered in bloody bile and shoved in his mouth, wiggling teeth.
Tantalo, a short and squat smack, had his arm around Haskett, another smack, and was helping him walk away. A bloody piece of Haskett’s cheek flapped back from his face like someone had shoved a nail in it and then ripped it back. Tantalo’s shirt was yanked out of his pants and someone had yanked down his shirt pocket, revealing his undershirt.
Still unsteady, I lurched forward and barreled past some cadets and made it up four whole steps. With every step came a punch but since I was bent over slightly, most of the blows landed on my sides and back. Everyone, however, has an Achilles Heel.
Somebody found mine with an uppercut. Immediately after a fist rocketed up under my chin I heard an “Ow! Fuck!”
Missing the first step entirely, I fell backwards from the second step to the gallery’s cement floor and landed on my back where the ceiling above me spun around a few times. Then several people walked on my legs and arms as they staggered backward or fell from the stairs. I shouted but in all that chaos who would hear me?
Getting up, I leaned against the wall for a second. Looking up, I could see that there were a lot less gray shirts on the stairs. The goal was for a smack to make it to the second division which would signal the end and stop the fighting.
Except no one cared that smacks had made it because I could see several of them running around on the second division. Upperclassmen and smacks were still whaling on each other, clubbing and scraping and kicking and biting. Who wanted to run up to the stairs and win when beating each other senseless was far more fun?
One more time I ran up the stairs. No one hit me, probably because they were too engaged in the dance partner they were going to wrap this all up with. I got to the second division and ran down the gallery to Smack Prieto’s room.
Slamming the door behind me with no one in it but me I tried to figure out what had just happened to me and why getting to this floor was worth major damage to my internal organs and teeth.
At that moment I heard the Second Battalion officer of the guard screaming into the PA system that Lima Company was to clear the galleries at once. The officer of the guard shouted once more then a gruffer voice seized the microphone.
“This is Captain Hilliker, United States Army. I order Lima Company cadets to report to their rooms this goddamned minute!” Hilliker was our company TAC Officer, an active duty officer who supervised Lima Company. He was a tough but decent guy I’d dealt with a few times.
He was an Army Ranger going back to grad school so he could be assured of clearing the long jump from lieutenant colonel to colonel. His degree would be in business and he didn’t understand any of it.
One night when I was serving as private of the guard on guard duty he ate at our mess while he read his textbooks. All he did the whole time we ate with him was swear, eat erasers, and break pencils. With a tone that didn’t match his usual dominant personality he asked if any of the cadets at the table were business majors. He sounded like he’d just given the order to retreat.
When all of us answered no he bit a pencil in half and shoved one half in his book then slammed it shut in the manner that only someone who knew how to kill with his bare hands could. Communists, terrorists - he could handle anyone with a gun but spreadsheets could crush him pretty easy. He spat the other half of the pencil out of his mouth onto the mess hall floor and smashed it with his boot heel while getting up to leave.
Back in Smack Prieto’s room I dropped down on my ass on the floor and leaned back against his steel half-press. As the adrenaline emptied from my veins my body grew sore and my jaw felt like it had been reset.
To understand one of the reasons why I went to The Citadel and ultimately why my life’s ambition was to be a Marine Officer, I have to look back to a day on the beach when I was in fifth grade. Like most days in Florida it was warm. What month it was I don’t know. What I remember is that it was warm enough for my father and me to sit out on the beach in folding chairs. He was living in a house on the beach, one of several residences he’d had since Mom ordered us all to pack up and she officially left him. The divorce had been going for several months, maybe longer.
Those days were my first combat experiences because what was being waged between my two parents was a guerilla war to end all wars. It had all the brutality of the Somme and a feeling of futility that only the doomed members of the charge of the Light Brigade could understand. Mom and her lawyer believed that nothing was off-limits during the trial and my father was still struggling to accept that Mom was playing the kind of hardball with him that she was playing.
It was a gray day and my father and I were sitting out on the beach on one of his visitation weekends. Like usual I was the only one who had volunteered to visit him, his increasing anger at Mom and his violent displays of temper were simply too much for my brother and sister so they declined to come.
But I wanted to go. I saw these visits as proof of my loyalty to my father. Proof that he could count on me as he always could before. When my father and Mom were married I was always cleaning up the messes he made when he staggered around the house, dead drunk. I was glad to do it because I wanted so badly to show him that I was loyal and faithful and all the things a good son could be.
I guess that’s why I didn’t see what was coming my way when my father and I unfolded those chairs on the beach. Up until that moment I was still in awe of him. All of that, however, was about to come to an end.
My father was known in our home and around town as a war hero. He had fought in every major battle in Vietnam from Khe Sanh to the Tet Offensive.
People knew him as an angry Vietnam Vet who had yet to get over all of the bodies and horrors he’d seen fighting in Vietnam. One time he told me, “You can’t imagine all of the people who have just died like that,” and snapped his finger, “right in front of me.”
A number of his bunkmates from Parris Island were killed in Vietnam. One of them was shot through the gut when they were in a bunker together at Khe Sanh. My father told me that at Khe Sanh there were huge waves of Vietcong rushing up the side of a hill toward the American base. He was desperately trying to hold back the horde but not making a dent.
“We could only kill so many of them. There were just too damn many,” he’d say in the story he repeated to numerous people hundreds of times.
I don’t remember what he said his bunkmate’s name was. I only remember that he died horribly.
Every time my father told the story he cried, regardless of who his audience was.
His bunkmate simultaneously tried to breathe and scream in agony. And my father couldn’t do anything for him because the Vietcong kept coming. They had to be stopped or at least my father had to try to stop them. So he cradled his dying friend with one arm and continued to shoot with the other.
He couldn’t hear his friend’s attempts to speak over the shooting and the shoutingand the carnage that was going on all around them in the bunker. It was only between bursts from his rifle that he could glance down and see that his friend was dying slowly and in sheer agony.
Listening to his stories was hard for me as I think it was for anyone who heard them. It was a rare moment that I could listen without crying. Most people in my hometown were the same way. Once my father got going on Vietnam the tears started.
“He tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t hear him,” my father would say as his voice quivered. “I was too busy firing with my other hand. There were so many of them. They just wouldn’t stop coming. A few minutes after I had pulled him to me so I could hold him he was dead.”
There were others my father saw die right in front of him – Marines killed by landmines, a poor private shot in the head by a sniper, a gunnery sergeant killed in an ambush, many others who were killed instantly and suddenly in a burst of machine gun fire or vaporized by an incoming mortar shell.
My father was a true warrior and I idolized him.
“Why did you lie to your head shrinker?” my father asked me after we’d sat down on the folding chairs in the sand. What a head shrinker was I didn’t know so I just stared back at my father. He had a look on his face that said he was struggling with something.
A pained look.
“You lied to your head shrinker – what’s his fucking name? Rick? You lied to him about me.”
Mom had put me in therapy with a psychologist named Rick a few months after she left him. I liked him but I think I would have liked any man she paired me up with. It was the first time in my life where I had contact with a man on a regular basis and there was something wonderful about it I didn’t dare admit to my father. Most of the time with Rick was spent talking about Mom and my father and the divorce. My father had violently objected to me being sent to see Rick. But his violently objecting to anything was nothing new.
“I didn’t lie to him,” I said, bewildered, not sure where this conversation was going.
“Yeah you did. You told him I told you I went to Vietnam. I never said I went to Vietnam.”
There are no words for what I felt at that moment besides emptiness. The man who I barely knew yet was fiercely proud of, the man who had defined patriotism and courage for me had disappeared as instantly as one of the poor Marines who were vaporized by an explosion in his stories. My whole life up until that point ended abruptly.
Rick had been asked to testify at one of the divorce hearings and he did so, gladly.
What he told the judge that day behind closed doors (which I’m sure my father was thankful for) was quite possibly the most startling piece of gossip ever unearthed in our small little town. Amazingly, it never left the judge’s chambers.
“You’ve failed me, Shane. You’ve failed me as a son,” my father then said.
That was it. He didn’t say anything else and only sat there until he went back inside for a beer and didn’t come back out. I sat on the beach in that chair for the rest of the day until the sun went down and the beach grew cold.
From that moment on I‟ve been trying to prove something to myself that I can’t quite understand. I only know it took root in me on that beach that day and would have enormous consequences in my life. Not only was my father a coward, I realized, but he was an enormous liar and a disgrace to the Marine Corps he was so proud of.
That day was also the day I vowed, secretly, to become a Marine – and not just a Marine but a Marine officer. In that single humiliating moment when I realized my father was a coward I vowed I could redeem myself with the same uniform that he’d sullied with his cowardice – that I could not just become a Marine but lead Marines. It was a secret I guarded closely for most of my life.
Sadly, when Dad liked about his actions in Vietnam it wasn’t just consequences with me that he faced. Once I was watching the show “Sixty Minutes” and there was a segment about a man who had received the Congressional Medal of Honor in World War II. On the show he talked about his new job – finding people who made false claims to have fought in wars and exposing them as cowards and frauds. When I was watching it I felt a touch of fear. How could I not feel that way? The man was hunting my father.

Hi Everyone!
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Get ready for a festive St. Patrick's Day weekend with a variety of events, including the whimsical Shamrocks and Shenanigans Festival at A. Smith Bowman Distillery, Barley Naked Brewery's St. Patrick's Day celebration featuring their award-winning beers, and the lively St. Patrick’s Dueling Pianos at Potomac Point Winery. Additionally, join the Grand Slamrock 5K to celebrate the season and cap off the weekend with the St. Patrick’s Day Shambles golf event at Augustine Golf Club for a day of fun, music, and outdoor activities.
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Shamrocks and Shenanigans, March 16, 2024, 11 AM, A. Smith Bowman Distillery, Get ready for a day filled with whimsical shenanigans at our inaugural Shamrocks and Shenanigans Festival sponsored by the Fredericksburg Roller Derby on Saturday, March 16th from 11:00 a.m.-4:00 p.m.
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A Barley Naked St. Patrick's Day, March 16, 2024, Fresh off their Gold Medal at the Great American Beer Festival, Barley Naked Brewery will have a St Patrick’s Day event From 12 pm to 9 pm, Address: 15 Tech Parkway, Stafford, VA, USA.
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St. Patrick’s Dueling Pianos at Potomac Point Winery, Get ready to sham-rock and roll this St. Patrick’s Day Weekend with an evening of music, merriment, and mayhem! Join us for a lively piano show featuring Irish tunes, comedic twists, and audience interaction. Enjoy our “nibbles & wine” menu, including Shamrock Sangria, while tapping your feet to the beat! Doors open at 7:00 pm, show runs from 7:30 pm – 9:30 pm. Tickets are $27 per person, including seats and entertainment. Shared seating for up to 10 guests per table adds to the fun!
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Grand Slamrock 5K, March 16, 2024, Fredericksburg, VA 22401, Come and celebrate St. Patrick's Day and the approach of baseball season at the 3rd Annual Grand Slamrock 5K. This is the perfect event to slide into Spring after you've dug out from a long winter of cold and snow. Runners and walkers alike are welcome to join us in this race! The 5K is stroller-friendly, but no dogs are allowed in any of the races, so leave the pups at home!
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St. Patrick’s Day Shambles, Alright Golfers Augustine Golf Club will be holding an event on Sunday, March 17, 2024, at 11:00 am, Format: Four-Player Team, Shamble Registration: AGC MEMBERS $49 • GUESTS of MEMBERS $79 • PUBLIC GOLFERS $99; Includes Green and Cart Fee, Range Balls, Post-Play Buffet, Prizes and more!
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If you like to learn more about this weekend's festivities perfect for couples check out the Couple's Call Newsletter.
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Here's the link below 👇
www.couplescall.com
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Enjoy your weekend!
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My friend Carl and I played in a member guest tournament that he was kind enough to invite me to. I was stoked to play his course and have a few relaxing days of golf with a friend I hadn't seen in a while.
The first day format was a shamble, the second day was straight up combined score adjusted for handicap .
But his club for some idiotic reason chose to play no maxes, PGA tour rules, finish everything etc. Huge, huge mistake.
Let me preface this story by saying, my buddy Carl is a bad golfer. He is playing off a 31 handicap, so I knew it was gonna be slow and it could get rough.. but what I saw that second day during the straight up play is the worst golf I've ever seen an adult human, man or woman, play, and the play was frankly the least embarrassing thing about the day... It devolved into something out of a golf nightmare..
The first hole started out ok, he took a double bogey, I bogeyed, and we moved on.. Driving to number 2 is where things took a turn.. to get there you have to drive through this long, dark, tunnel.. What I didn't know is that apparently this wasn't actually a tunnel at all, it was a black hole that bridges our realm with golfing hell.. and in golf hell, Carl is the worst golfer in the history of all realities..
Starting on that 2nd hole it was like something in him severed, and suddenly he completely lost the abilty to hit the ball... I'm talking completely whiffing multiple driver swings, fat shots so severe the ball doesn't move. He truly had the worst case of the fats I've ever seen.. I now understand where the phrase, "digging a hole to china," came from.. I just never knew it could be THAT literal..
Here are some of the most impressive feats of just the sober front 9..

1. He took 12 strokes to get out of a green side bunker... 12!! I told him to pitch out backwards and he simply refused. Real "Tin Cup" shit.
   
2. He took a 16 on a 138 yard par 3. He put 5 in the drink off the tee. He refused to use the drop zone.
   
3. He 8 putted from 7 feet
   
4. He hit 4 tee shots in a row OB right.. put his driver away, then teed up his driving iron and chunked it 4 feet. It didn't even leave the tee box.. He took a 14 on that hole
   

And let me remind you, these are just the highlights of the front 9.. this was before the alcohol..
By the back 9 Carl was so irate and embarrassed over how bad he was playing that he busted out the handle of tequila that he brought "just incase." That's when shit really got out of control.
He proceeds to start taking shots to ease his woes, of course being the gem of a playing partner that I am, I join him.. cause I'm dumb... but also because we are out of contention in the tournament, and I thought it might take the edge off the 2nd hand mortification I was experiencing just being in the presence of such play with fairly good playing partners on the other side.. (they were surprisingly patient and cool by the way).. Especially considering we were on pace for a 7 hour round. But fuck it at this point right?.. in for a penny?... Big mistake.
The Back 9
Carl decides it would be fun to do a shot for every stroke we are net over par.. per hole, ya know.. for "motivation." I agree, but I insist we go individual scores for that game, I didn't wanna be tied to his play.
Fast forward to hole 13..He's legitimately 11 shots of Casa Migos deep, which has significantly improved his mood, to the point he's now singing Uptown Girl aggressively loud and doing the can can while twirling his club after he hits a decent shot.. despite that levity, I'm begging him to slow down, but he's unhinged, which honestly is part of what made him a riot in college, and why we were friends back then.. I thought he'd have a better handle on things by now, apparently not.. but I digress.
A hole later he hits one OB.. again.. this time into someones back yard, but unlike the previous blunders, instead of re teeing he insists it'll be in play and we should go scope it out.. I agree reluctantly, assuming he might have some member knowledge that would be informing that judgement..
We pull up and find his ball sitting about 7 feet on the wrong side of someone's 4 foot backyard fence... I tell him we gotta go back and re tee, but he insists since there are no white stakes it's playable. Staggering over to the fence, he hops over and tries to play it, paying absolutely no attention to my adamant protests... He proceeds to fat whiff 2 ginormous divots out of this guys lawn.. and at this point I'm literally yelling at him to come back over the gate.. but lady Agàve has turned off his hearing.
Then to my absolute horror, I hear the crack of a sliding glass door.. I shit you not, the owner of the home comes outside and yells out a bewildered and resounding, "what the fuck do you think you're doing on my property," Carl says something to the effect of "chill out asshole I'll replace the divots". At this point the guy looks like he's about to bum rush him, but instead he stops, turns around, and goes back inside, with purpose in his step..
At this point I'm convinced he's gonna go grab a gun..
So I literally jump the fence, pick up his ball, and physically drag him by the arm back to the cart, and this motherfucker has the balls to complain i "picked up his ball".. "dude you are gonna get us shot what the fuck" "relax dude he was just being dramatic" 😑...
After that whole fiasco we then drive back to the box so he can re tee. To my spine curdling dismay, The group behind us is waiting to tee off and they've seen the entire altercation. Carl gets on the box and says, "sorry fellas gotta reload" and the dudes on the box start giving us shit about the slow play (rightly so), Carl escalates things (of course) and starts in on them as I profusely apologize and try my best to de-escalate everything..
He's so hammered now he can't even tee up his ball.. after several staggering attempts to get the damn thing to stay on the tee, success eludes him.. So he loudly exalts, "fuck it," and throws his ball down and proceeds to hit driver off the deck... Surprisingly he makes contact and hits a worm burner about 160 yards, which is honestly an improvement at this point. I take him back to the cart and we get the fuck out of there, as Carl antagonizes the guys the entire walk back to the cart. The highlight of the exchange being
Guys on the box - "You're an embarassment"
Carl - "Thanks Dad, good to hear from ya."
When we get to his ball that to my utter beguilment is in the fairway, I look back at the house where his ball was and sure enough. The owner is standing there at the edge of his property, a hunting rifle leaned against his shoulder, the barrel pointed to the sky. Standing there staring ominously at us... I'm freaking out at this point.. "relax dude he's not gonna do shit fuck that guy."
Carl's non chalance could only be attributed to the fact that he was feeling cozy in libation nation, an amnesty state where anxiety and completely rational worries alike go to die.. I on the other hand felt like my heart was gonna explode out of my fucking chest.. We couldn't get out of there fast enough.
By the next hole word had gotten around something was amiss.. someone had called the Marshals and they came out to check on everything. They pulled up and said something to the effect of "we've had some calls and complaints"...
Then Carl, out of nowhere, snaps into a different mode.. suddenly he's sobered up, and is talking to them like they are cops at a DUI checkpoint.. shockingly it's pretty convincing, like Adam Sandler trying to be a dramatic actor.. he explains away the whole "misunderstanding" with the home owner and promises to pick up the pace... To my utter shock, the Marshals buy it and let us keep playing.
By Hole 17 I was beyond ready for this round to be over, I was exhausted physically and mentally... and ironically this is where shit literally fell off the tracks.
Carl kept drinking after the Marshals left, (shocking I know) so now he is well over half of the handle of tequila deep.. I'm guessing he's somewhere around 16-18 drinks in. He's completely lost track of the drinking game and has just started drinking at leisure, and shit is now way past sloppy. Uptown Girl has become "Uptown Whore" a remix version with the most vile lyrics a drunk mind can conjur.. I still remember
"Uptown girl, be sure to give my dirty asshole a whirl" mind you he's singing this way too loudly, right in front of our sober, conservative, asian playing partners.. who I later found out were MDs.
Anyway.. On 17 he hits his ball down by the edge of a lake that's at the bottom of a large long grass slope. I tell him that looks too steep and that we shouldn't drive down there... he doesn't listen..
As he's driving down to his ball I can feel the cart starting to slip.. the unmistakeable and terrifying droning sound of wet grass slipping against rubber... Carl then slams on the breaks to try and regain control which causes the cart to start spinning. Genius.
Here we are, careening toward the water, in an all out flat spin, tequila, and any dreams I had for my future, flying everywhere... In this moment sheer instinct kicks in and I perform an all out, head first, Dennis Rodman style flying leap out of the cart.. Carl stays in, trying to regain control, but it's in vein, this cart may as well have been hit by a red shell.. Splash... Luckily the entire cart didn't go in, just the back end and wheels.
Carl then calmly gets out of the cart, He grabs his bag off the back, sloppily slings it over his shoulder, looks at me halfway up the hill where I lept out and says, "just leave it.."
Honestly I'm a little in shock at this point so I'm not sure exactly what he's talking about... Then it becomes clear. He wants to just leave the cart halfway in the lake.. I tell him, "are you crazy, we can't just leave the cart in the lake we have to try and get it out," so, beside myself with embarrassment, I ask our saintly and overly understanding playing partners to help us try and push / pull it out.. They kinda just shook their heads and let out a disappointed "sure," as if they had stopped trying to make sense out of this day a long time ago.. who could blame them.. Luckily with all four of us pushing/pulling and a hand on the accelerator pedal, we get the wheels to catch and get the cart out of the drink.
By 18 I'm so embarrassed, battered, and wired I feel like Tiny Turner doing lines of coke after a long night in with Ike... my adrenalin is pumping so hard after leaping out of that spinning cart that I finally boil over and lose it at Carl. I yelled something to the effect of.. "wtf is your problem we coulda died, this has been a complete shit show." He responded calmer and more apologetic than I expected.. saying something like, "sorry dude, I just over did it a bit, you know how it is." I think the cart adrenalin sobered him up a bit too..
Long story long...Somehow we finish the last hole and he cards a 173.. not our team score, he himself, shot a 173... the worst round of golf I've ever witnessed, or heard of to be frank.. Strangely enough, he actually shot better on the back.
Needless to say, we didn't stick around for the celebration dinner...
And in spite of all that, it was still better than a day at the office.

Backstory: We married young, I was 22, she was 25. Had two kids almost immediately, plus one that she had from a previous relationship. Married for 20 years, together for 22. Kids are now 23, 20, and 18. I am now 42, she is now 45.
In January of 2023 I made the difficult decision to walk away from that marriage. We had a lot of amazing times. But also a lot of incredibly difficult times. Throughout the marriage, I felt like I was the odd one out. She was all about the kids, and herself, and I always came last. She didn't respect me as a husband or father. I was there merely as someone to "help" her. Sex life was virtually non existent for the last 10 years or so. Maybe once a month, and our longest stretch without was over 6 months. I was thoroughly unhappy to my core. I wrote a suicide note, put it in an envelope, and then put it in my dresser. The next morning is when I decided that it was time for me to leave for my sake, and for my kids sake.
The split itself was fairly amicable. With our kids being basically independent young adults at this point, there really wasn't much to fight over. I moved out with my clothes and a few personal items, and that was it. I started the journey of rebuilding my life literally from scratch.
I stayed with a buddy for about 2 months until I could save up for my own place. In April 2023, I moved into a rental home. I had another friend donate a mattress to me, and that's all I had those first few nights. Slowly but surely, I have been building up my home. I found a cheap bed frame, some very used cheap furniture, dishes, washedryer, etc.
Not going to lie... those were some very dark and lonely nights. I went from living in a home with 5 people for 20 years to living alone in what felt like a blink of an eye. I am fortunate enough to have a great job with a good salary, and they were gracious enough to allow me a few mental health days away from the office whenever I needed them.
Our divorce paperwork was filed in May. And because we tried to keep the process as amicable as possible, our divorce was finalized in September, about 5.5 months ago. 2023 was by far the worst year of my life. Between my divorce, my dad going on suicide watch after a kidney transplant (he's ok now), my daughter spending several weeks in mental health clinics (she's ok now), and my newfound drinking problem, my life was in absolute shambles. Any friends that I thought I had... I apparently lost all of them in the divorce too. They all chose her side since I was the "asshole who walked away", and she cried victim. I have quite literally one friend that was able to see through the bullshit, and will still talk to me and hang out with me sometimes.
I discovered a new local bar, and basically planted my ass there a couple of times a week. Started doing very very very stupid things like driving home drunk, hoping that maybe I would end up driving off a bridge, or maybe get pulled over and put in jail (I know... it was extremely stupid and dangerous and selfish of me). Just a string of incredibly bad decisions one after another. It's scary how easy it is to fall into that life.
Around Thanksgiving of 2023, I was beyond depressed and lonely. Our benefits were renewing at work, and they mentioned their EAP (mental health assistance) program. I decided to give it a shot. I was connected to an online therapist who I could e-mail anytime I needed to, and they would reply. I was able to set up video conferences with them, and check in with them periodically. I've learned a lot about myself over the last few months.
January 2024 hit, and I made the resolution to essentially make this year my bitch. I started working out (since I had gained 40 lbs in the last year), stopped drinking quite as much, downloaded some dating apps, bought some new golf clubs, planned an overseas trip for later this year with my son, joined a new board gaming community, met some kick ass people, and am starting to really discover who I am, and what kind of person I want to be. I spent the last 20 years trying to fit myself into this ever shifting perfect mold of what my ex-wife thought I should be. Now... I just get to be myself.
There are downsides for sure. I don't get to see my kids as much as I used to. I lost my dogs, my home, my friends, and nearly all of my physical possessions in one fell swoop. The nights are lonely. I've had zero luck in the dating arena, no sex in 14 months.
But I smile more. I get excited for things again. I understand now the boundaries I need to create for myself. I'm enjoying more time with my family.
Am I one of the lucky ones? Perhaps? Really the only thing I had on my side is that I work for a great company, and make more than enough money that it hasn't been much of a worry. But I'm here to tell you that it's never too late to walk away. It's never too late to change. It's scary as hell, yeah... but remember... it's always darkest before dawn. And that sunrise is fucking worth every bit of what it took to get here.
My advice... stay strong my brothers. Work on you. Seek help if you need it (its worth it!!!). And forget about all of that other bullshit that you have no control over. Because that shit will only serve to eat you alive. Stick with the people who stick with you, everyone else can go die in a fire. :)

Part 26
Caliope pushed her sister's corpse off when I told her to and stood. She stepped forward, making me jerk a little, worried she might try something, but she kept her head down and simply stood before me.
"Come on," I said. She nodded.
I eyed her as I stepped out, but she just followed meekly. I made my staff float down into my hand, then burned a few more spells to charge my wells some more. Then I took Caliope by the arm.
I expected her to jump when I touched her, but she didn't. She didn't even flinch. She just stood there, eyes down. I reached inside of her, feeling the magic of the arcane channeling I'd carved into her flesh. I plucked a thread and pulled the excess magic into me. That would stop the magic making her metabolism race. Then, I poured in some healing magic, which closed up the still-bleeding wounds.
That just left the scars. There was nothing I could do about them. As far as I knew, there was nothing short of plastic surgery that could do anything about them, and even they might not stop the actual magical effect of the patterns, suppressing her ability. She was still some kind of half-vampire, but other than that, she was a normal woman, and would be for the rest of her life.
"Thank you," she said quietly as she saw the wounds closing, the scabs that had begun to form flaking off as the skin healed underneath them.
Experimentally, I gave her arm a hard squeeze. Hard enough to compress the bone and leave a nasty bruise, if I wasn't currently feeding her healing magic.
That time, she jerked. She cried out, a pained, short cry, then began to whimper.
"Don't you like that?" I asked.
"No," she said very quietly.
Interesting.
I reminded myself that there was approximately zero chance that this trauma had cured what was wrong with her. Even Nick, who had a hard break, had taken years of adjustment to turn into a good man. The notion that she would follow the same track Nick had was a fantasy, an unrealistic one. It was my brain's way of trying to cope with the guilt I'd been so eager to feel a moment ago.
But the numbness was still there. As was my curiosity, which had ever been my downfall. I tried something else. I turned into her, raising my left hand, my palm cradling the side of her right breast. I let a little of my aura slip and moved my face close to hers.
She began to tremble. She kept her face down, but I saw fresh tears drip off her cheeks. I let a little more aura loose, and she only continued to stand there like a sheep waiting for the butcher's blade.
I turned my aura back off and stepped back.
"You don't like that, either," I said.
"No," she whispered.
I couldn't help myself. "There may be hope for you yet, Caliope." I wanted to believe it. I also wished I could dismiss it.
----
We walked out to the guard station, where we took chairs, to wait until the vampires got through the wall. She sat down without complaint. She didn't even ask why we were just sitting there. After a few minutes, I had to fill the silence.
"There's fighting at the admin center right now," I said. "If I take you there, you're just gonna get shot."
She just nodded.
"I'm just waiting for a signal that it's time to go," I said. She nodded again.
I sighed. It was going to be a long wait.
----
About a half an hour after I made the wall, I heard the distant, hollow thud of the first electrical charge going off. I smiled, imagining a half dozen vampires burned to death and a dozen more writhing on the ground in agony.
We waited a while longer. A very long while longer. The silence stretched out until I finally checked my watch to see that it had been thirty-five minutes since the charge went off.
"Did they really give up after only one shock?" I wondered out loud.
"They'll never give up," Caliope said quietly.
"Well, they're not trying the plug again," I said. "And the walls all around us are poured slabs. As are the floor and ceiling. They might not stop, but they've certain paused."
Caliope didn't say anything else, so we sat for a while longer. Eventually, I couldn't take it, so I keyed my radio.
"This is Director Williams, somebody give me a report," I said.
A second later, the sound of intense gunfire came through my earpiece.
"This is Lieutenant Gordon, sir! We're under heavy attack! There's fighting inside the main admin building, but we're holding our own for now! We've pushed them back from the hall to the ops room, and they've only got the main entrance lobby and two or three rooms nearby!"
I keyed my radio again. "Roger that, Gordon. I'll see what I can do to assist."
I stood. "Change of plans," I said. "You're no longer worth the effort, so I'm leaving you here. I have no doubt I'll have to track you down later and take you out, but I'm reasonably sure you can't use your powers anymore, so at least you're not going to be helping them out too much. When they make it in here, just..." I sighed. "I don't know."
She nodded slightly without looking up. Figuring that was all the acknowledgement I was likely to get, I stepped out of the guard station. For whatever it was worth, I locked the door behind me.
Sitting around had let my wells refill significantly. Not entirely, but enough that I could operate at full capacity, if only for a short period of time. I spent a charge of my staff to teleport me a hundred feet straight up, then let the staff's levitation magic keep me aloft as I surveyed the scene.
The glowing cloud was dimming, but the complex was still far brighter than the pre-dawn night would have otherwise permitted. I let my eyes slip into the magical spectrum and scanned. First, the central building.
I could see both the living and dead, and they were all moving around chaotically. As expected, the vampires had been letting the prisoners loose, to help or escape. Either way was bad, but the immediate badness of those helping concerned me more.
I used some dream magic, not mixing it with anything, just layering it all over the building with a minor avatar who could read minds and mold the waking dreams it would produce into something pleasant. That should calm things down a bit. It would only affect those who weren't focused on any particular task, but it was better than nothing.
Next, I turned to the admin building. The gunfire was obvious, both from the sound and the muzzle flashes. I could see bodies running around, taking cover and shooting, or just shambling forward until they were either gunned down, or lunged at someone.
I picked out the living from the dead, and spun up an energy shield for each of the latter, with the shields attuned mainly to block out heat and force. Then I raised my rifle and triggered the laser spotter.
Divine magic, etched into the fabric of the universe years ago by Inanna with the help of Sarisa responded. The air began to sparkle as motes of light, tiny sparks of primordial flame, sprang into life. They drifted around lethargically, aimlessly, forming at the point the invisible laser was touching and spreading out until they filled the admin compound.
Next came the winds, blowing rotted or greasy hair around, making loose straps on the guards' uniforms flap. The breeze increased, changing directions steadily until it became a minor hurricane. It whipped the sparks into a frenzy, flowing around and around, smacking into energy shields with bright golden flashes, or burning through undead flesh in flashes of dirty gray smoke.
Finally, the tornado formed. It tore gravel and shrugs out of the ground, pushed golf carts around, ripped weathertops off the roofs of the building. But more importantly, it picked up zombie and vampire alike, catching them in its clutches, scouring them with millions of glowing sparks, burning the flesh off their bones and flinging them against the walls and the buildings around them, broken and charred.
It wasn't long before the buildings themselves began to come apart. A smaller structure, a mechanical building that held workshops for the tech staff was the first to go, the roof ripped off and the walls blown down. I watched the whole roof go flying, ripping bodies in half as they tumbled around the funnel of burning air.
Flames sprung up from the sparks as anything that could burn did. Vampires shrieked and died, zombies simply died quietly. When it finally began to die down, there was nothing left but the main building, which had lost a few corners, the outer admin complex walls and the shocked guards, protected by my magic.
The laser module was a potent spell. And it didn't cost me anything. But it could now not be used for a couple of days, which is why I'd been so stingy with it over the years.
I swept down, coming to a landing in the middle of the largest open area left, near the shed that had been ripped apart. The guards, who were all still shocked by their unexpected victory, gathered around.
Gunfire from inside the main building was fairly steady. Through the open gate, I could see more zombies approaching, a few dozen vampires no doubt hiding in the press of bodies.
"Gather up!" I shouted. "We're going in to hit them from the back and regroup with the guys inside!"
"Then what?" a guard with Lieutenant stripes on his sleeve asked.
"Then we'll be pushing back out," I said, gesturing to the entrance. "I was just flying over the compound. That's the last horde of zombies, right there. We're gonna cut them down, and then start mopping up."
I didn't mention the opened cells. That was going to make the cleanup far harder, but it was what it was.
The Lieutenant nodded, then grabbed another guard and began speaking to him. On their own, the rest began stacking up against the north wall of the admin building, ready to assault the main entrance on the west. I counted heads, finding fifteen of them, including the Lieutenant.
The man the Lieutenant had spoken to went down the line, consulting with each soldier in turn, slapping them on the back before moving on. I waited until he reached the front of the line, and then I took a wide turn to bring me around the corner and in front of the entrance.
I immediately spotted two vampires crouched behind the reception desk, raised my rifle and shot both through the chest, then walked forward, putting more rounds into their heads to keep them down. I stepped through the broken doors before any of the other vampires realized I was there, and then I turned to walk into the break room, whose door was torn off and laying on the floor, because I could see muzzle flashes inside. Behind me, I heard pounding boots, and then gunshots.
----
Gary and Bob and a dozen guards met us in the halls, and we pushed out. If there were any vampires in the final horde, they had ran off before we started. It took less than five minutes for us to cut the zombies down.
When we were done, Gary ordered the guards to split up into groups of four and start sweeping the compound. As thy moved off, I heard a distant whooshing, and turned to see a winged shape flying past in the woods to the west of the compound, a great gout of flame spraying down into the trees.
"Took 'em long enough," Gary said. Something in his tone caught my attention and I turned to find tears on his cheek. My stomach dropped out of my body at the sight.
"What happened?" I asked. He sniffed and met my eyes, then swiped at his cheeks.
"Casualties," he said.
"Who?" I asked, breathless.
"Harold's dead," he said. "Miss Goodman got bit by a vampire. We lost over two hundred guards, these are all that's left."
"Who else?" I asked. He sniffed again and looked away, staring off into the distance.
"Clayton caught two in the chest. His armor wasn't up to stoppin' a six-eight."
"Shit," I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gary. I know you two had reconnected recently."
He nodded and sniffed again.
"Pops caught one in the cheek," he said, and I barely heard the words through the rushing of blood that started as soon as he said 'Pops'. "Went in at the worst angle."
"Shit," I said again. He turned to me, and his voice cracked as he spoke.
"I'm ready t'go home, Jerry. I need to see Chris and Nat and hug the both of 'em. They need t'know."
I pulled him into a hug and he held onto me like his life depended on it.
Part 28

BEAR REPORT - MARCH 3RD, 2024

Gather round, degenerates! This week's BEAR REPORT reads like a horror story, so hold onto your tendies and brace for impact as we blow up the "Booming Economy" narrative and explore the "mystery illness" continuing to strike the world and it's economies.

"BOOMING ECONOMY" NARRATIVE CRUMBLES

• A hard-landing recession is guaranteed in the future after the full impact of Fed rate hikes hit the economy, Morgan Stanley's chief economist says
• Macy’s announces that they will close roughly 30% of their stores (150) over next three years, will result in the total reduction of about 28,500 employees over this time frame
• Best Buy to eliminate approx 2,500-3,500 employees, close an additional 10 to 15 locations
• Joann Fabrics preparing immediate bankruptcy filing this week - the company employs almost 21,000 employee
• Rosenberg noted a January (5) contraction in the Chicago Fed's National Activity Index, which contains 85 macro variables, and is a measure he views as the "most comprehensive and timely monthly measure of economic activity."
• One out of every three companies in the Russell 2000 index is unprofitable --BofA
• Credit card delinquencies at small banks just hit a fresh all-time high of 7.8% — just in time for BTFP to end in 10 days and considerably raise regional bank fragility
• U.S. Durable Goods Orders Collapse In January - Biggest Drop Since COVID Lockdowns
• U.S CB CONSUMER CONFIDENCE (FEB) ACTUAL: 106.7 VS 114.8 PREVIOUS; EST 114.8
• U.S PENDING HOME SALES (MOM) (JAN) ACTUAL: -4.9% VS 8.3% PREVIOUS; EST 1.5%
• U.S MNI Chicago PMI Feb: 44.0 (est 48.0; prev 46.0)
• ISM MANUFACTURING PMI 47.8 VS 49.5 EXPECTED
• U.S MICHIGAN CONSUMER SENTIMENT (FEB) ACTUAL: 76.9 VS 79.0 PREVIOUS; EST 79.6
• U.S MICHIGAN CURRENT CONDITIONS (FEB) ACTUAL: 79.4 VS 81.9 PREVIOUS; EST 81.5
• U.S MICHIGAN CONSUMER EXPECTATIONS (FEB) ACTUAL: 75.2 VS 77.1 PREVIOUS; EST 78.4
• Current new orders (blue) component in ⁦@KansasCityFed⁩ Manufacturing Index has been improving in choppy fashion over past year; but outlook for new orders (orange) has fallen sharply
• FITCH DOWNGRADES NYCB TO JUNK

THE GLOBAL RECESSION CONTINUES

• Sweden economy remains in recession
• A Severe Eurozone Recession and Debt Crisis is On the Way
• UK store traffic slumps most since Covid as economic woes linger
• Europe is having its worst earnings season since the onset of Covid — with little hope of a quick turnaround
• Germany preparing tax package worth 7 billion euro to spur growth.
• The downturn in Germany's manufacturing sector deepened in February as output and new orders declined at a faster rate, a survey showed on Friday. Japan Industrial Production (M/M) Jan P: -7.5% (est -6.8%; prev 1.4%)
• U.K. (FEB) LLOYDS BUSINESS BAROMETER ACTUAL: 42 VS 44 PREVIOUS
• AUSTRALIA RETAIL SALES (MOM) (JAN) ACTUAL: 1.1% VS -2.7% PREVIOUS; EST 1.5%
• French Consumer Spending (M/M) Jan: -0.3% (est -0.2%; prev 0.3%)
• Consumer Spending (Y/Y) Jan: -0.7% (prevR 1.2%)
• Hong Kong retail sales volume was down -1.2% vs est +3.3%
• German real retail sales were down -0.4% MoM, well below the +0.5% MoM gain expected in Jan.
• Sales were down -1.4% YoY with non-food sales down -2.1% YoY.
• EUROZONE (FEB) SERVICES CONFIDENCE ACTUAL: 6 VS 8.8 PREVIOUS;EST 9
• Japan Industrial Production (M/M) Jan P: -7.5% (est -6.8%; prev 1.4%)

INFLATION PERSISTS

• EURO AREA FEB. CONSUMER PRICES RISE 2.6% Y/Y; EST. +2.5% - BBG
• EURO AREA PRELIM FEB. CORE CPI RISES 3.1% Y/Y; EST. +2.9%
• Supercore PCE Inflation Surged in January to Its Highest Monthly Level in More than Two Years

EVERYTHING IS FINE

• BARKIN: TRY NOT TO LOOK TOO CLOSELY AT JANUARY INFLATION DATA
• YELLEN SAYS GLOBAL ECONOMY REMAINS RESILIENT
• FED'S BOWMAN: THE ECONOMIC ACTIVITY AND CONSUMER SPENDING ARE STRONG, THE LABOR MARKET IS TIGHT.

WALK IT BACK

• FED'S BARKIN: WE'LL SEE IF THERE ARE RATE CUTS THIS YEAR.

GOLD SPIKES TO ALL TIME HIGHES

• Gold closes at all time highs as investors call seek safety

AIRBORNE IQ LOSS

• In a large community sample, researchers found that on average, people who had recovered from COVID-19 showed small cognitive deficits equivalent to a 3-point loss in IQ for up to 1 year or more after recovering from the acute illness compared with peers who never had COVID-19.
• Covid-19 can cause long-term health problems even after virus is gone, study finds

"ILLNESS" CONTINUES TO STRIKE

• Cruise ship barred from docking amid outbreak of stomach illness
• Respiratory illnesses may have long-term effects in kids
• Teachers are dropping like flies as Covid surges back into SA’s schools
• Covid waste waters are at the VERY HIGH level in the USA
• Mystery virus' fears spread on TikTok as users go wild with their own theories.
• Brazil records Covid spike, and coronavirus still kills plenty
• Bloomberg asks "Are People Getting Sick More Since the Covid Pandemic?" and theorizes Covid may be destroying immune systems
• Sandy Hill Elementary closes school for two days due to illness
• Jenison elementary school closes for ‘fast-moving’ illness
• Palestine High School closes due to staff illness
• Hundreds of students at a San Diego high school call out amid flu outbreak

CHINA COVER UP

• China has issued a nationwide directive to erase all COVID-19 data from the healthcare system. This includes data stored on paper or computers. Records of vaccine administration, nucleic acid testing, and any embarrassing incidents during the epidemic prevention process are to be completely expunged.
• The CCP virus (Covid-19) epidemic continues to spread in China. At this year's "Two Sessions" of the Communist Party of China, reporters attending the meeting were informed that they still had to undergo nucleic acid testing.

TOO SICK TO PLAY

• Tiger Woods Carted Off Golf Course Due to Illness at Genesis Invitational
• Drake Cancels His Miami Concerts Due To Illness
• Adele postpones Las Vegas Residency again, says sickness has taken a toll on her voice
• Justin Timberlake Cancels London Show Due to Illness, Announces New Tour Dates
• [insert countless nba players]

SPY 300

• BEAR REPORT'S price target of SPY 300 remains and the global recession becomes the official narrative and we see earnings pullback and multiple compression.

SHAMBLES

In conclusion, the global economy is in shambles. We find ourselves in a major economic downturn as Fed speakers and Janet Yellen are trotted out daily to reassure the public everything is fine. "Mystery Illness" continues to close our schools and cancel concerts. Investors call bull shit and rush into gold. Trust no one, and may the tendies be with you.

BEAR REPORT 🐻

Part 22
We kept searching throughout the afternoon, until the sun started to get low in the sky. At that point, we returned to the ops center to consult with Harold.
"No luck, huh?" Harold asked as we walked in. I shook my head sadly.
"We got sixteen of them," Bob added. "That ain't nothin'."
I shrugged. "I knew the sisters were going to be the problem. I'm just glad we got all the others. Tell the patrol that found the big bunch of them they did a damn good job."
"Already told. I also sent them to the rec room for the rest of the afternoon. They'll be rested up tonight."
I nodded grimly. I was not looking forward to tonight, and I don't think anyone else was, either. We gathered together and began to plan.
"The main question," Harold said after we'd each had a say about our thoughts, before we had begun to deal with any specifics. "Is whether we're going to fall back to the admin building or defend the whole facility."
"Admin building," Pops said without hesitation. Gary nodded in agreement. "It's the most defensible location. It's got a wall around it to separate it from the rest of the compound, there's more fences in between it and the rest than any other spot, and there's an armory, supply stores, the ops room and a safe room in case shit goes downhill."
"What about the prisoners?" I asked. "Locked in their cells while a bunch of zombies roam free?"
"Safest place for 'em," Pops said. "Ain't no way to get enough bodies pressed against them bars to break 'em. 'Long as the inmates don't come within arm's length o'th'bars, they's golden."
I nodded. It sounded cruel, but Pops made a good point. "We don't know how long this will last," Bob pointed out. "What about water and food?"
"Every cell has a toilet and a food shelf," Harold said. "We can teleport food in for them."
"Okay, but they're still stuck drinking toilet water. Gonna be a lot of legionnaire's disease in the next two weeks. A bunch will die," Bob replied. I shook my head.
"The toilets are self-sterilizing," I said. "We built this place to handle natural disasters. In fact, we can prep up to two weeks worth of meals, and there's magic that will distribute them regularly."
Harold winced, holding up a hand. "We keep the meals ready to go for three days already, but there's still one problem," he said. "Some of the prisoners who've been causing trouble have had the magic on their toilets suppressed as a punishment for being lazy about cleaning their cells. They're required to clean them themselves."
"That's not a risk factor for legionnaire's if it's been cleaned at least once recently," one of the guards said. He had a red cross on his arm, identifying him as a medic. "But you still have to worry about fecal coliforms, strep, staph and a couple others. It's not like they're not going to need to use the toilets for their other purpose in the meantime."
"How many prisoners are currently getting this punishment?" I asked. Harold turned to a laptop setting on the central display table and tapped the keys for a moment. "Twenty seven," he said at length.
"How quickly can that be undone?" I asked. "I don't know how you disabled the magic."
"Our staff wizard, Rebecca Goodman, goes to the toilet and does something," Harold said.
"Where's Rebecca now?" I asked. Harold looked around, frowning. "She should be here..."
"Bathroom," one of the guards said. A moment later, the door opened and a woman in business casual wear walked in. She froze as everyone stared at her.
"What?" she said. "I just had to pee."
"Rebecca?" I asked.
"Yes?" she answered, the word made into a question by her confusion.
"How quickly can you re-enable the magic on one of the disabled cell toilets?" I asked.
"Um," she said, frowning. "It just takes a few minutes. I have to scratch off some brazing that I used to cover parts of the runes. So... Three minutes?"
"Twenty-seven cells at three minutes each, plus, let's say, seven minutes on average to move between the cells, that's four and a half hours," I grumbled. "Even with me doing half, that's over two hours. Sunset is at six thirty-seven, which is fifty three minutes from now."
"Can the guards help?" Harold asked. "If all it takes is removing some brazing, maybe they can do it."
"They'd need a torch and something to scrape with," I said. "I've got the tools to do it, but not enough to share."
"I only have my own tools," Rebecca said.
"Shit," Harold cursed.
"Move them," Bob said. I turned to look at him. He was eyeing Harold. "You said it was a punishment for prisoners who were being lazy, right? Not cleaning up after themselves, stuff like that?"
"Right," Harold said. "Mostly it was for making messes in their cells. We usually only do it for three days at a time, and it works surprisingly well. They can clean the toilets while the guards watch, each day, and maintain their cells, or they get their cell scrubbed. Uh, that means the guards take out everything. It takes at least a month to start earning their stuff back."
"So they're not the violent ones, right?" Bob asked.
"No, not usually. Maybe a few are, I'd have to check the records."
"So we fix the cells of the violent ones and move the rest elsewhere."
"That'll put a strain on the food and water issue," I said. Gary put a hand on my shoulder. "Food and water's not likely to become an issue. Most like, we'll either have 'em run off by morning or get overrun."
I nodded, unable to argue that point. "You're right, that's the most likely outcome," I said.
"We're gonna get overrun?" Rebecca asked.
"By the zombies," Bob supplied conversationally. Her eyes widened and I could feel the panic wafting off of her.
"Zombies?!" she asked, her voice cracking.
"And vampires," Bob said.
"VAMPIRES?!" Rebecca wailed. I gave Bob a stern look, but he simply nodded, completely unphased by my disapproval. He put an arm around Rebecca's shoulders and led her over to a corner of the room.
"It's fine," he said. "I'm a conspiracy theorist. Been training for this my whole life. And the boss is a huge nerd. He knows everything about zombies."
"And vampires," I added. I gestured to my black uniform. "Goth," I explained.
"Goth nerd," Bob said. "See? There's nobody better." He guided Rebecca to a seat and began casually rubbing her shoulders. I rolled my eyes and turned back to the huddle.
"How many could we transfer?" I asked. Harold was already working on his laptop.
"Twenty four," he said. "And I've already run the bunkmate sims to find them the best possible bunkmates. We can do this, we just need to make some calls. It'll take ten minutes, tops."
"That leaves three," I said. "Thirty minutes. Well, Twenty minutes if Rebecca's still up for it."
I looked at Rebecca skeptically and sighed. She was trembling, completely ignoring Bob's ministrations. "Thirty minutes," I said. Since Bob had been the one to egg on her panic, I looked at him.
"Bob, you're with me," I said.
----
It ended up taking more like fifteen minutes, including transit time. The guards managed to get all the prisoners rearranged (they had to split up some existing cellmates to make it work, which caused a little grumbling, but the bunkmate sims existed precisely to help keep cell assignments from turning into problems, so nobody got too upset) in twenty minutes, and Bob and I were on our way to the last one when the alarms went off again.
I grabbed my radio as we picked up the pace. "What's going on?" I asked.
"Movement in the woods," Gary's voice answered. "Reported six times, all from guards on the northwest wall. Felt prudent to sound off."
"Get the guards to the outer walls," I said. "We can fall back to the admin facility if they get breached."
"My thoughts exactly," he said. "Say, what are them walls made of?" He knew I'd been involved in the design of the prison, and that I'd gotten over a billion dollars poured into the construction, keeping down the cutting of corners as much as possible.
"Twelve feet thick, thirty feet tall," I said. "Inside and out, it's built in layers. Eighteen inches of UHPC, basically ballistic concrete, steel-reinforced. Then there's a half-inch thick layer of lead, inscribed with a magical faraday cage. Behind that are two layers of quarter inch steel plate, and then there's eighteen more inches of twelve-thousand pound concrete, the kind they use in high-rises, reinforced via post-tension cables with two-inch steel plates at the base and top. It's just sand and a binding agent inside that."
"Sheeit, that would stop a damn howitzer round," Gary said.
"That was the idea," I said. "There were a few thing in the spirit world who might want to break something out of the prison who can hit as hard as a howitzer. We wanted to be prepared."
"Good to know. So we may not need to fall back to the admin site at all," he said.
"I'd still be ready to, just in case," I replied.
"I ain't arguin' with ya," he said. We arrived at the cell, and the guard who'd accompanied us quickly unlocked it as I fixed the rough-looking man with runic tattoos on his face inside with my best glare.
"You try anything, Barry here will be cleaning you off the ceiling," I said. The man scowled, then met my eyes, his own eyes going wide. He relented quickly and nodded, still laying in his bunk.
I moved inside and knelt next to the toilet. I immediately hit it with my propane torch, the brazing that had filled in several of the lines glowing a different color. I waved the flame over it until it glowed red after I moved the flame away, then used the metal pick in my other hand to scratch at the braze. It popped off and I felt the magic in the toilet resume.
"Done," I said, keying my radio so Gary would know as well. "We're on our way back now." I looked at the prisoner. "Your toilet is cleaning itself again. Don't abuse the privilege."
He nodded again as we left, Barry locking the cell shut behind us.
"Forty four minutes," I said as we hurried back down the hall. We passed one of the west-facing windows and I looked out, disappointed to see that the sunset was nothing more than a glowing red outline of the mountains outside.
"God damned mountains," I muttered.
----
I began to hear sporadic gunshots coming from the wall as we jogged across the yard, back to the admin center. As we got close, I could see gangways connecting the twenty-foot gap between the admin complex walls and the main complex walls, with guards moving back and forth. There were a dozen guards moving around the yards that I could see, as well. Gary and Harold were apparently hard at work organizing the defense.
The guard at the entrance to the admin complex had been doubled, and there were now eight guards there, three of whom were busy setting up a machine gun nest with a venerable Ma Deuce whose action was covered in glittering, silver runes.
The guards paused to nod as we moved past them. I could see the tension in their faces, and the way that some of them winced at every gunshot. If I actually was the hero some people think I was, I'd have given them a pep talk that would have raised their spirits and fortified their courage a bit. But I'm not. I'm just a nerd with a ton of magic, so I kept going and wished for the umpteenth time that I was someone I'm not.
"There's a problem," Pops told me as soon as I walked into the ops center. "S'my fault," he added a little more quietly.
"What's wrong?" I asked, unsurprised. Of course there was a problem. Why wouldn't there be a problem?
"Vampires," he said. "I got stuck on thinkin' 'bout them zombies when I suggested staying in the admin center. I forgot about the damn vampires."
"What about them?" I asked.
"Iffen we fall back to the admin center, what's to stop them from freeing all the prisoners and getting their collars off?" Gary asked.
Ahh, shit. If that happened, there was no way we could hold even the admin center. I had no doubt that many of the prisoners would not help the invaders, choosing to make good on their escapes. But many would hold grudges against the guards and staff, and all of them would be aware that with just a couple of wizards, we were doomed.
"I should have thought of that," I groused.
"Everyone should have," Harold said. "None of us did, until a few minutes ago. We're redeploying to defend the entire compound now. Thankfully, Gary's plan started with a defense of the entire site, falling back to the admin center only when needed."
"Maybe those guys at the admin entrance should be setting their gun up by the main entrance, or the barracks entrance, then," I said.
"Already taken care of. We had four guns. There's one on every gate, now."
"What's the word on that Terragon QRF?" I asked.
"No word. They were put on alert and tied into our comms this morning. Haven't heard a peep out of them since."
Hopefully, that would just be regular CIA secrecy, and not indicative of some problem. We could really use a couple of dragons burning through the ranks of god-knows-how-many zombies who were going to be assaulting this place.
"Do you need my help here?" I asked Harold. "If not, I'm going to the wall to see how I can help there."
"Uh... No, but stay on the radio, please," he said. "You can take the stairs up to the admin center walls and cross over. There should be a regular shuttle of golf-carts to take you to where the fighting is."
"I'm going too," Gary said.
"Well, sheeit," Clayton added, but Gary turned on him. "No. You an' Pops stay here an' help Harold run the ops center. Neither one of ya is a soldier, and yer both more valuable for yer noggins than yer trigger fingers."
"Boy, I was working my trigger finger since afore you was born," Pops snapped, scowling, but Gary didn't relent.
"Pops, I know you can shoot, but you ain't half as good at scootin' as ya used to be. Yer experience is what's valuable here, and putting ya on th'wall is a damned waste o'that. Stay here. Please."
Pops and Clayton both scowled, but then Clayton nodded. "S'fine. Gary's right, Pops."
"Ain't never wanted to be no damn officer," Pops grumbled, but he turned back to the table.
"I'm a shooter," Bob said. "And a scooter."
"Let's go shoot and scoot, then," I said.
"And boom," Gary added, flashing me a wink and his trademark I'm-about-to-get-some grin. "I reckon you an' I are gonna hafta make some booms, too."
----
Up on the wall, it was clear that the attack was building. There were already corpses scattered around the base of the wall and in the woods fifty yards back. A guard greeted us and gave us a radio frequency and channel, so we set that up on the dual-band. I fired off a greeting to the commander on site, one Lieutenant Gordon.
"What's been going on, Gordon?" I asked.
"Zombies in the woods, sir," he said. "They're mostly coming out in singles and small groups so far."
"What's the presence like on the rest of the wall?" I asked, not recalling seeing many guards on our way here, though there very well may have been guards in the towers we passed. I spotted Gordon as we moved through the press of guards eyeing the woods and occasionally shooting, so he left the radio alone and spoke out loud.
"Not so hot. I've been yelling at them to keep to their patrols, but everybody wants to shoot a zombie."
"Let me try," I said.
"By all means, sir."
I keyed my radio. "Everybody listen up, this is Director Williams."
I waited a moment, but only about half the guards stopped what they were doing. Gary shook his head and keyed his own radio.
"ERRYBODY CUT THE SHIT AND GET THE FUCK IN FORMATION AFORE I START PUTTING BOOT TO ASSES!!"
The shouted command startled even me. The guards who'd responded to my message smirked at the others, who backed away from the retaining wall and stood more or less at attention.
"Thanks, Gary," I said.
"My pleasure," he responded mildly.
I keyed my radio and spoke into it, but kept my eyes on the men surrounding us.
"In case you weren't listening just now, I'm Director Williams. I'm here to oversee and assist with the defense of this facility from the attack that is just now beginning. Right now, there are far too many of you clustered up here, where the zombies are approaching. I need all of you to re-form your units and resume patrols of the walls. Those of you who were not patrolling, get together with your unit and report to Lieutenant Gordon to be assigned patrols."
I took a breath.
"Each and every one of you was a combat veteran before you were hired. A good chunk of you were serving in SOCOM units when you left the military. This is a distraction. That's why they're not massing beyond the treeline and attacking in force. There's no excuse for you all to have missed that. The enemy has access to tens, or possibly even hundreds of thousands of zombies, plus an unknown number of vampires. Two inmates have escaped, and are undoubtedly coordinating with them right now.
"Each and every one of you needs to perform at your absolute best tonight. We have no idea if we're going to get any support at all, and if we do, it's not going to be that much. So go on, get moving."
"Very rousing speech, General," Gary said. I gave him a side eye, but he just grinned at me. The men began moving, grouping up, with some groups approaching Gordon. I left him to organize the rest of the patrols and walked over to the edge.
I could see zombies moving around back in the trees. A pair of them shambled towards the wall, but with all the guards busy, there was nobody to shoot them. Bob and Gary stood on either side of me.
"Best to shoot them, just in case," Bob said. "For all we know, they're strapped with a couple pounds of C4."
"Go ahead," I said. Bob and Gary both raised their rifles and quickly fired. The zombies' heads jerked and sprayed black liquids and both fell over.
My radio crackled to life, on the main channel.
"Incoming zombies, south side, tower twelve!" a voice called out. I quickly hit the button. "How many?" I asked.
"Couple thousand at least," the voice said.
"Roger," I replied, then keyed the secondary again. "Gordon, send six teams to tower twelve ASAP. Keep the rest on patrol."
"Roger that," he said.
A moment later, the radio crackled again.
"Big mass of zombies at tower eight," somebody said.
"Tower nine," someone else chimed in. "I've got eyes on them, too. About a thousand, I think."
"Tower seven, I've got eyes on as well."
Before I could respond, another one chimed in."Tower eleven, there's another mass approaching the admin center. Pretty sure this is a different one. At least a thousand, as well."
"Here we go," I said.
A sound behind me caused me to turn. The forest was alive with movement now. I let some magic slip into my eyes, and the shadows peeled back, revealing hundreds of zombies moving forward through the trees. I keyed the radio again.
"Gordon, the first attack is starting right fucking now. Get those men moving."
I heard his voice over the radio and in my ears.
"The rest of you, stay here!" he cried, then more quietly and over only the radio "Roger that, sir."
"Welp..." Gary said. "If ya got any opening acts, now's the time."
"I've got one," I said, thinking about the limitations of the night-vision in the guards' optics. I turned around and reached out, sending magic flowing to a point a few hundred feet above the middle of the compound. My enhanced eyesight saw not only the flow of energies, but the cloud they were forming. I made the suspended aerosols denser and denser, letting the magic containing it grow. When it was finally about six or seven hundred feet across, I changed the magic and watched it take effect.
The cloud began to glow with a whitish light. It started in the center, and then began to expand, growing brighter and brighter. The shadows of the early evening began to dim, and the guards began to take note.
Look, I know that humility is kind of part of my schtick. I believe strongly in being humble. But I'm also a sarcastic, nerdy historian, and the opportunity to reference an ancient manuscript recording an even more ancient tradition was too strong. So I put a little magic in my voice, so that no matter how far away from me someone was (within about twenty miles or so), they would hear my words as clearly as if I'd spoken them in their ear. Then I added a little bass flange, like the Go'auld from Stargate and went ahead and said it.
"Let there be light."
I pushed extra magic into it and the cloud exploded into blinding light, illuminating the entire hollow in which the compound sat with a light as bright as daylight. I turned away from it to avoid blinding myself. Suddenly, the zombies moving through the trees were illuminated clearly, and I could see that they filled the forest as far as I could see.
"Eat your heart out, Joshua," I muttered to myself, dropping the magic on my voice.
"Sheeit," Gary said, looking around with a grin on his face. He caught Bob's eye. "Is he always this impressive?" Bob asked.
"This ain't nothing," Gary replied. "You shoulda seen him threaten the gods a few years ago. Sent 'em running with their tails tucked between their legs, heh."
"I did see that, actually," Bob said. He looked at me and said, "That's not actually sunlight, is it?"
"No," I said. "It's just the same color as best as our eyes can see."
"Think you could make it actual sunlight?" he asked. I shrugged, already having looked into that.
"I mean, I could," I said. "But that would require making a miniature sun, which would require such a hot temperature to work at such a small scale that it would melt the concrete walls, burn away the atmosphere in about a thousand-mile radius, and then within a few microseconds, expand into a fireball that would literally reach around the world and permanently reduce the atmospheric oxygen of the planet by about eight percent."
"Okay. I'm gonna vote we not do that," Bob said. "Gary?"
"Not," he said.
"Yeah, not something I'm keen on doing."
"But you could?" Bob asked. I nodded.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he said, turning back and beginning to shoot over the walls. Surprisingly, for the first time ever, I'd heard actual emotion in his voice. Disbelief and awe. I smirked, then joined them and began shooting and preparing some more war magic.
Part 24

The group of guys I normally play with always are doing shambles or scrambles between carts. It’s fun, but it’s about the only time I get out to golf anymore. Yesterday i decided to say I wanted to play my ball out to see where I was at with my game. I also haven’t swung a club since October, so maybe that wasn’t the best idea. Anyway, shot a 41 on the front with 2 holes that had penalty strokes. Lol. Kind of blew up a bit in the back. But no mulligans, no improved lies, all penalty strokes accounted for. Was one of my better days as far as scoring goes. I’ll take it!
TLDR; golf is still fun.

I have returned.
I have an announcement to make: I have decided to stop writing NOP content permanently for a multitude of reasons. I just don't see it as a worthwhile venture anymore, even if the ideas themselves were fun to explore. For me, it's just not worth it anymore. I've been reflecting on it a lot, and I've realized that despite enjoying the story, I feel like I'm wasting my time with NOP content. The NOP community largely wants nothing to do with me, and I feel that, with every chapter posted, it's just going to be seen as "Oh, look: Framelate is being a menace to society again! I'm sure he's writing something terrible!" I could write something completely mundane and people would still act like I was the spawn of satan or something. I don't want to be a part of writing a story that very few people will ever give a fair chance because of my track record. It sucks to write something that I'm passionate about but then since I'm basically exiled from the community it's just... there. Especially when I'd write something NOP-related and people would just be like "Cool but where's Shackled Minds?"
In the end, I was worried that I'd finish writing Great Expectations, and when I'd look back on it, I'd realized that I'd spent all that time writing for no reason. Sure, it's a fun story to write, but what's the point of writing it merely for enjoyment when I can enjoy writing something else and actually have something to show for it? I own Shackled Minds, it's my own original creation, and if I want to publish it one day when it's all said and done I can. Part of me considered just dropping writing as a hobby entirely because I don't even think any of my original ideas are very good at all. I might still do that, depending on how life goes. I don't really think that I'm a very good writer, maybe mediocre at best.
Anyway, I'll stop moping. Here's chapter 4.
First/Prev/Next
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Saturn
The air in the dining room was so thick with tension, that you could cut it with a knife. I sat at the small round table that was far too small for four people, much less five, the eyes of both Malac and Metles boring into my soul. We sat on rugged metal stools with worn padding, although Malac had an actual dining chair made for him so he could lean back, with how bad his back was apparently. A few clear green bottles of miscellaneous drinks littered the table, each filled with a liquid more ominous than the last. Malac poured himself a short glass of a dark green liquid from the tallest and thinnest bottle, the potent smell of things that reminded me of bittersweet sage, wormwood, and acrid tobacco, like the scent of a twisted alchemist's garden. It almost smelled like an exotic absinthe variety, maybe a homebrew? Although I doubted it was homemade since you'd need a pretty decent distiller setup. I had politely declined any alcohol, and gratefully accepted a cup of tea that tasted like orange peel and mint leaf from Thiva's adoring mother, the strange concoction causing my tongue to tingle.
The two males had been drinking the stuff all morning, their eyes trained on me and their moods dour; I was sure it was an attempt to intimidate me despite Thiva's previous claim that her father would jump for joy at the sight of even a possible suitor. I didn't find them threatening at all, though: not only was I confident in my ability to defend myself, these two hardly seemed dangerous. Sure, Metles was young and in good shape for a Sevare, and I had witnessed his expertise in holding a rifle when I had first met him, his posture flawless and his nerves made of steel, but deep down I knew that I was in no danger when he sought to shoot me, only that I had to protect Thiva no matter what.
Sevare… strange, I knew what they actually were, although I couldn't wrap my head around why I knew that, or why they insisted on calling themselves Sho-dai; Sevare was their given title, Latin for to preserve, as was their purpose in existence. They were created to be natural problem solvers for all things mechanical, serving as the metaphorical lymphatic systems for human starships and cities during the final four centuries before everything became fuzzy in my mind. Something happened to reduce the galaxy from a galaxy-spanning, human-led hegemony to an apocalyptic collapse, and with how Thiva reacted to my presence, it seemed that humanity didn't lead the local hegemony anymore. In fact, I didn't think humanity even existed anymore.
Candles were everywhere, along with a handful of lanterns hanging from the ceiling on old iron chains. Apparently, the house didn't waste much electricity on actual lights, preferring to burn dead brush and charcoal in the fireplace, light candles, and use pressed oils and sand marrow as fuel for the lanterns. Incense burners were everywhere as well, wafting like smoke across the room that smelled like cinnamon, sandalwood, and myrrh, forming together to create an almost descendant, spiced citrus scent akin to a warm pudding. It smelled better than any of the artificial old-world perfumes humans were addicted to, usually some nonsensical name like sanguine embrace or lover's harmony. It smelled real and delicious and complimented the wonderful scents coming from the kitchen.
Despite the surprisingly welcoming and soothing atmosphere, the family obviously lived in incredible poverty, at least compared to the way I was used to imagining people living. They weren't impoverished due to a lack of necessities, but rather a lack of truly modern amenities. There was plenty of furniture, including finely crafted chairs, tables, cabinets, and couches, and all sorts of quality household tools and classical amenities you'd find in a museum dedicated to how humanity lived before it even reached invented the basic necessities of a modern society like instantaneous communications and modern medicine. These people lived like 19th-century homesteaders, albeit comparatively wealthy ones, but not only was there a lack of internal lighting but also any kind of internal heating. The cold chill of the outdoors seeped into the home even as all the windows and doors were closed, and it was only due to the roaring fireplace that any warmth emanated at all. I was sure I would've caught pneumonia or hypothermia by now, with how little warmth my body has had in it since I had left the cryostatic hub, but I didn't really feel the cold, I just knew it to be cold.
At least there was running water and plumbing: I could hear pots boiling, pipes shaking gently in the walls, a faucet running, and knives chopping against wooden cutting boards in the decently sized kitchen across the main body of the first floor of their strange farmhouse. It was an oddly spherical structure, with little towers rising from its sides and corners like the keeps of castles. There were also stairs leading to a sizeable underground section, probably for storage. I wondered where I would be staying since Thiva's mother was insistent on me staying here for the time being. It made me uncomfortable, not because of her insistence, but because I didn't want to seem like it was mooching off of them: I could live fine on my own in the wilderness, and I'd probably come into possession of shelter eventually, whether I found good work and rented a room or simply found abandoned shelter to squat in. I didn't want to be a burden, especially when Thiva said her family was already poor.
The two males continued to stare at me, and I sipped more of my tea in silence, eyeing the both of them. Thiva's father seemed crotchety, but he didn't speak much, preferring to drink. Metles seemed much more hostile like I was attempting to steal his sister from her. The idea was laughable.
"So, stranger, you have a name?" Asked Malac, his voice clearly betraying his lack of trust in me.
"Saturn," I replied, "my name is Saturn."
"That's a strange name, definitely not the name of a native of the cascade. Where are you from?"
"Nowhere. I've been a wanderer all my life." It wasn't entirely dishonest: as far as I was concerned, my life started when I woke up and Thiva found me in that cryostatic chamber, and I had been wandering since then.
"I mean where were you born, boy? Where's your homeland, your people? I ain't never seen your kind around here before so you must be from somewhere far away."
My homeland? My people? I didn't know how to respond to that. I was human and nothing more. As for homeland… humanity has stretched across the stars, and there were hundreds of thousands of occupied worlds. Still, I didn't need to tell them the whole truth just yet when they were already skeptical of me.
"I'm a human: my people aren't from around here, that's for sure. As for my homeland… I don't know. I left it when I was just an infant."
"Hmm…" was all Malac had to say, his eyes attempting to stare into my soul. In reality, he just looked grumpy and tired. But I could tell that he didn't believe me. I didn't know how, but I could practically see the gears turning in his head, his claws paws tapping on the table rhythmically. I noticed every little quirk in his movement, every little emotion he attempted to veil behind his jaundiced eyes. He was stoic, but not impenetrable, just experienced. He was an old Sevare with an attitude, and he had probably seen much.
“What do you want with Thiva?” Blurted out Metles. Malac gave him an angry, dirty look, and Metles suddenly seemed to find his drink much more interesting than interrogating me. Metles seemed to fear Malac but I didn't know why: Malac was just an old Sevare, crippled obviously, and far past his prime, whereas Metles was still young and a decent size for his age, and had some semblance of combat experience if the way he held the rifle earlier was anything to go by. Maybe it was their father-son dynamic or maybe Malik had done more to Metles in his past, but he seemed to hold much of the power, save for Nimlil. It mattered little: unless they chose to make a feeble attempt at committing violence against me, I would have no interest in harming them. Their interrogative looks and tense body language did not faze me in the slightest: on the contrary, they seemed afraid of me.
It was laughable that they thought they could kill me if push came to shove. They couldn't. I knew that for a fact I was much more powerful than I seemed. Even if I did not know why, I was not alarmed by anything that they could throw at me, they were just peasants in a desert. I was something more, although I didn't know quite what that meant.
Still, it made sense for them to be intimidated by me. I must have been a disruption to what they considered normal, or even possible. They didn't know what I was, who I was, where I came from, or anything else about me. I was an anomaly in their world, an anomaly that somehow in their minds defied a lunar event that must've had cataclysmic consequences compared to the simplicity of their hard but boring lives. Whatever that astronomical anomaly that Thiva had described to me earlier was, with the monstrous night creatures that came out from the wounds of the very earth, they were nothing compared to what I knew to be true about the past, and the horrors that humanity had inflicted on the galaxy. I had sensed one on the cliffs earlier when I was carrying her home, so I knew they were out there. It wasn't just superstition but simply a creature that preyed on the weak, nothing extraordinary.
I was lost in thought until I noticed the sound of chinaware clinking on the wooden table. Thiva and Timlil served breakfast, which was made up of several dishes that seemed indescribably familiar and yet quite different from what I considered a meal. Each of us received a bowl of yellow broth that looked unappetizing but actually smelled quite good, as well as a bowl of different mixed vegetables fried in spices. In the center of the table was the bulk of the food: steamer baskets made of wood holding all sorts of different dumplings and other strange foods, like small balls of something wrapped in what resembled a banana leaf, although I was sure it wasn't a banana leaf: this place was too cold to grow bananas. It was an interesting assortment, although I wouldn't call it a feast: the word feast in my mind drew up comparisons to the great spectacles during the height of Humanity's prowess and greed: entire rooms of tables covered in almost any popular food imaginable, with luxuries from across the stars purchased simply for the sake of extravagance. Bloodsport, intoxicants, and gambling entertained the guests throughout the feast's duration, ending with a mess for the servile drones to clean up.
I liked this better. It was humble and yet it held a much greater meaning to the people here, as if they were showing me their best not out of envy for my attention and approval but rather pride in what they had. Humanity's feasts drove people apart and segregated them by wealth: who could provide the most astonishingly extravagant dishes and entertainment? Who was worthy of endless, empty praise? This feast seemed to bring people together, to unite them in the shared enjoyment of food and family. It was a concept humanity had long forgotten as if the people of the empire weren't truly human anymore.
I waited patiently, watching what everyone else was doing to ensure I practiced proper etiquette. I didn't want to appear rude to my hosts, nor did I want to act entitled in any way; I preferred to make a good impression. Nimlil placed some of the dumplings into my broth, and I could smell the undeniable aroma of meat wafting from the thin wrapper. Nimlil also set several dumplings on a small plate next to my broth, and I could smell a thick, sugary sweetness emanating from them. The latter was so thin I could almost see the brown substance within, and the wrapper was paper-white, speckled with grit, and opaque.
“There you go, dear,” Nimlil said, “I hope you enjoy it.
“It looks excellent, thank you,” I said, “and I appreciate your hospitality.”
I gently scooped one of the sweet dumplings, which was no bigger than a golf ball, up with my spoon and placed it into my mouth, and I immediately tasted a burst of decadent, syrupy flavor that practically melted on my tongue, the sweet and earthy wrapper coming apart at the seams to let the sugery filling burst forth. It didn't taste artificial at all, nor was it unsatisfying: it was exactly how I imagined food should taste.
“And it tastes excellent as well,” I said, “you're a brilliant cook, ma’am.”
Thiva’s mother seemed flattered by my compliment, and she continued to serve everyone before sitting down next to her husband and placing a kiss on his cheek. He grumbled something indecipherable and began to eat his food as if his wife’s affections went completely unnoticed.
If that's how husbands treated their wives in this culture, then I could see why Thiva didn't want to marry. Maybe Malac was just tired, but I still wouldn't have treated a woman like that, especially a woman who did all the cooking. That was both rude and unbecoming of a man. Love was a two-way street, although I wouldn't pretend to understand Nimlil’s obvious care for her husband, nor if he actually cared for her or not.
Although it was also ironic and a little odd for me to have such thoughts: humanity had long since given up the idea of chivalry the moment that people stopped relying on each other and started relying on the state and the powers that be for everything. At that moment, the relationships that had kept humanity more or less together and moving forward began to disappear. You formed relationships with people to overcome each other's struggles and grow as individuals together, but if there was no need for struggles or growth, was there a need for relationships or even other people?
Or maybe I was just overthinking things: Malac might just not be a morning person.
As we are, I took the time to inspect the family some more, to see if I could draw any more conclusions. Malac was old for sure, with thinning fur and a snout that was going gray with age, along with a few patches on his brow and face where he was beginning to bald naturally. But underneath all of that, I could spot countless scars and burns, and he wasn't frail by any means. The Sho’dai had lived a hard life, obviously, but a lot of those burns were familiar, like those caused by energy weapons.
“So, Malac, have you ever fought in battle?” I asked, hoping to sound as naive and innocent as possible. I wanted to know about this region, and how the Sevares had become the Sho’dai, and a soldier's stories might shed even a faint light on the history of the region and its people.
“What is it to you, outlander?” He asked crankily as if I was interrupting his breakfast. Nimlil gave him a dirty look, however, and he just sighed and set down his spoon. “Yes, I've fought in a lot of battles, but that was ages ago. The area is a lot… safer now,” he seemed to force the word ‘safer’ through grit teeth. “There isn't much need for soldiers like me anymore, at least, not as many.”
“I take it that things have changed, and not for the better?”
Malac looked me in the eyes and I noticed that his pent-up frustrations seemed to dissipate a little bit, being replaced with what I could only describe as despondency. “Life is just harder than it was when I was young. This used to be a free city, and even if there was little to grow we still found our wealth and kept our wealth. Now? Those damn parasites in the mound suck us dry every growing season in exchange for protection,” he spat out his words like they were poison. “I remember the days when the Sho-dai could protect themselves when the damn Cabal hadn't shown up with its freakish warriors: they're devils cursed by the spirits and the ancestors I tell you, not natural things at all.”
I bit back the urge to inform him that he and his entire family weren't exactly natural either, and continued. “Tell me about this… Cabal. Who are they? What do they do?”
Malac’s scowl furrowed, but it seemed to be more out of consideration than anything else. “When Metles was born, we had the most bountiful season in ages. The rain came in droves, the air warmed, and the Cascades flooded their banks, bringing rich silt to the shore. I remember watching the crops blooming like never before, and our city was truly, fabulously wealthy for the first time in a generation, maybe two. It seemed that we had been blessed for once, and that the lives of me and my wife would be at least a little easier while we raised Metles. I was wrong.”
“They came from the west as the sun set, twenty individuals or so of all sorts of races, some foreign to me, in a few repurposed, eight-wheeled scrap haulers covered in armor made from blackened steel and skulls. I remembered watching them approach the gate, and we prepared to welcome them in. They demanded tribute, and we laughed: under what authority did they have to demand tribute? Then we prepared to slaughter them for their insolence. They slaughtered our warriors, shattered our walls, and tore apart our defenses like they were made of paper. Then they took away our daughters, looted our coffers, and burnt our city to the ground. It was all a blur: one of those hellish beasts tore off my leg and tossed me aside like a ragdoll. I was lucky to survive at all. And they did all of this right before the moonfall: they wanted to inflict the most suffering possible to send a very clear message: they were not to be disobeyed.”
Malac seemed to become more despondent as he spoke, and I suddenly realized why this man was always in such a bad mood: he had long since lost hope. Life around here seemed hard enough without what could only be described as violent extortion being commonplace.
“And you've rebuilt, right? You can't fight them off?”
Malac snorted. “We couldn't defeat even a fraction of their warriors at our prime, and now look at us: our city is in shambles, and our walls are in ruins. It's a miracle the moonfall hasn't swallowed our city and turned it into a husk, but that's mainly due to the geothermal vents below the city supplying us with the power we need to keep the beacons lit during the moonfall. Without them, the city and every surrounding homestead would be nothing more than a boneyard.”
“I don't know, it seems like a pretty big city,” I countered, “You mean to tell me that this city can't expel a few extortionists?”
Malac’s snorts turned to bitter chuckles, and Nimlil seemed almost pained by his cynicism. “Maybe we should stop… this is a sensitive subject for us all, especially with the next payment due in only a few weeks. This time of year, during the coldest stretch, is always the hardest because the Cabal demands more, and we've just been on edge.”
“No, Nimlil,” Malac said as he wrapped his arms around her, “He is naive, and he deserves to know.” He was quiet for a moment, and seemed to be in emotional turmoil, as if he wanted to express how he felt but admitting it would be painful beyond comparison. “Our city is dying, traveler: the proud walls of Shao’Muda have stood for over a thousand years, and our people have fought off countless invaders, from the grand buzzing hives of the Lowuan from the far south to the Yotur dynasty and their legions to the north, the Free Sho'dai Cities have weathered every storm. Now? Now we are nothing but walking corpses. One day, the Cabal will return and demand more than we could possibly give, and then they will tear this city to the ground and take us as slaves if they even spare us at all.”
“Father, you can't-” Metles began as he stood up from his seat, but Malac gave him a bitter, empty glare and the young Sho’dai sat back down, eyes downcast as he picked at his good. “Eat your food, Metles, or return to your room: I've had enough insubordination from my children for one day, and we've barely eaten breakfast.”
Both Metles and Thiva scowled at Malac, and Nimlil merely raised an eyebrow in his general direction, but he didn't flinch. “Eat, now,” he hissed.
The two returned to eating and Malac sighed with disheartenment. “It's best if you move on, Traveler: there's nothing for you here, and not for a lack of hospitality.”
“I was under the impression you wanted me to stay,” I said almost cheekily, “yet it seems you're doing your best to drive me away. Why's that?”
“I'm just telling you the truth, traveler. The ancestors abandoned this place a long time ago.”
“I'll be the judge of that,” I said, “how about we go into town later and see what Shao’Muda has to offer? I'd be glad to learn a little more about this place, maybe see how the galaxy has changed in my absence.”
“Your… absence?”
I suddenly realized that my choice of words was a little odd, but it also felt right to say. Normally I would've kept such feelings to myself, but I had a deep desire to take in all the knowledge I could from my surroundings and learn about the current state of events.
And this Cabal… I wanted them gone. I was already beginning to grow attached to this strange little family of cat… badger… things. They were much different from the Savares of old, much more stubborn and enduring, yet still quite endearing all the same. There was something I liked about them on an instinctual level, something familiar that I couldn't quite grasp but knew was there.
“Well, I'd be glad to help with whatever you need helping with,” I said, “I'd hate to be a guest in your home and be little more than a malingerer while you all work hard. How can I contribute?”
“Oh, I like this one, Thiva,” Nimlil whispered to her daughter, causing her to nearly spit out her tea in surprise, “At this point, he might not even have to pay your father the bride price if he's willing to take you.”
“Mother! You're awful!” She shouted, but I could spot the blush forming under her fur, and her ears flattened and her eyes dilated with embarrassment, “He is just a friend!”
Nimlil proceeded to laugh wholeheartedly at her daughter’s mortification, and Metles chuckled as well. Even Malac rolled his eyes, a small grin forming on his face.
“Well, then that leaves us in a sticky situation because we don't have a guest room available,” Nimlil said.
“I'll sleep on whatever you have, it's no trouble to me,” I responded quickly, not wanting to inconvenience them in the slightest.
“Nonsense, we'll find you a place to sleep. Thiva, are you sure you aren't interested in him? He seems rather nice…”
“He isn't even a Sho-dai, mother! What would father say?” She responded irritably, clearly wanting the subject to be dropped permanently. “Doesn't he want me to be a traditional Sho-dai and continue the lineage?”
“Whether or not he can keep you safe is my greatest priority,” Malac said. His voice held no ounce of anger or contentment, just firm commitment. “In fact, I'd prefer he'd take you off-world, as far away from this place as possible. If some wealthy outworlder with a ship offered to marry you, I'd gladly accept without accepting any bride price, because I'd know you'd be far away from this place and in the hands of someone who could give you a good life.”
“I don't believe that,” Thiva hissed back, “I don't believe that you care about me that much.”
“Do you believe me so heartless? Do you think I spent your entire life raising you alongside your mother just so I could sell you off like some kind of asset?”
“Yes. From the moment I was eligible all you would talk about was marrying me off to the highest bidder!”
“Then you're ignorant, and it shows. I wouldn't expect a girl who ran off during the moonfall in an act of spite to understand anything about love, honor, or duty.” Malac spat back, “All you care about is whatever foolish idea you fancy in that scatterbrained head of yours! You'll be the death of us all one day, I swear.”
Thiva stood up, her lip quivering. “I don't want to marry: I don't want to be beholden to any man!”
“If you think your mother is beholden to me then you must have met her yesterday! Your mother threatened to starve us all if we wouldn't allow her to shield you from the consequences of your stupidity!”
“That's enough, both of you!” Nimlil shouted at the top of her lungs, her eyes dilating with anger. “I have heard enough of you two, slandering each other. Thiva, to your room! Malac, go somewhere else, would you? I need to clean up and I'm sick of your grumbling.”
I half expected Malac to argue, but he just sighed and stood up, hobbling away and to the front door of the farmstead home. He opened it up and stepped outside, the cold chill of the air invading momentarily before he slammed the door behind him. At the same time, Thiva stomped upstairs in a huff, obviously sick of the prospect of marriage.
“Is he going to be okay? It's cold out.” I asked.
“He'll be fine, our fur is thick enough to ward off the cold.”
“I see,” I said.
Nimlil, Metles, and I sat in silence for a moment, with Metles quietly munching on his food and Nimlil just staring at her half-empty cup of tea with a hint of dejection in her voice. “I'm sorry you had to see that, it's not proper of us to act that way while we have guests. It's just that life has been hard on all of us, and recently… events have made those hardships more glaring.”
“It's okay,” I replied, “I'm so used to everyone being artificial that it's refreshing to see people act like… people.” I felt a distracting sensation of pressure in the front of my head for a very brief moment, and I recalled something I shouldn't have known or at least something that didn't feel like it belonged to me. Two voices spoke, one Titanic in its authority, and another miniscule by comparison.
I have come to you now, lord, with nothing but devotion in my heart. How many I serve as your watcher?
Your devotion is hollow, varlet, now leave this sanctum before I unravel you where you stand.
But Lord, I am thy humble servant: how could you question my devotion?
Like this…
The. I heard screams, screams of pain so pure it was incomprehensible to me. For a brief moment, it felt as if every nerve was yanked out of my body like a fishing net out of water, but just as soon as it began, it ended. I blinked a few times and took a deep breath, the confusion still washing over me. Not exactly the answers I was looking for, but it was… something I suppose.
Nimlil smiled, clearly ignorant of what just happened in my mind, but her smile was still a weak one. “I'm glad that you're so patient. I feel like you'd be a good… match.”
“We should address the fact that I'm not exactly a suitor, ma'am,” I intervened, “I'm not here to marry her: I'm fact, if it wasn't for your hospitality, I would've left already.”
“Is there something wrong with our daughter?” She asked suspiciously, but I also didn't sense any hostility from her.
“No, quite the contrary, actually: I enjoy her company.”
“Then why do you not wish to marry her? I don't understand?”
I stood up and nearly stacked my dishes atop one another before finishing my now cold tea. “A few reasons: first, I have no money or home to my name. I'm just a wanderer, in search of answers, and that line of work isn't exactly profitable.” I said confidently. In reality, while it was technically the truth, I was omitting nearly everything that would have me stand out more than I would prefer. I didn't know why I was so secretive, but it felt right: I could leave nothing to chance, not anymore.
Not anymore, and never again.
I closed my eyes again, feeling that strange buzzing sensation overcome my focus, and I took a deep breath before regaining my composure. This time, Nimlil seemed to notice my state of mind and looked rather worried. “Are you okay, dear? You seem distracted.”
“I'm fine, just tired,” I lied.
“Then you should get some sleep,” Nimlil said, “I'll prepare the couch for you, and you can sleep there for now while we figure out a better solution.”
“Thank you…” I said, “And as for my other answer: I'm uncomfortable with the prospect of being so intimate with a woman I barely know. It isn't right.”
Nimlil was quiet again, for a few seconds this time, and she seemed to be reflecting. Finally, she spoke, and her answer was as ominous as it was true. “Then the land you came from must have been very different. I envy that.”

I've been playing the beta for quite some time and got pretty good at killing cannibals, only getting captured a handful of times. But yesterday, I started a new save file to fully experience all the new features. I built a nice little cabin at the never-freezing lake and some muddy dudes came along and ate all the fish Kelvin caught, so I punished them with death. Two village women then visited me to check out my new digs. They were somewhat passive at first but started taking my logs, so I spent most of the day chasing them down to get my logs back. Eventually, I had to kill one of them because she started beating Kelvin up. After that long day, I put my head down to sleep and got attacked four times in one night! FOUR! They were all in groups of 4/5. Every time I killed a group of them, I saved and went back to sleep only to be rudely awoken again. My dude got no sleep that entire night, he was exhausted, I had no more energy drinks, energy bars or meds left...and no fishies. I eventually just left on my golf caddy to get some air and parked up near the pond where you find the stun baton so I could collect some ingredients but the cannibals found/followed me there and attacked me again. I just bolted I was in no shape to fight anymore. Honestly, what a rough day. My cabin is in shambles, there's nasty effigies everywhere, Kelvin has wandered off somewhere and isn't coming back to me. I think he's stuck at a cannibal camp. Virginia hates me because I accidentally threw two logs at her in the chaos...Anyway, I'm enjoying the full release but goddamn, when Endnight said "AI improvements", I didn't think it would come to this. I guess the male cannibals really don't like it when you kill female cannibals and their muddy pets.

This is what stuck out to me from our trip to Moon Palace Grand Cancun. It's written in the order we did things or encountered a situation. It's not an exhaustive review but I'll answer any further questions you have if I can.
Do pre check in on app for faster check in
Be sure to ask about activating resort credits
Everyone must wear a wristband, including children 4 and above. They don't come off and you're charged for replacement.
Rooms are dated but serviceable. Not well cleaned. Under beds, tops of baseboards, mirror frames etc clearly never get cleaned.
Main lobby is gorgeous and the restaurants are nicely decorated.
The Grand Buffet at breakfast leaves a little to be desired. Not much variety and food isn't cooked well. Sort of a good enough but not great situation. Our best bet ended up being omelettes, fried eggs, asking for fresh waffles or pancakes to be made. If you can't find bacon, ask. At Caribeno breakfast buffet for example they kept it in the kitchen and would only bring some out on request.
Playroom (Grand) is a bit tired for the under 7 set. Nizuc has a playroom where they take the kids swimming and do other activites. Grand some play/climb structures, arcade games, no couches or seating for tvs, few random dolls. Looked clean. They take the kids downstairs to the bumper car and larger play area for one hour at 11am. Lunch counter included.
Lunch took about one hour to arrive at kids pool. It was good but plan ahead.
Margarita cart comes around, super fun and nice variety of juices and add ons. Be sure to tip! I saw it at kids pool area and Caribeno.
Moon Palace Golf Course: no chance for food before round. No bar or snack shack for drinks pre round. There are several bar huts on course. Very limited food, three sandwiches and some random bakery items. No hot dogs.
Moon Palace Golf Course. Really not too impressive. Not well maintained. Not kept up to standard in my opinion. Didn't have ocean views or any holes along the ocean at all. Starter was in complete shambles. Didn't feel the need to play it again.
Circus for dinner, excellent! Reservation only. Super fun, well decorated, we really enjoyed our meal here. The food isn't amazing, but it's the experience. The kale Caesar salad was great, as was the burger and the fried chicken. Performance at 6:30.
Check out Caribeno and Cusco for quieter buffets. Mostly the same options, just much calmer than the Grand Buffet in the main lobby.
Los Tacos for lunch is awesome! We loved them all.
Los Tacos and Caribeno each have their own pools. Nice sizes and lots of loungers. There is a shelf where loungers can be partly in water and for kids to jump off of at both pools. Caribeno has a swim up bar. Both are great options to have lunch nearby and not as busy as the main pool.
Beach is okay. The sand is gorgeous, white and soft. Quite clean. The main problem I think is while the seaweed is cleaned out, there is tons of little bits of seaweed and it floats around your feet, the shore is murky. So not ideal for swimming. It's a lovely beach with various couches, loungers, cabanas for rent etc. The sand is extremely fine and sticky so ultimately we and the kids preferred the pools.
In the app check the events/activities tab (toggle between them) because the kids activities are all listed under activites. It's all from noon onwards, one hour per activity. Only in a couple different spots so you'll be familiar quickly with where to go.
Tavola (Italian) is really good, I particularly enjoyed the carbonara.
We enjoyed the pool at Caribeno the best with our young kids (2, 5, and 7). Warm temperature, shelf for jumping off of, swim up bar (they make lots of kids mocktails).
Caribeno, Cusco, and Los Tacos have their own pools, it's a nice quieter option with all the amenities (bar service, towels, loungers, etc)
For golfers: The round included with your stay is not at Moon Palace. Yes they have a course but they ship you out to a course called Riviera. It was nicer we thought than Moon Palace. Riviera was in better condition, the starter was organized, the bar cart came around frequently. They have a restaurant and the bar cart will take your order for lunch and bring it to you.
My husband and Dad ended up golfing a third time and went to El Tinto (a former TPC course) overall they agreed it was way better value for the money and in much better condition than the other two courses. Moon Palace charges $340USD and it is nowhere close to being worth that cost. If you're thinking you need to golf it because it's an ooh ahh Jack Nicklaus designed course, let me assure you Jack left a long long time ago.
Moon Palace Spa at the Grand (not the golf course) was very nice. Lovely experience from top to bottom. Excellent amenities, beautiful design, staff fantastic. Ensure you take extra time to use the wet area and lounge. Highly recommend. We had holistic massages (most basic, specialized ones were very expensive) and thoroughly enjoyed. Heated adjusting beds and the therapists took care to help change anything you needed.
We made reservations for the restaurants that needed it but don't think we needed to. (February). We never waited and found all easy to get in to when we wanted.
Casa Mia: upscale mexican
La Cantina: mexican street food
Tavola: Italian
Jade: Japanese
Habibi: Middle Eastern
Cusco: Peruvian
Caribeno: Seafood
Los Tacos: give you one guess 😅
JC: Steak
Circus: Pub-ish kid friendly food
Do not agree to the timeshare breakfast pitch unless you intend to go. We said we would then changed our mind. They never informed us we needed to cancel with them if so. They charged us $30 for the missed breakfast but worse was the harassment they inflicted on us via phone calls in the room. Starting at 7:30am and as late as 10pm at night. In our room, to our kids room late at night) which they know was occupied by kids as they marked it down at check in) and to my parents room even though they had declined the breakfast. We eventually gave up answering the phone once we had answered twice and confirmed no we aren't coming and no we don't want to reschedule. They continued to phone at least 3 times a day. It was beyond ridiculous. So fair warning there.
The night shows and entertainment were fun but campy. If you're going with young kids most of them start quite late (8pm and later). We rolled with it as just being on vacation but that might not work for your family.
The resort is large, there are golf cart shuttles everywhere so we rode quite a bit. We took a travel stroller and it was fine getting around.
Knowing some spanish words helps, not all staff are English speakers. Or have a translate app handy.
Water proof fanny pack or phone bags are very handy. Although they won't let you wear them on the water slides.
The kids pool area next to the water slides have lockers available.
Someone was asking about their nuts/allergy policy. It's basically this, they make note of your allergy and they ask you about it at every restaurant. They do not have dedicated clean spaces in kitchens. They will tell you if nuts are in an item but it's a lot of "may contain, we can't guarantee, etc". If you order a potentially cross contaminated item anyway they make you sign a little slip of paper. If you're allergic to nuts skip the ice cream. My hubby is allergic to all nuts and had coconut ice cream thinking it would be safe enough and he felt a scratchy throat and ears after a couple bites. They don't switch scoops or rinse or anything. So if you're anaphalactic don't risk it. My husband felt better after having a coca-cola (original, brand name. Advice he got years ago from a doctor to help with the affects of mild exposure. Not advocating replacing an epi pen with a coke, it's just handy info)
Ask me anything you want to know and I'll do my best to answer!

I am using a throwaway because I will not reply to my father, but I might send him this link and then he can deal with his feelings by himself.
Typical story: emotional abusive, absent narcissist father wants to reconnect. I don’t. Family and friends are telling me I should because he’ll die soon. He is about 75 years old. Repeat TL:DR.
My father is a narcisist and was a pretty absent father. He was emotionally abusive and a bully. He was never affectionate and the only times my sister, Hellena, and me were allowed to hang out with him were when he was watching football and we were quiet, or at dinner, also, if we were quiet. But we never knew when he would suddenly get upset, and then everything went to a very bad place.
Also, any emotional outburst or asking for a hug or affection we were deemed brats and spoiled.
I still struggle with showing emotion, but… My superpower is detecting any slight change of mood in anyone around me.
He would always say my mother was crazy and he would roll his eyes at her if she ever tried to say she disagreed with him. He would also shame her with his family.
In a way, he is the traditional Mexican father from that time. He provided, and provided well. We weren’t very well off growing up, but in the late 80´s he made a “good” deal and we became practically rich. So, my late teenage years and my sister's early teenage years were different from growing up. We went to Vegas and Cancún, we got clothes from stores (instead of handmade), and my parents were able to buy a house.
After 25 years of marriage and the new-found wealth, he got a convertible, divorced my mother, and 6 months later he married his secretary. My sister was 17 and I was 18.
The week he separated from my mother, he said if we wanted to have a relationship with him, we would have to accept his partner. So, every Sunday we would have breakfast with him and la PZ (his wife). That year they had a baby, Juan, and my sister and me were allowed to come over if we babysat. Same with trips. I hate kids, but Hellena got to babysit children at Disneyland and Six Flags, as well as on Sundays if there were nice outings.
The next year he sold the house, kept half, gave my mother the rest and told her to give Hellena and I the other half. My mother said she would keep 70% and us 30%. He made us sign a document that that was our inheritance and we would never ask him for money again.
I emailed him saying that money was my mother’s and he had no right of leaving her without nothing. So, he stopped talking to me for about 8 years.
Meanwhile, my father and his do over family traveled to Europe, learned to ski, bought a house in a golf course, another house in Mexico City, another one in Monterrey, many nice cars, and did more traveling. I am not sure what they did, but neither Hellena nor me were invited and I never asked for a cent, I still haven’t.
15 years ago, Hellena got pregnant by a narcissistic emotional abusive AH. (I am going to say here, of course my sister and I would go for AH, that was what was familiar to us. And boy, did we choose really bad AHs).
My sister asked for help when her emotional AH beat her up and kicked her out, and my father said he would help her and she would be in the best hospital. She moved in with them in Mexico City. When my sister gave birth and baby daddy showed up, my father said he had no daughter and would not pay the hospital bill.
Thankfully we had Hellena on public insurance and the bill was total like $4k dollars. Lol. (Note, in Mexico, if you don’t pay your bill you can’t be discharged.) Anywho, the PZ and my mother more or less worked their magic, and my father paid. He eventually got reimbursed, but he doesn’t remember that.
My sister took her daughter and left my father’s house, and the really bad stuff hit the fan, again. La PZ wanted to keep the baby and they both got super pissed and stopped talking to Hellena.
By that time, my father started talking to me again. He invited me to a couple of Christmasses and came to my wedding. He visited me several times.
I really really tried to get my father to like me.
One day, about 5 years ago, my brother and the daughter of the PZ, Kata, were on a car accident and almost died. My brother was in a coma and in ICU for 10 days, Kata got scalped by the windshield and got pretty smashed up. They survived by a miracle.
Hellena and me flew to them, and my father was in shambles. Completely drunk from morning till dawn. La PZ was in shock, smoking non-stop and always on the phone. Completely understandable.
Hellena and me tried helping… long story short, the neurosurgeon in charge of ER wanted to open my brother’s skull because he said my brother was brain dead. So, we switched to one that wasn’t a complete moron. I asked what was needed to get my brother out of ICU and the nurses told me that he needed to respond to commands. We met the requirements in a couple of hours, and we got him out of ICU. The new neurosurgeon was magnificent.
Because of the 10 days, my 17 year old brother spent tied down to a bed in ICU (Yeah, brain dead but tied down or he would tear his IV/heart lines and kick the bed or attack the nurses and mumbling in French, his second language), his recovery was about a month. He had physical therapy to regain mass and muscle. My father, the idiot, still thinks my brother is brain damaged and he had to re-learn how to walk and speak (Juan was jumbling Spanish, English, French, and Maya the first weeks).
Ant time passed, after a year, during the pandemic, in a group chat, my father said I was to blame because my brother fell during physical therapy and he should have spent another month in the ICU and had the brain surgery the other moron wanted.
Then they said Hellena and I only went there because we wanted to have sex with the doctors. So, I said something like, the only person that has ever done something similar here is your wife, and called her a PZ.
Kata and Juan got rightfully upset, lol, I apologized, but the damage was done. We haven’t spoken ever since.
A year later my own abusive relationship after 2 years of pandemic came to a climax. My ex choked me and threw me down a flight of stairs. I don’t know how I survived. I broke some bones and was obviously covered in bruises. He, a mirror of my father, proceeded to try to completely badmouth me and destroy me. One does not leave an abuser, one escapes them. And leaving them only starts the process.
I was homeless, penniless, in the middle of the pandemic, and dealing with court proceedings. My ex didn’t even want to return my cats. Thankfully, I got Domestic Abuse Intervention Services and they helped me a lot, with therapy and resources. I cashed my retirement fund, got a good lawyer. My friends helped. Hellena helped. And I decided to cut everyone who didn’t help me I would let out of my life.
My father said I was no longer his daughter. No one from his family called me or has since then reached out to me. At first, I tried reaching out to him, asking for my dad, begging for his love. He said that no one likes ungrateful brats. That went on for about 7 months.
So, I went low contact. Hellena has been low contact since the birth of her daughter.
He has told anyone who will listen that we are attacking him by not calling and by being ungrateful.
I decided to go No-contact after another rant of his. Finally, about a couple of weeks ago, he sent a long email saying he was sorry and said he wasn’t expecting a response, that we did not owe him anything. He said that he tried to be a good father, but he came short, and that he was sorry. That he will probably die soon, and he loves us.
And NOW all the people are saying we should reach out to him and forgive him.
So here we are. Reddit, please, tell me how to respond to these people?
TL:DR- Emotional abusive and absent Narcissist father wants to reconnect once he realizes he has no control over me and my sister. It is really not my problem and I no longer feel I am in charge of managing his emotions so he can f off with his PZ and his do-over family. What do I respond to relatives and friends?

This past august I was out golfing with two long time friends. My game was in shambles and I was only going out to hangout with my bois. We hacking and chatting a long until we reach #9 a short part 4. I take out my trust hybrid and hit off a stinker that was so bad its good. little bit of an uphill lie with 80 to go. My pal calls out to me from his ball. "If you hole out from hear I'll yell out out a CAW CAW."
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With this utterance I pictured a cowboy crow going YEE-CAW. I grinned like and idiot and put a good swing on it. With the dream like click every wedge wielder hopes for I see the ball is less than 6 feet for birdie.
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Thank you cow boy crow

I'm putting together a golf trip with 11 other friends (3 days, 36 holes/day) and I'm looking for any really fun or creative format ideas that people have used in the past and had fun with. Not really looking for the actual golf game ideas (e.g. best ball, match play, alternate shot, shamble), but more interested in team scoring and weekend-long tournament structure, or fun side bets. We have been doing an annual Ryder Cup style event for about 10 years, so that could be an option but I'm trying to mix in some new flair. We're also toying around with a 4v4v4 tournament where each team has to eliminate a player after day one so the teams get shuffled up. Open to anything really, just curious what all you golfers out there have dreamt up. Let me have it!

I have zero idea where to start , honestly , so this may be a longer read ... I suppose I'll start with the morning he ran out . 12/20/23 around 6am , I was just getting home with my boyfriend . I unlocked and opened the door to my male cat bolting out , running down the long (outside) hallway to the front of the building , but fortunately my boyfriend was still in the way , so he redirected him back toward the door . My hands were full and it all happened so fast .. I knew I should've just chucked everything out of my hands and dove for him , but he was too fast .. My friend's apartment I've been staying at til I can afford my own place is at the end of the hall on the back side of the building , which to my left as I exit the apartment is the long hallway to the front and to my right is the back part of the apartment which leads immediately outside . Once he ran off , I could've sworn he ran around to the front , but my boyfriend thought he ran directly toward the golf course behind the building where there's a bunch of shrub and trees and then more apartment complexes behind that ... We looked frantically (more so I did , my bf was very well at maintaining his composure) and we were searching all bushes , cars or any places we thought he may be hiding .. I was crying and calling for him . It's been two weeks since he went missing and I'm in shambles , completely depressed and devestated .. He's nuetured and has always been an indoor cat since I had gotten him 3 years ago , but part of me wonders if he may have been an outdooindoor kitten prior . Before I moved around September , he would sometimes bolt out , but wouldn't go far , just instantly lay on the ground and roll around . I moved about 2 hours away , staying with whom I thought was a friend , but she kicked me out , but had mutual "friend" watching my two cats while I stayed at her place . Luckily my friend who I'm currently staying with , I was able to be reunited and live with my cats again , which is an hour away from previous location . I only mention this , because I fear he may have been under stress from all the moving .. We've only been here since around mid October and I'm worried since he doesn't know the area well , he may be lost and scared/not knowing his way back . With all that being said , I'd say maybe 3 or 4 days after he got out , it started raining , and then snowing and didn't look then cuz I assumed he wouldn't wanna come out in that weather ... otherwise I've been looking at night around the hours of 12-4am as much as I've been able , calmly calling for him , playing my other cats meows in hopes he responds to her , shaking dry food , carrying a can of tuna , using flashlights to look any places I'm able . I also have a live trap my bf got that has a piece of used clothing inside as well as his favorite foods and water , multiple used clothing items around the back patio , and a used robe on the front of the building . I keep reading into what all I'm able to do and it seems everything I've tried doesn't seem to be working .. There's an onsight maintenance worker that has a male cat that'll walk around the complexes , as well as a few other cats I've been seeing on my cameras that I put up , so I worry it's keeping him away . I've been checking the Humane Society every 48hrs and was told by both them and animal control that AC always brings any cat , alive or deceased to the humane society . I filed a lost animal report with the humane society the morning he went missing and they told me after a week that they never recieved it , so I worry he could've been skimmed over in those 10 days they didn't have the report . I filed another and was told they'll keep the report for 10 days before needing to create another and they'll contact me if they find any that fit the description . I've made the mistake of setting his litter box out the first couple of days since that's what a lot of people recommended , but others have said it can draw in territorial cats and run him off more or prevent him from returning ... there are also a lot of dogs that people walk around , which he's never been around a dog before either . I feel helpless with zero control and it's eating at me entirely . I also sense that my female cat misses him just as much as I do .. I can't bare the thought of never seeing him ever again and the not knowing his whereabouts and if he's okay destroys me to no end . I've posted on lost pet Facebook pages as well as the nextdoor app .. I've had many rude comments assuming I let him out on purpose and just coming at me for no logical reason and it's so frustrating . I've put up soo many flyers and even walked to surrounding houses of the complexes to better the chances of him being found if he was hiding out in their garages/sheds or porches , etc . The apartments I'm staying at has nearly 50 complexes that are literally identical to one another and the amount of cars is insane ... so trying to check under cars and the amount of bushes have been extremely exhausting . Luckily , I've had soo many people checkout the flyers and keeping their eyes out , which I'm truly thankful for . 🥺 I had a girl I knew from highschool message me saying her friend lived on the corner of the nearest intersection saying that he has strays he'll sometimes pet whenever he gets off work around 1am . She said he saw a cat with an L shape kink at the end of his tail that he said is 80% sure it may be him and he also called out his name and one of the cats responded . This was about a week or so ago , but I haven't heard any updates . The area I live in is also the outskirts of a bigger city , so I also worry about predators .. There was a lady who commented on one of my fb posts that she saw a black cat in a tree at the apartment's dog park around 7:30 the morning he got out but couldn't tell if he had white or not . (More in comments)