I I guess I'm looking for validation that this is textbook, and I am looking at this correctly. I guess that is the effect of being gaslit - you don’t know your reality is really your reality. But I am here, and asking for help, because I will need to see him for the next 12 years (our kids go to the same school). This will be in passing and at events, but I am traumatized, still recovering, and just scared. I am looking for some insights because I spent about 2 months trying to fit my story into a box of emotional and narcissistic abuse…. But it's not that....I see that now. If you are able to share tidbits of knowledge, or point me in the direction of more clarity, I would appreciate it so much. Thank you so so much.
I am going to write out the cliff notes. I imagine a lot of you can fill in the parts I leave out as from what I read on here, it’s typical.
I met him walking my kid to school. He walked the same way every day. Over time, we became friends, and I learned he was trying to leave his marriage. Once he did, the relationship happened fast – too fast. He seemed so 100 percent sure of me and it was odd. I often looked disheveled walking to school and tired….I am not sure what he saw in me. But, I felt sure of him too, but wanted to go slower. I tried to slow it down, but at the same time, didn't. I am responsible for that. I felt like a hamster on a wheel after a few weeks and was able to tell him that I need the weekdays for myself, for my work, and for my kid. He seemed to respect that.
But he often romanticized the first few weeks together....even in the last days.
Quickly, I started to notice the emotional dysregulation. There was a lot going on for him: moving out, going through the divorce, parenting, work….so I understood it. I was also still getting to know him. Then severe trauma responses and triggers started happening. They would lead to these large child-like reactions with a lot of tears and anger. I didn't understand it but knew enough to know he had trauma to work through, and perhaps was feeling it for the first time. Each time this happened, there was nothing I could say to help or get him out of it, he would blame me a lot and say I was the cause, and he expected me (without saying it) to be there for him 110% even though I couldn’t. And truthfully, I didn’t want to….I wanted him to be able to handle that for himself or realize it was an issue. I didn't have the tools to deal with it and suggested he try deeper therapy. He agreed.
When he first met with the therapist, she told him it is like a virus takes over his brain and he is convinced in those moments. That was music to my ears at the time. But that is the last time I felt that way.
After a few months of this cycle continuing, I started detoriating. First my mental health, and then my physical health. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like we couldn’t go a few days without him reacting to something small. I wrote in my journal many times “there's no amount of validation I can give this person.”
I didn't point it to excessive adoration and validation, I could not see that really, but if he texted me 5 things and I responded to all 4 logistical ones and ended with "love you too" I was chastised. If I was driving and did not respond to an “i love you,” I was called out for it. At the end of October, I told him I needed the weekend to clean my apartment. It happened to be 60 degrees that day and of course, I would have preferred to be outside, but I am an adult and could not blow off my commitment to myself to clean. That day he messaged me 18 times that me missed me. He kept inviting me out. I kept asking him to stop, because clearly I would prefer to do something else than clean, but needed to. The missing was excessive. I didn’t even know what he meant. We lived next door to eachother. That night, I had to work, and he was upset with me because to him, it was optional and I should have chose to see him.
There were so many moments when he wanted so much comfort I couldn't provide. We were both single parents. That kind of affection goes to my kid....and I couldn't give it to him in that way. He would even want the affection when he hurt me.
He would see my daughter freak out at me and then say that I don’t love her enough, and he would joke they are the same….
It wasn’t a joke?
As time went on, and his therapy went on, and he felt validated by the therapist, the blame came on more and never left. It started in August, and even when I'd get an apology, it would be for the impact (what I'm responsible for) and not his intent. He'd argue with me over seeing his intent clearly. I'd say I don't care about your intent, you're killing me. It didn’t matter, nothing did.
I never felt like we could repair any incidents. As the blame went on, I really questioned myself. I wondered if he was right. What if I don't love enough? What if I don't receive love well? I've been in therapy for 20 years and know I have limitations but I'm not an asshole…
I felt coerced a lot of the time.
I felt he wanted me to change a lot....he wanted me to be less blunt, more loving, more balanced, work less even though he was awful with money, have sex when sick, injured or mentally dead from the day, always be happy to see him, don't be affected by the trauma responses and don't try to talk to him about it, don't take space and if I do, prepare for some kind of punishment, love him and miss him endlessly, do everything together, if I am dysregulated, he wanted me to regulate with him….
I noticed I started taking precautions to keep myself dafe. I didn’t realize I was setting boundaries to prevent the abuse but I was. I’d say I was busy when I wasn’t. I wouldn’t accept or ask him to get me from the airport, knowing I would not be 100% happy after a flight and that would cause a fight (as it did). I didn’t ask for help, and when I did ask for help, I would expect the help to not happen. I did not communicate anything he did “wrong” (like, you said you would drop off quarters for laundry on monday….do you have them?)
There were a lot of moments we would have deep conversations and I felt like we were getting somewhere, that he heard me.
I'll fast forward to the end because this is already way longer than I wanted….and it’s sad that I know it could be so much longer.
In the last month, he reacted and blamed me for everything. There were at least 5 major incidents. After the last one, I told him I was done. It was really bad and left me spending $50 to uber home in the snow, when I could barley walk as is (I had a herniated disc in my back and could barley walk). That month, I lost health insurance, and after begging for time to just take care of the injury, he told me we need intensive couples counseling. I had asked to just continue our therapist until we could change. That wasn't enough. The next weekend he asked me to go to a Gottman weekend. I said I couldn't leave my kid to do that right now and needed to take care of my help.
After that snow episode, that was really bad, laced with blame in the unpacking, I said I'm done, I can't do it. I was crying uncontrollably. I was scared. I really did not know who I was speaking to. After an hour, right when I needed to leave, he snapped out of whatever mindset he was in and told me he'd do anything, that he would work on anything, to please stay. I had to go, I could not think anymore. So in desperation, the only thing I asked for was to go alone on a trip with my daughter. He was scheduled to come with us. I said I needed time just with her. He agreed.
And honestly, he held up his end of the bargain....until he didn't.
3 days before the trip everything fell apart. I worked 12 hours that day and at the end of the day, went to pour water in a cup at home. It was the only time we had together before I left for the week. He hugged me from behind while I was pouring the water (....remember herniated disc in my back). I asked him to please stop and just let me have a second to pour the water.
He said "there's no turning back from this" and got his stuff to leave. I was floored. I was so upset because I knew where this was going - the blame game. He left, wouldn't come back, and then continued to blame me for the next 2 days about how I was an asshole the days before, only spent time with him out of obligation (not true), and rewrote history. I had a stomach bug all weekend and could not eat, but still tried to hang out as much as I reasonably could, and that was not enough.
The water incident was Wednesday, Thursday he had therapy and reinforced the blame, and I ended up leaving without saying goodbye. It was a week. I wanted to believe this relationship could survive a week. But I was clear with him days before: I am working up until I need to leave Friday so I can have real time off with my kid. He was upset I did not find him to say goodbye, even though he made no attempt to make peace earlier. But of course, my fault.
That night, he claimed down. Was nice. But it was a trap. After 12 hours of him being nice in text he said he was only doing it hoping I felt remorse and realized how wrong I was. He told me over and over he wouldn't see it differently. He said he read the transcript of our texts to 2 therapists and his friends and it’s clear: I am wrong. May be important to name here that we are both in our late 30’s.
I said that I want to work this out and I'll talk when we can actually discuss it and I'm willing to hear his side but not willing to blindly take all responsibility. He nailed me on every response, telling me how wrong my response was and what I should have done differently.
I was with my kid and could not talk. When I said "why are you doing this now, you know I can’t really respond" he told me to stop avoiding.
That night, he ghosted me for the first time in the relationship and I panicked. I called him a few times. No answer.
The next day, despite him never doing that to me before, he called me controlling for calling.
At 7am the next morning he told me our relationship was over in a text. This man, who 7 days before was professing his love and understanding of me ended the engagement in a text. This of course continued with a back and forth. I asked him to please stop. To please pause and talk to me when i'm back in 5 days. He told me to fight for the relationship or it was over. I said “I am just waking up with my 7 year old, in a hotel, please stop.” I asked him to attend couples therapy in 3 days to talk this out. He said “you accept all responsibility and change your behavior or we are done.” I asked if he was willing to talk and he said the problem was my perception and that it's wrong, so unless I change we are done. I knew this wasn't ok but I was so blindsided I did not know what to do. He agreed to go to couples therapy Thursday. We barley talked. There were a few more messages of him telling me he needs to know I can live a drama free life and celebrate his love and see it all as beautiful (almost verbatim). At this point, all I wanted to do is keep the dial down. I pushed back saying, “I cannot teach my daughter that someone can just tell her that her emotions and feelings are wrong, I hope you will be willing to talk and we can get on the same page.”
He agreed to go to couples therapy, and then didn't show up. He texted me 10 minutes before saying he was not going. I begged and pleaded. But he had the couples therapist to tell me he wasn't going to go. He had her tell me. I lost it. I lost my mind. I had been reeling for days. Not sleeping. Putting on a fake smile all day with my kid while I was dying inside. Staying up late to cry, process, read, figure out wtf was going on…
I called him about 10 times and of course, he told me it was inappropriate. He then picked up and gave me 10 minutes. He again wanted me to take all responsibility for everything. I was so shaken, I just fawned. I said ok. When I'm back I hope we can talk but if you want me to accept blame for now, fine.
Everything was calmer for 2 days until we were heading back and he texted me something along the lines of "don't fool me" I was like wtf? He said "there's no turning back. There's no other chances." I was like wait what? And then it was "don't make me look like a fool" I had no idea what was going on. I was like "um what is this?" He essentially was reinforcing his stance: I am to blame for everything in the present and past. If I try to talk to him about his side I'm wrong. I need to repent and one wrong move (defined by him) is a misstep and there's no room for error (his words). I was like....I will be in a relationship based in reality, and I will own my part and parts, but i will not be in something that i'm to blame for everything. That is not healthy. I have also been in abusive relationships before.
He then stopped messaging me. Didn't care that we got into flight issues. Didn't care we made the flight back. That night he came over and was a victim. Claimed in the 5 days I was gone he found himself. That he wasn't focused at work because of me and now he is. He wanted to try to be together. I had no idea what reality I was in. We slept together. He left. And told me we'd talk the next day. All of this felt so weird but I was just hoping he would snap out of this and back to reality and we would be able to talk. But I also knew this had to end at this point.
The next day, he didn't answer me all day. This was the opposite of behavior I ever experienced from him. Did not respond to texts or pick up the phone. We had a training appointment and he had the trainer tell me he wasn't coming. I broke down in tears. I begged him to just answer a text. He didn't. He drove by me while walking the dog and did not stop. I emailed him, expressing my confusion, telling him this is not what we agreed to. He blocked me. That night I got an email from him letting me know he was moving 10 min away. He lived next door in another apt building. He actually assured me the day before he “was not going anywhere.” In that email, he listed out the calls and texts I sent and how inappropriate it was. He never said we were done. He said taking space, needing space…so in my head I was confused but see it now.
I was inconsolable. I didn’t respond.
But here is the issue I am still in: I needed to see him dropping his kid at school the next day. I will need to see him for the next 12 years unless I move.
The following Friday he stood next to me at a school event. I purposely stood in the back to have space and be able to leave if I needed to. He went next to me. When I told him he should sit, he said he didn't want to make it obvious to his ex wife. I asked him to speak that Friday. He said ok but he was moving. I cried instantly. Already? I said ok.
On Saturday am, I saw the truck pull up and left the house. I called him that Saturday. I was blocked.
The next wednesday he asked me for a series of logistics in a text. None of which I handled yet. Wanting me to cancel flights and settle up money spent together. No mention or responsibility for all the money wasted on tickets we will never use. But then…in the text, asked for my engagement ring back.
I responded to logistics. Not the ring
He then called me 3 hours later because something went really wrong in his legal case. He wanted me to understand and validate him. I did....I just turned off my feelings for a moment. At the end he said, so about the flights. Can you handle it? "If i cancel it for you and your son i also have to do it for me and my kid. It's all on the same reservation" "well if you can go and not make sexual advances on me then we can try to go together.” I was like wtf? I could not have sex for months due to my injury. But he wanted to. Was this way of setting up blame that if we DID sleep together I would be to blame? I was like “I will cancel it for all of us.”
He then ran down more logistics and I said honestly you didn't seem done. I don't understand what you're doing. He said "im done" i hung up the phone.
He asked me for the ring again that night in a text. I said no, I need time to process this.
Everything since then has been a transaction. If i have a genuine emotion, he gets upset that i have it at all. He continues to sit next to me at school events because he claims he does not want his ex-wife to think we are done (this is insane to me….). I realize now that if it is a “good” interaction he is happy. If I am sad, then it is a “bad” one.
He never told his son we broke up, and shamed me for telling my daughter.
Recently he asked me a question and I was annoyed, and he said "can you not be mad at me?" I said “no, I can't not be mad at you…”
In the last 3 months, he’s said "I don't want to confuse things" has come up a lot. I don’t know if he is saying that to me or himself.
I have been so stuck trying to understand how I could not take space at all from him, to being totally discarded. I know he went back to spending, and drinking, but I don’t think he is seeing anyone.
He only responds when he wants to. He ignores other things. I never was able to get an MRI for my back because the claim went through a DR he set up for me and he never sent me the info when I asked.
I got the money back he owed me, but still lost so much money.
He told me he missed me one time.
I don’t know who this person is.
I will have to see him for the next 12 years while the kids are in school unless I move. I am not going to move just to avoid him, but I need to heal so I can be strong enough. I don’t know if he is going to try to come back. I have been in therapy and am getting clearer about what brought me into this in the first place.
Any clarity you can help me with, on this, and what may come from here, would be really helpful. It will help me direct some of my searches and begin to piece things together to process in therapy. I have severe anxiety when I run into him at school.
I have never had to heal from something like this before. At first, I thought it was healing from a narcissistic discard….this feels like so much more.
Does it sound like he will want to come back?
Is there ever closure?

Hey TV enthusiasts and tech tinkerers! 🌐📺
Introducing RemoteMaster - the app that empowers you to design and create your own custom TV remote control. No more fumbling in the dark or struggling with generic remotes. With RemoteMaster, you can tailor your remote to fit your unique needs and preferences. Let's dive into the details:
🌟 What is RemoteMaster? RemoteMaster is a groundbreaking app that lets you design, customize, and use your own TV remote controls. From simple layouts to advanced designs with integrated screens, RemoteMaster offers endless possibilities to enhance your TV watching experience.
🔧 Features and Services:

1. Customizable Templates:
   
   • Start with a variety of pre-designed templates and tweak them to your liking or build your remote from scratch.
2. Drag-and-Drop Interface:
   
   • Easily add, remove, and rearrange buttons with a user-friendly drag-and-drop interface.
3. Integrated Touch Screen:
   
   • Create remotes with built-in touch screens for a modern, intuitive experience. Use the screen to browse YouTube, Netflix, and other apps, then mirror your selection to your TV.
4. Backlit Buttons:
   
   • Customize button backlighting to ensure you never miss a button in the dark. Choose from various colors and lighting patterns.
5. Haptic Feedback:
   
   • Add haptic feedback to buttons for a tactile response, making it easier to navigate without looking.
6. Voice Control Integration:
   
   • Incorporate voice control features to command your TV with simple voice commands. Compatible with major voice assistants like Alexa, Google Assistant, and Siri.
7. Gesture Control:
   
   • Implement gesture control to swipe, pinch, and zoom on the touch screen or use hand gestures in front of the remote to control your TV.
8. Universal Compatibility:
   
   • Ensure your custom remote works with all your devices—TVs, sound systems, streaming boxes, and more. RemoteMaster supports most major brands and models.
9. Activity-Based Layouts:
   
   • Create specific remote layouts for different activities (e.g., movie night, gaming, music) that change the button layout and functions based on the activity.
10. DIY Guide and Tutorials:
    
    • Follow step-by-step guides and video tutorials to design your perfect remote. Learn tips and tricks to make the most out of RemoteMaster.

🌐 How RemoteMaster Works:

1. Download the App:
   
   • Get RemoteMaster from the [App Store](#) or [Google Play](#).
2. Choose a Template or Start Fresh:
   
   • Select a template to customize or start with a blank canvas.
3. Design Your Remote:
   
   • Use the drag-and-drop interface to add buttons, screens, and features. Customize the look and functionality to suit your needs.
4. Sync with Your Devices:
   
   • Connect RemoteMaster to your TV and other devices via Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, or IR blaster.
5. Enjoy Your Custom Remote:
   
   • Use your newly designed remote to control your entertainment setup with ease and style.

🔐 Privacy and Security: Your designs and personal data are securely stored and protected. RemoteMaster values your privacy and ensures your information is safe.
🌟 Coming Soon: RemoteMaster is constantly adding new features and expanding device compatibility. Stay tuned for exciting updates!
📲 Ready to Create Your Ultimate Remote? Download RemoteMaster on [App Store](#) and [Google Play](#) now! Revolutionize the way you control your TV and make fumbling with remotes a thing of the past.
🔗 Connect with Us: - Website: [www.RemoteMasterApp.com](#) - Follow us on [Twitter](#) and [Instagram](#) for design tips and app updates.
Create, customize, and control with RemoteMaster—the ultimate TV remote design experience! 🌐🔧📺

It has been 20 years since the first calamity struck Earth. A massive wave of solar radiation from a nearby star known as Prometheus 673B showered our solar system in 2025. Electronics have been rendered useless for months, giving humanity the glimpse of what life was like long before. But that was merely temporary. The true effect of the solar flare came in the form of an illness, that afflicted roughly 10% of the current population. Unlike anything we've ever seen, the illness did not kill, rather enhanced the afflicted. For the first time in human history, the term Esper was used seriously. Dubbed the Awoken, those afflicted with illness that stemmed from the solar flare of Prometheus, gained the ability to manifest their own thoughts into reality, with varying degrees of success. At first, nations and laws, society as whole, was not prepared to deal with these new humans and their abilities. Crime ran rampant for a while.
Five years after the incident, the world banded together in a unified front, known as the AMA, The Awoken Management Agency, a world wide agency tasked with handling and controlling the Awoken, allowing humanity to once more function as a whole. Satellites have been sent out as far Earth's gaze into space could reach, to watch our for any other potential cosmic events that may occur, like the one that happened with Prometheus back in '25.
Now, 20 years since the first incident, the satellites have picked up another major cosmic event on the horizon, this time coming from the Aquila constellation. Is humanity ready to withstand whatever cosmos has prepared for it?
[]
"Kenji. Wake up! You'll be later for your lectures, again."
The young man groaned, slowly turning to his side in bed, looking at his mother that stood at the doorway. "I'm up, I'm up."
Yawning and stretching, he sat up in bed, running his fingers through his hair, before turning to check the small clock on his nightstand.
"Wha? Late? Mom, it's only 8. Lectures don't start until 10." He sighed.
"Oh well. No need to cut it short, right? Plus, I've made breakfast." His mother replied and went back downstairs.
[]
AMA Information Database:
Kenji Aoto. Age: 21 Category: Type 1 Awoken Ability: Embodiment. The unique ability of Kenji Aoto, unlike other Awoken of the same type, allows him to alter his own body based on how he feels. Most Type 1s change their environment around them, rather than themselves. Type 1s are classified as such for having abilities that considered non dangerous to the general non awoken population.
[]
"We've got a lot of promising talent this year huh?" Nathaniel said to his daughter, as the two looked down at the auditorium full of students. The dean of the university was preparing his usual welcoming speech, as the assistants tried to quiet down the murmurs of the students.
"Yeah, we sure do." Clara smiled, not taking her eyes off the scene. "Quite a good number of Awoken too."
"Anyone interesting in particular?" Nathaniel asked.
"No, not really. They all have the standard abilities you would expect out of a type 1. Same level of control to boot." She responded.
"Well, I look forward to being their professor." Her father smiled, inhaling deeply. "The smell of youthful energy, so amazing. I can still remember your first day as a freshman."
Clara blushed a bit, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. "Shouldn't you be down there giving your speech, Dr. Offset?"
Nathaniel rubbed the back of his neck with a slightly embarrasses laugh to boot. "Oh don't call me that. Ahem, yeah. I'll be going now. See you later for lunch?"
"Of course dad." Clara smiled, giving her father a little wave as he left the teacher conference room.
[]
AMA Information database:
Clara Harris. Age: 32 Category: Non-Awoken (regular human) The lead ambassador for Awoken rights and unification in the AMA. Daughter of the lead researcher in Awoken development and the head teacher of the Awoken department in Nagoya University, Japan, Nathaniel Harris.
Nathaniel Harris. Age: 55 Category: Type 2 Awoken Ability: Offset. Acquired during the first Prometheus flare, the ability of Dr. Offset (he thought the name was cool when he was in his 20s), allows him to offset numerical values. Though touching an object is not required to use the ability on it, the potency of the ability greatly improved when he has direct contact with it. This also extends to, in theory, numerical values pertaining to objects and their position in space, relative to Nathaniel. Meaning he can move objects or parts of them relative to where he's standing, by changing their coordinates, however there were no recorded instances of him doing so. Examples include: Increasing or reducing the temperature of a beverage by direct contact. Increasing or decreasing friction on a surface of an object temporarily by touching it.
In his youth, Nathaniel attempted to become a sort of hero, once his powers kicked in, but due to the very low potency of his abilities, he never really managed to make the cut as one, despite being a type 2. Type 2s are classified as such due to having abilities that could be considered dangerous, powerful or harmful for the general non awoken population.
[]
Location: Russia, Siberia. Time: 22:37 Facility: Maximum security prison for Awoken criminals in Russia, cell block 5.
Theodore laid in his bunk, staring at the ceiling. Each of his breaths released a soft cloud of vapor, that commonly occurs when someone is in a cold environment. In his case, the vapor was a byproduct of his ability, rather than the cold cell we was in. A thug with a love for violence, turned bank robber when his abilities fully developed, Theodore terrorized Russia and the neighboring countries. It wasn't until the AMA was finally assembled and operational, that he was arrested and sentenced to multiple life sentences in this highest security prison that Russia had at a time.
Even after being sent behind bars, he kept up his antics, becoming a nightmare for the guards and inmates alike. No man that was placed in a cell with him would last more than a few days before demanding transfer. Some even lost their lives to the former thugs whims, before their transfer requests could be approved. Hence Theodore has been placed in solitary, a cell designed with all the tech necessary to nullify his ability. There he spent the last 10 years of his life.
Despite being a type 1, an awoken with abilities that were not classified as dangerous to the general population, Theodore managed to use them to their fullest extent. His blessing of temperature manipulation, was a curse to everyone around him.
He looked outside, at the night sky, through his small cell window. Apparently, there was a big stellar event, similar to the one 20 years ago, that gave him the powers he now has. He heard guards and other inmates talk about it, how AMA is now prepared for such an event.
Theodore closed his eyes, imagining what this aurora would look like. The memory of that night, when Prometheus 673B's flare struck earth still fresh in his mind like it was yesterday. The otherworldly mixture of reds and yellows and greens. Like a primordial fire that was lit across the night sky.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps outside his cell snapped him out of his memory.
"Huh?" He adjusted in bed, to see who was outside his cell.
A man, in a white cloak with golden details, stood outside his cell. Theodore was confused. The man was not one of the guards, he was bare footed and did not wear any uniform. And no way he was one of the other inmates, no one had the capabilities to leave their cells without being let out.
"Hey, who the hell are you? How did you get here? The guards letting us out or something?" The criminal walked over to his cell door. The bars were made of material that could withstand sudden changes in temperature without bending or breaking, preventing him from getting out.
The man said nothing, he didn't even turn towards the convict, he merely stood there, hood covering his as he looked up at the night sky through the decorative windows on the buildings roof.
"Hey asshat! I asked you a question. How the fuck did you get out of your cell? C'mon man, don't be a dick, let me out too." Theodore grabbed the bars and rattled them.
The cloaked man finally turned towards him. The convict was stunned, only for a second. The man has a beard and long hair, both as white as his cloak. But his eyes, they were as blue as the midday sky. He could have sworn energy seemed to pour out of them. Before he could say another word, the figure before him extended his hand at him, and with a snap of his fingers, a bold of lightning struck Theodore square in the chest. The convict was send flying, back hitting the wall opposite the cell doors.
[]
Location: Brazil, San Paolo. Time: 16:37 Facility: Remodeled Taubaté Prison, cell block 3.
Vitor sat on the bench press, just finishing a set, looking over the prison yard. Even behind bars, his connections did not dwindle. A former petty drug dealer, Vitor Alves quickly rose to power and influence once his powers awoke. He employed other Awoken with criminal tendencies as his own personal task force to drive all other competition into the ground. Once he held the entirety of San Paolo's drug empire in his hand, he set his sights farther. We wanted the entire city for himself, believing that no one could challenge his claim to that right.
With the help of the AMA, the Brazilian government swiftly put his plan to rest, and Vitor behind bars. The fight between the Awoken under Alves and the AMA/Brazilian forces was indeed a bloody one and resulted in a good number of civilian casualties. The drug lord was sent to Taubate, where he would spend the rest of his life. The prison was remodeled, per AMA standards, to be fully equipped and capable of holding Awoken criminals.
Despite having powers of temperature manipulation, capable of increasing temperature to lethal amounts, Vitor did not believe that to be his strongest ability. Money, influence, connections, those were real power, what truly carried him to the top of the criminal world.
Even now, as he sat on the bench press, doing a few reps before looking over the yard, Vitor was not powerless in the outside world. He waited on his informant, his connection to the outside, to appear so he could delegate orders to what was left of his followers and empire on the outside.
He wasn't sure if it was something he ate, or the heat from the pounding sun. Maybe it was even that sky flare that he heard AMA guards mention. Something indeed felt off, his vision seemed a bit blurry. As if the entire prison courtyard was moving slowly right before him. But the informant should be there soon, so Vitor decided not to go back to his cell just yet.
The other inmates, guards, even the basketball that the inmates played hoops with, suddenly slowed down to a halt. Through the statue like crowd, a single figure moved over to Vitor. His feet were bare, his body and face hidden behind a hooded cloak. The drug lord could only see his white beard and his eyes, as they seemed to be glowing a faint blue glow. Before he even got a chance to speak, the man extended his hand towards him and with a smirk, snapped his fingers, sending a bolt of lightning straight into the mans body, causing Vitor to fly several feet and collapse on the ground.
[]
"Ugh... What the fuck man?" Theodore cursed, as he regained his consciousness. Slowly, he got up to his knees, his head pounding like he was struck by a hammer. The cell felt colder than before. Looking around, he saw the entire cell frozen, every surface covered by a thick layer of ice. Bed, toilet, the cell doors, frozen solid. And the ice shifted. With every movement of his hands, the ice followed.
"Could it be?" The inmate whispered, focusing his mind, channeling his ability. Ice began to form in the palm of his hand, morphing freely. With a single wave of his hand, the frozen bed shattered into bits and pieces. Theodore inhaled, getting up to his feet, head still in pain. But the realization was crystal clear. He could now freeze things without having to touch them, manipulate what he froze, as well create ice out by freezing the water in the air. With a grin plastered across his face, Theodore thanked the mysterious man, of who there was not a single trace left, and decided that he's busting himself out of prison.
[]
"WARNING! WARNING! WARNING. PRISON BREAKS DETECTED ACROSS MULTIPLE AMA FACILITIES!" Blared the system on screen at the Awoken Management Agency in Nagoya. Other HQs across the globe received the same warning.
"What the hell is going on?" Clara said, running into the monitoring hall.
"I don't know. Prison breaks, across multiple locations world wide." Kaito replied, his eyes not leaving the monitors as he fired up the surveillance drones on the impacted locations.
"The main facilities that were absolutely totaled are Siberia and San Paolo." He continued.
"Think it could be?" Clara asked.
"Not possible. The protection against solar flares was at full power. Not a single particle should have hit the ground. I mean, we didn't lose any tech, unlike last time." Kaito shot her question down, pulling up the drone feed of the two prisons.
Taubate was in flames. The entire facility seemed to be entirely engulfed in a raging fire. The Russian counterpart held no better either. The entire prison was torn apart by massive glacier like formations, that seemed to jut out of the ground.
Clara, Kaito and other technicians presents stared, slackjawed, at the live drone feed. Something like that was not possible, no Awoken held that level of power. Not even if multiple Awoken united, could they produce that level of destruction across such a large area.
"Wait wait! What's that? Zoom in on one of the glaciers!" One of the technicians said, pointing at the big monitors.
Kaito's fingers flew across the keyboard, as the drone moved closer and the video on screen zoomed to its maximum. On one of the glacier formations, sat a man, clearly an inmate based on the jumpsuit he was wearing.
"Running identification." Chimed the computer.
"Inmate 4012: Theodore Ivarovski. Age: 36. Category: Type 1 Awoken. Ability: Low drop. His ability allows him to significantly drop the temperature of anything he touches, almost instantly."
"He's a type 1. No way in hell that he could pull of something like this." Clara said, eyes glued to the screed. "He must have re-awoken, there is no other explanation."
"Clara, in the last 20 years since the Prometheus, there was never a single instance of that happening. Some Awoken do push their abilities past the initial capabilities, but that's usually the end of it. It's a conspiracy theory." Kaito mumbled.
"Then how do you explain THAT?" She said, pointing at a massive piece of ice that was quickly forming above Ivarovski, before being sent flying towards the drone and cutting off the live feed.
[]
(Howdy y'all. This is a bit different from my usual write style, with a more manga like story/narration instead of the standard story/novel format I do. I hope you like it, I came up with it months ago, but due to time constrains with work I haven't gotten around to writing it. Based on how it's received, I may continue this along side Sand & Steel. You can read S&S on here:
Royal Road
Wattpad
Scribble Hub
Hope y'all have a nice day.
-M.W.A.)

I think a lot about signals. Signals that show people what groups they belong to. Signals that hide the truth. Everybody uses signals to blend, entice, or trap.
Grandma Pearl died not long after her stroke, and I've been making bad decisions ever since. Maybe my expectations are too high, or I'm just an idiot. Either way, I ran away from the group home to be with people who called themselves my "family." They were the wrong people. They used the words family, brother, sister, and love like lock picks, stealing trust, and taking self-respect.
The only person I remember using the word family correctly was Grandma Pearl. She was a small woman who toured the US as an actress before settling with Granddad above their theatrical rentals shop. I was three when the car accident took Granddad and Mom, so I don't know if they used the word "family" correctly, but I hope they did.
I was never as outgoing as Grandma, but that didn't bother her; she taught me how to watch people. How to see their signals, and how to listen. When she died. I forgot a lot of those lessons for a while.
They called it a "family". The "family" moved product. That product could be goods, drugs, or people.
The uninitiated, like me, were distracted with food and a dry place to sleep, but it didn't take long to see behind the curtain. Things got too intense with the new "family" and I ran.
I ran back to my old neighborhood. The buildings were familiar even if my home was gone. The old theatrical shop had been turned into a microbrewery.
After an appropriate amount of self-pity, thirty minutes, I wandered the alleys, picking up cans or scavenging for bits and pieces that could be recycled, used, or bartered.
I recognized old faces, but I tried to stay out of sight. It was safer that way.
The only place I allowed myself to be seen was the old Lutheran church on the park's far side. Most people who might have known me had aged out of the congregation or died. It was worth the risk because St. Lazarus had a food pantry in the basement and gave out lunches most days, so I wasn't always hungry, which was nice.
I found a dry spot near the library to sleep, which seemed like a stroke of luck until it wasn't.
I had the contentment that came with being in a familiar place. Little bits of comfort let me believe, for a moment, that I wasn't a screw-up and hadn't trusted the wrong people. That moment scurried away when Stick found me.
Stick was a scary asshole. He technically wasn't in charge of the " family," but he made it work. He got things done. I have no idea how old he was. He was all corded muscle and could clock in between twenty and fifty. He looked half-starved and moved like a stalking predator, even with his limp.
His left leg was stiff. The knee didn't bend, and anytime he sat, his left leg would be splayed to the side like a kickstand on a bike. The leg was why he walked with a cane. The cane and how he used it was why we called him Stick.
I don't know why he took the time to track me down. It's not like I was wanted. Maybe it was that I had become property. Property shouldn't just wander off.
Sometimes, you feel a person before you see them. The air is different. When Stick was around, the air felt dead and motionless. I knew I was being watched before I opened my eyes.
Stick was sitting on a milk crate, his bad leg cocked to the side and his forehead resting on his cane. I pushed myself out from beneath the ductwork of the HVAC unit I had been sleeping under and slapped the dirt off my jeans.
"I thought that was you," Stick said as his sharp grin curved up to his unblinking dark eyes.
Stick wanted my discomfort. I'd seen him play the intimidation game too many times. He'd act too friendly, and then when you were good and worried, quick movements, a hand around the back of your neck, and violence would be next. Then he'd act like the whole mind fuck was a big joke, like you were friends, and isn't it great that you can joke around with someone who "really" cared.
It worked, too. If you were the unfortunate focus of Stick's attention, you would be grateful when he smiled and said, "Just a joke, kid. Don't be so sensitive." I'd seen the pattern enough times to know Stick trained people like dogs with his hot and cold game. I didn't like the game, or the fear, so I changed the pattern.
"Hey, Stick, did you come to help pick up cans?" I asked, making sure my smile reached my eyes. I was trying to be pleasant while ignoring the burning nervousness in my gut.
It was still dark out, but I could see Stick's expressions well enough.
Stick tapped his cane on the sidewalk and squinted at me skeptically before answering. "Just checking on my little brother."
We were not related.
Stick liked to call the uninitiated his little brothers or little sisters. He forced intimacy into his language. I didn't argue the point. Interactions went best with Stick when you agreed with everything he said.
"Thanks, man," I complimented, trying to sound genuine and ignorant as I stepped forward and offered him my hand.
Stick didn't move, but I could see that this conversation wasn't going as planned for him, and I forced myself not to react to his confusion. I couldn't break character, or he would know I was playing him.
Stick tapped his cane on the ground twice, grasped my hand, and stood. He watched me. I held his stare, but in an open, naive, guileless way that I had perfected in front of the mirror as grandma gave acting advice while she put her face on.
I once asked Grandma Perl why anyone would practice acting stupid. She pointed her mascara brush at me and, in her ditsiest Minnesota Nice character, said, "It's easier to be forgiven when people think you're a little dumb, don't ya know?" Like with most things, Grandma was right.
Before I understood what had happened, Stick pulled me into his side and slung an arm around my shoulder.
"You don't have a name yet. Everyone gets a name, but they don't get to pick it." He paused and gave me a Cheshire cat grin. "I have a name for you, little brother. You are going to be called Slide." Then he held my chin and forced eye contact." Your name will be Slide because I have never seen anyone slide out of shit faster than you. I can't tell if you do it on purpose or not, and I've been watching. I watch everybody. You do, too. Hell, this might be the first time I've ever heard you talk. So let's celebrate your name, Slide." Stick's smile slipped as he pulled me out of the alley. "We'll go do something special."
I stayed silent, knowing full well what was coming. Being named meant doing something you could never take back. It was public and would put you in prison if the police ever took the time to look for you. It meant severing yourself from your life before and relying entirely on the "family." I had been absent each time naming seemed to be in the cards, but I couldn't duck out this time.
There was only one place to go at this time of night that would have an impact, the Bodega.
The Bodega was a red hole in the wall with a glass door papered over with grocery ads years outdated. Canned salmon two for one seemed to be the dominant theme. Although there were two large windows, one on either side of the door, you could barely see in. The right window was a tapestry of cigarette promotions. The left window displayed the only swath of uncovered glass with a view of the interior. From the outside, the view was of tobacco, lottery scratchers, and Old Lady Imitari.
Old Lady Imitari owned the store. She was a short, dark-haired woman who always wore a long floral tank top. Grandma Pearl loved the old woman but said Imitari looked like an old man's thumb all the years she had known her, and Grandma moved to the neighborhood with Grandad thirty years ago. Imitari was a local legend even then because the Bodega was open twenty hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year, and no one else worked in the store. Grandma used to make an extra strong coffee called Barako and chat with Imitari sometimes when work in the shop was slow.
I would sneak out at night and try to catch Imitari sleeping. No matter the time, I never caught her snoozing, and she always saw me peeking at her through the window. I know she saw me because she would uncross her arms and wave her flyswatter at me.
All these memories flicked through my mind as Stick smiled his too-wide smile and pushed me into the Bodega.
Imitari flicked her fly swatter at me in acknowledgment, and her attention returned to the small TV she had nestled beside the cash register, which seemed to be the old woman's only real tether to the world outside her shop.
The inside of the Bodega was just a long hallway with shelves of convenience foods, drinks, home supplies, candy, and cold meds covering every available surface from floor to ceiling. The only break in the tunnel of products was the glass counter at the back corner of the store; Imitari presided over her mini domain by casually ignoring her shoppers. I tried to make eye contact with the old woman again as Stick pushed me to the back of the shop, but after her initial acknowledgment of our entrance, Imitari's eyes stayed focused on her TV.
As casually confident as possible, I walked to the cooler and grabbed an iced tea. "Want a drink," I asked over my shoulder, my voice unusually steady, given the electric current of anxiety flowing through me.
Stick sneered and tapped his cane twice on the ground. His eyes found all the security cameras in the tiny store, a frown creasing his angular features.
I followed his line of sight and finally realized what had bothered him. The cameras were fake. They looked like security cameras, but they weren't. There were no wires or lenses, just rectangles and circles in a security camera shape.
Stick took a deep breath and tapped his cane on the ground again. " There… is … so… much… here… to… see… but… no… one… is… watching," he said with a singsong. Then his sneer turned into a cruel smile.
I knew Stick wanted an audience for what he would force me to do. The fact that the security cameras were fakes meant that whatever was going to happen would now have to be significant. An event that the neighborhood wouldn't be able to ignore. My stomach twisted with the thought.
Stick waggled his eyebrows at me. He had been watching. He had seen my thoughts, and we both knew he had something terrible in mind.
The cane twirled in Stick's hand and then tapped twice on the shop tile.
"I think I want a little bit of this," Stick said, gesturing wildly with his cane, sending a row of soup cans tumbling to the floor. "And a little bit of that," Stick added as another wild gesture sent cups of ramen spinning and knocking glass bottles of hot sauce to the floor.
I stood paralyzed, unable to run. I was trapped with nowhere to duck away to. I didn't want Stick to hurt Old Lady Imitari, and I didn't want Stick to hurt me, either. The truth was, he would hurt both of us no matter what I did. That was just the way Stick was. I'd seen him. I'd seen him show us who he was every day.
Then I realized Imitari hadn't moved. She was watching her TV and chuckling at the sitcom as if nothing had happened.
Stick glanced at me, confused. I almost felt sorry for the sociopath. His night was not going to plan.
Imitari chuckled at her TV again, and a crease formed in the middle of Stick's forehead, letting me know that he was beyond angry. He was calm, dangerous, and vicious. People had been left for dead when Stick got this way.
Stick raised his cane and flipped it so the handle jutted like a pickax. He was going to attack Imitari.
Somehow, I moved. I didn't do much, but when I slid forward and grabbed the back of Stick's shirt, the cane missed Imitari, and the sharp handle punctured the thick glass top of the counter just above a roll of Lotto scratchers.
Old lady Imitari slowly looked up into Stick's eyes and smiled. Her wide, gentle frown was replaced with a look of joy and something else, something primal, something hungry. Her pupils were blown, and I had the uneasy feeling that I was watching someone be served their absolute favorite meal.
Before Stick could pull his cane from the punctured glass, Imitari casually reached forward, grabbed the cane, and pulled the wirey man forward. Small, old, and wrinkled, Imitari stared into Stick's eyes and overpowered him.
Stick fell forward across the counter. He tried to push himself back, but Imitari's hand clamped down on his wrist like a vice.
Bones ground together as Imitari pulled Stick's hand to her mouth, and with a swift, subtle movement, she bit off the tips of Stick's pinky and ring finger like she was sampling a cookie.
I jumped back next to the cooler as a thin spray of blood arched toward me.
Stick screamed and thrashed, but Imitari's small form was static and immovable. Stick was a fly in a trap. No matter how much he struggled, punched, poked, or kicked, he could not break the old woman's hold. Then, slowly, she took another bite.
It was strangely fascinating watching the frail form of this old woman I had known for years take bite after bite out of Stick. This man, whom I thought of as a predator, a hunter, an enforcer, was crying and begging while an old woman, who looked like a wrinkled thumb in a floral top, quietly devoured him.
I was surprised by the lack of blood after the first spray. I'm sure it was Imitari's crushing grip that stanched the flow of blood. The flesh of Stick's arm looked white from the pressure.
Hand over hand, Imitari pulled Stick forward. Bones cracked as she gripped higher on Stick's arm, clamped down with her long leathery fingers, and fed the flesh and bone, one concise bite at a time, into her open smiling maw. It was rhythmical in its simplicity: chomp, crunch, chew, chew, swallow. Over and over, the pattern continued until the begging stopped.
Stick wasn't dead. He gave up. Not struggling, he laid over the glass counter like a rag doll. He watched me glassily as Imitari took bite after bite, and I knew he wasn't there anymore. Whatever made Stick Stick had either curled up and hidden in a dark corner of his mind or had been devoured with his arm.
The old woman seemed displeased that her meal had stopped struggling. She shook him, but he flopped, and his head lulled from side to side. Imitari frowned, let go of Stick's arm, and pushed down on the limp man's back. Blood gushed from the ragged stump, and Imitari lowered her mouth and drank from the wound like she was sipping from a garden hose.
Stick didn't move. He just grew pail, and eventually, his panicked, shallow breaths ended, and the blood stopped flowing.
Then Imitari stood. With a quick tug, she pulled Stick's body over the counter and let it flop to the floor at her feet. Her eyes closed. A contented smile bloomed on her face as the explosive sound of crunching and cracking bones echoed through the small shop.
The deafening sound of crunching stopped, and only the buzzing of the drinks cooler reverberated through the small space. Imitari opened her eyes and watched me, a broad smile still on her lips. At that moment, I realized I could hear the drinks cooler so well because I had crawled into it, wedged between the glass door and the shelves.
Imitari held me with her gaze as cords of pink flesh lowered from the ceiling and efficiently tidied up Stick's mess, lapping up blood and hot sauce, placing cans on shelves, and scooping up cups of ramen with whip-like tendrils. Then, the cords of flesh nudged me forward, and I stood before Old Lady Imitari.
The thing that I had always thought of as a stern old woman handed me Stick's cane. With the same benign smile I remembered from buying red hots from it as a ten-year-old, it waved me away with its flyswatter, and the cords of flesh pushed me out the door onto the sidewalk.

Hi there,
First post on the Audi S4/RS4 sub. I'm looking at perhaps buying an Audi RS4 of the B8 generation in the near future as a birthday present to myself. I love the looks of the car as well as the fact that the engine is an NA V8 that revs high and sounds great. I am generally a fan of wagons (see my posts for my current car) and therefore also really appreciate the added practicality of the RS4 over the RS5. Four-wheel drive is something I am not used to, however, so it'll be interesting to see how it affects the driving dynamics.
I currently drive a BMW E46 330i Touring with rear wheel drive, a manual gearbox and a 3L NA i6 engine. These cars have solid reliability associated with them, once of course the cooling system has been replaced, and the variable valve timing (VANOS) has been redone after a few 100k kilometres. In my ownership, I've had to spend nearly 1300€ in the first year (purchased for 4800€) to get it in proper running shape, including tyres and rust repair. It's been super reliable ever since, and I'm planning on replacing a bunch of service items as well as the exhaust for a new OE exhaust, so that come sale time, I will probably even make money on the car itself. The reason I'm looking to move on from the E46 is that I've now gotten into a better job that pays significantly more than my last one, and I would like a car with more modern creature comforts and tech, however I would also like to continue to have a car with a soul and good driving dynamics - plenty of that in my E46. Additionally, whenever I do purchase the RS4, I may be in a position to either buy it outright or pay half upfront and finance the rest. Good examples go for 30000-35000€ in Germany.
Coming from an early 2000s BMW , I am aware that a higher strung engine paired with a DCT and an AWD in the RS4 will have more things that can potentially go wrong, and therefore will also have higher associated costs. But at least it's not a hybrid. I wanted to come on here and ask if there are any particular reliability aspects to consider in this generation of RS4, aside from the front diff oil change interval every 30000km, and the main gearbox oil change every 65000km paired with the diff oil change again. Regardless of what the recommended oil change interval is for the engine, I personally plan to take it no further than 15000-20000km between oil changes.
Are these engines prone to spontaneously blowing themselves up? Do they drop valves into the engine? Are they particularly picky about which fuel they need? In Germany I'm sure you can find the right octane rating, but will they, in a pinch, also run on RON95/95E10? Does the dynamic ride control tend to give out really as fast as videos on YouTube suggest? Are there any particular electrical issues that I'd need to chase down?
Lastly, if there are any owners of the B8 RS4 here, how have you liked the car so far? What are your estimated yearly running costs, and how often have you run into issues? If you have the adaptive cruise control/lane keeping and departure warning assists, how well do they work? How is the tech inside the car, can I stream my music from Spotify into the car via Bluetooth, or would it make more sense to retrofit Android Auto/Apple Carplay into the head unit?
Thanks for your help and time! Looking forward to your comments :)

Hi all. My current phone (Moto One 5G UW Ace) is almost paid off and I'm in need of an upgrade. I've recently changed jobs and this is the first time I've had to use my personal phone for business, so I need one with some good specs. I'm hoping you guys can help me find a good android that meets my needs below, but if an iPhone is what I need then tell me.
I've been an android follow ever since I was able to recognize Apples shady business practices, but I'll bite the bullet if I need to.
My needs:
Large memory capacity - for personal use, I use large apps like PoGo and stuff like that, but for work I need a lot of storage space for pictures (I'm an engineer and need to collect a lot of pictures at client sites). And I believe memory is what governs agile app functionality (apps opening and switching quickly). I also currently use a micro SD card for all my pictures, so it'd be nice if the new phone had that capability so I can take the SD out and put it in the new one.
Good and FAST camera quality - as mentioned above, I take a lot of pictures for my job. I need a camera that takes clear pictures in a variety of lights while also being FAST. My current camera isn't bad, but it locks up my phone whenever I try to use it. I had an iPhone for work once and switching between the camera and other apps was so quick and non-intrusive and I'd like to get that again.
Battery life - The longer, the better. I've only ever used Motorolas in the past (I currently have a Moto One 5G UW Ace) because of their battery life, but nowadays it doesn't seem line Motos are heads-and-shoulders above anyone else in this regard.
Connectivity - My phone does not play nicely with my wife's iPhone. Pictures we send to each other turn out poor and sometimes there's a delay in receiving messages.
My wants:
Fingerprint scanner - I'm not a fan of the face-based unlocking, but I do love the quick opening of a fingerprint scanner.
Car connectivity - My current phone is garbage at connecting to my car via Android Auto. It takes way too long and I feel is actually kind of a safety hazard because of the delayed response times.
Separate profiles? - I think this is more of a software thing, but I'm asking just in case there's a company that really good for this: Since I use this for both work and play, I'd like to keep them as separate as possible. It'd be nice if I had two different instances of the OS running at the same time (like having different desktops running off the same machine) so that files and apps I have for my personal use can't bleed over into my work environment.
Large size - I don't think this will be a problem because of how the market works, but the larger the screen, be happier I will be. Not super critical though.
Peripherals - I'm looking into a smart-watch in the future, so something that plays well natively with my phone would be nice. USB-C port for hooking into things. Wireless charging would be cool, but it's not super critical.
Country of origin - I know Chinese companies have been making waves recently, but I'd prefer to stay away from devices affiliated with geopolitical rivals of the county in which I reside (USA). I don't really care THAT much, but I feel like it may save some headache in the future.
My constraints:
Carrier - My carrier is Verizon and I'm still squatting on my parents' account (yay millennials) so this would be purely a hardware upgrade. No new lines, no changing of plans. I know good phones probably run around or above $1000 now but the more affordable I can be with Verizon, the better.
Any help would be greatly appreciated. And again, if the answer is an iPhone, just rip the bandaide off so I can make piece with myself before making my wife happy.

About 5 days ago my dog came home from having surgery on his leg. My cat since has been running around and hissing at everyone. She was best friends with my dog before this happened. I’ve done some research and it seems she no longer recognizes his smell and it’s got her on edge. She has also started taking her anger out on the people in our house. Right now they are separated, she’s upstairs and he’s downstairs. There are times she comes up to me in my room looking for love, but will quickly start hissing at me and run away. She hasn’t attacked anyone, but the sounds she makes sure feels like she wants to. How can i get her to calm down and not be so upset? How long till she’ll be back to normal? My dog had stitches on his leg so he’s wearing a cone, and we have to give him medication (sedatives, antibiotics, and anti anxiety) for about 6 weeks until his leg heals. Any advise?

Hi there,
First post on the Audi sub. I'm looking at perhaps buying an Audi RS4 of the B8 generation in the near future as a birthday present to myself. I love the looks of the car as well as the fact that the engine is an NA V8 that revs high and sounds great. I am generally a fan of wagons (see my posts for my current car) and therefore also really appreciate the added practicality of the RS4 over the RS5. Four-wheel drive is something I am not used to, however, so it'll be interesting to see how it affects the driving dynamics.
I currently drive a BMW E46 330i Touring with rear wheel drive, a manual gearbox and a 3L NA i6 engine. These cars have solid reliability associated with them, once of course the cooling system has been replaced, and the variable valve timing (VANOS) has been redone after a few 100k kilometres. In my ownership, I've had to spend nearly 1300€ in the first year (purchased for 4800€) to get it in proper running shape, including tyres and rust repair. It's been super reliable ever since, and I'm planning on replacing a bunch of service items as well as the exhaust for a new OE exhaust, so that come sale time, I will probably even make money on the car itself. The reason I'm looking to move on from the E46 is that I've now gotten into a better job that pays significantly more than my last one, and I would like a car with more modern creature comforts and tech, however I would also like to continue to have a car with a soul and good driving dynamics - plenty of that in my E46. Additionally, whenever I do purchase the RS4, I may be in a position to either buy it outright or pay half upfront and finance the rest. Good examples go for 30000-35000€ in Germany.
Coming from an early 2000s BMW , I am aware that a higher strung engine paired with a DCT and an AWD in the RS4 will have more things that can potentially go wrong, and therefore will also have higher associated costs. But at least it's not a hybrid. I wanted to come on here and ask if there are any particular reliability aspects to consider in this generation of RS4, aside from the front diff oil change interval every 30000km, and the main gearbox oil change every 65000km paired with the diff oil change again. Regardless of what the recommended oil change interval is for the engine, I personally plan to take it no further than 15000-20000km between oil changes.
Are these engines prone to spontaneously blowing themselves up? Do they drop valves into the engine? Are they particularly picky about which fuel they need? In Germany I'm sure you can find the right octane rating, but will they, in a pinch, also run on RON95/95E10? Does the dynamic ride control tend to give out really as fast as videos on YouTube suggest? Are there any particular electrical issues that I'd need to chase down?
Lastly, if there are any owners of the B8 RS4 here, how have you liked the car so far? What are your estimated yearly running costs, and how often have you run into issues? If you have the adaptive cruise control/lane keeping and departure warning assists, how well do they work? How is the tech inside the car, can I stream my music from Spotify into the car via Bluetooth, or would it make more sense to retrofit Android Auto/Apple Carplay into the head unit?
Thanks for your help and time! Looking forward to your comments :)

First < Previous Next >
“That just became a long term goal,” Thomas mutters to himself. “Foundation must have cracked letting the swamp in. This place is pretty old. I’ll need some form of canoe to get me across, or a way to patch the crack and bail it out.”
Heading back upstairs, he continues pondering what he can do to be able to explore the basement. His thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a rustling noise behind him. He spins around, heart pounding, and sees Katrina standing in the doorway, her bow in hand and a determined look on her face. The last time he saw her, she had been intent on killing him.
“What are you doing here, Thomas?” she demands, her voice sharp and unwavering. “I thought you were dead.”
Thomas instinctively steps back, his mind racing to find a way to diffuse the tension. “Katrina, wait. I’m not here to cause trouble. I just—”
“Save it,” she snaps, taking a step forward. “You ran away, and now you’re hiding out here? Why?”
Thomas raises his hands defensively. “I’m not hiding. I’m just… trying to survive. To find some peace. I didn’t mean to cause any harm.”
Katrina narrows her eyes, her grip tightening on the bow. “You think you can just run away and live in peace while the rest of us struggle? That’s not how it works.”
She begins to walk towards him, “Besides, stealing kid’s lunches and replacing it with pemmican, that sounds familiar. You are nothing but a moocher, and I am here to end that!”
Readying her bow, Thomas interrupts her. “Wait, I know I am not capable of doing much, just make this quick, and don’t hurt this building. If I cannot spread what’s in here, maybe someone else willing can.”
“You would rather die than see this old shack destroyed?” Katrina questions, lowering her bow slightly. “Why, what’s so important in here that you would like to keep, like so many things you have abandoned?”
“Knowledge. Pure knowledge from the time before. It has only been a few weeks, but the amount of information I picked up, I could rebuild the entire village structure to last decades, if not longer. This building still stands even though no one has lived in it for probably a century. I also found books-”
“Books!” Katrina exclaims, distainfully, spitting on the floor. “Look Thomas, I am giving you one last try before I end this all right here right now. But I don’t want to hear anything else about new found knowledge from the slop of the society that came before us. We are where we are right now because they are gone. It collapsed. Nathaniel has many tales of roving bands in the last days leading to our tribes today. I don’t want to hear more about ‘improving lives for all’ or ‘The past has the answers to the future’ as the only major contribution they have made is die.”
“No! I will not abandon the sole reason for my argument. Yes their society fell, but did you know they had running water inside their places! Completely controlled too. It came from underground, where I do not know. But think for a moment! No more outhouses! Also, no running to the creek for water. Not even need to go to a centralized place to get water, it is just there where and when you need it!”
Katrina is not impressed, she begins pulling back her bowstring, ready to end this all.
Getting desperate, Thomas pulls out his last piece of knowledge that may save him and this building: “Also, the only reason I was able to walk out of the village is because of books! I learned how to stand for a fight through a book on fighting called ‘Intro to Martial Arts’! People shut up pretty quick when I was able to stand. They started laughing when I tried using the weapon, which was the next chapter!”
“Fighting styles? As in more than one?” Katrina says lowering her bow yet again.
“Y-yes!” Thomas stammers, sighing as he is not shot yet.
“Show me this ‘book’ and I’ll see if it is worthy of this building and your life.
“Sure! It’s upstairs.”
“Ah ah ah, you are not going to grab it, I will. Where is it?”
“Why are you making this any harder? The stairwell is next on my list to fix, and I had to map out where it is safe to stand! Besides, you saw how well I can handle any weapon, am I really a threat? What could I get that would actually threaten you?”
Katrina narrows her eyes, pauses for a bit, and responds “Fine, but one wrong move and fwoop, bye bye.” She says in a singsong voice.
“I know. I know…”
After carefully getting upstairs and getting the book, he presents it to Katrina. “Just be careful with it, it is old”
“Yeah yeah, old paper mush that will somehow change the village. Not my first rodeo with you saying this.”
Flipping through, Katrina starts out doubting the books veracity, then sees a few images of various stances, weapons, and backgrounds of people. Slowly, she realizes this is the real thing, but with one major flaw.
“It’s mostly words! I can’t read! How is this to be of any use to me!”
“Well, it just so happens that you are standing in front of one of 2 people in the village that can read, and is also not in a mystical daze half the time.”
“Fine, you get to live, for now. Based on what this book shows, you read it to me, I learn it, and then we see if you are worth keeping. I’ll bring out some food for my little reader, and we’ll go from there”
Katrina then vanishes, leaving the book where she stood. With the uneasy alliance made, Thomas now begins reading in earnest to try and remember the meaning of all the new words he’ll have to explain
Patreon as someone asked for it https://www.patreon.com/CollinBarker

idk if this is a hot take or not but i feel like a lot of ppl who make voice synth covers seem to miss this point, specially those "fanmade tuning remasters" with the same vocaloid but diff VB
^{maybe the cover thing has a bit of bias towards the OG tho, but since ive seen a few of these complaints in OG songs too, idk}
it just feels like they focus so much on realism and quality that the tuning just feels... plain as fuck.
ofc, there are songs where its both and it sounds really fucking good (Mitchie M my beloved).
but when it sounds like all the thought put on it is "i want it to be HQ", then just... whats even the point of all this quality if it doesnt adds anything at all?
like, take a look at surii's len tuning in Telecaster B Boy and Ego Rock. even though these arent songs too unfit for human covers (in terms of charm), the "weird" tuning still adds a lot to it.
ofc, when you hear it for the first time its likely to sound bad. but for me at least, a bit more of listening and it started to feel like it addeded so much charm to it. the same can be kinda said about phony and KING, and maybe even Teo and Becoming Potatoes.
all of these are songs ive seen at least one human cover that actually did it justice. yet the un-humaness for the sake of charm just goes so fucking well with it
an example of covers done right in my oppinion are the teto covers from tanjiro taidana. bro not only takes the "covering is not just singing the song. sing it in your own way" motto to the core, but also really priorizes making it sound charming. like, even after getting SynthV teto he will still often priorize utau teto just because of how charming she sounds.
and some great examples in terms of OG songs are Kairikibear songs, as well as any other composer who uses vFlower a lot. Nayutalien too is a great one. also the song My Love is Hellfire is deff one of the best examples imo
so yeah, again, no idea if this is a hot take. probs not thaaaat much cuz of how much love vFlower's voice in iconic OG get, which are some of the greatest examples of this.
but i also seen a few complain about tunings that priorize charm, and actually highly prefer a "fan re-tuning" that sounds like quality and nothing more.
tbf, i can kinda see why, since many of these do sound like simply bad at first listen... but also, i just dont get why so many ppl seem 2 associate "good tuning" with realism/quality, and often label charming tuning as "not actually tuned at all"
^{edits x4: small changes for better communication and lighter read}

Listen to this section of BWV 140 ("Wachtet auf..."). Run of the mill counterpoint on Hallelujah. But what exactly does he do with the altos starting at 4:27, how does he achieve that upwards, heavenly Hallelujah? One thing I can think of is that he spreads this voice so that it sounds "above" the other voices, but what else? Are the altos singing on the relative minor key? What gives it the "holy sound"?
He uses the same "technique" in St. Matthew's Passion. With the sopranos, right here.

Chapter 11 - Home
The ship arrives in port to songs from the Deed of Morred. A funny exchange occurs where Apple's friend Shinny (Shandy) sees Tenar on board the ship and says, "'Maybe it's his mother,'" only for Apple to say actually it is a mother (well, her's). Tenar and Therru disembark from the ship in rather royal fashion before it leaves again. Apple greets them warmly and is apparently on very familiar terms with Therru (Apple picks her up), however that night Apple is a bit apprehensive toward her mother, apparently she had never given much thought to the songs about her mom. She calls her a "'...king-kisser....'" A couple days later they all leave Apple's home and go to the farm, along the river Kaheda in the late summer. Apple comments on Therru's health and Tenar lets slip she was stronger before the incident, and then tells Apple about it (Apple is familiar with Therru's past). We find out that the one that was likely Therru's father is called Hake. In recalling Handy's motions she oddly can't remember Aspen's name except for the Kargish word for a type of tree. Apple says they haven't seen anyone from that group, and Tenar takes some joy that her daughter is mothering her mother. They consider a dog (again), though humorously Tenar is mostly thinking of a puppy for Therru (she already plays with an animal anyway, right? Well, a weird bone doll, close enough). They arrive at Lark's and it's a warm homecoming, it had apparently been two months since their departure to Ogion's. Tenar is reluctant to tell the story about their adventure but absolutely gushes about the king, says he appeared like a sword (which is actually one of his names, Arren). They talk about the king and the wizard, Shinny arrives and they have quite the supper, even Therru warms except for her keeping an eye on the window as it grew darker out.
Later, while Apple sings Therru to sleep, Tenar finally asks Shandy, who is helping wash up, about Ged (who somehow was never mentioned to Lark and Apple, all of Tenar's remembrances about Re Albi seemed to be muddled, "darkened"). Shandy says there wasn't work for him here, but that he got some on recommendation and so was off in a high pasture, maybe even herding goats, and would be back down the mountain in autumn. Maybe that was for the best, maybe this was home now and all that of Re Albi was behind them. Tenar slept that night, dreamless. Tenar keeps busy homesteading and the like, and eventually finished the red dress she had started for Therru. Therru is expressionless and turns away from it, and Tenar says, "'...People see the scars. But they see you, too, and you aren't the scars. You aren't ugly. You aren't evil. You are Therru, and beautiful....'" Therru calls the dress beautiful (touching Tenar's fingers, not the dress), and Tenar understands something, "She had done right to make the dress, and she had spoken the truth to the child. But it was not enough, the right and the truth. There was a gap, a void, a gulf, on beyond the right and the truth. Love, her love for Therru and Therru’s for her, made a bridge across that gap, a bridge of spider web, but love did not fill or close it. Nothing did that. And the child knew it better than she."
The equinox arrives, and Tenar thinks of the king being coronated, the king who knew fear and pain, and thought that Ged should be there too instead of tending some rich man's herds (and likely doing that into winter). Tenar had started to visit Ivy when she went to the village, as a sort of minor replacement to Aunty Moss, but either Ivy's ingrown detest for her was very real or, maybe just as likely, her own rebukes had left too big a void between them.
The sorcerer Beech arrives one day to treat a rich farmer's gout, and visits Tenar. Beech was a pupil of a pupil of Ogion's, and wanted to hear about his last days, as well as the visit by the archmage, Ged. Beech talks about the king's new rule and about, in particular, the loss of power of a certain lord pirate. He very much praises Tenar's work with Therru but she responds with sadness, she's worried what the fear will draw her to, that a damaged person may do damaging things. Roke seems more open-minded than most but he sees Ogion's "Teach her, not Roke" as just meaning women can't be sorcerers and he instead suggests that she take up healing witchery with Ivy as there may be a reciprocal aspect (and after all, he argues, "...healing befits a women..."). Therru's naming day is referenced, and overall Tenar views him as naive, but she does think about what Beech said.
More changes from the king, the local villages set up a taxed constabulary to combat the thieves and gangs (some rumors the pirate lords are pushing back). Tenar doesn't pay too much mind to this, but through time Therru becomes less withdrawn and is not kept so close to Tenar, she even travels independently (it is much easier with Tenar's family, friends, and acquaintances around to think Therru is safer, plus they shouldn't both just live in constant fear). Tenar is a good learner and prosperous but behind in most things, Tenar thinks of what Ogion meant by "teach her" but nothing special is done, Tenar even starts to think maybe she would be better apprenticed as a witch than a weaver (most people believe if something bad happens to you you deserved it somehow, this wouldn't matter as much to a witch as a weaver). Would all this satisfy Ogion's wishes?
Keeping this in mind, one day Tenar visits Ivy and asks the cost about apprenticing Therru. Ivy says she wouldn't for anything, that she fears her. Tenar is enraged, she even insinuates it's because of what happened to Therru beyond the burning. Ivy instead says it's because she is powerful and likely rageful, like a leashed natural disaster, something capable of darkness, and in fact Ivy draws from Tenar's own time with the Dark Ones as a child to posit that's why Tenar doesn't (or can't see to) fear her. Tenar believes everyone has failed her (Ogion, Moss, Ivy, Beech) even Ged whose "precious shame" had become his own child, Ged who was obsessed with power that that was all he noticed about Therru. Goha has a brief talk with Tenar (not the first time something like this has happened), saying that isn't fair.
Winter arrives, early, suddenly, and portentously, or at least a freeze does. Beside a fire of an apple tree Therru asks Tenar for a story which Tenar calls a "summer story", instead Therru should be learning the songs about the great deeds and the rites of spring (the Long Dance is mentioned). Therru says she can't sing but Tenar chides her: "'The mind sings. The prettiest voice in the world's no good if the mind doesn't know the songs.' She untied the last bit of yarn, which had been the first spun. 'You have strength, Therru, and strength that is ignorant is dangerous.'" Therru asks if it's like the wild ones that refused to learn and so stayed in the west, and it comes about she is referencing the dragons in the song of the Woman of Kemay (in chapter 2). Tenar asks which song Therru wants to learn and instead of the Deeds of Morred (which reminds her of the young king) Therru instead chooses about Segoy and the Making (Ogion's lore books are mentioned).
It goes well and Therru retires for the night. The song and Tenar's mood (because of Ivy) had energized Tenar to stay up by the fire. Suddenly, a noise from outside. Soon after, the sound of an opening being jimmied, but the house itself, thanks to Flint, was well-bolted. Eventually a window is broken and Tenar hears the voices of men. Her door, newly locked, rattles; it is Handy. A thin blade of light at the jamb. They will try the front door and so Tenar locks that one too. Tenar shutters Therru's window and the sound undoubtedly alerts them. She then tries to shutter her own but it is jammed, and they see Tenar through the window. Voices, that they won't hurt her if they let them in, that one of them just wants to see his little girl. Maybe Therru is awake, Tenar will protect her, though she has lost the fire poker in the scramble. One of them finds the kitchen window and Tenar flees to Therru's room, which doesn't have a lock thoughtfully so those in the nursery couldn't accidentally lock themselves in. She thinks about screaming, she think about fleeing, she grabs a butcher's knife. She throws open the door and threatens them.
"A howl and a sucking gasp", confusing communication from the men, some light. A wailing form shambles toward her, and a form with long blades behind it.
"Tenar! Tenar, it's me--Hawk, Sparrowhawk!" Ged, holding a pitchfork, thinks he has killed the man on the ground, the rest have fled. They drag the man inside, bandage him ('"I think I killed him," [Ged] said again.'), and Tenar finally gets Ged to sit by the fire. Ged looks rough. He had ran upon them on the path, avoided them due to the mob feeling off, but Ged had heard mention of the "Oak Farm" and so here he is. During the journey tracking the men Ged heard terrible things, about how Therru was stolen and how she would be punished along with what they'd do to Tenar. The bloody man isn't Handy, but it is the one who recently mentioned Therru was his. Tenar is worried they will come back, but they have the pitchfork at least, and it was only two others. They were traveling on the road (away from... something) and they were listening to the man who was lying there now, as if he'd mentioned this, about Therru and the widow, many times before (Handy apparently goaded him into trying this whole thing tonight). The group had waited in Tenar's barn until night, with Ged waiting outside it in the freezing cold. Shortly after they had spotted the kitchen window, Ged had ambushed them.
They make a sort of bed for the man, but not on the good rug. A realization about Therru. Quickly checking on her, apparently Therru had slept through the whole thing. Would've, should've... eventually Ged turns the tables and tells her to drink the tea, to rest. Ged recounts a tale, from the beginning of the first book, about the Kargish raiders (ed: the last book mentioned since the Ring was mended they don't raid anymore) and Ged/Duny thwarting their raid on Ten Alders, his village, by casting a sea of fog. One of the few not rebounded was run through with a pitchfork, Tenar saying Ged hitting the man's rib (and stopping something like that from happening) was the only thing Ged did wrong. Ged even briefly entertains the idea that the man could be disposed of, but he knows it's wrong (Tenar is less convinced). Instead, he'll use the wheelborrow and cart him to the healer, Ivy.
Tenar is beyond exhausted and watches the fire. A dream slips in, dragon-fire again. The star, Tehanu. Ged move her into the dark cold to get to her room. A dream slips in, each leading, following, both in the Tombs. "'This is the way,' she said."

Important news

This is an incremental update over the 1.12.0-preview and includes several breaking changes.
View the Migration Guide for details on how to prepare for the update.
Also, several new features require having a modern web browser that supports CSS Nesting. If you experience visual glitches - update your browser and/or operating system to the latest available version.
External media in chats is now blocked by default. Enable it manually if required.

Improvements

• Migrated to a new format for user data storage and added support for user accounts. See the documentation: Users.
• Implemented the Data Bank: a method for adding external sources of LLM knowledge. See the documentation: Data Bank.
• Added vLLM as a Text Completion source and Groq as a Chat Completion source
• Added new models from OpenAI (GPT-4o), PerplexityAI (Llama 3 Sonar), and Google (Gemini Flash 1.5).
• Added an ability to select OpenRouter providers in both API modes.
• TabbyAPI: added min_tokens and banned_strings parameters.
• LlamaCpp: allowed JSON schema usage (conflicts with grammar).
• Added the AI assistant contest winner character card (Sakana) to the "Download Extensions & Assets" menu and first run onboarding dialog. There you can also view and download past contest winners.
• World Info improvements: added ability to activate entries using the Vector Storage extension, Example Messages insertion position, weighted and scored inclusion groups, prioritized entries in inclusion groups, support for multiple inclusion groups per entry, ability to delay the entry evaluation until the first recursion step, regular expression type for the entry key, entry duplication, and many more. See the documentation: World Info.
• Settings are now backed up automatically every 10 minutes instead of on startup. Increased the limit of snapshots to 50 per user.
• Added Llama 3 model tokenizer. Claude tokenizer is now initialized lazily.
• Added instruct/context templates for the Phi model, and variants of Llama 3 and ChatML with message names inclusion.
• The "Advanced search" option now sorts the search results by relevance.
• Tags & Folders: added the ability to show only or hide folders. Added a toggle for alphabetical tag sorting.
• Added the ability to hide avatar images in the chat. Reorganized User Settings menu.
• Added the ability to import from AICharacterCards.com and generic URLs using the external import dialog.
• Added a quality setting for image inlining in Chat Completion.
• Forwarded IP whitelisting: can now be disabled with a configuration option.
• Added a console script for server plugin management.
• Various localization improvements.

STscript

• A brand new parser with support for closures, auto-complete, and syntax highlighting. See the documentation: STscript.
• Added a "negative" argument to the /imagine slash command.
• Added "role" and "hidden" arguments to the /messages slash command.
• Added optional "name" argument to the /send slash command.
• Added the /renamechat slash command.
• /summarize can now summarize any text, not just the chat messages.
• /sendas old syntax is now deprecated. Use the new syntax: /sendas name= .

Extensions

• Image Generation: added new NovelAI model, prompt prefixes now support macros.
• Vector Storage: added settings for WI activation and Data Bank inclusion.
• Chat Translation: added an option to translate user input text.
• TTS: MsEdgeTTS is now supported via the server-side plugin. Added a universal playback speed setting.
• Regex: added an ability to run Regex on the WI entries.
• Macros: added {{char_version}}, {{timeDiff}} macros.
• Added more downloadable extensions to the "Download Extensions & Assets" menu. Check them out!

Bug fixes

• Fixed InfermaticAI non-streamed response parsing.
• Fixed start.sh script to allow starting the server from any directory on Mac.
• Fixed a vertical alignment of zoomed avatars in visual novel mode on phones.
• Fixed the main prompt being purged from the prompt manager when disabled.
• Fixed the "Replace/Update card" function with UTF-8 characters in the filter name.
• Fixed text copy not working on messages hidden from the prompt.
• Fixed whole-word WI search to include punctuation and other non-alphanumeric characters.
• Fixed Trigger% being displayed as 0% when imported from external lorebooks.
• Fixed the "Narrate translated" option not working with TTS.
• Fixed first message regeneration on character modification if the message was edited.
• Fixed boolean values matching when searching for WI entries with /findentry.
• Fixed custom ordering of WI entries being able to sort past the header element.
• Fixed auto-selection of settings presets by name match (now requires an exact match instead of partial).
• Fixed multiswipe interaction with response streaming.

https://github.com/SillyTavern/SillyTavern/releases/tag/1.12.0
How to update: https://docs.sillytavern.app/usage/update/

Prefacing the whole thing once again by saying that I'm a long time Homeworld fan, from the original all the way to here, playing hundreds of hours of the series. After the demo I felt so passionately about it that I made this post.
I've just finished the campaign, and I'm happy to say that, Homeworld 3 was a blast. The gameplay was fun, graphics looked beautiful, story was shorter than I hoped and didn't quite have the same impact as the final few missions of HW1/2 (too easy on medium), but I enjoyed it none the less.
The changes they made based on the demo feedback really did hit the spot, and addressed a few of my concerns. It's not a perfect game, and BBI sound committed to making improvements, so I'm really excited about the future. The story leaves things pretty open ended, with an obvious continuation, but we'll see!
I don't envy the task that BBI had here. HW1 is nostalgic not just because of how good it was, but because it was a genre-bending experience like no one had scene before, and the story was incredible, I will never forget the feeling/moment of returning to Kharak to see it burning, or when you arrive at Hiigara in the final mission. HW2 took the game to a whole new level in so many ways, and was memorable not for it's story, but the evolution of it's gameplay. HW3 feels like a fresh start, and I am truly hoping that this is just the beginning of a new era for this franchise, considering what they could do NOW with a Homeworld 4 (or expansion to HW3) gets me reaaaaaally excited.
A few thoughts after playing the game, and seeing some of the reviews:

• I stand by my point from my 'open letter' about this game being a reboot. However, when considering that this is the first game in the franchise in 20 years, and they essentially had to start from scratch with an entirely new game engine and assets and everything, then yeah I'm pretty impressed that the game is as good as it is.
  • My demo feedback about how disappointing it was that ship subsystems were dropped, I take that back. While yeah it is still disappointing, the game had to launch SOME TIME, and you can't stuff every single feature you want into it. Sacrifices had to be made, in order to get this game out there.
• Some people say that it's been simplified way too much, again, I think this comes down to having to make sacrifices in order to get the game out there.
• The mission structures in the game feel a little simple when compared to HW2, but again that could be because of the above.
• The whole game looks beautiful, but the cool things I love to watch are the little things, like how ship engines look now, or how Ion Cannon frigate beams look when they fire now.
• Skirmish does feel more fast paced than before.
• The ship population caps in HW3 were more than I expected. 8 Battlecruisers?! That was great. Completely different from my demo experience where I felt like WarGames fleets were too small.
• The way that ships automatically sorted themselves into smaller mixed fleets based on my formation selection was really cool to see.
• Moving away from 'squads' to individual strikecraft, was something I wasn't happy about in the demo, but in the full game it felt fine, I didn't even notice. Mostly because BBI implemented two cool things, 1) Bulk order production for ships, and 2) Ships auto-sorting into smaller fleets as mentioned above.
• Unit abilities feel better. They aren't as overpowered, and have real trade offs. They can be forgotten about in the heat of battle, but in the campaign I remembered them enough to use them sometimes. I.e using the cloak on bombers to run surprise attacks, or using ion cannon overcharge to focus fire larger ships.
• The 'custom' controls were a god send. I chose a mix of both types and customised other hotkeys to make a control scheme that was perfect for me.
• The free movement command feels better than it did in the demo, however, it still is nowhere near as tight as it was in previous entries. 'Shift' for vertical adjustment was great, now please bring back the whole 'highlighting the relative position vertical lines on the movement disc when you hover over them'. I can't get my movement commands precise enough because I can't tell when I'm ordering my units to move to a point of interest or not, on the movement disc.
• Campaign didn't feel long enough :( which is usually a sign that I'm having fun :)

Overall, I'm pretty happy with my time in the game. I will definitely be jumping straight back in for another run in the campaign at the highest difficulty, and play some War Games. I can't wait to see where the franchise goes from here.
Any questions, shoot, I'll try to answer!

[First] [Previous] [Next]
Edited by WaveOfWire
- - - - -
Two days… It had been two days that Tracy had gone to sleep while Harrison was working, only to come back in the morning to see him still in the workshop. She knew he was damn productive, sure, but that really couldn’t be healthy. Apparently, it had something to do with the weird bowl of orange… soup… that Cera gave him. No way was it just caffeine; any amount of the stuff would have been filtered out of his system by now. He mentioned a tingling feeling too…
Damn, she did not know enough about drugs to even start assuming what that massive alien had Harrison fucked up on. At least the scanner said he was ‘fine’—if you ignore the other glaring issues the machine brought up. Plus, he said he didn’t mind it. Either way, he managed to complete the weaving component and a few other electrical backbones of the fabricator last night, so the project was practically done, and after seeing the engineer work himself half to death, she was dead-set on finishing it.
She was currently tits-deep into the upper manufacturing portion of the towering machine. It took a tall step-stool—on top of the nearby desk—for her to push her small shoulders through the even smaller access panels high on the everything-printer. It was difficult to fit her torso in, but she managed, holding a flashlight between her teeth as she fiddled with a stubborn series of mechanical ‘hands.’ Nothing new. The situation reminded her of the ‘shop back on Mars; it had the same ever-present scent of copper and industrial sealant. All that was missing was her dad’s ancient tunes blasting through some shitty speakers… Hold on…
The modular component in her grip was successfully attached with a resonating thock. Tracy squirmed out of the dim wire-filled crevice, trying her best to not rip her only tank-top on any bolts or corners, and getting a face-full of the bright flood-lights illuminating the workshop. She scowled and blocked out the searing light with a hand, but she was a bit too late to avoid going half-blind.
“Are the mechanical manipulators in?” Harrison grunted, poking his head out underneath the printer’s floor-adjacent maintenance hatch. She looked down at him as she tried to blink off the spots in her vision. His hair was messy, barely kept in line by his habit of combing through it with his fingers. The areas around his eyes were dark and sunken… Guess that’s what two all-nighters did to a man. He’d be seeing the hat man or start hallucinating if he didn’t get any sleep soon… but then again, the two of them were so close to finishing the fabricator…
“You bet.” She gave him a thumbs up, slamming the panel cover closed. “Feel free to test it.”
He nodded and slid back underneath the machine. “Gotcha”
She gently stepped off the stool and slid off the side of the desk, stretching herself out. If her piss-poor sitting posture or her tank-top puppies hadn’t already fucked her spine up, bending over backward to build this fabricator sure as hell would. She sat down next to the panel where Harrison resided, resting her back against the fabrication tower. Her excited voice broke the muffled noises of the engineer’s work. “So… Harrison?”
“Hmm—”
“—Mind if I play some music?”
The sounds from the hatch stopped, followed by his muffled, shocked tone echoing from beneath the fabricator. “You have music!?”
She smirked at seeing the expression on his face when his head popped out again. “I sure do… Did you seriously not download any to your data pad?”
He slipped out from beneath the fabricator fully, huffing as he took a knee beside her. The scent of melded rubber, wire, and his liquid labor reached her nose not-so-unpleasantly. “You would not believe how much of a pain it is to repair an entire barracks without it… So, yeah, I didn’t.”
“Sooooooooo, whatcha wanna listen to? I’ve got almost everything on here—besides the super niche, of course.” She pulled her data pad out, swiping to the massive music folder
“You wouldn’t like the kinda music I listen to; It’s ancient.”
She gave him a lighthearted, annoyed glare. “Welcome to the club… Now what’ll it be?”
“It’s Old Earth kind of ancient… but alright” He looked up at the ceiling in thought, lips pursed. “Do you have anything from Styx or Sweet?”
She stared at him incredulously, her smirk turning into a fully-fledged smile. “Oh my God. You are an absolute dork! You actually listen to Golden Age music?”
His brows raised, accusatory. “And you somehow know exactly who those bands were and what age of Old Earth music they came from?”
She smugly leaned in closer. “That’s because I’m just as much of a nerd with that kinda music as you apparently are.” She quickly looked upward, addressing the workshop AI. “Sebas, connect nearby speakers to my data pad’s audio.” Tracy elbowed the engineer lightly as the PA system chirped its affirmation. “Now, Mr. Golden Age music, which albums do ya want me to queue up?”
- - - - -
The two of them listened to music for hours, tossing on songs they liked as they came to mind while they worked. Harrison had a ton of recommendations that spanned all over the Golden Ages and some twenty-first century classics. She didn’t even know half of them, but she was vibing either way, adding on her own taste by intermingling some older rock tracks and newer electronic beats. The playlist was steadily built up as the day went on. Thank God her dad showed her a vast array of tunes; she might not have been able to keep up with the engineer if her old man hadn't.
It made the work go by so fast, their conversations blurring as they jumped from topic to topic. They discussed whatever came to mind—old hobbies, old jobs, and old interests. A lot was left behind in Sol… At least she knew that the only other human on the planet was more interesting than a soulless workaholic. It turned out that he was a pretty big history buff, and he apparently read a lot about the colonization of the Sol system and the various wars of independence thereafter. Curious, she asked where the interest stemmed from, and he explained that his grandfather was an admiral in the Slavic-Europan deep-ice submarine fleet, which explained how Harrison’s mother was able to afford to immigrate to Mars from Europa.
He could also play an acoustic guitar, and, unfortunately for Tracy, he wasn’t even the slightest bit interested in printing one out, citing that it was a waste of time and material that would be better used elsewhere. That didn’t stop her from writing a note on her data pad to do so later, though. She hadn’t seen someone play one of those in years—the last time was probably in some old music video from the early twenty-second century. What a shame. She would have liked to hear some of the Europan songs his grandmother taught him.
On the bright side, the man seemed to take an interest in her odd hobbies. He brought up the folder of 3D models that she accidentally uploaded to the inter-module system and asked where she got the inspiration for what was in it. Boy, was he not ready for her ‘WarHalberd40k’ lore dump. Props to the guy for not standing up and leaving the workshop throughout her rambling. He even asked questions about the different factions and their weapons, which she was more than happy to talk about.
She also ended up going over the other franchises and hobbies she was interested in, such as robotics and the like. The only interruptions to their chat were the occasional Akula or Craftsman asking for insight regarding the various tasks he had allotted to them, or Shar coming in to check up on Harrison between guard shifts.
The new dynamic of the group was pretty interesting, to say the least. Tracy hadn’t been out to interact with the whole lot of Malkrin, but she definitely noticed how they treated the engineer. They’d started to look up to him in a way ever since he started showing off technology. In a little over two days, the man had shown them that he could provide the materials for a brick house, fine clothing—especially by the alien’s standards—armor, and delicious food. That wasn’t even mentioning the other benefits the technician heard a few of the ‘banished’ talking about over their meals: heating, electric lights, and other assorted machines.
She’d be feeling pretty happy about herself if she was in his position, having so many look up to him and be grateful at the same time. He seemed to view it a lot more robotically, however, only striving to get the basics done. Luckily for him, his basics were their luxury.
That wasn’t all there was to the topic; the engineer lamented about how the colony was going through food just as quickly as materials. The meals weren’t the direct issue he had, more that he had to start focusing on long-term resource harvesting rather than directly preparing for a literal horde of monsters—which wasn’t exactly ideal. It was a good thing that they just so happened to take on an influx of Malkrin then…
Either way, they finally finished the ‘totally legal modification’ for the fabricator, meaning they could at least partially address the latter half of his worries. The whole process of ripping out an old printer and replacing the parts for a new one felt a lot easier than she imagined… even if it took her at least forty-eight hours to complete it… with help from Harrison. Maybe that was why it felt so easy… She supposed the colony overseers didn’t choose the man for no reason, so his skills made sense.
“So… what do we want to print out first?” Tracy questioned, having finished testing the last major component.
The engineer stretched his arms up into the air and rotated his shoulders, then pulled back the desk’s chair and took a seat. “I’ve had just one thing in mind since the start of this whole project.”
Her brows raised in a mix of excitement and curiosity. She leaned forward, looking at the computer monitor from over his shoulder. “Oh? What’s that, then?”
A smirk formed along his cheek, the computer mouse rapidly clicking through the blueprint folder. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what kind of firearm we need since I started dabbling in belt-fed weapon systems.” He opened one final file, a short loading bar preceding the exploded assembly view of… “An M2 Browning machine gun. It’s more than powerful enough to kill in one shot, while also being capable of fully-automatic fire, with a capacity of however many rounds we want in a belt-box.”
“Uh…huh…” She gave a skeptical nod and took a step back, not exactly sold on the idea. “It looks ancient. It’s kinetic, right? Why aren’t we using energy-based weapons? Don’t we have a gunpowder shortage coming up?”
He moved his chair off to the side to look back at her. “We just can’t; Simple as. We’ll need who knows how many more AI cores before we can get started on that level of equipment, Trace,” he huffed, returning his gaze to the specifications of the firearm. “This isn’t the most ‘modern’ weapon we can make, but its twenty-first century counterpart helps with an improved design… somewhat. And, as I said before, it should be more than capable of killing a bug in one shot, so Shar can just tap-fire it to save ammunition.”
Her head tilted quizzically. “Shar?”
“Yup,” he returned confidently. “It’s the perfect weapon for her.”
She raised a brow. “How so?”
He held his hand up, counting his reasons on his fingers. “She’s always on the front line with a shield, she can absolutely handle the weight and recoil, her four arms make reloading it simple, plus she’ll need something with range and power that isn’t a spear. So, why not? And, if for some reason, she doesn’t want to use it, we can just convert it into a turret—which is something I was planning on doing anyways with however more M2s we print out later.”
“I doubt she’ll say no to any gun you give her,” Tracy chuckled while shaking her head, inadvertently causing her bangs to cover her eyes.
“Fair enough,” he conceded with a bob of his head. “What do you think, then? What kinda weapons do you have in mind?”
She reapplied her goggles into an impromptu hairband, feeling a smirk cross her face. “Thought you’d never ask. What purpose do we need these guns to fulfill? Hordes I’m guessing?”
“That’s the idea, yeah. That doesn’t mean they all need to be machine guns, though.” He tapped the belt-fed shotgun beside him.
“Well, lemme see what we’re working with first.” She suddenly stepped forward, leaning over Harrison’s seat to access the keyboard and mouse. Her arms briefly rubbed against him, forcing him to roll his chair backward. She suppressed a giggle at seeing his incredulous frown.
Her eyes quickly traced the hundreds of individual files, clicking through all sorts of folders, each arranged from pre-twenty-first century ‘antiques,’ to more modern iterations of kinetics and particle weaponry. There was… a lot on there—almost too much to reasonably comb through. Why? Did the colony overseers just say ‘fuck it’ and put whatever they could find on here? Were they expecting the pioneers to make a museum of everything?
She sighed, standing up straight and facing Harrison. “Y’know, I’m actually impressed you managed to find that M2-whatever in there…”
He shifted in his seat, resting an elbow on the desk. “Yup, there’s a lot. I’m almost tempted to just make several of those machine guns and just call it a day, but I feel like that’d be too much of a strain on resources, no?”
“I don’t really know enough about how you fight those spider-crab things, or how to get more gunpowder, so… maybe?” She shrugged, biting her cheek in contemplation. “You might just wanna make a few smaller caliber weapons… like, uh… those old kinetic service rifles. If your pump-action shotgun works fine, I’m sure some normal guns would work just fine for now, right?”
He hardily gripped his firearm, hauling it up to his lap. “Depends on what you mean by ‘smaller caliber.’ The whole reason why the KS-23 here works—” he pulled out a massive shell from the ammo belt, displaying it on his palm. “—is because the twenty-three-millimeter round has enough energy transfer to mess up any bug's shell and insides. I’d say the smallest rounds we could use would be point-two-forty-three caliber to get any similar results.”
Brief flickers of grungy orange shells and gnashing teeth marred Tracy’s sight. She forcibly suppressed them, distracting herself with dry humor and a strained laugh. “Guess those fuckers can really take a punch, huh?”
He shook his head somberly. “I couldn’t imagine going up against them without a gun… Anyway, I like your idea of a standard rifle for now. Then, when we have some product lines up, we can go a little more in depth into personal weapons.”
“So are you gonna take one?” She hopped up on the desk, letting her legs swing off the side.
“Don’t think so, no. I’ll stick with my shotty.” The internals of the heavily modified weapon rattled as he held it up and inspected it. “Doesn’t mean I’ll keep it as is. I’m thinking of printing a laser aiming module so I can point-fire it accurately, and maybe a melee-oriented muzzle brake or a lighter chassis to reduce weight… Not sure though.”
She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, her cheeks in her palms. “Melee-oriented? Oooooh, like a chain-sword or something?”
His short chuckle coerced a smirk to her face. “No, not like that. More something to use as a bludgeoning tool. Right before the blood-moon, I ended up getting just as much use out of this shotgun as a hammer than as a… well, a shotgun.”
“That’s pretty fuckin’ metal. So are you just gonna make the barrel into a giant bayonet?”
He nodded. “Not exactly a bayonet, but something more like a door-breaching break.”
A short silence settled on their conversation, the faint sounds of the fabricator’s hum and distant woodwork coming to light. Right, there was an outside world… She’d been too caught up talking to Harrison for however many hours it had been. She wondered how successful the fisherwomen were in collecting, and how things had been for the others working on the wood storage shack. Maybe it was already completed? The sun peered through the cargo bay door, proving that it was only about midday. What else would they work on today?
“Hey,” she ventured.
“Hm?” the engineer hummed, his eyes focused on the monitor beside the technician.
She scooted closer to his keyboard. “What’re we doing after this?”
“What do you mean?”
She leaned backward, propping herself up on two hands. “Project wise; what’s the next big thing?”
“Uhmmm…” he muttered, interacting with the computer for a few more seconds before finally meeting her gaze. “Well, I’ve just allocated the fabricator to print out the M2, three FALs—wood furniture, of course—then there’s the magazines and ammunition, so we’ve got a lot of time to kill. The next big thing is definitely going to be metal procurement, and— Oh, right!” Harrison stopped mid-sentence, reaching into his backpack and pulling out several finger-sized metallic cubes, a sudden fire in his eyes. “Okay, so a while ago, during an encounter with three colossi, Shar and Akula found a cave with some ‘surface’ metal deposits. I took a piece off to analyze, but never got the chance to until last night. Anyway, we don’t have any machines to examine the ore, so I made use of the recycler and broke it down to its baser components.”
She nodded along, seeing where he was going with his explanation. “I’m guessing those shiny cubes are the metals from the ore?”
“Sure is. So, as it turns out, we have a pretty damn close supply of not only iron, but also, zinc, sulfur, and a small amount of cadmium. I talked with Sebas about it and did a little research. We believe it’s something akin to sphalerite, given its composition and looks, which implies it’s a sedimentary exhalative deposit. That means there must have been some volcanic…”
Harrison continued talking about underwater deposits and ancient rock formations, bringing up some theories brought forward by the now 4-AI-core-powered Sebas, delving into the current land mass’ history and possible ore output. A lot of it went over the tradewoman’s head, but she still listened intently… Honestly, she could have listened to the man talk about finding metals for hours. It was sort of like the podcasts she used to listen to while completing colonist training, but even more personal and somehow easier to get lost in…
“…find some other minerals further down like silver, but it also might be an active lava zone. Again, these are all theories and this world could just throw the fundamentals of geology away as it does for physics. Anyway, sorry for going on for so long about that, just thought it’d be important for getting some metals in the future.”
“No, no,” Tracy assured, alleviating him of concern with a wave of her hand. “If there’s anything the colony overseers emphasized, it was farming and mineral acquisition. Don’t worry.” She smiled, pointing a thumb to herself. “I just wanna know how I can help.”
“Actually, I’ve a few things only you can do. I’d like to make use of your impressive drone-making expertise for a few applications, if you don’t mind.”
The task of keeping eye contact slipped into an impossible feat in the span of a singular second, planting a pang of embarrassment on her reddened face, forcing her to inspect her fidgeting hands. “I-I wouldn’t say ‘impressive’… b-but what do you have in mind?”
She could see him raise a brow out of the corner of her vision. “Well, after what you’ve shown me with the reconnaissance flyers, I’d like your help in setting up a more permanent ‘net’ of them to scour the meadow and parts of the nearby forest to look out for any approaching hordes. I don’t want to be snuck up on… again…”
‘Again.’
She noted his small frown and sunken eyes, both a little more exaggerated than they already were. It wasn’t like she’d deny his request, but the pangs of empathy over their shared situation all but solidified her resolve. It was the least she could do. She could help him. She would help him.
The technician exhaled slowly, taking on a more serious and understanding tone than before. “I… can do that. For sure. What else?”
“I appreciate it.” He gave a wane smile. “I’ll help you with whatever you need for the project. For the other drones, I’m thinking about a small exploration vehicle to map out caves around us and mark any minerals, as well as a submersible to look for potassium deposits in the ocean.”
“So… search bots?” She crossed her arms, confidence growing; those were her specialty. “Depending on how long the fabricators take and what kind of base drones are in the blueprint folders, I should be able to get those done in no time. All I need to know are the search cues for potassium and how many drones you want.”
He quickly shuffled a few folders on the computer, turning the monitor for her to see some scientific documents with various images and walls upon walls of text. “There’re plenty of resources for that on here for what to look for, and there’s always Sebas, so feel free to ask him since he can just sort through the data for you anyway. If you can, I’d like it if you could focus on the submersible after the reconnaissance drones.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll be right on it, then.” She gave him a thumbs up, slipping off his desk and toward her own.
“I’ll bring you lunch in a bit. Imma go check on the others,” he called.
Her stomach grumbled at the mention, her head turning to give him an appreciative smile. “Oh! Thanks!”
\= = = = =
Avian creatures chirped from their perches in the trees nearby. The wind softly rustled red leaves as grass gently gave way to calculated footfalls. A warm sun laid its light on Shar’khee’s neck. It was surprisingly pleasant, were one to take the time to notice. The mainland was a confusing place for the paladin, with its disparate representations of nature contrasting so heavily. Some days were filled with blood and ravenous beasts, while others were left within the domain of simplicity and beauty. She was content to have the latter, yet it felt like a facade veiling the former—a soft exterior covering the maliciously spiked interior. Never could she leave herself to carelessness, no matter how welcoming it might be.
Hence why she worked to ensure the safety of the star-sent’s castles and their inhabitants, her days largely spent patrolling for any roaming swarms that may wish to cause them harm. She typically used the routine to think, but today offered little in the way of solitude. This time, she was accompanied by the previously banished guardswoman, and was tasked with instructing the new one, though the specifics of what such lessons should entail were vague. Still, Shar’khee did all that she could so as not to disappoint Harrison, so she could only attempt to meet his expectations of her.
She told the yellow-skinned female of the threats that the settlement faced, how one was to defeat them, and what to expect from the beasts. The guardswoman was directed to practice her form with the spear in both thrusts and throwing for some time afterward, proving herself to be well-built. Such was expected of her profession after all.
It was pleasing to have another capable of patrolling the settlement’s outskirts for swarms, as it would greatly impact how effectively the colony could react to such a threat. If her routine was to suffer for the colony’s well-being, she was happy to show the new one her patrol route and note what to look out for.
The guardswoman was not a perfect student, however. Shar’khee never addressed it directly, but the yellow-skinned female obviously discredited the danger posed by the abhorrent, not-so-subtly shrugging off any warnings.
…That was until they stumbled upon the ‘hyena-boars,’ as Harrison called them.
The beasts resided in a clearing not too far from the castles, carelessly meandering across the sea of tall grass. Shar’khee quickly crouched, dragging the guardswoman down with her. Once she assessed that the creatures were not an imminent danger, she decided it would be an excellent opportunity to show the new one how to properly engage a threat. She was about to propose the idea, yet her speech was silenced just as swiftly.
Orange flashes darted through the trees around the glade. Taloned feet and gnashing teeth tore across the ground toward the unsuspecting beasts at the center. It was much too late for them. They were slow. Surrounded. Unaware. It was as quick as it was vicious, the forest’s reds turning a deeper crimson hue in a moment's notice underneath the abhorrent’s brutality.
Gangly monstrosities gnawed and ripped at the dead creatures, brief glimpses of raw flesh and white bone protruding from the small spaces between the clumped-up beasts. Repulsive wet splatters of blood and gore overlapped the calm noises of the forest, the grisly scene serenaded by the softest of nature’s symphonies. It was a sickening juxtaposition.
Shar’khee bit back the unease and steeled herself. They were within twenty paces—close enough to smell the abhorrent’s vile stench of rot and bile, yet far enough so as not to be noticed. She briefly considered backing away and retreating, her focus bouncing between the different avenues of escape, or how to cover her footst—
Crack.
Several sets of feral, eyeless maws snapped in their direction, the blood dripping off freshly dampened teeth. The guardswoman gasped, Shar’khee’s gaze following to see the mistake: a singular broken branch crinkled as a yellow-colored foot raised off the splintering twig.
The paladin exhaled sharply and smoothly stood up, brandishing two spears and her shield. Her glare settled on the still crouching guardswoman. “You are to stay behind my shield and let them appr—ch. Rem—ber what I have told you. Aim for their maws when you thrust y—r lance.”
The other female nodded, shakily pulling out her own weapons with unsteady placement hampering her grip. There was an obvious nervousness to her gaze. Hesitance. That would not do.
Shar’khee faced the prowling abhorrent her knuckles shifting hue as she prepared for their advance, for there was no chance that they wouldn’t. True to her experience, the stalking turned to a gallop with several clicks of grotesque tongues, the swarm bolting toward her as one. She snarled and slammed her bulwark into the ground, letting the approaching beasts skewer themselves amongst its spikes.
There were only ten—a paltry amount. She had defended against magnitudes more, and yet she still stood. What is more, they were mindless. Uncoordinated. They would be but stains in the cloth she used to clean her armor. Perhaps, if they were fortunate, they might leave a furrow in her shield to remember them by. Her arms tensed as the first leapt.
One by one, the abhorrent fell, their repulsive green blood splattering under her thrusts. Each awaiting corpse tore across the grove’s grass, lunging to their deaths with gaping maws and unfeeling hunger, yet she did not yield. Their shells were crushed by her shield and impaled by her Goddess-blessed spears, becoming but one more smear across their surface. Ten motionless lumps lay before her, seeping their ichor into the soil, none having passed the barrier she became. Dead, just as the Creator intended. She remained vigilant for a few moments longer, watching for any more of the disgusting creatures.
None showed themselves, finally allowing blood to flow to her fingers once again. The shield’s heavy presence weighed down her back, the blood flicked off of her spears before she returned them to their place.
“Are y–u well?” Shar’khee addressed the frozen Malkrin, wiping away the splatter on her bracers. The guardswoman stared at the small pile of deceased creatures, her heavy breaths and widened eyes moving from the spear from her singular kill. The paladin huffed. “We are fort—ate that there were so few.”
“F-Few? God help us…” Her horrified, stunned gaze slowly met the paladin’s. “Y-You said there were hundreds on the crimson nights? H-How do you… They were s-so fast.”*
”As I h–ve warned,” Shar’khee affirmed.
“You are a paladin! You all exaggerate your feats… I thought it was just a facade!”
“I have no r—son to lie,” she returned tersely, shrugging off the insult to her station and shaking her head. “The mainl—d is far more dangerous than ten gnash—g beasts; more so than that of your island hamlet. Pick yourself up. We m—t inform the others of this incursion.”
The yellow-skinned female snarled, furrowing her brows at the ground in frustration. At whom…? Shar’khee? Herself? Regardless, the female promptly gathered her composure, pushing air through clenched jaws. A step forward had her feet splash in the small pool of blood, the Malkrin nodding toward the paladin to continue back to the castles.
“…for the village.”
Shar’khee paused in her stride and faced her, frowning at the determination and anger leaking through the intent. “W—t was that?”
Her question was returned with honesty, a huffed voice marred by vexation. “Paladin, how am I to defend my village-mates as I am now?”
“‘As you are now?’ What do you m—n?”
The guardswoman stared down at her spear, wood creaking under her grip. “I have faltered before what you deem a paltry threat, and the thought of an even greater one sows dread deep within my bones. I wish… I wish to be better prepared to defend those of my village. I cannot help but see their faces on those of the furred creature in the clearing, and yet, even if I am so close, I am just as unable to protect them.”
Shar’khee stared down the yellow female, a long gaze taking in a rare showing of sincerity. “Y—r fears are one we all share, new one. Do not be ashamed of them. All t—t matters is that you do not let them rem—n mere fear, but make them your strength. So tell me, do you wish to impr—e? To ensure they do not fall while you are support—g them?”
The yellow-skinned female released a shuddering breath that bled off the worst of her indecision, a newly invoked flame flaring within her visage. “I do, paladin. I seek to protect and to be of use.”
“Then, if you wish to make y—rself resilient in the face of all that opposes us, it would be my undertak—g to forge you anew. Fortunately, Harrison has ordered such already, and his guidance shall prove ever useful, should you pursue it.”
The guardswoman shuffled in place at the star-sent’s mention, her eyes slipping downwards. “He is of a great many resources, but I would rather receive your teachings than those of a craftsman… or that of a male, deity-sent he might be.”
She placed a palm on the female’s shoulder. “He is far more than you might ever k—w. Regardless of if you ac—pt his guidance, I commend your conviction. However—” Her hand gripped tighter, though not enough to instill hostility. “—understand that you are protecting more than just your vi—age-mates.”
The new one nodded, staring up at the paladin with stallwart resolve. “Of course. I shall be in your tutelage, then.”
Shar’khee smiled. “T—n let us begin.”
\= = = = =
Akula was becoming increasingly certain that she knew how her parents once felt. The green-skinned fisherwoman was currently rotating between the many tasks placed upon her, guiding the newcomers through the minutia of their tasks so they might live up to the potential Harrison saw within them. She was gratified to have her own talents recognized by the Creator, but it also placed a great many responsibilities in her talons. Of course, she handled each new addition with finesse befitting her heritage, never once balking from the increasing demands. If anything, she felt validated; it was required of her as a female anyway, was it not? The more feminine-appropriate labor and management one undertakes, the higher authority they were granted.
It began with a simple assignment to oversee the chef’s introduction to the star-sent’s provided cooking appliances. As fascinating and convenient as utilities were, she held no interest in preparing any more food than she already had, but teaching another to operate the machines would alleviate such requirements of her. She reluctantly accepted the task when it was proposed, especially considering the fact that Harrison was much too busy with his other projects to bother with something as benign as cooking. His work was more valuable elsewhere.
The task itself went well, and the pink-skinned chef was quick to pick up on the use of the various kitchen devices, as well as the smoker. A grin had grown when she considered the possibility of all males understanding such domestic things readily, yet her mirth at removing the masculine job required of her was short-lived. Despite the newly initiated Malkrin’s success, Harrison had Akula frequently return to oversee the numerous cooking operations being conducted. That was in tandem with the back-to-back fishing trips made by both herself and the newly acquired females.
…Which was something else the green-skinned cycle-worshipper was ordered to oversee.
She had left the chef to his devices after producing another batch of partially seasoned meals, returning to the Creator with hopes of a break. He applauded her efforts with a nod and tersely spoken appreciation, then quickly pushed two spearguns into her hand and directed her to the ocean, where the twins were ‘working with jack shit,’ as the busy male said. She was to give the fisherwomen the tools and make sure they were used properly, and offer additional assistance in acquiring ‘enough fish to have us fed for a little bit.’
So, she left to complete the given task, feeling somewhat appreciative that her speargun was of superior quality to those she would be delivering—the newcomers were only afforded the lesser, roped-bolt version. It was only natural that she was in possession of their greatest assets, of course; the star-sent saw her as the only one capable of wielding such fantastic ammunition, showing trust that was rightfully placed in her. That did not mean the gray-skinned females were unsatisfied with their own gifts, however. The twins were swiftly caught up on the ‘manual of arms’ and sent to work, somehow managing to keep up with Akula in spite of their land-based origins. The two were fast enough to outpace the cycle-worshipper in sheer speed, but their lack of numerous winters spent traversing deeper waters meant they required frequent rests, breaking the ocean’s surface after every third captured fish or so.
Still, she had to appreciate their dedication to their task. They never complained about Akula pushing them further to reach the star-sent’s vague objective. Such a task was entrusted to her—and by proxy, the other two—and thus it would be completed, no matter how much her comfortable bed… couch called her tiring muscles.
The group of three hauled net after full net of fresh meat to the chef—and sewist, who later joined him—forcing him to relegate much of the catch to long-term storage as the kitchen simply could not deal with the surplus. At least three-quarters of the fish were put to slow cook in the now Malkrin-sized smoker. The craftsman had upgraded it with a kit provided by Harrison, who had recycled much of the dining room and workshop furniture to accommodate it. The Creator’s showcased urgency to gather materials was clearly not unfounded… It was admirable how he used what little he had left to ensure food would not be scarce. Additionally, the apparatus exuded an excellent scent for all the survivors to enjoy, the earthy aroma drawing in some of the other Malkrin for their breaks or meals.
Those were not the end of the cycle-worshiper’s tasks, however. She was also required to report on Shar’khee’s progress in training the guardswoman—helping to recycle the small swarm of abhorrent they cleared earlier—as well as the wood storage building’s progress. Indeed, she was advising and assisting however and wherever applicable. To say she was seen all around the settlement would be an understatement.
Nevertheless, she was appreciative to see her efforts bearing fruit by sundown. The processing of their meals from sea to plate was quite efficient, and those that Akula taught were now well-practiced in their duties. The twin fisherwomen dove from wave to wave, bringing fish back to the barracks, where the cook and sewist swiftly worked to transfer the meat to pans and smoker hooks alike. Then, the remnants of the Sea Goddess’ aquatic gifts would be subsequently recycled and given purpose anew as biofuel or perhaps future fertilizer.
The endless onslaught of duties and responsibilities had enlightened her, in a way. She could see where Harrison came from now; having a working project go from one point to another without input nor difficulty was a sight to behold, and it made her swell with pride. It was a surmountable feat to teach the barbaric ground-worshippers to do something properly.
…Well, they were not horrible Malkrin, so perhaps simply calling them ‘uninitiated’ was a more apt descriptor…
No matter the tribulations faced, and no matter how draining her new authority might be, her rest at the end of the day would be one that was well-earned, and it would be had with a sense of satisfaction. She deserved it, and perhaps that extended to the rest of the settlement as well.
- - - - -
[First] [Previous] [Next]
Next time on Total Drama Anomaly Island - Mine! Mine! Mine!

Working with IP adapters and a comic/anime generating checkpoint, I've been able to create nice consistent face results for a comic.
IP adapter does 70%-80% of the job, and then I go into Photoshop to tune levels/gama, add some characteristic elements (an earring or a tattoo, for example) , and pass it through SD again for final touches. So far, so good!
Where I get lose now is clothing. I download all safepoints from hugging face (https://huggingface.co/h94/IP-Adaptetree/main), but in A1111 some seem to be missing from the list of available processors once I select IP Adapter. For example, I downloadedip-adapter-plus_sd15.safetensors and relaunched SD, but I still can't see it from the dropdown menu.
What I do see is ip-adapater-auto, which I did not download, and I guess this is just part of the script where it attempts to identify the matching model. This I'm basiing on the fact that when I run IP adapter, I see "ip-adapter-auto ==> ip-adapter-clip-g" which tells me it automatically switched to the appropriate preprocessor.
The issues is when I choose ip-adapter-auto from the preprocessor list with ip-adapater-sdxl, I get an error: "RuntimeError: Input type (torch.cuda.FloatTensor) and weight type (torch.FloatTensor) should be the same." I still see ip-adapter-auto ==> ip-adapater-clip-g.
What I'm trying to figure out is:

1. Which preprocessor should I use for clothes, or generic body recognition, like poses? Should it still be ip-adapter-auto? If not, where do I get it from?
2. several documentations say to run the sd15 Preprocessor or sd15 clip. I do have ip-adapter_sd15.safetensors inside /models/ControlNet, but I do not see it on the list. Can this be because of the checkpoint I'm using, a SDXL one?
3. If you have a workflow to copy clothes/poses in SD using A1111, do you mind sharing? I know I can use PS, and I do. I can get by with simple clothing pretty well. But I'm wondering about SD specifically.

Thank you!

Just another fun little story idea I had. I am still working on Humans are the violent ones but I like to bounce around and experiment with ideas to see what I really like. I also suck at writing more casual stories, as they give me severe writer's block as I try to map out how to make a scene feel genuine in my head, but I promise I'll update that soon. If you like this story and want to see more, then like and comment. I'll gladly continue this series as well.
Start of Personal Log
Humans don't like being told what to do. They don't like being commanded, put in their place, or snubbed. It was an inexorable, inalienable trait of humans, at least any noteable humans, to go against any authority that they believed was against their interests.
Humanity would not fit amongst the stars. Few ever did. It was a trait of most successful species to be willful, ambitious, and to desire more. But once they reached the stars the new (and simultaneously very old) pecking order either quashed any spirit such species had or simply eradicated them. Countless tomb worlds and diaspora served as painful reminders of what became of the nails that chose to stick out. The hammer of order would always strike. There could be no compromise, the very soul of the authority that held the Jurisdiction together relied on a show of unmatched power, or at least the illusion of item.
In reality, the Jurisdiction was an old, fat, and lazy beast. It filled its belly on the corpses of empires far and wide, and sated its bloodlust on the shattered dreams of hopeful cubs. It had every right to, for none could challenge it: there were no new frontiers to explore, nor were there any other enemies to conquer. The Milky Way, as humans had so strangely dubbed our cradle galaxy, as well as Andromeda, had long since been warred over and settled for millennia before humanity had arrived, bright-eyed and with familiar yet otherwise foolish dreams of cooperation and prosperity. The Jurisdiction did not cooperate, nor did it ensure prosperity. Oh, it claimed it did, but in reality it simply took. The rest was just the peace that came with not being the direct target of the biggest fish in the pond. The humans didn't like that, but they had no choice.
Slavery was a common tribute. The Jurisdiction had no use for other resources: it simply took. No, it wanted those who could facilitate that unequal exchange, those raised in a world where the only morality was the one set by your lord. The Jurisdiction was held together by expectations, obligations, and dury more than any kind of shared dream, so when you were ordered to take you did so without question. Humanity was new: they had no niche or value that set them apart, but they had a penchant for killing and taking, so the Jurisdiction gave them a taste of how the galaxy worked. They killed and they took. The humans didn't like that, but what choice did they have?
Humans were strange. They learned, but not in the way most species learned. Most species learned to adapt in a passive way, to adhere to the world around them. They flowed like water, moving past and around obstacles and confirming to the boxes they were assigned too. Humans didn't confirm, nor did they adapt: they made their circumstances fit their desires. They would not move around obstacles, but rather smash through them, and they refused to stay in one box for too long. The Jurisdiction merely saw them as a particularly loud nuisance, but those who faced their wrath knew better.
It is said that when a beast seeks to make an example, it shall humble its rival by killing it's cubs. Children were one of those universal constants that brought entire communities together: the Sok’klar saw their hatchlings as gifts, shaped by the fruitful currents of the universe in perfect harmony. The Yarrack saw each and every newborn whelp as an uncut gemstone, ready to be shaped into something magical. Humanity oftentimes referred to their offspring as angels, or spirits of unbridled good sent by the gods themselves. Children were seen by most of the galaxy as gifts.
The Jurisdiction saw them as a lever to inflict suffering. It had become quite effective at enacting psychological punishments on those that stood up and spoke out. You dare to disobey? You believe you can speak out? Your gifts shall be taken from you, and you shall be without joy.
Humans didn't like this, but the Jurisdiction would have their pound of flesh, and humankind would kneel. And they did. But humans were patient creatures: most species who retained that trait of willful spit also lacked patience.
I had long since become desensitized to the Jurisdiction’s actions: it was simply how the universe worked now, as if it were a constant akin to gravity. Cruelty was the unspoken rule of this seemingly unending age, where our lives never appeared to move forward or backwards, only lay dormant. The Jurisdiction had been the unyielding authority that ruled the galaxy for thousands of years, venerable yet feared all the same.
And for the longest time I was just another cog in its wheel. My name is Kalnuracht Sedjuur-Noumar VII, and was the scion of the noble house Sedjuur-Noumar. I was born into what most would describe as veiled apathy, living a life that could be attributed to the privileged class of feared scribes that enacted the will of those above. I was an administrator and nothing more. And now I am doomed to be far less than that in the eyes of my former constituents within the endless administration. I am the only scion, as is tradition, and without an heir I am the last of my house, our name to be scrubbed from the records, worthless, meaningless, and forgotten.
I am merely Kalnuracht, nothing else and nothing more. I have seen from their eyes, the eyes of the downtrodden, and it makes my crimes of association with the Jurisdiction feel all the more damning on my worthless soul. I am worthless to the world, and this is my story.
End Personal Log #1
Start of Neural Lace Narrative Log #1
They came from the black like carrion birds in the night, encircling our convoy as if it were a dying animal ready to be picked clean without remorse. There was no warning, no list of demands sent out as civilized peoples did, nor was there either any requirement for unconditional surrender nor chance to parlay, as was done so under letter of marque: this was an unmistakable call for violence and nothing else. They sought to reduce us to slag and scavenge the rest.
So, as one would expect, the entire bridge of the ship was nearing a panicked state. This was not the actions of those practicing civility, but rather the common behaviors of despoiling barbarians, the kind that tore their way through the dark reaches of the galaxy as if they owned it.
“Wayfinder, what do your probes see?” Shouted the ship’s sovereign. He was an older Kar’Rowmach, an amphibious cephalopod species with a venerable history within the Jurisdiction going back thousands of years. Normally one such as him would be above me if it weren't for the fact that I was under the authority of the Jurisdiction’s seal of office. He didn't like me very much, but most of his kind shared the same sentiment.
“All dark, honorable Sovereign: the sensor arrays are wailing but the feedback we're reviewing is beyond incomprehensible,” the wayfinder replied with a certain restrained temper in his voice. The Sok'klar wayfinder swayed gently, his tentacled limbs grasping different metallo-liquid braille output arrays, the liquid gallium flexing and reshaping unnaturally to allow him to to take in multiple different sources of sensory output at once, with the primary navigation computer plugged into the cybernetics surrounding his opaque, gelatinous head and plugging directly into his tube-shaped brain.
The Sovereign cursed in Loskat and pointed to his bridge crew while I simply sat in the back, near the Sovereign’s symbolic throne. “Prepare countermeasures and spool up the warp drive, we cannot allow the amanuensis to be taken! He carries sensitive information that only he can translate and transcribe!”
As the bridge crew nodded and began fiddling with their own systems, I preened my feathered hide anxiously. I wasn't a fighter: us nobles of the cloth were the educated minority above all else, not those who waged war or partook in hard labor. Special cybernetics in my brain allowed me to translate triple-encoded messages that usually took a ducal signet codekey or above to parse, but even without that I was a skilled mathematician and logician. I had terabytes worth of knowledge stored within the hardware installed in my head, all well protected of course, but if I were to die it would still be a waste. I could only imagine the damage any malcontenders could do with it if they were able to get their filthy hands on me.
Suddenly, the ship rocked, and the gallium overhead display began to form crescendos like I'd never seen before. “Sovereign, decks A-3 through C-12 are venting atmosphere and our coolant systems have been obliterated,” the Wayfinder spoke in an almost serene voice, as if he was completely unconcerned by current events. I knew they were simply incapable of tonal displays, but it was unnerving nonetheless. “Once we jump, we will not be able to risk another until the vacuum of the void can reduce temperatures to acceptable levels within the plasma capacitors.”
“Damn them,” the armored nautiloid hissed, his barbed feelers coiling in frustration, “May the currents take them. What are our options? what can we see? This fleet cannot fall to the void today, not with such vital cargo.” My hackles rose lightly at the Kar’Rowmach referred to me as some object rather than an esteemed amanuensis of the Jurisdiction, but I bit my forked tongue. Now was not the time to squabble with the sovereign over who was what and what titles I deserved, not while he was so desperately attempting to keep what semblance of order within his fleet that he had left.
I could not blame the crew for being panicked either: wars were practically mythologized now, having been long since rendered obsolete with the rise of the Jurisdiction, and that felt like an eternity ago. Now, either being levied into or joining a ducal naval force was simply another career, more akin to serving as an officer of the law rather than a fully fledged soldier. Minimal training was required, most of it being the technicals of one's duty rather than any kind of combat conditioning, so expecting a fleet to actually be prepared for a combat scenario in a universe where peace was the norm was laughable.
“We are practically blind, Sovereign,” stated the Sok'klar Wayfinder, “our probes are offline, and shipboard graviton displacement sensory arrays have been rendered unreliable at best.”
“What about the particle emission array? Has there been a spike in radioactivity where we were hit?”
The Wayfinder seemed to think for a second, his gelatinous form flexing and morphing a bit before answering. “Affirmative, a jump from negligible to forty billion becquerels along decks A through E-5 on our starboard side.”
“Torpedoes…” the Sovereign hissed, stroking his barbed feelers, “Human Torpedoes. Only those primitives would rely on crude nuclear warheads.” He then turned to his militant leaders on the ship. “Noddos, Rel’ads: organize your phalanxes and prepare to repel boarders. We are bound to be assailed by those rancorous primates, and I want their skulls piled at my feet if they dare set foot on our ship.”
“Your wish is our command, Sovereign,” the two militant commanders spoke as one. Noddos, a large bipedal with multiple sets of curved spines running down his back, a pair of graceful horns sprouting from his head, and multiple rows of sharp teeth in his snout, bowed first, followed by Rel’ads, a marsupial with long saberteeth and thick fur. They both must have been fierce warriors in their own right to each lead a phalanx. They wore thick, semi-powered armor and held dueling polearms alongside their usual plasma casters, and seemed completely unfazed by the situation we were in. As they stomped out of the brightly lit bridge, I let out a quiet squawk of discontentment. “Sovereign, why haven't we jumped again? We are wasting precious time.”
“I am working on it, you spineless beaurocrat!” He warbled back, his feelers tensing in anger, “besides, it's not as if you're the one who will be spilling blood today, amanuensis, so flatten your wretched beak or I shall weld it shut with a plasma torch.
I was about to reply with something indignant, but the ship rocked again, this time causing the lights to flicker and the air to become… thick. The skin under my feathers began to blister, and I became lightheaded and confused. “Seal the damnable vents, initiate radiation scrubbers, and activate secondary life support!” Shouted the Sovereign, “Their nuclear weapons are rendering the ship inhospitable!”
I coughed up magenta blood accidentally, and I could feel more seeping from under my eyes. Some of the crew was in a similar position, but others were more resistant to radiation than I. The Sok'klar seemed completely at ease as he ran his tentacles across his morphic braille arrays before calmly announcing the ship’s status. “I've regained some control over our probes: ten, twelve, and seventeen are active and fully functional, the rest are either still malfunctioning or permanently inoperable. A rapid rise in localized radiation is also interfering with the detection of graviton displacement; we can't sense photon redirection, thus readings will remain inconclusive.
“Wayfinder, damn you, get me some kind of out here! We're easy prey until we can respond in kind!”
“Negative, something has gone awry with our processing hub, I am attempting to troubleshoot-”
And with that, the Wayfinder’s bulbous head exploded in a cascade of opaque lavender blood, covering the front half of the deck crew like a morbid art piece. Some of the crew screamed and shouted in terror before removing their cranial adaptors and choosing to interact with their displays manually. Others died just as quickly, unable to unplug in time as their brain stems fried or their blood boiled. It was a horrible way to go, having your insides neutralized by your own cybernetics, so I was glad I wasn't connected to the system.
“Cybernetic warfare! All systems are to be considered compromised, switch to manual settings or you'll be killed!”
The lights in the bridge flickered again, and the displays went haywire. The bridge crew, which obviously weren't acquainted with working without being hard-linked into the mainframe, moved at a much slower pace.
“Launch missile pods A through F and set to self-target after five hundred kilometers, then rely on their ballistic coordinates to begin firing broadsides! If we can't see the humans due to their meddling, we'll just have to feel them.” Shouted the Sovereign, “and got me a detailed report on the ship’s diagnostics readings. I need to know if this flagship is still capable of escaping or if we'll have to scuttle it and retreat on another.”
“Acknowledged, Sovereign, launching now,” affirmed another deck officer as he swiped across his own gallium output array. I could hear the dull thunk, thunk, thunk of missiles pushing out of their pods before racing off to their intended targets, then the mechanical whirring as the pods rotated to be reloaded by slaves in the lower decks. I was regaining my bearings as the many horrible sensations of being overwhelmed by radiation poisoning were beginning to subside, but I still felt as if I had been microwaved. The air was stale, the crew was horribly sick as well, and even the sovereign himself seemed to be on his last leg. I was beginning to believe that I might die here.
“Sovereign, a message from the lower decks,” shouted a communications officer, his chitin scraping against itself as he turned quickly, “they're requesting reinforcements, something about being overrun.”
“Impossible,” the Sovereign hissed out in a vain attempt to exude confidence, “We must outnumber the humans, they always go for bigger targets out of arrogance.”
“I've received reports that it's not just humans: the primates seem to make up only a third or so of the assailing force, along with some Phaeldaer and Vrex.”
The commander slammed his clawed hands down on his own output array in a fit of rage, obviously overwhelmed by the circumstances, “Then this wasn't just a typical assault, but something more sinister!” The nautiloid warbled, blood seeping from his shell as the full effects of the radiation took hold, “Get Rel’ads on the line, have him divert all spare lances to the lower decks or else we'll lose the only offensive capabilities we can use.”
“Rel'ads has gone dark, Sovereign, his vitals are critical.”
“Then either get me Rel'ads tail-leader or get me Noddos!” He screamed in rage, “don't give me this nonsense! If we don't pick it up we're all going to die, is that what you want?”
“No, Sovereign, I'm simply overwhelmed-”
“We're all overwhelmed! By the tides, I'm dying of radiation poisoning you nincompoop! Get me something I can work with!”
The officer didn't even acknowledge the Sovereign after that, simply turning back to his display. Eventually, the Sovereign was able to get Noddos on the line.
“Sovereign, two thirds of my phalanxes have been decimated by combat with the primitives and the radiation, the rest are in shambles. We must retreat and fortify elsewhere!”
“Then the ship is compromised! Rel'ads is unresponsive and the lower decks are swarming with intruders. We must evacuate the amanuensis to another ship.”
Just as the Sovereign spoke, I heard several gentle thumps rattle against the bridge’s door, and it made me uneasy. Some of the bridge crew seemed to feel the same, as they looked incredibly nervous and some even drew their sidearms. Just as the sovereign turned to give further orders, the door blew inward with a deafening explosion, followed by shouting and gunfire. Several of the bridge officers were dispatched quickly, brain matter and blood splattering against the delicate electronics. Others were shot in the legs, the torso, or in any other exotic yet non-vital body parts. The humans poured in, brandishing primitive ballistic firearms and jury-rigged energy weapons while wearing scavenged, legion-grade powered armor.
The Sovereign was the next to go, but he wasn't afforded an honorable death. He was shot along the arm with a particularly potent plasma caster, burning off his clawed hand and cauterizing the wound, the acrid smell of roasting chitin filling the already hot and cramped bridge. He fell back against his output array, the gallium reaching new highs and lows as more diagnostics and casualty reports were delivered, and he clutched his stump angrily. “I'll burn every last one of you in the foundries! I'll tie you to stakes, cover you in wax and set you alight! Your screams will be broadcasted all over the galaxy!”
One human warrior stomped up and slammed the butt of his rifle into the sovereign’s face, shattering his facial plates and causing blue blood to splatter across his section of the bridge. “Shut the fuck up, you mutant lobster,” the human said before dragging him by both antennae towards the center of the bridge and receiving a stained breeching axe from one of his comrades. “Emmanuel, start recording. We need proof.”
The other human nodded and pressed a button on his armor before lifting up his gun again. The rest of the humans fanned out, holding everyone else at gunpoint. I tried to get up and sneak out, but a human grabbed me by my neck and nearly wrung it out as he forced me to my knees and pointed a sidearm to my skull. “Get down, you piece of shit, before I blow your brains out too.”
“Damnable primate,” I hissed, but he bashed me in my skull with the base of his sidearm’s grip and sent me sprawling, making my already pounding headache worse. Another human shouted at him in a language I didn't recognize, but he sounded furious. The first brought me back up to my knees again, and I complies with a hiss and a groan, blood still leaking from my eyes and mouth and my world was spinning.
The Sovereign struggled, but he was weak from the radiation poisoning and he couldn't exactly resist on account of his lost arm. The human with the breaching ax kicked the Sovereign down and forced him to kneel before lifting up the breeching ax and splitting his chitinous head down the middle with one powerful swing, sending more blood and brains across the floor. “Execution confirmed, take his antennae just in case and we've got ourselves a bounty. Now all we need is that ugly cat’s teeth and the fat hedgehog-thing’s grimy spines and we'll be in business. Although, they do have skulls… we might as well just take their heads.”
The real horror of the situation dawned on me at that moment: they were going to kill us all, or maybe worse. They mentioned a bounty for the commanders, and multiple of the higher ranking ship officers were already dead, their brains splattered against the walls or their bodies torn apart by gunfire. I wasn't dead yet, but that didn't mean much since I wasn't an immediate threat.
“Alright, round them up and bring all the grunts to the hanger bay, then kill the rest,” the leader of the humans said in such a lackadaisical manner that his complete disregard for life almost made me sick… almost. I had seen worse from the Jurisdiction before, but usually that was from me delivering some kind of ordered judgment on a world that had sinned against order. I might have simply been the messenger, but I had seen many of the outcomes. “And make sure to collect whatever proof of bounties you can, we'll need to deliver them to the office to get cashed out. Don't let this be a repeat of last time where Juarez fucking forgot to take a few heads and it ended up cutting our profits in half, the fucking retard.”
Some of the humans chuckled at that as they dragged more of the senior officers away, out of the room and into the hall,where I heard gunshots. The rest of the bridge crew froze in place, different fear instincts kicking in. The remaining Sok'klar corralled together into what seemed to be a singular, semi-congealed mass as if to try and trick the humans into believing that they were much bigger and much more threatening than they actually were. The one Thei’chi on the bridge, an ensign who had clearly thought this would be a simple mission, bore her curved fangs at the humans and growled as they approached, her hackles completely vertical and her eyes dilated. They quickly muzzled and bound her before beating her over the head with a gun stock, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Many others simply cooperated, eyes wide and yet simultaneously empty, as if they couldn't quite process that the ship had been taken and the commanding officers were being executed as the rest were escorted to the hangar.
“Get the damn messenger down to the hanger as well, we need whatever data's in his ugly lizard head, then we can decide on what to do with him.”
I spat at him in spite, as if to try and seem brave, but it was clearly an empty gesture. “You won't get anything, primate! You couldn't possibly crack the encryption!”
The human holding me seemed to wind up for another swing, but the commanding officer simply held up his hand to stop my tormentor before strolling over to me. He knelt down and removed his helmet, revealing a beige-colored face covered in scars, wiry black hair cut down to the scalp, and multiple tattoos. “You're really fucking mouthy for a hostage,” he said before punching me across my beak faster than I could register. I heard a sharp crack as his fist connected, and my head spun again as the metallic taste of blood pooled into my mouth. “I'd advise you to shut up, but I'm sure you won't listen: you aristocratic types are so full of yourselves. Maybe I should have you flogged in the public square until your vocal chords give out once we rip those cybernetics from your head, huh? How's that sound?”
“It won't matter… it won't change anything… the Jurisdiction will hunt you down.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it will happen for some time: they really suck at doing anything that requires effort, even when they're mad enough. They just keep sending their rabid lapdogs to try and smoke us out, and they always end up full of holes,” the human officer said with a smirk, his yellowish-white teeth and green eyes sending shivers down my spine as he drew his knife. “They're just horrible at their job, you know? You've all gotten so lazy and incompetent after being able to just take what you want without resistance, and now that you've met people who are angry and crazy enough to fight back you act as if we're committing some grave injustice,” he placed the knife against my throat, the flat just underneath my now bent beak, “No, we just took a few pages out of your book, ‘cept we've got standards. No kids, for one…” he seemed to look off into the distance as his sneer deepened, “but it's more than that, we don't attack the defenseless in general and we still win against you all in fair fights.”
I went to say something else snarky, but he quickly grabbed my thin tongue with his fingers and yanked it out, blood from my mouth pulling to the floor as he held the blade of his knife against it. “No no, none of that. Say one more thing and I'll cut that rancid little tongue of yours out of your mouth and feed it to you,” he hissed at me, pressing the blade down just hard enough to draw blood. “Do you know what it's like to see a planet turn into a tomb?" he asked me, gritting his teeth, “Do you know what it's like to see everything you've ever known crumble to ash and glass, all the life and the green stripped away leaving nothing but bones? I do. I've seen it happen to countless worlds, and my grandfather always told me stories of how you bastards did it to Earth. He still prays in its direction five times a day, to Mecca, but he knows the Kaaba is gone now, or maybe it's still there, buried in the bones of those who sought refuge there.”
I didn't care for the human’s nonsensical beliefs, but I did care to correct him. “I've seen it before, and I'll see it again. And so will you, it's inevitable. The Jurisdiction will always have its judgment fulfilled, there is no alternative.”
“One day, I hope we can rectify that,” he said, then he sheathed his knife and slammed my head against the metal floor with enough force to nearly knock me out. As I lost consciousness, I could hear him speak. “Take him to the Chop Doc, and make sure the cybernetics don't get damaged: they're supposedly more valuable than any bounty on this ship.”
Warning: Severe radiation poisoning detected. Flush system immediately.
Warning: Neural Lace removal detected, chance of neurological damage high. Proceeded with caution.